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Updated: June 9, 2025
"Hush, hush, my little Benjamin, don't cry," said Benjamin, and began to sing in his mothers jargon: "Sleep, little father, sleep, Thy father shall be a Rav, Thy mother shall bring little apples, Blessings on thy little head," Moses saw his dead Gittel lulling his boy to sleep. Blinded by his tears, he did not see that they were falling thick upon the little white face.
"Well, how goes it, Reb Méshe?" said Reb Shemuel with his cheery smile, noticing Moses loitering. He called him "Reb" out of courtesy and in acknowledgment of his piety. The real "Reb" was a fine figure of a man, with matter, if not piety, enough for two Moses Ansells. Reb was a popular corruption of "Rav" or Rabbi. "Bad," replied Moses. "I haven't had any machining to do for a month.
First came Moses, and after him the great rabbis, and finally the Rav of Polotzk, who read all day in the sacred books, so that he could tell me and my parents and my friends what to do whenever we were in doubt.
"Well now, I do think," remarked Hockins, when the door had closed behind them, "that Rav Rave-what's-his-name might have took notice of me too as an old friend that helped to do him service." "Hm! he seemed to forgit me altogidder," remarked the negro, pathetically. "Dere's nuffin so bad as ingratitood 'cept lockjaw: das a little wuss." "What d'ee mean by lockjaw bein' wuss?" demanded Hockins.
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