Took from his store of sheaves a generous third, Now, that same night, as Abram lay in bed, Thinking upon his blissful state in life, He thought upon his brother Zimri's lot, And said, "He dwells within his house alone, And goeth forth to toil with few to help, And goeth home at night to a cold house, And hath few other friends but me and mine” (For these two tilled the happy vale alone), "While I, whom Heaven hath very greatly blessed, Dwell happy with my wife and seven sons, Who aid me in my toil, and make it light, And yet we share the harvest sheaves alike. This surely is not pleasing unto God; I will arise, and gird myself, and go Out to the field and borrow from my store, And add unto my brother Zimri's pile." So he arose and girded up his loins, The dark leaves waved and whispered in the breeze; So Abram, guided by the doubtful light, So the next morning, with the early sun, The brothers rose, and went out to their toil; And when they came to see the heavy sheaves, Each wondered in his heart to find his heap, Though he had given a third, was still the same. Now the next night went Zimri to the field, Took from his store of sheaves a generous share, And placed them on his brother Abram's heap, And then lay down behind his pile to watch. The moon looked out from bars of silvery cloud, The cedars stood up black against the sky, The olive branches whispered in the wind. Then Abram came down softly from his home, And, looking to the right and left, went on; Took from his ample store a generous third, And laid it on his brother Zimri's pile. Then Zimri rose and caught him in his arms, And wept upon his neck, and kissed his cheek; And Abram saw the whole, and could not speak, Neither could Zimri. So they walked along Back to their homes, and thanked their God in prayer That He had bound them in such loving bands. CLARENCE COOK 137 ONLY A JEW In Brittany, fair land, long years ago, Despised and desolate, whose records show Their old inheritance of wrong; who were In that city of joy, Heav'n-chosen child, whom none to harm might dare, Lived one who did as if his God stood near, Slow to give answer, ever swift to hear; Walking alone, or watching through the night, Would wax alway Wiser and better and nearer to the light. And in this land a mother lost her child, With crucifying him, who calmly smiled Have slain," quoth she, "to keep your Passover, Is this; what proof thereof can you prefer?" But she went from him raging. Then he fled And those there set a price on his grey head, Of craft had fed one daughter fair as day, But she, aflame With honor, flung such happiness away, And, writing, told her father, who came back Her claim his life's reward. Rend me," she said; 66 'Rather the rack "And shall I give him death who life gave me? Beyond earth's care Hereafter we shall meet; it may well be "Somewhere hereafter." Nay, you still shall live," He murmured; then Went out into the market, crying, “Give This price, ye men, For me to her, my daughter." But these laid Gold hair and grey, Were slain hard by within the minster's shade. After, in no long time, the little child Fresh from the sea. It, by a ship beguiled, Had sailed unseen till the land a small speck grew. And made no moan; "'Twas only a Jew," the folk said, "only a Jew.” ANONYMOUS 138 A HEBREW TALE Twilight was deepening with a tinge of eve, The sparkling wine-cup,-" Call my sons," he bade, "And let me bless them ere their hour of rest." Th'observant mother spake with gentle voice |