The Maccabaean

The Shtreimel*

By trade, I am a furrier; but chiefly —a maker of shtreimels. It is true, that the greater portion of my livelihood I earn by making sheep-skin and frieze coats for the peasants. It also sometimes happens that Leib, the miller, brings in his raccoon coat to be repaired.

It is true that the opportunity to make a shtreimel is seldom offered, very seldom ; because only a rabbi wears a shtreimel, and it usually outlasts him.

It is also true, that when I happen to get an order for one, I make it for nothing, or almost for nothing. At any rate, I get little if any pay for my work. All this I confess, and yet I am mainly a shtreimel-maker, because I love to make them!

As soon as I get one into my hands, I begin to feel who I am, and what I can do.

In days gone by, I delighted in making peasants' coats.

First: Why shouldn't I? Secondly: I reasoned: "The peasant gives us bread, he works very hard all summer, and since I cannot protect him from the hot sun, I will keep him warm in the winter." And, thirdly: I had a charming song for it. I was a young man, my voice was as clear as a bell, and I used to sew and sing:

And so on, a few more verses. They were intentionally composed to end with the refrain, "Miriam, dear, I am dry!"

For, you must know, the present pious woman, Miriam Dvoshe, was not then absorbed in the welfare of the poor for piety's sake; then she did not call me, as now "Berel Kolbas" (infidel), but by my first name, in the diminutive form, "Berele;" and I used to call her "Miriam, dear!" And the love between us was so great, that no sooner did I utter the word "dry," then she handed me a little brandy. Brandy, as you know, stimulates the blood. Then I would embrace her and impress a kiss on her ruby lips, and, doubly refreshed, take to my work again.