his race the more he marvelled at the omnipresent ability, being tempted at times to allow truth to the view that Judaism was a successful sociological experiment, the moral and physical training of a chosen race whose very dietary had been religiously regulated. And even the revelations of the seamy side of human character, which thrust themselves upon the most purblind of editors, were blessings in disguise. The office of the _Flag_ was a forcing house for Raphael; many latent thoughts developed into extraordinary maturity. A month of the _Flag_ was equal to a year of experience in the outside world. And not even Little Sampson himself was keener to appreciate the humours of the office, when no principle was involved; though what made the sub-editor roar with laughter often made the editor miserable for the day. For compensation Raphael had felicities from which Little Sampson was cut off; gladdened by revelations of earnestness and piety in letters that were merely bad English to the sub-editor. A thing that set them both laughing occurred on the top of their conversation about the reader who objected to quotations from the Old Testament. A package of four old _Flags_ arrived, accompanied by a letter. This was the letter: 'DEAR SIR, 'Your man called upon me last night, asking for payment for four advertisements of my Passover groceries. But I have changed my mind about them and do not want them, and therefore beg to return the four numbers sent me. You will see I have not opened them or soiled them in any way, so please cancel the claim in your books. 'Yours truly, 'ISAAC WOLLBERG.' 'He evidently thinks the vouchers sent him _are_ the advertisements,' screamed Little Sampson. 'But if he is as ignorant as all that, how could he have written the letter?' asked Raphael. 'Oh, it was probably written for him for twopence by the Shalotten Shammos, the begging-letter writer.' 'This is almost as funny as Karlkammer,' said Raphael.