After father, Moshe-for-once pronounced the blessing over the wine. It was not the same blessing as my father's--but, really not. After him, the landlord, Hershke Mamtzes pronounced the blessing over the wine. He was a commonplace man, and it was a commonplace blessing. We went to wash our hands, and we pronounced the blessing over the bread. And each of the three women brought out the food for her family--fine, fresh, seasoned, pleasant, fragrant fish. And each family sat around its own table. There were many dishes; a lot of people had soup; a lot of mouths were eating. A little wind blew into the Tabernacle, through the frail thin walls, and the thin roof of fir-boughs. The candles spluttered. Every one was eating heartily the delicious Festival supper. And I imagined it was not a Tabernacle but a palace--a great, big, brilliantly lit-up palace. And we Jews, the chosen people, the princes, were sitting in the palace and enjoying the pleasures of life. "It is well for you, little Jews," thought I. "No one is so well-off as you. No one else is privileged to sit in such a beautiful palace, covered with green fir-boughs, strewn with yellow sand, decorated with the most beautiful tapestries in the world, on the tables the finest suppers, and real Festival fish which is the daintiest of all dainties. And who speaks of----" Suddenly, crash! The whole roof and the fir-boughs are on our heads. One wall after the other is falling in. A goat fell from on high, right on top of us. It suddenly grew pitch dark. All the candles were extinguished. All the tables were over-turned. And we all, with the suppers and the crockery and the goat, were stretched out on the sand. The moon shone, and the stars peeped out, and the goat jumped up, frightened, and stood on its thin legs, stock-still, while it stared at us with foolish eyes. It soon marched off, like an insolent creature, over the tables and chairs, and over our heads, bleating "Meh-eh-eh-eh!" The candles were extinguished; the crockery smashed; the supper in the sand; and we were all frightened to death. The women were shrieking, the children crying. It was a destruction of everything--a real destruction. * * * "You built a fine Tabernacle," said Hershke Mamtzes to us in such a voice, as if we had had from him for building the Tabernacle goodness knows how much money. "It was a fine Tabernacle, when one goat could overthrow it." "It was a Tabernacle for once," replied Moshe-for-once. He stood like one beaten, looking upwards, to see whence the destruction had come. "It was a Tabernacle for once." "Yes, a Tabernacle for once," repeated Hershke Mamtzes, in a voice full of deadly venom. And every one echoed his words, all in one voice: "A Tabernacle for once." The Dead Citron