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Updated: June 21, 2025
"It was well she buried it," said Karlkammer. "It was an atonement for a child, and saved its life." The Shalotten Shammos laughed outright. "Ah, laugh not," said Mrs. Belcovitch. "Or you might laugh with blood. It isn't for my own sins that I was born with ill-matched legs."
"My wife is dead and I never was blessed with a Kaddish." "It sounds better so," said the Shalotten Shammos authoritatively. "Preachers are expected to have heavy families dependent upon them. It would sound lies if I told the truth." This was an argument after the Maggid's own heart, but it did not quite convince him. "But they will send and make inquiries," he murmured.
Now the Shalotten Shammos is busy from morning to night filling up charity-forms, artistically multiplying the poor man's children and dividing his rooms. Now is holocaust made of a people's bread-crumbs, and now is the national salutation changed to "How do the Motsos agree with you?" half of the race growing facetious, and the other half finical over the spotted Passover cakes.
If Mendel had been at home, he might have found a counter-analogy. As it was, Sugarman re-tucked Nehemiah under his arm and departed triumphant, almost consoled for the raid on his provisions by the thought of money saved. In the street he met the Shalotten Shammos. "Blessed art thou who comest," said the giant, in Hebrew; then relapsing into Yiddish he cried: "I've been wanting to see you.
Only in the centre of the table towered in awful intact majesty the great Bar-mitzvah cake, like some mighty sphinx of stone surveying the ruins of empires, and the least reverent shrank before its austere gaze. But at last the Shalotten Shammos shook off his awe and stretched out his hand leisurely towards the cake, as became the master of ceremonies.
"May thy strength increase!" said the Maggid in the Hebrew formula of gratitude. "Nay, thine is more important," replied the Shalotten Shammos with hilarious heartiness, and he proceeded to read the letter as they walked along together, giant and doubled-up wizard. "But I haven't got a wife and six children," said the Maggid, for whom one or two phrases stood out intelligible.
It is possible that many of the worshippers were tempted to give beyond their means for fear of losing the esteem of the Shammos or Beadle, a potent personage only next in influence to the President whose overcoat he obsequiously removed on the greater man's annual visit to the synagogue.
"You can't compare yourself with the Maggid" the Shalotten Shammos reminded him consolingly. "There are hundreds of you in the market. There are several morceaux of the service which you do not sing half so well as your predecessor; your horn-blowing cannot compete with Freedman's of the Fashion Street Chevrah, nor can you read the Law as quickly and accurately as Prochintski.
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