“Still, that’s the sort of man newspapers have to cater for,” said the sub-editor.  “And we don’t.  We have cut down our Provincial Notes to a column.  My idea would be to make two pages of them, not cutting out any of the people’s names and leaving in more of the adjectives.  Every man’s name we mention means at least one copy sold.  Why can’t we drag in a couple of thousand names every week?”

“That would make our circulation altogether nominal,” laughed Raphael, not taking the suggestion seriously.

Little Sampson was not only the Mephistopheles of the office, debauching his editor’s guileless mind with all the wily ways of the old journalistic hand; he was of real use in protecting Raphael against the thousand and one pitfalls that make the editorial chair as perilous to the occupant as Sweeney Todd’s; against the people who tried to get libels inserted as news or as advertisements, against the self-puffers and the axe-grinders.  He also taught Raphael how to commence interesting correspondence and how to close awkward.  The Flag played a part in many violent discussions.  Little Sampson was great in inventing communal crises, and in getting the public to believe it was excited.  He also won a great victory over the other party every three weeks; Raphael did not wish to have so many of these victories, but little Sampson pointed out that if he did not have them, the rival newspaper would annex them.  One of the earliest sensations of the Flag was a correspondence exposing the misdeeds of some communal officials; but in the end the very persons who made the allegations ate humble pie.  Evidently official pressure had been brought to bear, for red tape rampant might have been the heraldic device of Jewish officialdom.  In no department did Jews exhibit more strikingly their marvellous powers of assimilation to their neighbors.

Among the discussions which rent the body politic was the question of building a huge synagogue for the poor.  The Flag said it would only concentrate them, and its word prevailed.  There were also the grave questions of English and harmoniums in the synagogue, of the confirmation of girls and their utilization in the choir.  The Rabbinate, whose grave difficulties in reconciling all parties to its rule, were augmented by the existence of the Flag, pronounced it heinous to introduce English excerpts into the liturgy; if, however, they were not read from the central platform, they were legitimate; harmoniums were permissible, but only during special services; and an organization of mixed voices was allowable, but not a mixed choir; children might be confirmed, but the word “confirmation” should be avoided.  Poor Rabbinate!  The politics of the little community were extremely complex.  What with rabid zealots yearning for the piety of the good old times, spiritually-minded ministers working with uncomfortable earnestness for a larger Judaism, radicals dropping out, moderates clamoring for quiet, and schismatics organizing new and tiresome movements, the Rabbinate could scarcely do aught else than emit sonorous platitudes and remain in office.