the Talmud. This, however, was of no avail: as he was occupied the most of his time with household affairs, I took advantage of the opportunity thus afforded. Under the impulse of curiosity I made a raid upon the cupboard and glanced over all the books. The result was, that, as I had already a fair knowledge of Hebrew, I found more pleasure in some of these books than in the Talmud. And this result was surely natural. Take the subjects of the Talmud, which, with the exception of those relating to jurisprudence, are dry and mostly unintelligible to a child—the laws of sacrifice, of purification, of forbidden meats, of feasts, and so forth—in which the oddest rabbinical conceits are elaborated through many volumes with the finest dialectic, and the most absurd questions are discussed with the highest efforts of intellectual power; for example, how many white hairs may a red cow have, and yet remain a red cow; what sorts of scabs require this or that sort of purification; whether a louse or a flea may be killed on the Sabbath,—the first being allowed, while the second is a deadly sin;—whether the slaughter of an animal ought to be executed at the neck or the tail; whether the highpriest put on his shirt or his hose first; whether the Jabam, that is, the brother of a man who died childless, being required by law to marry the widow, is relieved from his obligation if he falls off a roof and sticks in the mire. Ohe jam satis est! Compare these glorious disputations, which are served up to young people and forced on them even to disgust, with history, in which natural events are related in an instructive and agreeable manner, with a knowledge of the world's structure, by which the outlook into nature is widened, and the vast whole is brought into a well-ordered system; surely my preference will be justified.

The most valuable books in the collection were four. There was a Hebrew chronicle under the title of Zemach David,[14] written by a sensible chief rabbi in Prague, named Rabbi David Gans. He was also the author of the astronomical book spoken of in the sequel, and he had had the honour of being acquainted with Tycho Brahe, and of making astronomical observations with him in the Observatory at Copenhagen. There were besides, a Josephus, which was evidently garbled, and a History of the Persecutions of the Jews in Spain. But what attracted me most powerfully was an astronomical work. In this work a new world was opened to me, and I gave myself up to the study with the greatest diligence. Think of a child about seven years of age, in my position, with an astronomical work thrown in his way, and exciting his interest. I had never seen or heard anything of the first elements of mathematics, and I had no one to give me any direction in the study: for it is needless to say, that to my father I dared not even let my curiosity in the matter be known, and, apart from that, he was not in a position to give me any information on the subject. How must the spirit of a child, thirsting for knowledge, have been inflamed by such a discovery! This the result will show.

As I was still a child, and the beds in my father's house were few, I was allowed to sleep with my old grandmother, whose bed stood in the above-mentioned study. As I was obliged during the day to occupy myself solely with the study of the Talmud, and durst not take another book in my hand, I devoted the evenings to my astronomical inquiries. Accordingly after my grandmother had gone to bed, I put some fresh wood on the fire, made for the cupboard, and took out my beloved astronomical book. My grandmother indeed scolded me, because it was too cold for the old lady to lie alone in bed; but I did not trouble myself about that, and continued my study till the fire was burnt out.

After I had carried this on for some evenings, I came to the description of the celestial sphere and its imaginary circles, designed for the explanation of astronomical phenomena. This was represented in the book by a single figure, in connection with which the author gave the reader the good advice, that, since the manifold circles could not be represented in a plane figure except by straight lines, he should, for the sake of rendering them more clearly intelligible, make for himself either an ordinary globe or an armillary sphere. I therefore formed the resolution to make such a sphere out of twisted rods; and after I had finished this work, I was in a position to understand the whole book. But as I had to take care lest my father should find out how I had been occupied, I always hid my armillary sphere in a corner behind the cupboard before I went to bed.

My grandmother, who had on several occasions observed that I was wholly absorbed in my reading, but now and then lifted my eyes to look at a number of circles formed of twisted rods laid on one another, fell into the greatest consternation over the matter; she believed nothing less than that her grandson had lost his wits. She did not delay, therefore, to tell my father, and point out to him the place where the magical instrument was kept. He soon guessed what was the meaning of this. Accordingly he took the sphere in his hand, and sent for me. When I came, he asked me, "What sort of plaything is this?"

"It is a Kadur,[15]" I replied.

"What does it mean?" he asked.

I then explained to him the use of all the circles for the purpose of making the celestial phenomena intelligible. My father, who was a good rabbi indeed, but had no special talent for science, could not comprehend all that I endeavoured to make comprehensible. He was especially puzzled, by the comparison of my armillary sphere with the figure in the book, to understand how out of straight lines circles should be evolved; but one thing he could see,—that I was sure of my business. He therefore scolded me, it is true, because I had transgressed his command to meddle with nothing beyond the Talmud; but still he felt a secret pleasure, that his young son, without a guide or previous training, had been able by himself to master an entire work of science. And with this the affair came to an end.

CHAPTER IV.

Jewish Schools—The Joy of being released from them causes a stiff foot.

My brother Joseph and I were sent to Mir to school. My brother, who was about twelve years old, was put to board with a schoolmaster of some repute at that time, by name Jossel. This man was the terror of all young people, "the scourge of God;" he treated those in his charge with unheard of cruelty, flogged them till the blood came, even for the slightest offence, and not infrequently tore off their ears, or beat their eyes out. When the parents of these unfortunates came to him, and brought him to task, he struck them with stones or whatever else came to hand, and drove them with his stick out of the house back to their own dwellings, without any respect of persons. All under his discipline became either blockheads or good scholars. I, who was then only seven years old, was sent to another schoolmaster.

An anecdote I must here relate, which shows on the one side great brotherly love, and on the other may be viewed as expressing the condition of a child's mind, that sways between the hope of lightening an evil, and the fear of increasing it. One day as I