My mother, on hearing about Reb Yisroel Meshgiakh’s "pinch on the cheek", was overjoyed. Gathering up her strength and courage, she proceded to take me from one rich, distant relative to the next, to set me up with "days" (regular dinner invitations). After she had arranged for all my "days", there remained one final question: where to find for me a place to board? And then my dear, faithful, Grandmother Rokhel undertook to speak on my behalf with her rich husband, Reb Gershon Pozhezhinski, who was known in town as a dreadful miser, that he should permit me to sleep on their leather sofa, which happened to be empty. "The Old Man", who my mother used to refer to under her breath as "the cold uncle", hearing that my meals were already taken care of, finally agreed, after much thought, to provide me with board; only I should make sure that I was no "wise guy", like my older brother...and furthermore, I’d better not be a "glutton", because if there was one thing worse than a "wise guy", it was a glutton....in any case, I was now provided with places to eat, a place to sleep, and most important...a future.

Afternoon. Mother had already arranged to return home with the same wagon-driver, who had brought us. The idea of staying by myself in this big, strance city was making me feel very uneasy. She must have sensed my thoughts, because she avoided my glances, as I did hers...she sat by the window, looking out at the square, which was bustling with people, packages of merchandise, horses and wagons, all preparing to set out on their wa. The sun was already going down. The last, red rays now shone through the window, and fell on my mother’s face. Finally she got up, came over to me, laid her hand on my head, and said quietly:

"Come, Falikel, let’s go for a little walk."

We went outside and walked through the streets together. She was breathing heavily...the events of the day had worn her out completely.

"Mother," I said, "where are we going?"

My mother didn’t answer...she just kept walking, until we came to a boulevard, where there stood long rows of trees, with benches on both sides. On the ground were little piles of leaves. My mother presently sat down on the first bench, and gave out a deep sigh. We both fell silent. I felt as though she wanted to tell me something. I waited my heart pounding, and wished that she would just come out with it. She took a deep breath, to prepare herself, and then, suddenly, she asked me:

"Tell me, my son, aren’t you embarrased to be walking about with a lame old woman, through the streets of the big city?"

From this unexpected question, I was so upset and confused that I couldn’t even let my eyes meet hers. At that moment, I was overcome by a great pity for her, that all but tore my heart open. I threw my arms about her and began to kiss her...I felt on her hot tears on my lips, as they poured down her thin cheeks.

Mother, deeply moved by my unexpected kisses, started looking at me with such clear, joyful eyes, like a bright sun coming out after a summer rain. She pulled me close to her, took my hand in hers, and spoke in a sad, quite voice:

"My son, I implore you, study with all your heart. Do not long for home. Here, with your rich relations, you will eat better, than you would have at home by your poor mother...so I ask of you, do me this one favor: study with all your heart! Because you are the only one from whom I can still hope to experience even a trace of motherly pride and satisfaction...because from your three older brothers, there is nothing more for me to hope. So remember, my child...do not bring down shame on your poor mother...

The sun had long since gone down. We hurried back to the station in silence. The wagon-driver was angry that we had made him wait so long for us. There was nothing left for me to do but to kiss her one last time. The big, heavy wagon, which was loaded with barrels of herring and sacks of salt, gave a start and disappeared from view. I was left all alone in the big, strange city...