It was almost one o’clock in the morning

It was almost one o’clock in the morning

when he heard the guests departing. A little later his mother entered and she

was surprised to find him wide awake. When she kissed him goodnight he was

somewhat dis-turbed by the cigarette odor coming from her mouth. It annoyed him

a bit but he soon fell asleep.

At the breakfast table in the morning,

Irving ap-proached his father with a question.

“Dad, were you ever a witness in court?”

Both parents looked up at the young son in

amazement and the father asked, “What in the world makes you say that?”

Irving, with childhood embarrassment,

answered, “My Hebrew teacher told us that according to Jewish law one who plays

cards does not make a good witness in court.”

Hyman Barwin’s face lit up like fire as he

thundered,

“Is this what he is teaching you? Is it for this that I pay him my good money nothing doing!”

The next morning the teacher Lomansky

received a letter from the enraged father, Barwin, wherein it was said, “Send

me a bill for how much I owe you and for my part you can sweep streets. You’re

not fit to be a teacher.”

HOW TIMES DO CHANGE!

IT WAS the first week after my friend had

received his diploma, which established him as a doctor of medicine. The dream

of years was now to be realized for him. They were hard and difficult

years—hardships and sufferings were endured in order to acquire that piece of

paper on which he was legalized a medical man. To drive a milk wagon on cold

winter mornings and to be eaten up by mosquitoes during vacation time while

picking berries and fruit to make a living and to save a few dollars to pay the

tuition—that had been his lot.

And now I came to congratulate him. Of

course, his office was still very modest. As a matter of fact, friends had

helped him buy a chair and instruments. I noticed a couple of paintings on both

sides of his diploma.

Patients, however, had not yet opened his

door. The doctor’s bell remained still; it had not yet been rung.

I called on my friend, the doctor, a few

weeks later, and while we were in the midst of conversing, the bell rang.

The doctor sprang to his feet and ran to

the door. As he opened it, I heard the wailing of a woman’s voice. “Come,

doctor! Come, quickly, save my child!”