The Albany register., August 14, 1869, Image 1

VOL.1.
ALBANY, OltEGON, SATURDAY, AUGUST 14,1809.
1StO. 49;
Win ipimw flipci
SATURDAY, AUGUST 14, 105).
KABBI it ASCII I.
A JEWISH L KU E N D.
Among the most learned . and pium
Jews of the twelfth century, next tot-ho
great Mai nu mi or Maituouides of Kuro
w:in fame,, stand Raschi, or as he was
more properly called, Suhlomo bea Isac.
He wrote a c;tnnieutary oq Thora and on
several of the books of the Prophets, and
also oue.on the Talmud." ITe was a
re-t mathematician, and among his own
people 'was reverenced -for his sauctity
aud asceticism, j
His parents lived iu Toulon, but Ras
chi was bora in Troyes, and this is the
reason why his father Isaac and his
mother l"ft Toulon : - . .
Shortly before the birth of the child, j
the good woman walked down a nariow
sticct. A cumbrous wagou was boing
drawn along it by four stout horses, and
the wagon filled the street, so as to make
it impossible to pass. Seeing this, the
woman turned to seek a side street-, but
at that moment the car of a yonng noble
man drove vp the lane toward her. The
timid womnn ran from side to side in
quet ot a corner into which she might
retreat from the danger of being crashed
by one of the vehicles.
"Look at the Jewess 1" exclitimed the
driver of - the nobleman's car; . "how
frightened she is I" '
"Whip tthe horses and run hej down,"
said his master.
The two vehicles approached, and the
poor creature, finding no place of retreat,
with a piteous cry shrank against the
wall. At that moment the huge wheel
of the wagon rolled toward her, almost
grazing the house wall. Then; suddenly,
the wall bowed inward and formed a little -recess,
in which the Jewess stood secure.
"Softer and more viidding arc these
stones than your hearts, ye Christians,"
he exclaimed.
Now when this miracle was known, it
was at once concluded that it was wrought
by magic, and Isaac, fearing lest it should
fee the cause of their both being brought
to the stake, fled precipitately to Troyes,
And there Raschi was born.
When Rase hi was . an old man, and
was renowned everywhere for his vast
learning and profound wisdom, and above
"all for his great holiness, the school
wherein he taught was crowded with
pupils, and his, sayings were treasured as
though they were precious like gold. He
fasted continuously, only eating what was
just sufficient to keep life in, and what
be ate was of poor quality, and was
mingled with ashes. He drank nothing
Rave water, and of that only a little, once
a day." He remained whole nights in
prayer, and when not engaged in teach
ing during the day, he stood rapt in med
itation. As he stood at his window one evening
ttwo Jews passed, and they were speaking
tof him.
One said to the other, "Was there
ever in the days of the prophets a greater
aint than is this Rabbi Raschi ?" "
To which the other replied, "Surely
for hi ra there must be prepared one of
the most exalted stations in Paradise."
Then the Rabbi fell to musing on the
place that was to be his in the kingdom
of God, and he wondered who would be
his companion in the Land of Light, and
sit at his side in Paradise. With his
thoughts fixed on this theme, he stood
long at his window gazing" out over the
vineclad hills, toward the horizon where
the sun had set, and where its rays shot
upward, kindling the ? finely-attenuated
vapor which hung in the air, and miking'
the blue of heaven as green as grass
Level bars of cloud burned like gold in
a furnacej"and small, - mis? y fragments
glowed scarlet, like fiery lilies growing in
a field of sunlight grass between "strips of
yellow crocuses. "
As the old man stood with his eyes
fixed on the west, and ' his mind revolv
ing the thoughts suggested by the speak
era, he saw the western sky undergo a
sadden transformation ; the golden clouds
became" steps of light in a pavement of
amethyst, and ou these platforms were
placed pairs of golden thrones with gor
geous robes of mby tissue cast over
tluuj, and iu these robes diamonds were
sor, and as the light changed, they
i twiuklcd like spark that wander about
the ashes of consumed paprr.' Upon
j each throne a nuu.e was written--'- with
lightning brilliancy. . And he- Rabbi
saw on two of the highest two that stood
side by shJe on the same stage Raschi
ben Isaac, of Regensbursr, and Abraham
ben Gerson, of Barcelona. As soon as
the .old man had. made out these names
the light faded, and lie found that the
sky was dark, that only a faint amber
glow remained above the horizon, and
that the stars were (shining in the dark 1
vault. So he shut his window, and he j
busied himself through the night. in:
gathering together a. few necessaries for
a journey, for he was resolved ere brck
of day to start for Barcelona,. and to make
the acquaintance of Abraham ben Ger
son, who was to be ins comnauion in
a
Paradise. '- -" ;
After a tedious journey, IStsehi ar
rived in Rarceloua. his feet sore with
walking, and hi3 palnifretted with the
staff he held, and his shoulders galled
with the strans of the little kuansack
which held his clothes and provisions.'
As he entered the town he thought to
himself,. "I will not mention the holy
man by name, but -will see whether the
Hebrews here know of his hih merit
and future exaltation." Then, meetinsr
& Jewish wood cutter, he stepped him,
and said : . .
'Friend, who is the most pious of the
faithful in this city?"
lie replied, "Rabbi Jonathan."
"Who is the next greatest saint iu the
city?"
"Levi ben Nathan."
"Have you other wise, just and holy
men here ?"
"Certainly; there is Istnael Zadik,
there is Joshua ben Amnon, Samuel the
Learned, Mordecai Cohen "
"But, stay," interrupted Raschi ; "the
one I incan, I suppose, must be a very
old man, with pale face, bowed knees, a
long, white beard, eyes red with tears
from much weeping for the transgressions
of Israel ; a man ever engaged in prayer,
who macerates his body and trains his
soul." . :
. "There is no such a man in Barcelona."
answered the wood-cutter. ""Farewell."
"Stay," exclaimed the Rabbi, detaining-
him; . "can you tell me aught of
Abraham ben- Gerson t"
"Abrahyim ben Gerson!" echoed the
laborer ; "he is no saint. He is a ; rich
man, a delicate liver, keeps much com
pany, and is in high favor with the Gen
tiles." ; . - . - :
"Where does .he live, friend ?" , ,
"Follow me, and I will'show you."
The Rabbi Raschi was brought by the
wood-cutter before a marble palace.
Gayly caparisoned horses stood -at the
door, held by pages in gallant liveries,
lie hastened up the flight of steps lead
ing to the entrance, and entered the hall.
It was paved with colored marble ; the
walls were encased with alabaster richly
sculptured, and silk curtains hung before
the doors. Noblemen waited there,
lounging on velvet sofas till the master
of the house should attend to them. Ser
vants glittering with gold lace hurried
about, bearing salvers of ; the most pre
cious metal, on which were goblets full
of iced wines, and plates of delicious con
fections, which they handed to the illus
trious visitors.
Travel-stained and dust begrimmed,
leaning on his rude staff, bis garberdine
in tatters, his long, white beard untrira
med, and the white hair of his head in
tangled locks, unattended ao, the wonder
ing Raschi seemed entranced. . A ser
vant approached him with a golden salver,
on which were wines. The old man
raised his staff, and with flashing eyes,
indignantly signed him to retire.
Suddenly a silver bell tinkled. . In
stantly, all the nobles rose, the servants
started to the stairs -leading to the upper
.portion of tho house, drew back the bro
cade curtains that screened the ascent,
and ranged themselves in a line between
the stairs and the entrance door.
In another moment a noble looking
Jew, in a crimson velvet dress, with gold
chains about his neck, appeared, accom
panying a Spanish prince of royal, blood, -conversing
with Mm familiar! v a: they
descended iho steps, and a? .he led Liui
to the door. - 1 , .
-'"Make ".way," fa id Rabbi Raschi,
thrusting his staff b'otAixt two of the liv
eried servants, "niako way for inc.".
The master of the house stood sliH and
looked at him; tlicn made a sign to the
domestics, who fell back and allowed his
old man to pass. -
Raschi's checks grew crimson. His
hand-trembled as he thrust it forth and
laid it on the arm of the wealthy Jew. -
"Arc you Abraham sou of Gerson' ?"
he akcd, in faltering toiler.
"lam. . What do you want with me,
father ?" . . . '
"I must speak with you. Lead on to
a private chamber." :f
The merchant obeyed, and brought the
Rabbi into a little room hung with blue
silk, fretted with silver.
"I am Raschi beii Isaac," said the old
man, "and I came hero to seeyou. I
hoped to have found a pious Jew; I Cud
one living in pomp and worldliness. - I
hoped to have found one' fasting and
praying ; I find one eating and traffick
ing. 1 thought to have ; found one the
favorite of God, and I find one the court
ed of princes and nobles. . Is this a house
for a Jew a child of a despised and
outcast . race ? The temple lieth waste,
and shall we live in luxury aud splendor?"
"I feel honored in being visited by the
illustrious Raschi," said Abraham.
"Shamed, shamed !" exclaimed , the
Rabbi. - "Are you not ashamed before
me to exhibit all this profusion ?" .
"God's blessing has been on my busi
ness, said the merchant.
"And how lo you recompense Him ?"
cried the indignant Raschi. ' By neg
lecting the Giver, by squandering the
gift. Do you fsst long ? Do you wear
the stones with your knees?"
"My business occupies my time and.
demands my energies. . I pray, but can
not pray for long. I cannot fast, or my
business would not bcattended to."
j "Do you eat of meat, the flesh of
beasts not slain by a Jewish butcher V
"I have even done so."
: "Have you part ken of the accursed
flesh of tho-swiue V
"I fear that I have."
I "Have you neglected regular daily at
tendance at the synagogue ?"
! "My attendance has been irregular."
"Alas, alas !" cried Raschi, throwing
down his staff and raising his hands to
heaven. "Surely there is injustice in
Paradise as well as on earth. Here lives
a wicked Jew, a breaker of the law, in
splendor, as a king ; in another place is
a pious man, fearing God, macerating his
body, in want and nakeduess, crushed by
poverty, and the kingdom of heaven re
ceives both, and sets both on a level.
Woe is me 1". and he would have rushed
from the chamber had not the. merchant
stayed him.
"Rabbi," he said, "I know my duty
to J2od and man, and I practice it as best
I can."
. "Profane one I" exclaimed the old
man, "Trust not your own strength.
When the ungodly are green as the grass,
and when all the workers of wickedness
do flourish, then shall they be destroyed."
But just then there flashed "before the
Rabbi' s eyes that golden throne beside
his own, on which was written the name
of the merchant.
I "Come with me," said Abraham, takT
ing the old man's hand j "to-morrow my
daughter is- to be married, and to.day I
am going to make presents to the poor of
our tribe. They are now assembled to
receive my alms. "
y "And to whom is your daughter to be
married ?" asked RaBchi. "To a rich
Gentile, may be ?" " '
. "No," answered the merchant, mildly.
"To my clerkT He is. not wealthy, but
he is upright and useful, and on his mar
riage I shall make him my partner."
v They descended the stairs to the hall,
in which the poor were assembled. The
rich Jew gave them abundant alms, and
each received his gift he left. One old
one pressed forward,
woman remained.
ana ADranam exienuea to ner a
parse.
little
"No !" she exclaimed, thrusting the
money aside ; "I have not come here to
beg, but for advice." -
."Speak, whereiu can I advise you?
Draw near to me."
Tiro woman approached him, nnd began:
'"I am a poor widow, hardly Mipporting
four.. children. All my hopes were fixed
ou the marriage of- my eldest daughter
to lii in to whom my dear husband, now
no more, had betrothed her. He was an
orphan, brought up in oar house, and
when he left us he gained an honest and
respectable "livelihood ; and I hoped.whcn
he maft-ied'"n)y Mariam that ' we! should
have been raised from our pcttury. But,
alas ! his eyes have -been blinded by
prosperity, and he ;s about to marry "a
rich wife and desert my daughter."
"Woman I why do youS come about
this matter to me ?" asked the merchant;
"how can I give your Mariaui back her
betrothed ?" I
"You can do so," replied the widow,
"for that young man will be to-morrow
your son-in-law."
Don Abraham started back dismayed.
For some moments he did ', not speak.
After a while, however, he broke silence
and said to the ofd woman : ;
"Did the young man love your JMiri-
am
7"
said
"I am sure, very sure, he did.
"I will inquire iuto the -matter,1
the merchant, turning away.
"Well, now," spoke Raschi, as they as
cended the stairs together, this is a bad
business. . However, I see what must be
done. Be generous, give, the young
woman, Miriam, a respectable sum of
money"
"Come here to-morrow," interrupted
Abraham; "be present at the wedding.
By that time I shall have decided - for
myself what is best to be done."
On the morrow, at the appointed hour,
having finished his morning prayers, the
Rabbi Raschi betook himself to the pal
ace of him who was to be his comrade in
Paradise. There he found a throng of
guests, of all rank3; filling the rooms.
Music played, and tables groaued under
viands of the richest and most rare de
scriptions. Raschi with difficulty pushed
his way through the crowd to the cham
ber' of the master. Don Abraham was
dressed in a magnificent blue velvet cobe,
broidered with gold pomegranrtes, of
which the seeds were rubies. Around
him were clustered the grandees of the
town. On seeing -. Raschi he, however,
advanced toward him and exteeded to
him his hand.
The wedding ceremony soon began in
the court all was prepared ; an awning
was spread ; the bride, veiled in white,
was led forward by two ladies. Then
came the bridegroom accompanied by
two gentlemen, and the guests Hollowed,
each with a lighted taper in the hand.
From a balcony a band played, and choirs
sang. A Rabbi read aloud and distinctly
the contract, and the acceptance of the
bridegroom into partnership with himself,
as Abraham's donation of the bride.
Then the bridegroom took a gold ring
and placed it on the bride's finger, with
the words : "Be to me wed by means of
this ring, according to the law of Moses
and of Israel."
. The Rabbi then gave the pair his bles
sing. A crystal goblet was raised in the
air and then shivered to atoms on the
pavement, and all the people shouted :
"Masel tob !" (good luck 1")
Don Abraham, when this . ceremony
was concluded, stepped up to .the bride,
and gently raised the veil from her face.
"God of our fathers !" cried the bride
groom, staggering backward, "it is Mi
riam
The crowd remained silent as though
turned to stone, for the bride was not
Abraham's daughter, but the child of the
poor widow.
- "I mus explain this puzzle," said the
merchant, smiling on the company. "This
girl was betrothed to this youth by her
father on his deathbpd.. ' They were
brought up together and loved oneanoth
er. I knew nothing of this; and when
I Tound that the young man was worthy
and useful in the business, I proposed to
him that he should become my sOn-in-lawi
Outof gratitude for past favors,
and in the - hope of being able, as my
partner, to assist his poor relatives; he
yielded to my persuasion, and promised
to marry my daughter. Only, yesterday,
did I ascertain the circumstances of his
previous engagement; I knew. 'then, the
reason of liis-f requcut fits of depression.
11 iff heart was elsewhere. Through me,
however, shall two hearts never be sad
dened.' " I have imide hint my partner
and given him the widow's dju-htor to
wife." , '
The newly married couple fell at his
feet, thanking him wit h tears, and 'the
people gave a Kreat shout of applause. --
Then Raschi, Jay ing about . him with
his staff, beat himself a way through the
multitude, and pressing up to the mer
chant, he burst into tears, and throwing
himself on his neck embraced him, and
raising his hands, cried r '-Yes, you ae
worthy to reach Gan ISden (Paradise) 1
Glory.be to God, who has given me such
a man as thou, to be my companion1 for
eternity!:. Glory be to God, w her has not
made one rough road alone to Paradise,
but has made many road besides ; who
has prepared a throne, not for the fasting
ascetic and contemplative alone, but also
for him who can do. what is right
just freely.
and
AUKICLHrUIlAL,. -.....
CUTTING GRASS AND CURING HAY
There is scarcely any work on the farm
of more importance than the proper cur
ing of hay, and as there, are a variety of
opinions on the subject of the proper
time-for cuttiug grass aBd also regard
ing the manner of curing hay, we pre
sent a few facts connected with these
subjects. . - - - .
We learn from the Ario England
Farmer that in 1856 the Secretary of
the Massachusetts Board of ; Agriculture
addressed a series of inquiries on the
hay crop to one or more farmers in each
town in the State, and this question was
asked, among others:
"At what stage of growth do you pre
fer to cut grass, to - make it into hay ?
Answers were received from more than
two hundred towns, and those from oi.e
hundred and fifty towns j about three
fourths of the whole, a majority sufficient
to overcome any veto, were in favor of
cutting timothy and recTtop when in full
bloom."- ''V"'-''''.''' " , ' ,
As red clover and timothy do not -mature
at the same time, it is considered by
many. intelligent farmers that a first-rate
quality of hay cannot be "obtained from
t' ese two plantsln conjunction, the clo
ver being too ripe forsjiay before the tim
othy has arrived at (itshighest state -of
utility, for that purpose. : It is ; probable
that the aslike clover wi
clover as a meadow plant, as it ripens at
the same time as timothy, and is fit for
the mower when timothy has arrived at
the proper stage of its growth" to make
nutritious hay "
... Although the general opini n is that
timothy ought to be cut when in full
bloom, the cause of this opinion proba
bly is not that it makes the best hay
when cut at this stage, but if allowed to
stand longer the clover becomes dry and
worthless.."
It is said that timothy cut green is not
so palatable to stock as that made from
the same variety of grass cut after the
seed have been fully formed, and - so
ripened as to shell a little when being
housed or stacked. A farmer in Seneca,
New -i York, cut some of his -timothy
before the blossoms bad fallen off. It
was properly cured and placed apart in a
mow by itself. After harvest a portion
of the timothy .which had been left
standing, was -cat and harvested. In
this tbe seed was ripe and shelled con
siderably in the. moving the hay. In
winter an experiment was made in order
to ascertain which of the samples would
be most relished by cattle. A portion of
the green hay was given to the cattle',
and after (hey had been feeding on it for
a short time, some of the hay which had
been cut after harvest,' and in which tbe
seed had ripened, was given . to , them,
and they immediately stopped eating the
geeen bay and commenced at that which
was ripe. The trial was made several
times, and always with a " similar result.
Notwithstanding the results of this
experiment, it is well known that when
grass is allowed to come to full maturity,
the culm Tud leaves become' woody and
hard, and the greater proportion' of thV
saccharine or mucillaginous matter, dis-'
appears, , being "cither, converted into
woody fibre, or tabsorbcd by the seeds j in
this respect ;thq ,rji'h, juicy, succulent
stem of iiumatured grass act as a reser
voir or magazine In -which ingredients
accumulate ta supply the wants' of ;tho
fnture seed, and it' ts irt the" period the
stem contains its maximum of nutritive"
matter that mowing should 'Commeneev
Ther.Sneoingof grass for seed deteriorates
the quality of, the hay, , njwl ifafercoines a,, -matter
of calculation whether it is better
to- raise : good hay without , seed, or bad
hay with seedV
Experiments made in r Scotland ' shoW
that Italian"" and peirenial rye grass;
mixed with- hay and clover before'flower
ing, when in floweTj and' when ripe,"
fatten in -unlike proportion, so as to be
valuetLat six pdnce per stone of twenty-;
eight pounds, at five and one-half and five,
pcuce. At the same time it was found,
that good oat straw was just as valuable
as hay for fattening beef animals, whett
roots, oil cakes, ate, were given as the
main 'food-With regard to the value of
utfh-m kinds of food in the production1
of muscle, according to. Bouesingault, hay
being taken as the., standard at 10, it
would require 28 of potatoes. 3Ji of car
rots, 6 1 of ' tu rn ips, 9 f bran,- 5 of , oats j
3 of peas, and 2 of oil cake. ' It is not to
be supposed that any of these can supply
the place of the others. ' -, - - ' ' -
Glass for hay should not be cut while
wet with rain or dew. -.When cut with ar
machine, in good weather, it may be
gathered into windrows with a horse-hay-,
rake, a few hours after being-mowed, and.
in the afternoon made into light cocks
containing about , one hundred pounds
of dry hay each. The next morningw
after the dew is risen, thesecocks should
ho remade, placing the dampest parts on
the outside.' After a few hours' exposure
to the sun, the hay may be hauled into
the barn or shed, and packed away Tof "
future use. If is a good plan to scatter'-.
l, 1 !. f 1. " I ii. --L i
ton of hay, every-' forkful receiving an
even share of the salt; When managed
in this way the hay will come ' out in ;
winter nearly as soft and green as when'
brought from the' field. By Ibia rapid
process of curing, nothing is lost; tbe
wax, the nitrogen and the ealfs are sa'Ted'
and the risk of damage by rain is not in- '.
curred. The salt prevents fermentation,'
souring and mouldincss.r - '
, Sometimes a long spell of dry weathef
makes The : curing of hay a difficult ope-1
ration, for the grass must not. be allowed '
to stand too long; of be :cut down and 1
exposed to frequent showers.' - Under''
such circumstances judicious manage-7
ment will be required to save the ; crop -from
destruction, and make it wholesome'
and palatable for stock. - Damp hay may'
stacked 'with layers "of - dry straw,
be
being sprinkled with salt 1 to e prevent
heating. The straw will absorb tbe juice :
from the hay, and the salt will make'
w ovucfiiauie iu block. n viermany
they cure freshly cut 'grass by packing 1
it into bins or bales with one pound of
salt to one. hundred pounds of 'hay. - It
cornea put in the form of a paste, which '
is much relished by cattle and is ttt J
valuable forage. Western IZural. ...
Omaha dispatches of July 19 th say that
General Augur returned from Fort Sedg
wick that morning; Gen. Corse's icto-v
pry is more complete than at first reported-1
uver. lour hundred . horses and mules,
were captured, with a large quantity of ,
powder and ' nearly fire tons of buffalo '
meat. Among the killed is "the nofod
chief Standing Bulh - About S90d were -found
in the camp, which was given to -Mrs.
Weiselt a white woman jjrho was re-f
captured, This was the same body of In
dians who, last year, fought Gen. Forsyth
f-and recently committed the' depredations '
iq jvansas. ;., ,; .-, t
i:c---)J!'::-: ' ' 1 " "':1,: -' ,,v
' A ,: Victoria' paper of the 30tb July
says r At low tide yesterday morning '
James' Bay presented an uncommon ap-
pearance. The water recediog from the t
flats left them covered with email fish of
the tomcod and sardine variety. " It ia no
exaggeration to say that in places the tiny "
fellows were piled one on the 'other to
the bight 'of a foot.in the cose. JEInn-
dreds were caught by.band, and the entire
shoal , must have numbered many mil-, ,
lions. ' " . '