inviting her to weep instead of smiling, and he follows this doggerel with a discussion of the vanities of life and the sadness of woman's lot. Even if her marital happiness should be unmarred by any unfaithfulness of her husband,--and Jewish men for the greater part are good husbands and fathers,--there are the cares of earning the daily bread, which frequently fall on the woman, while the stronger vessel is brooding over some Talmudical subtleties; there are the eternal worries over the babies, and, worst of all, the proverbial mother-in-law, if the wife chances to board with her for the first few years after marriage. The ideal of the Jewess is but a passing dream, and no one can escape the awakening to a horrible reality: A Maedele werd a Kale In ēin Rege, in ēin Minut, Mit ihr freuen sich Alle Die Freud' is' nor zu ihr. Der Chossen schickt Presenten, Sie werd gār neu geboren, Wenn sie thut sich ān, Wünscht sie ihm lange Jāhren. Sie gēht mit'n Chossen spazieren Un' thut in Spiegele a Kuck, Stēhen Ōlem Menschen Un' seinen mekane dem Glück. Ot führt män sie zu der Chupe, Un' ot führt män sie zurück, Stēhen a Kupe Maedlach Un' seinen mekane dem Glück. Auf morgen nāch der Chupe, Die Freimut is' noch in Ganzen: Der Chossen sitzt wie a Meelach Un' die Kale gēht sich tanzen. Drei Jāhr nāch der Chupe Der Freimut is schōn arāb: Die junge Weibel gēht arum Mit a zudrēhter Kopp. * * * * * "Oi wēh, Mutter, Mutter, Ich will vun dir nit hören, Ich wollt' schōn besser wöllen Zurück a Maedel wer'n!" A girl is made a bride in a moment, in a minute,--all rejoice with her, with her alone.--The groom sends presents, she feels all new-born, when she attires herself, she wishes him long years.--She gets ready to walk with the bridegroom, and looks into the mirror,--there stands a crowd of people who envy her her good luck.--Now she is led to the baldachin, now she is led back again,--there stands a bevy of girls who envy her her luck.--The next day after the marriage,--the joy is still with them: the bridegroom sits like a king, the bride is a-dancing.--Three years after the marriage,--the joy has left them: the young woman walks around with a troubled head.... 'Woe to me, mother, mother, I do not want to hear of you,--I should like, indeed, to be a young girl again.' Pathetic are the recitals of suffering at the house of her husband's parents, where she is treated worse than a menial, where she is without the love of a mother to whom she is attached more than to any one else, and where she ends miserably her young years:[41] Mein' Tochter, wu bist du gewesen? Bei'm Schwieger un' Schwähr, Wās brummt wie a Bär, Mutter du liebe, du meine!