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Asharon Baltazar

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Grief enveloped the poor man, and he seemed to drag his feet wherever he went.
Noticing his father’s return to a life of wealth, Zalman’s son revived their kinship and stopped by to talk more often.
“Please, forgive me,” muttered the wagon driver. “I had no idea who you were, and I request forgiveness for wronging you.”
Creeping through the brush to investigate, they discovered, to their surprise, a lone candle in a clearing, burning atop a small headstone.
Trouble was brewing in St. Petersburg, and the Tzemach Tzedek immediately set to work to have the decree abolished.
It was an unusual job for a religious Jew, and his success aroused jealousy, even among his own artisans.
The driver’s mother didn’t say much, but half an hour before sunset she placed two candles on the table and lit them.
With time, the tailor turned gray and decided to travel to visit his daughter…
Reb Shalom’s daughter waited to be wed, but without a somewhat respectable dowry her chances of meriting a fine groom were virtually nonexistent.
“Please, Berish,” said the dying man, closing his eyes, “protect the menorah as though your life depends on it.”
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