Mr. Monday and other tales of Jewish Amsterdam

THE BUILDING 61

The leader of the club therefore clearly hesitated inviting David to prepare an essay. This made David even less comfortable. But finally one day the leader was forced to ask:

"Now David.. .Suppose you write down something for next time? What do you say?"

"I shall be delighted," David replied, but from his face you could see that he was none too happy.

"Have you thought about the topic yet?"

"Yes. To tell you the truth, no."

"What would you think," the leader said thoughtfully, "about taking as a topic...Let me see...Yes...The Workers and their Destiny'. Does that subject appeal to you?"

"Sure," David replied, but his voice sounded faint.

"Naturally you are completely free to write what you want," the leader tried to reassure him.

The week passed. David studied and at the next meeting he read out his essay. I can only remember the last part, but I will never forget it even if I live to become a thousand years old. It was the peroration. I remember the words exactly.

"The workers are no longer satisfied with their fate in capitalistic society. Too long they have been forced to eat dry bread. They desire bread and butter, and at least once a week the worker wants bread and bacon!"

"Bread and bacon...?" the leader of the club gasped. David Augurkiesman who wanted to eat once a week bread and bacon. Bacon! But then a light dawned.

"Hold on, one moment, David," he said. "Where did you pinch that essay from?"

With his face the colour of the party flag, David pulled a crumpled pamphlet from his pocket. It was a propaganda