Once, in a tiny village near the town of Moglinza, there was a certain Jew, named Joseph who made a living by leasing the milk cows of a local squire. This particular year Joseph had settled on the sum of eight kopeks per liter of milk produced, a price that was neither too high, nor too low.
It so happened, though, that this year, the cows produced milk in unusual abundance. When Joseph took the milk to market, he was unable to sell it at his price, and in fact, milk could be bought for almost nothing due to great supply.
Joseph went home and thought about his situation. He had made an agreement with the squire to pay him eight kopeks a liter, but if he did, he would most certainly lose every kopek he had. On the other hand, if he reneged on his deal, the squire could imprison him, even kill him. What could he do? Perhaps, the tzadik, Rabbi Chaim Meir, could give him a blessing.
That very day, Joseph went to the tzadik and related the whole story to him, explaining that he couldn't possibly pay the squire the amount they had agreed on. Rabbi Chaim's calm words soothed the distraught man. "Stay until after the Shabbat," the tzadik said, "and then we will see."
The prospect of being near the holy tzadik over the Shabbt was like balm to Joseph's troubled spirit and he readily agreed. The festive Shabbat table laden with delicacies, the soul stirring melodies and the holy words of Torah which the tzadik spoke over the Sabbath lifted Joseph's spirits, so that he hardly remembered why he had come. But then, the Shabbat ended and Joseph's soul again filled with dread.
Soon after the holy day passed, the attendant of the tzadik came to Joseph, "My master, Rabbi Chaim, has summoned you to him." Joseph hurried expectantly. What advice would the sage have to help him out of his dilemma?
When Joseph stood before Rabbi Chaim, the tzadik addressed him saying, "I would like a smoke. Would you be so kind as to fetch a piece of paper from the stove to light my pipe."
Joseph was quick to oblige, but by the time he brought the paper to Rabbi Chaim, the fire went out. He tried a second time, but the same thing happened, and the paper burned up without his having lit the pipe. This time Rabbi Chaim raised his voice and shouted, "This time, bring me a proper piece of paper that will light my pipe!" Joseph kindled a large piece, and with it, he finally succeeded in lighting the tzadik's pipe.
"Ah, that is good," said Rabbi Chaim. "Now, everything is all right, and you may return to your home in peace."
Joseph, who had great faith in the words of the tzadik, made his way home in a happy frame of mind, sure that somehow, the tzadik's words would be fulfilled for the good, and that his troubles would be over. His faith was soon borne out when, as he approached his village, he was met by one of the local peasants who gave him the news that all the squire's cows had been lost in a fire which suddenly broke out in the barn.
Joseph was startled by this shocking news, and he thought to himself, "True, the squire's cows have all perished, but my own small herd of ten cows was also in the barn. Have I lost them as well?!"
He rushed to his house, where his wife met him at the door.
"Husband, there was a terrible fire in the squire's barn. All his cows perished! But as the flames were just being seen, a gentile peasant came to our door leading our ten cows behind him, and so, our cows were saved. I looked for him, for I wanted to give him some reward for his trouble, but he was nowhere to be found. Finally I gave up searching for him."
When Joseph heard his wife's account of the fire and how their ten cows had been saved by a mysterious peasant, he turned on his heels and went back to the tzadik, Rabbi Chaim, to tell him of the miracle they had merited. Rabbi Chaim, however, was not surprised. "Your cows were saved by the Prophet Elijah, who was sent by Heaven to rescue you from your troubles," he said.
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