Rabbi and Priest | Page 7

an impression of neatness and
cleanliness prevailed, which one would seek for in vain among the
semi-barbarous peasants of Southern Russia. To the inhabitants of these
poor huts, home was everything. The ordinary occupations, the
primitive diversions of the serfs, were forbidden them. Shunned and
decried by their gentile neighbors, the Jews meekly withdrew into the
seclusion of their dwellings, and allowed the wicked world to wag.
Their "home" was synonymous with their happiness, with their
existence.
The shadows of evening were falling upon the quiet village. Above, the

stars were beginning to twinkle in the calmness of an April sky, and
brighter and brighter shone the candles in the houses of the Jews,
inviting the wayfarer to the cheer of a hospitable board.
It is the Jewish Sabbath eve, the divine day of rest. The hardships and
worry of daily toil are succeeded by a peaceful and joyous repose. The
trials and humiliations of a week of care are followed by a day of peace
and security.
The poor, despised Hebrew, who, during the past week, has been
hunted and persecuted, bound by the chain of intolerance and scourged
by the whip of fanaticism; who, in fair weather and foul, has wandered
from place to place with his pack, stinting, starving himself, that he
may provide bread for his wife and little ones, has returned for the
Sabbath eve, to find, in the presence and in the smiles of his dear ones,
an ample compensation for the care and anxiety he has been compelled
to endure.
At the end of the street, and not far from the last house in the settlement,
stands the House of Prayer. Thither the population of the Jewish quarter
wends its way. Men arrayed in their best attire, and followed by troops
of children, who from earliest infancy have been taught to acknowledge
the efficacy of prayer, enter the synagogue.
It is a poor, modest-looking enclosure.
A number of tallow candles illumine its recesses. The oron-hakodesh,
or ark containing the holy Pentateuch, a shabbily-covered pulpit, or
almemor, and a few rough praying-desks for the men, are all that
relieve the emptiness of the room. Around one side there runs a gallery,
in which the women sit during divine service. In spite of its humble
plainness, the place beams with cheerfulness; it bears the impress of
holiness. Gradually the benches fill. All of the men, and many of the
boys who form the population of the quarter, are present.
Reb Mordecai Winenki, the reader, begins the service. Prayers of
sincere gratitude are sent on high. The worshippers greet the Sabbath as
a lover greets his long-awaited bride--with joy, with smiles, with loving

fervor. The service is at an end and the happy participants return to
their homes.
Beautiful is the legend of the Sabbath eve.
When a man leaves the synagogue for his home, an Angel of Good and
an Angel of Evil accompany him. If he finds the table spread in his
house, the Sabbath lamps lighted, and his wife and children in festive
attire, ready to bless the holy day of rest, then the good Angel says:
"May the next Sabbath and all thy Sabbaths be like this. Peace unto this
dwelling!"
And the Angel of Evil is forced to say, "Amen."
No one, indeed, would, before entering one of these poor, unpainted
huts expect to find the cheerful and brilliant interior that greets his eyes.
Let us enter one of the houses, that of Reb Mordecai Winenki.
The table is covered with a snow-white cloth. The utensils are clean
and bright. The board is spread with tempting viands. An antique brass
lamp, polished like a mirror, hangs from the ceiling, and the flame from
its six arms sheds a soft light upon the table beneath. A number of
silver candlesticks among the dishes add to the illumination.
On this evening, Mordecai returned from the synagogue with his son
Mendel, a lad of thirteen, and his brother-in-law, Hirsch Bensef, a
resident of Kief. Mordecai was a thin, pale-faced, brown-bearded man
of forty or thereabouts, with shoulders stooping as though under a
weight of care; perhaps, though, it was from the sedentary life he led,
teaching unruly children the elements of Hebrew and religion. He had
resided in Togarog for fourteen years, ever since he had married Leah,
the daughter of Reb Bensef of Kief. His wife's brother was a man of
different stamp. He was a few years younger than Mordecai. His step
was firm, his head erect, his beard jet black, and his intellect, though
not above the superstitious fancies of his time and race, was, for all
ordinary transactions, especially those of trade, eminently clear and
powerful. He was, as we shall see, one of the wealthiest Jewish

merchants in Kief, and therefore quite