Part 13 (1/2)
”I hope so.” Mr. Kohn's voice was a little doubtful. ”I hate to predict trouble, but I do believe that our candidate is going to have a harder row to plough than any president we ever had since Was.h.i.+ngton. I was thinking of that when I had the verses printed on the flag I am going to send him.”
”Oh, are you going to send Mr. Lincoln a flag?” cried Morris, forgetting he was not supposed to be listening.
His father shook his head and ordered the boy to attend to his lessons. ”His reports are worse every month,” he told Mr. Kohn. ”Rabbi Adler tells me he is a good boy, but that doesn't raise his marks in Hebrew and arithmetic and history, and his mother----”
”But I don't like history about dead people,” objected the boy. ”Now Mr. Lincoln's alive--and he's history, too, isn't he?”
”The boy's right,” laughed Mr. Kohn. ”Come in here, Morris, if your father'll let you, and I'll tell you all about the flag I'm sending Mr. Lincoln next week before he leaves his home in Springfield for Was.h.i.+ngton.” Morris, needing no second invitation, gladly deserted his books and slipped into the parlor, curling up in one corner of the horsehair sofa as he attempted to be as little in the way as possible.
For he didn't want his mother, should she happen to come into the room, to send him back to his lessons again.
”It is a large American flag,” explained Mr. Kohn, ”woven of the finest silk. And across it I've had inscribed in Hebrew the command given to Joshua when he took command of the Israelites after the death of Moses.” He turned to Morris, a teasing twinkle in his eyes. ”I suppose you can tell your father what that was,” he said, very seriously. ”What?” as Morris, really embarra.s.sed, shook his head. ”I thought you really learned more in Rabbi Adler's school. Suppose you get your Bible and show us how well you can translate the pa.s.sage.”
Doubtful of his skill as translator, but sure that kindly Mr. Kohn who had been one of the early cantors of the congregation and ”knew everything about Hebrew” would lend him a hand at the hard places, Morris turned to the first chapter of Joshua, and, with a little prompting translated the command given to the Jewish leader:
”Have I not commanded thee?” he read. ”Be strong and of good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed; for the Lord thy G.o.d is with thee whithersoever thou goest.” He looked up, his boyish spirit thrilled with the words. ”I like that,” he exclaimed naively, ”it's so--so--alive--not a bit like the Bible.”
”So that's what's written on your flag?” commented Mr. Rosenfelt.
”Well, no matter what happens, I guess we won't have to worry over our Mr. Lincoln. He'll be 'strong and of good courage,' alright, and make us glad we sent him on to Was.h.i.+ngton. Morris, go into the dining room now and study your lessons. Are you going to take the flag to Mr.
Lincoln yourself before he leaves Springfield?” he asked, turning back to Mr. Kohn, as Morris unwillingly went back to his lessons for the next morning.
”No. I can't leave my work just now,” answered Mr. Kohn, who was city clerk. ”But I'm sending it with a friend who will be in Springfield before Mr. Lincoln leaves. I want him to have a real going-away present to tell him what the Jews of Illinois think of their new president.”
Then the talk drifted to other matters, but Morris went to bed his heart filled with envy for the man who should take the flag to Mr.
Lincoln. He knew that there wasn't the slightest chance for him to go to Springfield; his mother would remember all the dreadful stories she had ever heard of little boys being kidnapped while taking railway journeys alone; his father would tell him he couldn't spare the money for such a trip and that Morris couldn't afford to lose a day of school. Then, if he couldn't go to Springfield, it would be almost as good to send a present to Mr. Lincoln such as Mr. Kohn planned to do--but what could a little boy with a limited amount of pocket money send a man just elected to be president of the United States. He even crept out of bed very stealthily, not caring to arouse his ever-wakeful mother in the next room--to look over the treasures in the top drawer of his little dresser; the finest stamp collection ever possessed by any boy who attended his school, he thought proudly; a box of sh.e.l.ls and lucky stones gathered on the lake sh.o.r.e last vacation; a prize book given him at school for perfect attendance, which Morris never cared to read, as it seemed to be the tale of a very good little boy who always stood at the head of his cla.s.s and never disobeyed his parents; a set of fis.h.i.+ng tackle discarded by his older brother, Harry. Treasures, though they were, Morris would have sent any or all of them with Mr. Kohn's flag as a going-away gift to the new president, already enshrined in so many hearts; but, boy though he was, he knew that a grown up man would not care for his poor presents. He even lifted his little blue bank and rattled it softly; but he did not take the trouble to pry it open, for he knew that for all its jingling, the pennies inside would not amount up to more than a dollar. Disappointed, yet determined not to let Mr. Kohn outdo him in the matter, Morris crept back to bed.
The next morning he found his plans for Mr. Lincoln's present far more fascinating than his lessons as he sat in the bas.e.m.e.nt schoolroom provided for the children of the congregation. One of the school's non-Jewish teachers had heard his history and geography. In a little while Rabbi Adler would take the cla.s.ses in Hebrew and German. Morris knew he ought to prepare the lessons so shamefully neglected the night before, but he found it difficult to put his mind on his task.
Fortunately for him, he wasn't called upon during the Hebrew session and managed to escape a scolding for his lack of preparation. So he sat sedately with his eyes glued upon the thick black characters, while his mind pictured the flag with the Hebrew lettering which was to be sent to Springfield. He had seen a good many pictures of Mr.
Lincoln and now he tried to imagine how the kindly, homely face would break into a smile at Mr. Kohn's thoughtfulness. Then he roused himself to listen, for now the rabbi was saying something about the lesson that really interested him.
”Of course,” said Rabbi Adler, ”the Sanctuary Bezalel built in the desert wasn't half so beautiful as the Temple we afterwards raised at Jerusalem. But we were willing to wait. It was always that way with our people--with every nation, too; we must wait for what is worth while and if we wait long enough and work while we are waiting, we will finally achieve what we have been striving for.” He paused for a moment, closing his book, as he looked over the cla.s.s. ”Has anyone a question to ask about the lesson?” he ended, in his usual way.
Hardly thinking what he did, Morris shot his hand up in the air, then wished with all his heart that he had not raised it, when the rabbi said: ”Well, Morris, what's your question?”
”It's not exactly about the lesson,” confessed the boy, awkwardly.
”But when you talked about waiting for something for a long time, I wondered--I--how long is a person president of the United States?” he ended desperately, realizing how foolish his question must sound not only to the teacher but to his fellow students as well.
If Rabbi Adler failed to see any connection between the building of the Sanctuary and American politics, he was too kind to say so. ”The president is elected for four years,” he answered, ”although sometimes he is reelected for a second term, which makes eight years in all.”
”Then Mr. Lincoln'll be in Was.h.i.+ngton eight years, 'cause everybody will want him for two terms,” decided Morris, loyally, though a little disappointed that the plan which had just occurred to him must take so long to mature.
”So you're a Lincoln man, too?” smiled his teacher. He hesitated a moment, then, feeling that high civic ideals were as necessary to his cla.s.s as Hebrew, he went on: ”We who have worked hard to elect Mr.
Lincoln feel that our country is in good hands. He is not one of our people, yet I believe he is more like our Hebrew prophets than any man, Jew or non-Jew, living today. None of you boys may ever be president, but if you strive as earnestly as Mr. Lincoln has always done to serve the right, I shall be well satisfied.... We will take the next chapter for tomorrow,” and the lesson was over.
Next came the German cla.s.s and Morris, after reading and translating his portion of a German fairy tale quite creditably, sank back in his place, again busy with his plans. Rabbi Adler was right, he decided.
If one just worked and waited, everything would turn out all right. So Mr. Lincoln would be gone for four years, perhaps eight. Well, since a Jewish gentleman had sent him a going-away present, wouldn't it be a fine thing for a Jewish boy to send him some gift when he returned to his home in Springfield? Morris wasn't sure just what the gift would be, but he was no longer worried. Even four years were not long to wait, especially if one had to save a good deal of money in the interval. For Morris was sure that he would have to send a really expensive present; perhaps a gold watch, which at that particular moment was the one thing, next to a Shetland pony, he most desired for himself.