And then, one day, caught in the vise of some crucial test, the Jew fixed his alarmed gaze on his inmost soul, and found there the image of his father's God.
* * * * * Merrily played the fiddlers at the wedding of my father, who was the grandson of Israel Kimanyer of sainted memory.

The most pious men in Polotzk danced the night through, their earlocks dangling, the tails of their long coats flying in a pious ecstasy.

Beggars swarmed among the bidden guests, sure of an easy harvest where so many hearts were melted by piety.

The wedding jester excelled himself in apt allusions to the friends and relatives who brought up their wedding presents at his merry invitation.

The sixteen-year-old bride, suffocated beneath her heavy veil, blushed unseen at the numerous healths drunk to her future sons and daughters.