patiently submitted to his lot. "The Lord," said he, "gave and the Lord hath taken away;—let his name be praised for ever." He diligently applied to cultivate the only field he had left, and by dint of great labor, and still greater frugality, he contrived to support himself and family decently; and was, notwithstanding his poverty, cheerful and contented. The year passed on. One evening, as he was sitting at the door of his miserable hut, to rest from the labors of the day, he perceived the Rabbis coming at a distance. It was then that his former greatness and his present deplorable condition at once rushed upon his mind; and he felt for the first time the pangs of poverty. "What was Abba Judan!" exclaimed he; "and what is he now?" Pensive and melancholy, he seated himself in the corner of his hut. His wife perceived the sudden change. "What ails my beloved?" asked she tenderly; "art thou not well?—tell me, that I may administer to thy relief." "Would to God it were in thy power but the Lord alone can heal the wounds which he inflicts," replied the distressed man. "Dost thou not remember the days of our prosperity, when our corn fed the hungry—our fleece clothed the naked—and our oil and wine refreshed the drooping spirit of the afflicted? The orphans came round us and blessed us—and the widow's heart sang
