And this walk of theirs is more acceptable to God, blessed is He, than repeating "Bless the Lord, O my soul." It may be this was because he himself was of humble origin; he had lived till he was thirteen with his father, a farmer, in an out-of-the-way village, and ignorant even of his letters. True, his father had taken a youth into the house to teach him Hebrew, but Reb Avròhom as a boy was very wild, wouldn't mind his book, and ran all day after the oxen and horses.
He used to lie out in the meadow, hidden in the long grasses, near him the horses with their heads down pulling at the grass, and the view stretched far, far away, into the endless distance, and above him spread the wide sky, through which the clouds made their way, and the green, juicy earth seemed to look up at it and say: "Look, sky, and see how cheerfully I try to obey God's behest, to make the world green with grass!" And the sky made answer: "See, earth, how I try to fulfil God's command, by spreading myself far and wide!" and the few trees scattered over the fields were like witnesses to their friendly agreement. And little Avròhom lay and rejoiced in the goodness and all the work of God. Suddenly, as though he had received a revelation from Heaven, he went home, and asked the youth who was his teacher, "What blessing should one recite on feeling happy at sight of the world?" The youth laughed, and said: "You stupid boy! One says a blessing over bread and water, but as to saying one over this world—who ever heard of such a thing?"
Avròhom wondered, "The world is beautiful, the sky so pretty, the earth so sweet and soft, everything is so delightful to look at, and one says no blessing over it all!"
At thirteen he had left the village and come to the town. There, in the house-of-study, he saw the head of the Academy sitting at one end of the table, and around it, the scholars, all reciting in fervent, appealing tones that went to his heart.
The boy began to cry, whereupon the head of the Academy turned, and saw a little boy with a torn hat, crying, and his hair coming out through the holes, and his boots slung over his shoulder, like a peasant lad fresh from the road. The scholars laughed, but the Rosh ha-Yeshiveh asked him what he wanted.
"To learn," he answered in a low, pleading voice.
The Rosh ha-Yeshiveh had compassion on him, and took him as a pupil. Avròhom applied himself earnestly to the Torah, and in a few days could read Hebrew and follow the prayers without help.
And the way he prayed was a treat to watch. You should have seen him! He just stood and talked, as one person talks to another, quietly and affectionately, without any tricks of manner.
Once the Rosh ha-Yeshiveh saw him praying, and said before his whole Academy, "I can learn better than he, but when it comes to praying, I don't reach to his ankles." That is what he said.
So Reb Avròhom lived there till he was grown up, and had married the daughter of a simple tailor. Indeed, he learnt tailoring himself, and lived by his ten fingers. By day he sat and sewed with an open prayer-book before him, and recited portions of the Psalms to himself. After dark he went into the house-of-study, so quietly that no one noticed him, and passed half the night over the Talmud.