"No, no, that is a delusion. What! Are you weak-minded enough to believe that? All the philanthropists say so, of course, but surely you know that _schnorring_ and work should never be mixed. A man cannot do two things properly. He must choose his profession, and stick to it. A friend of mine once succumbed to the advice of the philanthropists instead of asking mine. He had one of the best provincial rounds in the kingdom, but in every town he weakly listened to the lectures of the president of the congregation inculcating work, and at last he actually invested the savings of years in jewellery, and went round trying to peddle it. The presidents all bought something to encourage him (though they beat down the price so that there was no profit in it), and they all expressed their pleasure at his working for his living, and showing a manly independence. 'But I _schnorr_ also,' he reminded them, holding out his hand when they had finished. It was in vain. No one gave him a farthing. He had blundered beyond redemption. At one blow he had destroyed one of the most profitable connections a _Schnorrer_ ever had, and without even getting anything for the goodwill. So if you will be guided by me, Yankelé, you will do nothing to assist the philanthropists to keep you. It destroys their satisfaction. A _Schnorrer_ cannot be too careful. And once you begin to work, where are you to draw the line?" "But you be a marriage-broker yourself," said Yankelé imprudently. "That!" thundered Manasseh angrily, "That is not work! That is pleasure!" "Vy look! Dere is Hennery Simons," cried Yankelé, hoping to divert his attention. But he only made matters worse. Henry Simons was a character variously known as the Tumbling Jew, Harry the Dancer, and the Juggling Jew. He was afterwards to become famous as the hero of a slander case which deluged England with pamphlets for and against, but for the present he had merely outraged the feelings of his fellow _Schnorrers_ by budding out in a direction so rare as to suggest preliminary baptism. He stood now playing antic and sleight-of-hand tricks--surrounded by a crowd--a curious figure crowned by a velvet skull-cap from which wisps of hair protruded, with a scarlet handkerchief thrust through his girdle. His face was an olive oval, bordered by ragged tufts of beard and stamped with melancholy. "You see the results of working," cried Manasseh. "It brings temptation to work on Sabbath. That Epicurean there is profaning the Holy Day. Come away! A _Schnorrer_ is far more certain of The-World-To-Come. No, decidedly, I will not give my daughter to a worker, or to a _Schnorrer_ who makes illegitimate profits." "But I _make_ de profits all de same," persisted Yankelé.