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'Let us rather prepare bombs. A fresh shudder traversed the beds and the chairs, and agitated the window-curtain. 'Bombs! Presents! burst forth the old Rabbi. 'These are godless instruments. We are in the hands of the Holy One blessed be He! 'Hush! Epicurean! came from every quarter at this grim jest; for the Shomer and the Shochet are the official twain of ritual butchery.
Be you who you may, saint or devil, that is beyond your power. Her husband assuredly will not take her back. With her family she cannot live." "Then she shall live with mine," said the Shochet. "My daughter dwells in Brody. I will take her to her. Go your ways." They stood disconcerted. Presently the younger said: "How know we are not leaving her to greater shame?"
But my torpor was not so deep as that into which my new friend appeared to fall, for though as we approached a village another vehicle dashed towards us, my shouts and the other driver's cries only roused him in time to escape losing a wheel. "Knotty point," said he, shuddering; "it is Satan who ties those knots." "Oho," said I, "though a Shochet, you do not seem fond of rabbinical learning."
But from all writings which would promote piety and fear of God he keeps them away." I was delighted and astonished to hear the Shochet thus deliver himself, but before I could express my acquiescence, his attention was diverted by a pretty maiden who came along driving a cow. "What a glorious creature!" said he, while his eyes shone. "Which?" said I laughingly. "The cow?"
"'Tis useful to be a Shochet." he said grimly, as he darted among the bushes. I followed in his footsteps and a strange sight burst upon us. A beautiful woman was struggling with two saturnine-visaged men dressed as Rabbis in silken hose and mantles. One held her arms pinned to her sides, while the other was about to plunge a dagger into her heart. "Hold!" cried the Shochet.
The same mould covers them all those who donated guineas and those who donated "gifts," the rogues and the hypocrites, and the wedding-drolls, the observant and the lax, the purse-proud and the lowly, the coarse and the genteel, the wonderful chapmen and the luckless Schlemihls, Rabbi and Dayan and Shochet, the scribes who wrote the sacred scroll and the cantors who trolled it off mellifluous tongues, and the betting-men who never listened to it; the grimy Russians of the capotes and the earlocks, and the blue-blooded Dons, "the gentlemen of the Mahamad," who ruffled it with swords and knee-breeches in the best Christian society.
This custom has come down to the present day in the modern worship of Jehovah; the blood of animals is still forbidden to the modern Hebrew. Therefore, the orthodox Jew has the neck of the chicken slit by a "Shochet" who allows the blood to drip to the ground a modern blood offering to the Gods. The explanations given by the rabbis of our day are spurious.
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