THERE THEY SAT AND STOOD, IN VARIOUS ATTITUDES, WHILE THE DEEPENING SHADOWS MADE THEIR FIGURES EVER VAGUER AND MORE INDISTINCT  
All possible subjects came up for discussion “between Minchah and Maariv.” The politician of the Kehillah discoursed learnedly on the European situation and the various problems of statecraft involved in the relations of 22the great Powers to each other, the philosopher shed the light of his wisdom on the great scientific movements of the day and the wondrous inventions which are revolutionizing civilization, while the Talmudist elucidated knotty and interesting questions of rabbinical law or lamented the downfall of religious sentiment in these evil days and contrasted these with the unyielding fidelity and loyalty of yore. They all found attentive and eager listeners, to whom their words were as the very revelation of the Urim and Tummim; but they did not arouse the same degree of enthusiasm as the story-teller. This accomplished narrator of witty tales and humorous anecdotes held the hearts of his auditors in his hands; and when his turn came and he began to draw upon his apparently inexhaustible stock of Mesholim, an immense enthusiasm took possession of the entire audience, and there was no limit to their enjoyment of the numberless good points he made. They were indeed amusing, those tales of impecunious rabbis, and still more impecunious Bachurim, of awkward bridegrooms and homely brides, of witty Poles and scheming Schnorrers. But they were more. They were instructive, for they reflected the inner life of the Jewish people, and showed, even if from a humorous 23point of view, the many trials and difficulties by which they were encompassed.
But now the shadows had deepened into night, and the Shammas, who had the privilege of reading the service before the rest of the congregation in order that he might be permitted to perform the work-a-day task of lighting the lights, interrupted the pleasant tales of the story-teller by a brief notification that the time for prayer had arrived. The evening service was brief, lasting in all hardly more than a quarter of an hour. Its chief feature was the Havdoloh, in which the Chazan pronounced a number of benedictions over wine, spices, and a peculiar braided wax candle, and thanked the Lord that He makes a distinction between light and darkness, between Sabbath and week-day, and between Israel and the nations. The service concluded, the worshippers greeted each other with hearty “Gut Woch” and repaired to their homes, but not yet to resume work-a-day tasks.
It was an unwritten law in Nordheim that the Saturday night was not to be given over to labor or business, except in cases of emergency. The women were particularly zealous in following this rule. Instead sociability reigned supreme. The men indulged in friendly card-play, the married women sat together in groups and gossiped, 24the youths and maidens played musical instruments, sang, and danced. These pleasant occupations were continued several hours, so that on Saturday nights the worthy Jewish burghers retired much later than usual.
The sincerity and thoroughgoing consistency which marked the observance of the Sabbath were characteristic of the religious life of the Nordheim community throughout the year. It would be inconsistent with the scope of this sketch to go into all the details of religious life and practice; but suffice it to say that Jewish piety, as illustrated in Nordheim, was eminently earnest, emphatic, and genuine. The very children possessed the spirit of martyrs. They would have endured tortures rather than eat forbidden food or violate the Sabbath or any other of the holy days. Some of the manifestations of this piety were quaintly humorous or pathetic, according to the viewpoint from which they are regarded. The children of Nordheim, like children the world over, were very fond of fruit and berries. Had they been permitted to go into the orchards and gardens and gather their sweet products unrestrained, there can be no doubt that as much would have disappeared down their throats as they brought home. But the Nordheim mothers struck upon a shrewd 25scheme for circumventing the appetites of their sweet-toothed offspring, which did equal credit to their ingenuity and their psychological knowledge. They would send the children to gather fruits or pick berries upon a fast day. The plan was as effective as it was beautifully simple. The children brought home all that they gathered, for no Jewish child in Nordheim would have even thought of committing such a heinous sin as tasting food on a Taanis. Think of applying such a rule to American children! It would be about as effective as trying to restrain a bull with a piece of cotton thread.
It is recorded of a worthy Nordheim Baal Habbayis that he once saw some flies rise from his boots and settle upon some hay, which was later on eaten by his cows. Now that in itself is a trifling and insignificant incident; but it so happened that the boots, in accordance with German village custom, had been smeared with tallow, which, from the viewpoint of the Jewish religious law is Trefah—that is, ritually unclean, and forbidden to be eaten. Our worthy Nordheimer at once felt himself burdened in his conscience and despatched a special messenger post-haste to the rabbi at Gersfeld with an inquiry as to whether the milk of those cows might lawfully be drunk. This pious scrupulosity 26did not, however, as might be thought, involve any gloomy or dreary harshness of sentiment. What we are accustomed to call the Puritanical frame of mind was utterly unknown in Nordheim. On the contrary, a cheerful and pleasant disposition, which made the tone of social intercourse extremely agreeable, was the all prevalent mood. In individual instances this mental tendency was emphasized into pronounced joviality, and the happy possessors thereof became the “Spass macher,” the jesters and fun-makers of the community. Woe betide the unfortunate individual who acquired a reputation for sourness and unsociability. He was considered a legitimate victim for the gibes and jests of the official jokers, and small indeed was the meed of sympathy which he received.
Another instance of the prevailing jocoseness was the custom of attaching nicknames to persons, which were then used instead of their proper appellations. It was rarely that any one was referred to in Nordheim by his given name, the nickname being so universally used as almost to displace the real and legal cognomen. These nicknames were derived from some personal characteristic or some peculiarity arising from vocation or experience in life, which had struck the village wags as humorous. It was “the 27black Elias,” or “the long Moses,” or “the bold Isaac,” or “the gentle Sarah,” the last two appellations being, of course, mildly ironical. One individual, who had an undue amount of audacity in his psychological make-up, was known as “der Baishan,” that is, “the bashful or timid one,” while another who had failed in nearly everything he had undertaken was universally dubbed “der Mazzeldige Shmuel,” that is, “lucky Sam.” A family, some remote ancestor of which had once been imprisoned in a tower and escaped therefrom by leaping from the window of his cell, was generally known as “die Thurm hüpfer,” “the tower-hoppers,” while six brothers, all of whom were over six feet tall and stout in proportion, bore the strikingly apposite designation of “die Kinderlich,” that is, “the babies.” The swineherd, who called his charges together by means of a long tin trumpet, from which he emitted shrill and piercing, though hardly melodious notes, was styled by the Jews “der Baal Tokea,” that is, the blower of the Shofar or ram’s horn trumpet used in the services of the New Year; while the village constable, who was an extremely pious Catholic and always walked around through the village streets on Sundays with a prayer book in his hand, from which he read with strait-laced mien and 28ostentatious devotion, was dubbed “der Baal Tephillah,” that is, the cantor or reader of the synagogue services.
Schnorrers.
 
The two banes of village life and at the same time the most diverting figures therein were the Schnorrers and the gendarmes or rural policemen. The first-named gentry, wandering Jewish mendicants, who believed in the socialistic doctrine that the world, or at least that part of it which professed Judaism, owed them a living, were a most interesting set and worthy of a special study in themselves. They honored the community frequently with their visits. Some were usually visible in the streets at all seasons of the year, and the services in the synagogue were generally graced by the presence of two or three. In most instances they professed intense piety and then their Tephillin were larger, their Talethim longer, and their prayers louder and more ecstatic than those of the rest of the congregation. They came from anywhere and everywhere. Most of them were of Russian or Polish origin, but there was a goodly sprinkling of individuals of German birth and occasionally a Sephardi from Jerusalem or some other Eastern region, clad in Oriental robes and with a majestic turban upon his head, relieved the monotony of Schnorrerdom and added interest and diversity thereto by his strikingly alien and picturesque appearance. They came in the most diverse guises. Some appeared in the r?le of venerable rabbis with flowing beards, and anxious to display their learning in the law to whomsoever they could induce to listen; others professed to be merchants who had lost their all in ill-starred commercial ventures; while others were wandering apprentices—Handwerksburschen—temporarily out of work. Sometimes they were accompanied by their wives, who were always more voluble and eloquent than their husbands. Sometimes an entire family, grandparents, married sons and daughters and children of all ages, including infants in arms, made their appearance and then the resources of Nordheim charity were severely strained adequately to provide for them.