Book: Hebraic Literature; Translations from the Talmud, Midrashim and

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When he approached its shores, however, the people whom he had sent
there came to meet him with music, song, and great joy. They made him a
prince among them, and he lived with them ever after in pleasantness and
peace.

The wealthy man of kindly disposition is God, and the slave to whom He
gave freedom is the soul which He gives to man. The island at which the
slave arrives is the world; naked and weeping he appears to his parents,
who are inhabitants that greet him warmly and make him their king. The
friends who tell him of the ways of the country are his "good
inclinations." The year of his reign is his span of life, and the
desolate island is the future world, which he must beautify by good
deeds, "the workmen and material," or else live lonely and desolate
forever.

* * * * *

The Emperor Adrian, passing through the streets of Tiberias, noticed a
very old man planting a fig tree, and pausing, said to him:--

"Wherefore plant that tree? If thou didst labor in thy youth, thou
shouldst now have a store for thy old age, and surely of the fruit of
this tree thou canst not hope to eat."

The old man answered:--

"In my youth I worked, and I still work. With God's good pleasure I may
e'en partake of the fruit of this tree I plant. I am in His hands."

"Tell me thy age," said the emperor.

"I have lived for a hundred years."

"A hundred years old, and still expect to eat from the fruit of this
tree?"

"If such be God's pleasure," replied the old man; "if not, I will leave
it for my son, as my father left the fruit of his labor for me."

"Well," said the emperor, "if thou dost live until the figs from this
tree are ripe, I pray thee let me know of it."

The aged man lived to partake of that very fruit, and remembering the
emperor's words, he resolved to visit him. So, taking a small basket, he
filled it with the choicest figs from the tree, and proceeded on his
errand. Telling the palace guard his purpose, he was admitted to the
sovereign's presence.

"Well," asked the emperor, "what is thy wish?"

The old man replied:--

"Lo, I am the old man to whom thou didst say, on the day thou sawest him
planting a fig tree, 'If thou livest to eat of its fruit, I pray thee
let me know;' and behold I have come and brought thee of the fruit, that
thou mayest partake of it likewise."

The emperor was very much pleased, and emptying the man's basket of its
figs, he ordered it to be filled with gold coins.

When the old man had departed, the courtiers said to the emperor:--

"Why didst thou so honor this old Jew?"

"The Lord hath honored him, and why not I?" replied the emperor.

Now next door to this old man there lived a woman, who, when she heard
of her neighbor's good fortune, desired her husband to try his luck in
the same quarter. She filled for him an immense basket with figs, and
bidding him put it on his shoulder, said, "Now carry it to the emperor;
he loves figs and will fill thy basket with golden coin."

When her husband approached the gates of the palace, he told his errand
to the guards, saying, "I brought these figs to the emperor; empty my
basket I pray, and fill it up again with gold."

When this was told to the emperor, he ordered the old man to stand in
the hallway of the palace, and all who passed pelted him with his figs.
He returned home wounded and crestfallen to his disappointed wife.

"Never mind, thou hast one consolation," said she; "had they been
cocoanuts instead of figs thou mightest have suffered harder raps."

* * * * *

A citizen of Jerusalem traveling through the country was taken very sick
at an inn. Feeling that he would not recover, he sent for the landlord
and said to him, "I am going the way of all flesh. If after my death any
party should come from Jerusalem and claim my effects, do not deliver
them until he shall prove to thee by three wise acts that he is entitled
to them; for I charged my son before starting upon my way, that if death
befell me he would be obliged to prove his wisdom before obtaining my
possessions."

The man died and was buried according to Jewish rites, and his death was
made public that his heirs might appear. When his son learned of his
father's decease he started from Jerusalem for the place where he had
died. Near the gates of the city he met a man who had a load of wood for
sale. This he purchased and ordered it to be delivered at the inn toward
which he was traveling. The man from whom he bought it went at once to
the inn, and said, "Here is the wood."

"What wood?" returned the proprietor; "I ordered no wood."

"No," answered the woodcutter, "but the man who follows me did; I will
enter and wait for him."

Thus the son had provided for himself a welcome when he should reach the
inn, which was his first wise act.

The landlord said to him, "Who art thou?"

"The son of the merchant who died in thy house," he replied.

They prepared for him a dinner, and placed upon the table five pigeons
and a chicken. The master of the house, his wife, two sons, and two
daughters sat with him at the table.

"Serve the food," said the landlord.

"Nay," answered the young man; "thou art master, it is thy privilege."

"I desire thee to do this thing; thou art my guest, the merchant's son;
pray help the food."

The young man thus entreated divided one pigeon between the two sons,
another between the two daughters, gave the third to the man and his
wife, and kept the other two for himself. This was his second wise act.

The landlord looked somewhat perplexed at this mode of distribution, but
said nothing.

Then the merchant's son divided the chicken. He gave to the landlord and
his wife the head, to the two sons the legs, to the two daughters the
wings, and took the body for himself. This was his third wise act.

The landlord said:--

"Is this the way they do things in thy country? I noticed the manner in
which thou didst apportion the pigeons, but said nothing; but the
chicken, my dear sir! I must really ask thee thy meaning."

Then the young man answered:--

"I told thee that it was not my place to serve the food, nevertheless
when thou didst insist I did the best I could, and I think I have
succeeded. Thyself, thy wife, and one pigeon make three; thy two sons
and one pigeon make three; thy two daughters and one pigeon make three;
and myself and two pigeons make three also, therefore is it fairly done.
As regards the chicken, I gave to thee and thy wife the head, because ye
are the heads of the family; I gave to each of thy sons a leg, because
they are the pillars of the family, preserving always the family name; I
gave to each of thy daughters a wing, because in the natural course of
events they will marry, take wing, and fly away from the home-nest. I
took the body of the chicken because it looks like a ship, and in a ship
I came here and in a ship I hope to return. I am the son of the merchant
who died in thy house; give me the property of my dead father."

"Take it and go," said the landlord. And giving him his father's
possessions the young man departed in peace.

* * * * *

A certain man, a native of Athina (a city near Jerusalem), visited the
city of Jerusalem, and after leaving it, ridiculed the place and its
inhabitants. The Jerusalemites were very wroth at being made the
subjects of his sport, and they induced one of their citizens to travel
to Athina, to induce the man to return to Jerusalem, which would give
them an opportunity to punish his insolence.

The citizen thus commissioned reached Athina, and very shortly fell in
with the man whom he had come to meet. Walking through the streets
together one day, the man from Jerusalem said, "See, the string of my
shoe is broken; take me, I pray, to the shoemaker."

The shoemaker repaired the string, and the man paid him a coin more in
value than the worth of the shoes.

Next day, when walking with the same man, he broke the string of his
other shoe, and going to the shoemaker, he paid him the same large sum
for repairing that.

"Why," said the man of Athina, "shoes must be very dear in Jerusalem,
when thou payest such a price but for repairing a string."

"Yes," answered the other; "they bring nine ducats, and even in the
cheapest times from seven to eight."

"Then it would be a profitable employment for me to take shoes from my
city and sell them in thine."

"Yes, indeed; and if thou wilt but let me know of thy coming I will put
thee in the way of customers."

So the man of Athina, who had made merry over the Jerusalemites, bought
a large stock of shoes and set out for Jerusalem, informing his friend
of his coming. The latter started to meet him, and greeting him before
he came to the gates of the city, said to him:--

"Before a stranger may enter and sell goods in Jerusalem, he must shave
his head and blacken his face. Art thou ready to do this?"

"And why not," replied the other, "as long as I have a prospect of large
profits; why should I falter or hesitate at so slight a thing as that?"

So the stranger, shaving the hair from his head and blackening his face
(by which all Jerusalem knew him as the man who had ridiculed the city),
took up his place in the market, with his wares spread before him.

Buyers paused before his stall, and asked him:--

"How much for the shoes?"

"Ten ducats a pair," he answered; "or I may sell for nine; but certainly
for not less than eight."

This caused a great laugh and uproar in the market, and the stranger was
driven from it in derision and his shoes thrown after him.

Seeking the Jerusalemite who had deceived him, he said:--

"Why hast thou so treated me? did I so to thee in Athina?"

"Let this be a lesson to thee," answered the Jerusalemite. "I do not
think thou wilt be so ready to make sport of us in the future."

A young man, upon his journeys through the country, fell in with a young
woman, and they became mutually attached. When the young man was obliged
to leave the neighborhood of the damsel's residence, they met to say
"good-by." During the parting they pledged a mutual faith, and each
promised to wait until, in the course of time, they might be able to
marry. "Who will be the witness of our betrothal?" said the young man.
Just then they saw a weasel run past them and disappear in the wood.
"See," he continued, "this weasel and this well of water by which we are
standing shall be the witnesses of our betrothal;" and so they parted.
Years passed, the maiden remained true, but the youth married. A son was
born to him, and grew up the delight of his parents. One day while the
child was playing he became tired, and lying upon the ground fell
asleep. A weasel bit him in the neck, and he bled to death. The parents
were consumed with grief by this calamity, and it was not until another
son was given them that they forgot their sorrow. But when this second
child was able to walk alone it wandered without the house, and bending
over the well, looking at its shadow in the water, lost its balance and
was drowned. Then the father recollected his perjured vow, and his
witnesses, the weasel and the well. He told his wife of the
circumstance, and she agreed to a divorce. He then sought the maiden to
whom he had promised marriage, and found her still awaiting his return.
He told her how, through God's agency, he had been punished for his
wrongdoing, after which they married and lived in peace.

* * * * *

A wise Israelite, dwelling some distance from Jerusalem, sent his son to
the Holy City to complete his education. During his son's absence the
father was taken ill, and feeling that death was upon him he made a
will, leaving all his property to one of his slaves, on condition that
he should allow the son to select any one article which pleased him for
an inheritance.

As soon as his master died, the slave, elated with his good fortune,
hastened to Jerusalem, informed his late master's son of what had taken
place, and showed him the will.

The young man was surprised and grieved at the intelligence, and after
the alloted time of mourning had expired, he began to seriously consider
his situation. He went to his teacher, explained the circumstances to
him, read him his father's will, and expressed himself bitterly on
account of the disappointment of his reasonable hopes and expectations.
He could think of nothing that he had done to offend his father, and was
loud in his complaints of injustice.

"Stop," said his teacher; "thy father was a man of wisdom and a loving
relative. This will is a living monument to his good sense and
far-sightedness. May his son prove as wise in his day."

"What!" exclaimed the young man. "I see no wisdom in his bestowal of his
property upon a slave; no affection in this slight upon his only son."

"Listen," returned the teacher. "By his action thy father hath but
secured thy inheritance to thee, if thou art wise enough to avail
thyself of his understanding. Thus thought he when he felt the hand of
death approaching. 'My son is away; when I am dead he will not be here
to take charge of my affairs; my slaves will plunder my estate, and to
gain time will even conceal my death from my son, and deprive me of the
sweet savour of mourning.' To prevent these things he bequeathed his
property to his slave, well knowing that the slave, believing in his
apparent right, would give thee speedy information, and take care of the
effects, even as he has done."

"Well, well, and how does this benefit me?" impatiently interrupted the
pupil.

"Ah!" replied the teacher, "wisdom I see rests not with the young. Dost
thou not know that what a slave possesses belongs but to his master? Has
not thy father left thee the right to select one article of all his
property for thy own? Choose the slave as thy portion, and by possessing
him thou wilt recover all that was thy father's. Such was his wise and
loving intention."

The young man did as he was advised, and gave the slave his freedom
afterward. But ever after he was wont to exclaim:--

"Wisdom resides with the aged, and understanding in length of days."

* * * * *

David, King of Israel, was once lying upon his couch and many thoughts
were passing through his mind.

"Of what use in this world is the spider?" thought he; "it but increases
the dust and dirt of the world, making places unsightly and causing
great annoyance."

Then he thought of an insane man:--

"How unfortunate is such a being. I know that all things are ordained by
God with reason and purpose, yet this is beyond my comprehension; why
should men be born idiots, or grow insane?"

Then the mosquitoes annoyed him, and the king thought:--

"What can the mosquito be good for? why was it created in the world? It
but disturbs our comfort, and the world profits not by its existence."

Yet King David lived to discover that these very insects, and the very
condition of life, the being of which he deplored, were ordained even to
his own benefit.

When he fled from before Saul, David was captured in the land of the
Philistines by the brothers of Goliath, who carried him before the King
of Gath, and it was only by pretending idiocy that he escaped death, the
king deeming it impossible that such a man could be the kingly David; as
it is written, "And he disguised his reason before their eyes, and
played the madman in their hands, and scribbled on the doors of the
gate, and let his spittle run down upon his beard."

Upon another occasion David hid himself in the cave of Adullam, and
after he had entered the cave it chanced that a spider spun a web over
the opening thereto. His pursuers passed that way, but thinking that no
one could have entered the cave protected by the spider's web without
destroying it, they continued on their way.

The mosquito also was of service to David when he entered the camp of
Saul to secure the latter's weapon. While stooping near Abner, the
sleeping man moved and placed his leg upon David's body. If he moved, he
would awake Abner and meet with death, if he remained in that position
morning would dawn and bring him death; he knew not what to do, when a
mosquito alighted upon Abner's leg; he moved it quickly, and David
escaped.

Therefore sang David:---

"All my bones shall say, O Lord, who is like unto Thee."

* * * * *

The Israelites were commanded to visit Jerusalem on three festivals. It
happened upon one occasion that there was a scarcity of water in the
city. One of the people called upon a certain nobleman who was the owner
of three wells, and asked him for the use of the water which they
contained, promising that they should be refilled by a stated date, and
contracting in default of this to pay a certain large amount in silver
as forfeit. The day came, there had been no rain, and the three wells
were dry. In the morning the owner of the wells sent for the promised
money. Nakdemon, the son of Gurion, the man who had undertaken this
burden for his people's sake, replied, "The day is but begun; there is
yet time."

He entered the Temple and prayed that God might send rain and save him
all his fortune which he had ventured. His prayer was answered. The
clouds gathered and the rain fell. As he passed out of the Temple with a
grateful heart, he was met by his creditor, who said:--

"True, the rain has refilled my wells, but it is dark; the day has gone,
and according to our agreement thou must still pay me the promised sum."

Once more Nakdemon prayed, and lo, the clouds lifted and the sinking sun
smiled brightly on the spot where the men stood, showing that the
sunlight of day was still there, though the rain-clouds had temporarily
obscured its gleams.

* * * * *

There was a certain family, the family of Abtinoss, the members of which
were learned in the art of preparing the incense used in the service.
Their knowledge they refused to impart to others, and the directors of
the Temple, fearing that the art might die with them, discharged them
from the service, and brought other parties from Alexandria, in Egypt,
to prepare the sweet perfume. These latter were unable to afford
satisfaction, however, and the directors were obliged to give the
service back into the hands of the family of Abtinoss, who on their part
refused to accept it again, unless the remuneration for their services
was doubled. When asked why they so persistently refused to impart their
skill to others, they replied that they feared they might teach some
unworthy persons, who would afterward use their knowledge in an
idolatrous worship. The members of this family were very particular not
to use perfume of any kind themselves, lest the people should imagine
that they put the sweet spices used in the manufacture of the incense to
a baser use.

An exactly similar case to the above occurred with the family of Garmah,
which had the monopoly of the knowledge of preparing the show-bread used
in the services of the Temple.

It was in reference to these cases that the son of Azai said, "In thy
name they shall call thee, and in thy city they shall cause thee to
live, and from thy own they will give thee," meaning that trustful
persons should not fear that others might steal their occupations; "for
in thy name they will call thee," as with the families of Abtinoss and
Garmah; "and from thy own they will give thee," meaning that what a man
earns is his own, and cannot be taken away.

* * * * *

Rabbi Jochanan, the son of Levi, fasted and prayed to the Lord that he
might be permitted to gaze on the angel Elijah, he who had ascended
alive to heaven. God granted his prayer, and in the semblance of a man
Elijah appeared before him.

"Let me journey with thee in thy travels through the world," prayed the
Rabbi to Elijah; "let me observe thy doings, and gain in wisdom and
understanding."

"Nay," answered Elijah; "my actions thou couldst not understand; my
doings would trouble thee, being beyond thy comprehension."

But still the Rabbi entreated:--

"I will neither trouble nor question thee," he said; "only let me
accompany thee on thy way."

"Come, then," said Elijah; "but let thy tongue be mute. With thy first
question, thy first expression of astonishment, we must part company."

So the two journeyed through the world together. They approached the
house of a poor man, whose only treasure and means of support was a cow.
As they came near, the man and his wife hastened to meet them, begged
them to enter their cot, and eat and drink of the best they could
afford, and to pass the night under their roof. This they did, receiving
every attention from their poor but hospitable host and hostess. In the
morning Elijah rose up early and prayed to God, and when he had finished
his prayer, behold the cow belonging to the poor people dropped dead.
Then the travelers continued on their journey.

Much was Rabbi Jochanan perplexed. "Not only did we neglect to pay them
for their hospitality and generous services, but his cow we have
killed;" and he said to Elijah, "Why didst thou kill the cow of this
good man, who--"

"Peace," interrupted Elijah; "hear, see, and be silent. If I answer thy
questions we must part."

And they continued on their way together.

Toward evening they arrived at a large and imposing mansion, the
residence of a haughty and wealthy man. They were coldly received; a
piece of bread and a glass of water were placed before them, but the
master of the house did not welcome or speak to them, and they remained
there during the night unnoticed. In the morning Elijah remarked that a
wall of the house required repairing, and sending for a carpenter, he
himself paid the money for the repair, as a return, he said, for the
hospitality they had received.

Again was Rabbi Jochanan filled with wonder, but he said naught, and
they proceeded on their journey.

As the shades of night were falling they entered a city which contained
a large and imposing synagogue. As it was the time of the evening
service they entered and were much pleased with the rich adornments, the
velvet cushions, and gilded carvings of the interior. After the
completion of the service, Elijah arose and called out aloud, "Who is
here willing to feed and lodge two poor men this night?" none answered,
and no respect was shown to the traveling strangers. In the morning,
however, Elijah re-entered the synagogue, and shaking its members by the
hands, he said, "I hope that you may all become presidents."

Next evening the two entered another city, when the _Shamas_ (sexton) of
the synagogue, came to meet them, and notifying the members of his
congregation of the coming of two strangers, the best hotel of the place
was opened to them, and all vied in showing them attention and honor.

In the morning, on parting with them, Elijah said, "May the Lord appoint
over you but one president."

Jochanan could resist his curiosity no longer. "Tell me," said he to
Elijah, "tell me the meaning of all these actions which I have
witnessed. To those who have treated us coldly thou hast uttered good
wishes; to those who have been gracious to us thou hast made no suitable
return. Even though we must part, I pray thee explain to me the meaning
of thy acts."

"Listen," said Elijah, "and learn to trust in God, even though thou
canst not understand His ways. We first entered the house of the poor
man, who treated us so kindly. Know that it had been decreed that on
that very day his wife should die. I prayed unto the Lord that the cow
might prove a redemption for her; God granted my prayers, and the woman
was preserved unto her husband. The rich man, whom next we called up,
treated us coldly, and I repaired his wall. I repaired it without a new
foundation, without digging to the old one. Had he repaired it himself
he would have dug, and thus discovered a treasure which lies there
buried, but which is now forever lost to him. To the members of the
synagogue who were inhospitable I said, 'May you all be presidents,' and
where many rule there can be no peace; but to the others I said, 'May
you have but one president;' with one leader no misunderstanding may
arise. Now, if thou seest the wicked prospering, be not envious; if thou
seest the righteous in poverty and trouble, be not provoked or doubtful
of God's justice. The Lord is righteous, His judgments all are true; His
eyes note all mankind, and none can say, 'What dost thou?'"

With these words Elijah disappeared, and Jochanan was left alone.

* * * * *

There was once a man who pledged his dearest faith to a maiden,
beautiful and true. For a time all passed pleasantly, and the maiden
lived in happiness. But then the man was called from her side, he left
her; long she waited, but he did not return. Friends pitied her and
rivals mocked her; tauntingly they pointed at her, and said, "He has
left thee; he will never come back." The maiden sought her chamber, and
read in secret the letters which her lover had written to her, the
letters in which he promised to be ever faithful, ever true. Weeping she
read them, but they brought comfort to her heart; she dried her eyes and
doubted not.

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