Whether he will wear the velvet schtramel or not I cannot tell, but I
will wait and see who wins--Father or the community--for we have some
idea who sent it.
"Mother received a beautiful, soft silk kerchief to wear on her head,
and it seemed a sign that the community wanted her to put her wig aside
and wear a kerchief instead. I was most thankful they did not send me a
pair of scissors. If they had, I should have thought they wanted me to
cut my plaits off. Well, I should have fought for my hair as I would for
life!
"In the afternoon I went to visit some friends, and I found a house full
of men, young and old, with their schtramel on their heads, and their
kaftans tied back, singing at the very top of their voices (and some
have very fine voices); others were clapping their hands, while eight
men, four on each side, were dancing what looked like a pantomime ballet
that I once went to. It was simply grand to watch them, for some were
old men with long, white beards, while others were serious-looking
young men who are to be seen daily in the street walking to and from
their homes and Shules, always deep in thought and so very
serious-looking that you would imagine that they did not know how to
smile. Here they were, on this Purim afternoon, dancing with all their
might, and with bright, smiling eyes! You could see it was not wine that
had made them bright and cheery: it was the spirit, or fire, of their
religious zeal commemorating with thankfulness the anniversary of the
day when their nation was saved from destruction.
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