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Took from his store of sheaves a generous third,
And bore them gladly to his brother's heap,
And then went back to sleep and happy dreams.

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,
And went down softly to the level field;
The moon shone out from silver bars of clouds,
The trees stood black against the starry sky,

The dark leaves waved and whispered in the breeze;

So Abram, guided by the doubtful light,
Passed down the mountain path, and found the field,
Took from his store of sheaves a generous third,
And added them unto his brother's heap;
Then he went back to sleep and happy dreams.

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,
Lived one of those

Despised and desolate, whose records show
Insults and blows,

Their old inheritance of wrong; who were
Free once as eyelids of the morn, nor care
Knew, nor annoy.

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,
Watching his deed;

Slow to give answer, ever swift to hear;
Whose brain would breed,

Walking alone, or watching through the night,
No idle thought; but he with ill would fight,
And day by day

Would wax alway

Wiser and better and nearer to the light.

And in this land a mother lost her child,
And charged the Jew

With crucifying him, who calmly smiled
Denial. "You

Have slain," quoth she, "to keep your Passover,
My son with sorceries." He answered her,

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Is this; what proof thereof can you prefer?"

But she went from him raging. Then he fled
Out of that land;

And those there set a price on his grey head,
Who with skilled hand

Of craft had fed one daughter fair as day,
Now destitute. Soon gold before her lay,
The bait of shame;

But she, aflame

With honor, flung such happiness away,

And, writing, told her father, who came back
By night, and bade

Her claim his life's reward.

Rend me," she said;

66

'Rather the rack

"And shall I give him death who life gave me?
Sell him and feed on him? Far sooner we
Both died! Somewhere

Beyond earth's care

Hereafter we shall meet; it may well be

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"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
False hands on both, nor other duty paid.
Than death; for they,

Gold hair and grey,

Were slain hard by within the minster's shade.

After, in no long time, the little child
Returned, a stray

Fresh from the sea. It, by a ship beguiled,
In the hold at play,

Had sailed unseen till the land a small speck grew.
But still they prayed within the porch, in view
Of the blood-splashed stone,

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,
As toward his home in Israel's sheltered vales
A stately Rabbi drew. His camels spied
Afar the palm-trees' lofty heads, that decked
The dear, domestic fountain,-and in speed
Pressed with broad foot the smooth and dewy glade.
The holy man his peaceful threshold passed
With hasting step. The evening meal was spread,
And she who from life's morn his heart had shared
Breathed her fond welcome. Bowing o'er the board,
The blessing of his fathers' God he sought,
Ruler of earth and sea. Then, raising high

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
Somewhat of soft excuse-that they were wont

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