they did not share my ardent affection for him, they all, with one
exception, liked him. The exception was a middle-aged little
Talmudist with a tough little beard who held everybody in terror
by his violent temper and pugnacity. He was a pious man, but his
piety never manifested itself with such genuine fervor as when he
exposed the impiety of others. He was forever picking quarrels,
forever challenging people to debate with him, forever offering to
show that their interpretation of this passage or that was all wrong.
The sound of his acrimonious voice or venomous laughter grated
on Reb Sender's nerves, but he bore him absolutely no ill-will.
Nor did he ever utter a word of condemnation concerning a
certain other scholar, an inveterate tale-bearer and gossip-monger,
though a good-natured fellow, who not infrequently sought to
embroil him with some of his warmest friends.

One Talmudist, a corpulent old man whose seat was next to Reb
Sender's, was more inclined to chat than to study. Now and again
he would break in upon my friend's reading with some piece of
gossip; and the piteous air with which Reb Sender would listen to
him, casting yearning glances at his book as he did so, was as
touching as it was amusing

My mother usually brought my dinner to the synagogue. She
would make her entrance softly, so as to take me by surprise while
I was absorbed in my studies. It did her heart good to see me read
the holy book. As a result, I was never so diligent as I was at the
hour when I expected her arrival with the dinner-pot. Very often I
discovered her tiptoeing in or standing at a distance and watching
me admiringly. Then I would take to singing and swaying to and
fro with great gusto. She often encountered Reb Sender's wife at