They say, if the President is elected according to their wish, I shall earn ten dollars a week, and if not, only nine or perhaps eight. And Leeb the reader says he understands politics--that there is sense in it all--and that if I remain here some time, I shall get to know something about it, too. Well, perhaps so--I nod my head. And I think to myself, he has taken a drop too much and is talking nonsense. But he swore that during election-time he lived on it, and had a little money over for later. I'm sure I don't see how. But, joking apart, it's not our affair whether one or the other is President; it won't make much difference to us. The fact is, I often feel very depressed, the tears fall from my eyes on the tobacco leaves that I am cutting, and I don't sleep well at night. Sometimes there is a noise in my ears, and my head aches whole days together--and there is no better remedy for all this than to take paper, pen, and ink, and write a letter to my dear Hannah. My precious wife, I cannot keep anything from you. I have to tell you everything: I am still reading the Mishnah--I have got no Talmud yet. And do you know why? Because I have had to make another outlay. You know that it is everywhere the same world. Although here they cry without stopping, "Liberty! liberty!" it isn't worth an onion. Here, too, they dislike Jews. They are, if possible, more contemptuous of their appearance. There are no dogs that bark at them in the street and tear their skirts, but there are plenty of hooligans here also. As soon as they catch sight of a "capote"[127] there is a cry: "Jew, Jew!" which is the same as _Zhidd_[128] with us. And they throw stones and mud--there is no lack of mud here, either. So what could I do? I did what all the Jews do here--I tucked away my ear-locks behind my ears, and I bought (to be paid for by degrees--a custom they have) "German" clothes. There was an end to the money. And you, too, Hannah'li, when you come, will have to dress differently, for a custom stultifies a law--and it is their custom. And as to your writing that you don't like Genendil, I cannot see why. What ails you at her? It is not for me to set other people right. Besides, I am sure she only does it all for Parnosseh. She is as modest by nature as any other Jewish daughter. All day long, while Leeb the reader and I are at the factory, she cooks and washes and sweeps out the rooms. It is only in the evening that she goes with her father to _their_ places of amusement, where she sings and plays and dances before the public. I sit by myself at home, read Torah, and write to you. Towards midnight they come home, we drink tea together, and we go to bed. And as to your saying, you think Genendil stole the spoon which was afterwards missing--that is nonsense!