now drawn apart, the doors are open, and the Torahs within, in their vari-colored and embroidered silken coverings, with the silver ornaments, are exposed to view.
The shammes calls the names from a long list in his hand. The Rabbi comes first, then his assistants, and the principal officers of the community. As their names are called they all proceed to the Oran Hakodesh, where the Hazan reverently hands each a Torah until all the Torahs, eighteen in number, are thus distributed. In slow, measured steps, to the accompaniment of an appropriate anthem sung by all participants, the procession moves from left to right in a wide circle around the Bimah, followed by all the young boys and girls with flags and lighted lanterns. The worshipers kiss the Torahs as they are carried past them on the right arm of each in the procession. When the head of the procession reaches the Oran Hakodesh, thus completing the circle, he halts and so do all who follow him. Other names are read from the prepared list by the Shammes; all the Torahs are now handed over to the newcomers and the procession is repeated a second time in the same manner. In the meantime those who took part in the first procession proceed to the Bimah, where refreshments are offered them in the shape of wine or brandy and cake. The glasses tinkle again and agin, as they are filled for one and another, and the customary salutations and handshakings are exchanged in an amicable manner as the glasses are emptied: "L'hayim! L'sholom!"
Seven times the procession goes around the Bimah, so that all may have the honor of carrying the Torah in the procession or at least of kissing it.
"That girl who kisses the Torah carried by Yitzkele will make a fine bride," remarks the shadchen to the badchen—"she is the daughter of Red Shlemele, the miser."
"And Yitzkele will make a nice bridegroom," replied the badchen.
"Well, they will both make a happy
couple; they shall marry next winter."
"But her father, the miser will not spend a kopeck on her. Look how shabbily she is dressed while all the other girls have new dresses for the Holidays."
"And see the seat he occupies in the synagogue"—joins in the Shammes—"the cheapest of all, near the door, and pay only fifty kopecks, while he could afford to pay fifty roubles and have a seat near the Oran Hakodesh. A miser!"
The ceremony of the Procession is over; the girls and mothers of Israel are going home to prepare the feast of the day, while all the others give themselves up unrestrictedly to the rejoicings of the occasion. Tinkle, tinkle, sound the glasses. "L'hayim L'sholom!" is heard everywhere.
"Give us a song, badchen!" comes from the hilarious throng around the Bimah.
The badchen is an adept at stringing rhymes impromptu; and as his audience never was very critical, it was not difficult for him to satisfy it with a jingling of rhymes adapted to a catching melody, even though the sense of the words themselves left much to be desired from a literary and poetical point of view. So he takes the glass offered him, bowing to all around with a "L'hayim L'hayim!" drains its contents and begins in Yiddish . . .
A tremendous applause greeted the badchen upon his effort. Groups are formed, hands are joined in a circle by each group, and taking up the badchen's song in chorus, repeat it again and again, and all the time deancing fantastically to its cadence.
Reb Shlemele did not join hands in any of the groups; not because he did not want to, but because he was tacitly excluded by the others. He could drink the wine and eat the cake, but as to joining hands with him in a jig —never! And so it happened that Reb Shlemele footed the jig by himself. With arms extended and head thrown back he sang and danced. Faster and louder came the tuneful sounds, and faster and faster he whirled around, when he collided with somebody near the Oran Hakodesh.