“And do you really think we two between us can fill up the paper every week?” said Raphael doubtfully.

Little Sampson broke into a shriek of laughter, dropped his eyeglass and collapsed helplessly into the coal-scuttle.  The Committeemen looked up from their confabulations in astonishment.

“Fill up the paper!  Ho!  Ho!  Ho!” roared little Sampson, still doubled up.  “Evidently you’ve never had anything to do with papers.  Why, the reports of London and provincial sermons alone would fill three papers a week.”

“Yes, but how are we to get these reports, especially from the provinces?”

“How?  Ho!  Ho!  Ho!” And for some time little Sampson was physically incapable of speech.  “Don’t you know,” he gasped, “that the ministers always send up their own sermons, pages upon pages of foolscap?”

“Indeed?” murmured Raphael.

“What, haven’t you noticed all Jewish sermons are eloquent?”.

“They write that themselves?”

“Of course; sometimes they put ‘able,’ and sometimes ‘learned,’ but, as a rule, they prefer to be ‘eloquent.’  The run on that epithet is tremendous.  Ta dee dum da.  In holiday seasons they are also very fond of ‘enthralling the audience,’ and of ‘melting them to tears,’ but this is chiefly during the Ten Days of Repentance, or when a boy is Barmitzvah.  Then, think of the people who send in accounts of the oranges they gave away to distressed widows, or of the prizes won by their children at fourth-rate schools, or of the silver pointers they present to the synagogue.  Whenever a reader sends a letter to an evening paper, he will want you to quote it; and, if he writes a paragraph in the obscurest leaflet, he will want you to note it as ’Literary Intelligence.’  Why, my dear fellow, your chief task will be to cut down.  Ta, ra, ra, ta!  Any Jewish paper could be entirely supported by voluntary contributions—­as, for the matter of that, could any newspaper in the world.”  He got up and shook the coal-dust languidly from his cloak.

“Besides, we shall all be helping you with articles,” said De Haan, encouragingly.

“Yes, we shall all be helping you,” said Ebenezer.

“I vill give you from the Pierian spring—­bucketsful,” said Pinchas in a flush of generosity.

“Thank you, I shall be much obliged,” said Raphael, heartily, “for I don’t quite see the use of a paper filled up as Mr. Sampson suggests.”  He flung his arms out and drew them in again.  It was a way he had when in earnest.  “Then, I should like to have some foreign news.  Where’s that to come from?”