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pieces that could not be parted; a necklace, earrings and a bracelet, at 25 cents each. This upset Miri am’s calculations but, undaunted, she started to negotiate with the young assistant. In the end her blue-eyed charm won and Miriam was allowed to purchase three necklaces without all the other pieces. But at this moment, the princi pal intervened. A big, burly fellow, with black hair and dark com plexion, he said brusquely in a loud voice: “You can’t do that! What am I to do with the earrings and brace lets, if everybody takes the neck laces? It’s either the set or noth ing.” Miriam’s lower lip started to tremble and knowing that tears were not far away, I stepped for ward. “But your assistant said she could have the necklaces . . “He is no good,” the proprietor waved his hand in deprecation, “he is a Jew.” My blood pressure rose. “You better be careful what you say — 1 too am Jewish.” The big frame of the shopkeeper shook with uncontrolled laughter — he was nearly choking with it. Full of rage and embarrassment 1 took the child by the hand and turned to go. “Wait a minute,” called the man after me and with a leap he bar red my way. The situation was getting nasty. What do I do now — fight my way out or shout for help? With a sudden, quick movement the man reached into the open neck of his shirt and pulled out a silver mezuzzah on a thin chain. “A little joke,” he explained goodnaturedly, his eyes twinkling with merriment. “I knew you were Jewish the moment you came in and this confirmed it,” he added, pointing to the Mogen David on Miriam’s neck. We shook hands with “Shalom Aleichem—Aleichem Shalom” and exchanged life stories. I told him we were on a visit from England — he originated from Brazil. As by now we were the best of friends, he thought he would offer me “a real bargain” — a musical box this time. Lovingly he wound it up and ecstatically closed his eyes, rocking his head to and fro and swinging his free arm in time with the tinkling tune . . . It was the hardest thing in the world to decline the offer and I felt really mean. But he was magnanimous and let Miriam have her necklaces just the same. Some weeks later, I was given one of them for Hanukah. By then, we were back in England. “Please, Mummy, will you forget what I paid for it?” said my daughter, handing me the present carefully wrapped in tissue paper. I could gladly promise her that, for whenever I look at the neck lace, I only remember the lights of Times Square reflected in her eyes, the tinkling of the musical box and the warmth of a meeting between Jew and Jew. Thank you, Miriam. I like my Hanukah present very much! jess jawin — BARBER TALK We’ve heard so many stories from and about barbers that we thought you’d like one taken from Dave Harrison of the Philadelphia Jewish Exponent. David gives Marquis Childs, the well known Washing ton correspondent credit for spinning the yarn. And Childs gives Presi dential Press Secretary Pierre Salinger credit for its popularity. Before too much hair spliting we’ll let David tell it in his own words. The story is about a man who was about to leave on his first trip to Europe and stopped in to get a haircut in preparation for the exciting experience. While clipping away, the barber asked him where he in tended to go. “First we’re going to London,” the imminent traveler said en thusiastically, but the barber interrupted. “London!” he almost shouted. “Who wants to go to London? All it does is rain. You’ll be soaked all the time.” A bit subdued, the tourist continued, "Well, from there we’re going to Paris.” “Paris!” the barber exclaimed. “Do you know what happened in Paris? The prices are out of this world. You want a meal — they charge you a month’s rent!” “From Paris we plan to go to Rome and try to get an audience with the Pope,” the customer went on hopefully. “Ha! That’s a good one! You know what kind of an audience you’ll get? You and a hundred thousand other tourists will stand in St. Peter’s Square and the Pope will wave to you fro ma balcony a quarter of a mile high!” The haircut completed, the customer went on his much maligned trip to Europe. Eeveral weeks later, he returned to the shop for another haircut. “So how was that trip of yours?” asked the barber with a smile that bordered on smirk. "Glad to tell you about it,” was the answer. “In London the sun was shining every day — perfect weather at all time. Then in Paris we found everyone polite and the prices very reasonable — couldn’t have enjoyed it more. . . . And believe it or not, in Rome we were granted a private audience by the Pope.” “You were!” the surprised barber replied. “What did the Pope say?” "Well, when I leaned over to kiss his ring,” the returned traveler replied, “he said, ‘where on earth did you get that horrible haircut?’ ” — TEXAS JEWISH POST. FT. WORTH W. E. BROWNE DECORATING COMPANY Antiques — Interiors — Reproductions ♦ OFFICES 443 Peachtree St., N. E. Atlanta 8, Ga. TR. 4-4416 ^JJanuhah (jreetinys A & S 1 Peachtree Bldg. Realty Co. JA. 4-8861 Atlanta 3, Georgia Cordial Moliday Wish ies HARMON ENTERPRISES, Inc. 1012 Pryor St., S. W. JA. 2-8826 LUTHER P. HARMON, President H. B. Fuller Company Of Georgia —Manufacturers of Industrial Adhesives MA. 2-3502 655 Mead St., S.E. Atlanta 12, Ga. The Southern Israelite 11