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'Exactly; you've got to work it up, said Colonel Klopsky, who had large ranching and mining interests out West, and, with his florid personality, looked entirely out of place in these old haunts of his. 'Acts are only soldiers. Thought is the general. Witberg demurred. 'It isn't much use thinking about playing the violin, Pinchas.
The committee-men are late; I wonder if there has been any fighting at the centres, where they have been addressing meetings." "Ah, dat is anoder point," said Pinchas. "Vy you no let me address meetings not de little ones in de street, but de great ones in de hall of de Club? Dere my vords vould rush like de moundain dorrents, sveeping avay de corruptions. But you let all dese fool-men talk.
'Then Iselmann did not produce it? asked the Heathen Journalist, who haunted the East Side for copy, and pronounced Pinchas 'Pin-cuss. 'No, I changed his name to Eselmann, the Donkey-man. For I had hardly read him ten lines before he brayed out, "Where is the Ghost?" "The Ghost?" I said. "I have laid him. He cannot walk on the modern stage." Eselmann tore his hair.
Hamlet trod the battlements of the tower of David, and gazed on the cupolas and minarets of Jerusalem. With a raucous cry, half anger, half ecstasy, Pinchas galloped toward the fiddling and banging orchestra. A harmless sweeper in his path was herself swept aside. But her fallen broom tripped up the runner.
Pinchas asked indignantly. "Do you think I have a stone for a heart like Gideon M.P. or your English stockbrokers and Rabbis? No, you shall go on being editor. They think you are not able enough, not orthodox enough they vant me but do not fear. I shall not accept." "But then what will become of the next number?" remonstrated Raphael, touched. "I must not edit it." "Vat you care?
"Yes, yes," said Pinchas, emphatically. "You can write quite as well as I. But just cast your eye now on the especial dedication which I have written to you in my own autograph.
'No they can't stand for "Bowery Tough," admitted Pinchas; and the table roared again, partly at the rapidity with which this linguistic genius had picked up the local slang. 'But as our pious lunatics think there are many meanings in every letter of the Torah, went on the pleased poet, 'so there are meanings innumerable in every letter of my name.
Let us have nothing to do with these swine Moses our teacher forbade it. See, my name Melchitsedek Pinchas already makes M.P. it was foreordained. If every letter of the Torah has its special meaning, and none was put by chance, why should the finger of heaven not have written my name thus: M.P. Melchitsedek Pinchas. Ah, our brother Wolf speaks truth wisdom issues from his lips.
'The first dress-rehearsal, Kloot replied reassuringly. 'We don't trouble authors with the rough work. They stroll in and put on the polish. Won't you come on the stage? Unable to repress a grin of happiness, Pinchas stumbled through the dim parterre, barking his shins at almost every step. Arrived at the orchestra, he found himself confronted by a chasm.
"I wonder," gurgled Pinchas, deep in his coffee. "But, father," asked Hannah, "don't you believe any Jew ever really believes in Christianity?" "How is it possible?" answered Reb Shemuel.
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