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The Southern Israelite Page 45 Fairly stunned by the frenzied ll s 0 f the worshippers in their mad rush from the synagogue, the half- a. slet-p Keb Benzion could not stir f rom his place to follow them. He • rio<l at first to persuade himself that t was merely a continuation of the unpleasant dream of the night he had [U ‘ passed. But things were so vivid in ‘ h is memory that he could not take •hem to have occured in a dream, soon a thought came into his mind which made him shiver—perhaps he was dead after all? He had heard it s.r.fi that in many cases persons re- tained their senses after death. He placed his hands to his head, then to his feet, his heart, his ears. Every thing seemed to be as it should. In fact his heart beat faster than usual. H, knew that the heart of a corpse not beat at all. He was certain he was alive. He began to look about him. Everything in the synagogue M-emed to ask what he wanted there. H. began to wonder why he had come t u tht house of worship so early. It was unusual for him to do so. But one thing he was certain. He n the right synagogue. Had he not prayed there, ever since he could pray ? But it seemed to him that the synagogue had grown younger while h.* was away. It no longer had the as pect of an ancient, deserted house where insects and spiders reigned su preme. weaving their webs in every ook and corner. The walls had been whitewashed and a number of new bjects attracted his attention. First he noticed the new candleholders near the Ark of the Law. Then his atten tion was attracted by the new and beautiful embroidered curtain over 'he ark. The golden letters on the blue velvet background seemed to stare at him and dazzle him. He tried to read them, but he became dizzy. He tried with all his might to gather A hat the letters meant. He essayed combine them into words, and the •curds into sentences. But what he r< ad was horrible. He could not be- ii vt his own eyes. Then, as if to test c:th his ears what his eyes beheld, e read aloud. As he read, the echo f oach word resounded in the vacant >ynagogue. The meaning was unmis takable, for he read: In the memory of Reb Benzion, of N’aphtalie, may he rest in In smaller letters were the ■cords: “Presented by his heirs.” R'b Benzion’s fists clinched invol- ntanly as he growled: , these robbers want to bury me an d steal my money.” n his savage anger he overturned es * breaking them. He pulled his ■oard, yelling: , Want to kill me, bury me ,nt ’ '* ea l my money and divide it »mong themselves? You rascals, wait! ’ ach you a lesson. I’ll show' you ■•cho I am.” ^^ed ^ rom an ger he sank down h a bench and began to weep. It ppened to be his own pew. He flew l■ a ta Ke again when he saw over b , :s-r- <Ma y memory b« In the pew' he found a book. He opened it and his eyes fell on the opening sentence of the fifty-ninth psalm. He had read it hundreds of times before and he remembered the whole chapter perfectly. But never before had these words which he read in memory’ of some dear departed relative, penetrate his heart as they did now-. This time the sentences seemed to burn his very soul as he read: “They that trust in their wealth and boast themselves in their riches; none of them can by any means re deem his brother, nor give to Cod a ransom for him. The inward thought of these fools is that their houses shall continue forever and their dwell ing places for all generations; they call their lands after their own names. Death comes to them unawares. They that live like beasts shall perish in like manner. Nothing shall he take with him into his grave, outside of his good deeds and noble actions.” After repeating the verses several times, Reb Benzion remained thought ful. It was one of those rare moments in which one’s entire life is reviewed, each event standing out in relief. “They shall perish like beasts,” he contemplated, “how true the words of the psalmist are! They shall remain true forever and ever. From my own experience I know the truth of these w’ords. All my life I worked and saved, gathered gold, and for w'hat? For whom? For myself? Not at all. I never allowed myself to live well. I never allowed my children to profit by what I owned. I saw my own children suf fer hunger and cold and I did not help them. Have I not had a strong desire that when I die my possessions may also disappear, so that no one else may enjoy them? In that case my gold was neither mine nor my children’s, for neither I nor they made use of it. Whose was it? Was it for my fellow'men? Why only a few minutes ago while I lay on the bench I heard them call me ’the miser,’ when they thought I was dead. To live sixty-five years and accumulate w'ealth, and then die and be remem bered as merely ‘the miser’ is hor rible, indeed. I can imagine how every one, my own flesh and blood, the com munity, my neighbors, every one was happy on hearing that Benzion, ‘the miser,’ was dead. But thank God I am living. They think the miser is dead. Very well, then, let them think so. Let ‘the miser’ be dead. In his stead shall live the benefactor of his fellowmen, the good father and kind neighbor, the philanthropist and pro tector of the poor. But will it be pos sible for me to so suddenly change my w'hole nature? Will I not fall back into my former habits? Let me take an oath here by the Holy Ark. Neve? in my life have I broken an oath.” Uttering these words, half aloud, Reb Benzion ascended the few stairs to the Ark of the Law’, and raising his hand, sw’ore that henceforth he would be a different man entirely. 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