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About The Oregon daily journal. (Portland, Or.) 1902-1972 | View Entire Issue (March 4, 1917)
THE SUNDAY FICTION MAGAZINE, MARCH 4, 1917 TTHI BOY AN ID) HTIHTIF up slowly of from BARS ago there lived In the south ern part of Russia, in the Ukraine, a small family by name Polinsky. An old man, his daugh-ter-in-law and grandson, Aaron, jmade the circle. The old man, Reb Po-, Jinsky, had built up a lucrative clothing I business and was the support of the fam ily. ' One evening in late April Aaron sat in the kitchen of his grandfather's home' reading. He was about 10, well grown, jWith a strong face and sensitive lips. liis mother's voice aroused him, calling him from a far land. I "Aaron, thy grandfather awaits thee at Beth Ham adrash. Take thy lantern ' and go." - The boy looked .book. His eyes hazel shade burned t beneath his straight, fair hair. He did not J seem pleased to be interrupted. The story was mastering, the lonely trudge down the long lane to j the temple of learn ing very uninterest iiiag. Impatiently then closed his book 'and with' a muttered jword took down the Jan tern from its hook near the door. His mother spoke cxjsply. "Regardest it no't an honor to fetch they grandfa ther, the most learned in the Talmud?" 1 The boy with the lantern set his jaw. "I shall go -now, mother, but because my grand father is learned makes my book no less interest ing.". Pride for the "rea soning of her son struggled with re sentment at his dis respect. So her tongue was tied, and the boy Ht the lantern and started out in si lence. He was already sorry that he had spoken so impulsively to his mother. And he liked to call for his grandfather, bat to go when ready, not to be ordefed. Outside the smell of rich earth filled his nostrils. He liked the heavy draught .full 6 the sensuousness of spring. 'Across the lane a straggling length of shadows trailed their way. The boy lift ed the lantern and its dim light cut the gray forms with a sharpness that made his heart stand still. Here was vivid proof of his grandfather's words: "The light of civilization, my son, may lift the fog of prejudice and cruelty." The light of civilization! Strange new thoughts formed themselves in the boy's mind; strange understandings.. This was not the first time the lantern' had shown him truths. He had early learned that to hold it above his head, at a certain angle caused a greater light to shine than when he held it close to his side. To hold it straight before him gave birth to gro tesque shadows. Once he had stumbled and fallen with the light behind him, and the lantern itself had sustained a broken glass. Yes, the lantern had been & good teacher! . Then of a sudden the lantern went out. It was filled with oil. he knew. He fumbled and drew the slide. He carried no matches strange, ridiculous over sight. How, then, to light the lantern? Instead of a depression, he felt exhilara i 'House of learning. By Emily Calvin Blake Illustrated hyBcn Cohtn mm I T ky celinS e injustice to his race, attempts I 1 to overcome it and rouses the enmity of his own 1 people, but this he speedily subdues. !2 WHil8li;it!Si ill tion. Struggling in darkness, he himself would have to find the torch. He would find nothing ready to his hand. Always he would have to plow his way. But the time was passing, and he must be going. ing-room 'table and was resting. Her father-in-law sat near the window, a big book unopened on his knee. He was gaz ing at his grandson. The boy, now 18, gazed back at his grandfather. Some thing of import vibrated between the two. The old man spoke. "What troublest thee, Aaron?" ANTEIRM Talmud is their monument. Grandfather I -I want to be rabbi to iny world. I want to understand from overy side!" The old man spoke quickly, for the fire of the boy burned into him. . "Then go! I have toe money for three. We shall miss thee, my son, but our prayers go with thee.' And for all thou ehalt have to bear our hearts will ache." ' The boy hesitated, then he flung back ' his shoulders. "Grandfather, you of all know me best. Remember when the peo I le about me threw stones at me on Shabbas for carrying home my school books? 'Twas against the law. To me it was a holy pursuit on any day, that of learning. They could not understand that. There is much they must learn;' look sometimes deeper than custom."' His grandfather started forward, his' mother's eyes grew wide: They sensed that something difficult for the boy to say was in his heart. ; - ; "I go to the university for a twofold reason to study law and to find why my peeple are hated by. M ill iJlTM. ,1 '". . ft ''0. ; jjf ' 1 V f V II li - ' plunged forward into the shadows, hold ing the lantern lovingly to him. "I love thee even in thy darkness," he Whispered; "but I shall light thee, never ' fear." Off to the left a dim light clipped the edge of the gloom. The boy knew that wavering signal, a widow's light. The woman had been accustomed to hang the- rusty lantern on a crooked arm sprung from the heart of the tree which tood in the lane before her home. The boy had seen that dark-piercing blotch almost every evening of his life, placed to , guide the returning1 steps of the widow's wayward son, whose loss had driven the mother insane. .No alien hand had touched that rusty lantern, lit nightly by trembling fingers, but as the boy neared the tree a daring thought came flo him. He stood a moment In thought, then with a swift movement he removed the lantern from its support, smashed the glass and took by means of a small twig a light for his own swinging lamp. The widow's signal was fanned out. :, , :. . .... Aaron's mother had cleared the din- - I shall relight her lamp!" Mrs. Polinsky shifted in her chair. .She gazed uneasily at her son, for she knew his high spirit. He heeded neither gaze nor its meaning, but spoke directly to his grandfather. "Hast noticed my studying, reading, here nights, grandfather, every moment I can?" . The old man nodded gravely. "Thou hast applied thyself since the gymnasium was made impossible for the Jew." The boy rose.went and stood close to his grandfather. "Grandfather, I wish to enter the uni versity to study the law. I can go now and pass the necessary examinations." His grandfather spoke quietly. "Thou must then have forgot, Aaron, that It has been made desperately hard for the, Jew to enter the university In order to be come a lawyer. Thou knowest the re strictions?" THE boy nodded. "Yes. I have heard of persecution, petty injustices that have set my blood to boiling." Some flame was suddenly lit, and he cried out: "Grandfather, the Gentile believes we are not to be trusted with any superior knowledge or education. That we would misuse such knowledge. Therefore, they bar us from their universities, or make It so hard for us there that our spirit breaks! Our old rabbis were allowed more freedom of thought, and recollect what wonders they accomplished! 'The these who cen think! So, grandfather, I go as anon -Jew!" . The old man did not move. The moth er beat her hands to gether. "Listen! Tis writ- -ten that when a Gen tile lights a candle for his own usej an . Israelite is permitted to i avail himself of ; that light. I say this for you, that you may. not feel so bad at " what I am about to de." J'Thou hast put upon that saying thine own meaning, to use for thine own purposes!" cried the mother. . Aaron turned to her. "And 'tis also 'written, my mother, that it is the inter pretation and not the dream that comes true." v Again she beat 'her hands and lifted ' up her voice. "Woe Is this day Mine own son usesHhe great Talmud to aid him in his apostasy!" The old man, rising to his feet and standing straight and tall, spok sharply. "Silence, 'woman!" he cried. "Thy ;cheital is not upen thine head straight as might be. Thou art but the mother of this child, and he a man!" , 'i- She subsided.' She folded her arms' upon the table and let her face fall upon them. ' "Grandfather," said the bov, "1 ani ttill of thine own, shall alwavs be, as thou well knowest. T may speak to thee at, thou useth words to me as though we were equal. Then I have purpose in my heart. Nothing shall change me, not ' even your anger or my mother's woe. "I" ,. shall go to the university where men's opinions are formed. ;I shall be a man admitted everywhere; no restrictions v placed upon me because of my race. I shall listen, seek, find their Justification for our persecution, t shall attend their church to see why it is thought right to 1 Put one man's scorn upon another! "Tls an inborn thing, this prejudice;; : 'tis neither taught ner perhaps greatly. fostered. It is there, that's all," said the : grandfather sadly. j . 1 . But tho boy wenji on. "Five years, : - too, J shall be in another environment. I sliall learn to see many ways. SureTy I j shall be able to see! clearer than If I j rtayed here, or went jwith my fellows at i the university, moved apart f rora the j Gentile. We have always dung together 1 without curiosity." j ; , . "There here you j would go you will I find prejudice with no reason; Just as Wig.