He told the Rebbe that he was an innkeeper in a village some distance away, the inn having come down to him from his late father, who had rented it from the old country squire. The old squire was a reasonable man and made no trouble if the rent was not paid on time in a bad season, in the wake of a severe winter. But the old squire died, and his son, the new squire, was not so kind. Now, he threatened to throw them out if the rent was not paid on time. He came to ask the Rebbe's help, so that his family would not be left without food and shelter in the midst of a terrible winter.
"Do you live in such and such village?" the Rebbe asked.
"Yes, Rebbe."
"Still in the same house, with the narrow windows and three steps leading up to the front door?"
"Yes, Rebbe," the innkeeper replied, wondering how the Rebbe knew.
"And is the well in the courtyard still plentiful, and the water still good?"
"Yes, Rebbe," the innkeeper answered with even greater amazement.
"I'm glad, I'm glad," the Rebbe said, stroking his silver beard. "You have nothing to worry about."
The innkeeper's face lit up with relief and he turned to go. But then he stopped and hesitated. He was baffled. How did the Rebbe know about the inn and the well, and what had the well to do with it all?
"Forgive me, Rebbe, for my insolence, but how does the Rebbe know my inn so well?" he finally asked.
The Rebbe smiled and said, "Very simple. I was there. It was a long time ago. Let me tell you the whole story.
"Many years ago, a young man was on his way to the saintly Rebbe, the 'Seer' of Lublin. He had been traveling for three days without food and shelter. He came to your village and stopped at the inn for a rest. He was so tired and hungry that he could barely climb the three front steps leading to the door. Your father was busy at that moment with peasants and wayfarers who crowded the inn, and he did not notice the stranger. After the young man rested a while, and seeing that no one took any notice of him, he decided to move on. As he passed by one of the narrow windows, he saw a small boy peeking out. The boy saw the haggard face of the stranger and ran after him. He begged the stranger to return with him to the inn. 'My father always welcomes poor wayfarers, and he would not forgive himself if he knew that one had passed by his inn without a good meal and a good night's rest. Please, come with me,' the boy urged.
"The young man returned to the inn and was immediately greeted by your father, then led to the dining room where a sumptuous meal was set before him. After the meal he was quite thirsty. The innkeeper sent the maid to fetch a pail of water. In her absence the innkeeper explained that she had to go to the village to fetch water.
" 'Have you no well in your courtyard?' the young man asked.
" 'Yes, but the water is not good. We only use it for the horses and garden.'
" 'If you don't mind, I'd like to taste your well-water. I'm very thirsty,' the young man said.
"The innkeeper brought a pitcher of water from the well and poured some for the thirsty guest. He drank it and said, 'Fancy giving such good water a bad name! Taste it, and see for yourself.' Everyone who tasted it was astonished. 'It's wonderful! It's even better than the water from the village well!' they said."
"Now I remember," the innkeeper said. "I was that little boy, and the young man - he must have been you!"
"Yes," said the saintly Rebbe, "and thanks to you I had a good meal and a good rest."
"That was nothing in comparison to the blessing which you brought into our home. Word got around how the water in our well suddenly turned pure and fresh. People still come just to drink our well water, saying it is good for their health!"
"If the water in the well is still good, then you can be sure that G-d is with you. Go home, and don't worry. Carry on with the mitzva of welcoming guests and G-d will continue to bless you," said the Rebbe.
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