In the phrase of our grandmothers, a boy stuffed with learning was worth more than a girl stuffed with bank notes.
Simple piety unsupported by learning had a parallel value in the eyes of good families.

This was especially true among the Hasidim, the sect of enthusiasts who set religious exaltation above rabbinical lore.
Ecstasy in prayer and fantastic merriment on days of religious rejoicing, raised a Hasid to a hero among his kind.

My father's grandfather, who knew of Hebrew only enough to teach beginners, was famous through a good part of the Pale for his holy life.

Israel Kimanyer he was called, from the village of Kimanye where he lived; and people were proud to establish even the most distant relationship with him.

Israel was poor to the verge of beggary, but he prayed more than other people, never failed in the slightest observance enjoined on Jews, shared his last crust with every chance beggar, and sat up nights to commune with God.