r :s DAVID WARFIELD Ghetto Silhouettes DAVID WAR 5s MARGHERITY NEW YORK V/ (II7AH DAVID WARFIELD Ghetto Silhouettes By DAVID WARFIELD MARGHERITA ARLINA HAMM NEW YORK JAMES POTT & COMPANY MCMII Copyrighted, 1902, by S POTT & COMPANY r Flr$t Imprestion September^ PREFACE \ stories which compose this vol ume are based upon sketches made from the daily life of the famous East Side of New York City. This dis trict, which is probably the most populous one upon the globe, lies between the Bowery and the East River, which form its east and west boundaries, and from Catherine Street to Houston. Here Mr. Warfield gathered material for his professional work as an actor and playwright and Miss Hamm spent much time during four years of labor as a Social Settlement worker. Nearly all of the inci dents are taken from actual facts, especially those which seem the most improbable. The life of the Ghetto is like and unlike that of every other crowded district in the metropolis. Its unlikeness seems to justify the presentation of its dramatic incidents in the form of fiction. TABLE of CONTENTS CHAPTER I Page The End of the Dream .... i CHAPTER II The Romance of a Minder . . . 28 CHAPTER III Revenge is Mine 44 CHAPTER IV The Story of Philip 6 1 CHAPTER V The Run on Jobblelousky s . . . 8 1 CHAPTER VI A Bird of Prey 95 CHAPTER VII Solomon and Santa Claus . . . 1 1 1 [ vii] TABLE of CONTENTS CHAPTER VIII ftgt The God of His Fathers . . . .133 CHAPTER IX The Ruin of a Schatcben . . .155 CHAPTER X A Monument of Patience . . .173 GHETTO SILHOUETTES r The ^Lnd of the Dream WHEN his wife Sarah died, Joshua Galitz fell in a stu por which lasted two days. There was a feeling of unspeakable loss and bereavement. There was also, and it frightened him so much that he feared to brood upon it, a sense of relief. His life in Little Wallachia had never been happy, as far back as he could remember ; while his married life in the village of Zatreni had been one long sorrow and pain. Race- prejudice ran deep, and the sudden and unexpected liberty which war and states manship had conferred upon the little GHETTO SILHOUETTES kingdom of Roumania had been put to strange uses by the Wallachians in general and the people of Zatreni in particular. Under Turkish rule, the Jew, though de spised, had been protected. It was true that his taxes were three times those of the Christian and six times those of the " Faithful/ but their payment insured him good treatment in nearly every sense of the word. The expulsion of the Turk had brought about unfortunate results. The new officials were coarse, brutal, and intolerant men, who took advantage of their new power to gratify every grudge and to despoil every possible victim. Joshua s taxes had been doubled, and, in place of protection, he had received con tumely, insult, and violence. Twice he had complained to the local magistrate. On the first occasion he had been fined for "contempt of court" and beaten se verely by the defendant, who had pre- 1*1 THE END of the DREAM viously spit in his face and called his wife opprobrious names. On the second occa sion, he had been thrown into jail for bringing a false complaint against a citi zen of the godly kingdom of Roumania. It is true the citizen was a drunken roue, who had insulted Joshua s wife, but the only witnesses against the scoundrel were Hebrews, and in Little Wallachia, the word of one Christian outweighs the oaths of twenty Jews. Under these auspices the wife had faded away and died. Time and again Joshua had begged her to go with him to some other country, and especially to that great Republic across the seas, where all were wealthy and where every man, woman, and child went about sparkling with gems. But the fond heart was attached to her home, and, in spite of her wretched life, she loved the beautiful place which was to her, as it ought to be to everybody, an Is] GHETTO SILHOUETTES earthly paradise. The funeral passed off very quietly and simply ; Jewish funerals are taxed in Little Wallachia, and for each florin expended by affection upon the last rites of mortality two are demanded by the officials of the place. A week passed, and then Joshua sold what little property he possessed, and, with his son David, shook the dust of the town from his feet and departed along that in visible road which leads from Roumania to the German seaports, and thence to New York. Had it not been for David, who was a bright boy of seven years, the father might have succumbed upon the way. In his narrow life he had learned not overmuch of the world, and once outside of his own province he was com pletely at sea. He knew a little of the Hungarian speech, and so managed to get through that land with comparatively small trouble, but when he reached the [4] THE END of the DREAM great German-speaking territory he was at an utter loss. Here David came to the front and took the place of the father. The child had the genius of his race for acquir ing languages, and even before they had reached Germany had picked up enough of the language to express his wants. Occasionally they encountered good Samaritans, who treated them kind ly and well. Occasionally, too, they met members of their own race, who extend ed hospitality, and for a brief time made their lives happy, but these were oases in the desert. Everywhere they met frowns and rebuffs, frequently insults, and some times physical violence. Three times they were arrested as tramps, and on one of these occasions were locked up for a month in a vile jail. Twice they were robbed upon the road and unable to ob tain any redress. Once, not far fom Ber- m GHETTO SILHOUETTES lin, the old man fell sick from exposure and weariness, and was sent to the public hospital, where he lay three weeks before his strength returned sufficiently to re sume the journey. But every road has its end and every lane its turning. The day came when they reached Hamburg and saw the for est of m#sts in the river and the brighter day, when the great steamer moved proud ly into the Narrows and up the magnifi cent harbor of the American metropolis. They had but little baggage. Concealed in the old man s clothing were a few precious stones and bank-notes, and in the pocket of his waistcoat, close to his heart, was a worn copy of the Talmud, which he had inherited from his father. Upon the steamer Joshua passed his time in studying the ancient volume and ex plaining it to David. The boy, like all healthy children, mingled with the other [.*] THE END of the DREAM passengers and began to pick up words and phrases of the language of the coun try to which he was bound. At the barge-office they felt inexpressibly lonely and crushed. The crowds, the roar of the mighty city and the towering build ings seemed to oppress them. But sud denly they were accosted in their own speech by an agent of the Hebrew United Charities. It sounded like a voice from Heaven. The father burst into tears, and the son fairly grinned with delight. The agent was a faithful official, and soon had them at home in a lodging-house on the East Side. Here they settled down and lived for eight years. Joshua worked hard, while the boy, who had entered the public school as well as a Hebrew school shortly after his arrival, devoted himself to study with a zeal that won the admi ration of his teachers. They made a few acquaintances who endeavored to brighten [7] GHETTO SILHOUETTES up the life of father and son. The lat ter accepted the overtures gladly, but the former remained aloof. His only pleas ure was the Talmud, and the dreams in which the imagination tries to make amends for the realities of the past and present. Not long after his arrival, he joined a Zionist club and soon became one of its enthusiastic members. For two or three years he was a listener, and then one night at a dull session he was called upon to speak. He had never spoken before in public, and when he rose the little gathering of friends seemed a vast ocean of eyes, all glaring at him. He faltered, and for a minute or two was scarcely able to formulate his thought in words. Then there came a bright light into his brain, and a series of pictures unfolded them selves, which he put into words. The dreamer had awakened ; the place was THE END of the DREAM forgotten and his inner thoughts were being projected into the minds of his auditors. The meeting had been unin teresting, and the members had been whispering and yawning from ennui. But, with the change in his tone, con versation ceased, and an intense silence pervaded the room. The drowsiest mem ber became painfully awake, and all sat there listening in mute fascination at this new orator. It was a strange speech. It embodied the years of his Talmudic studies, his vague hopes and terrible sorrows, his fierce belief in the God of his Fathers and the future of his race, and through all the poetry and splendor of his dreams. He never knew how long he spoke, nor did the members of his club, but when he stopped from sheer physical weakness, there was a long pause, and then the club broke out into a tumult of applause [9] GHETTO SILHOUETTES and shouting. Old men with tears in their eyes rushed forward and clasped the astonished man to their hearts, while young men struggled to clasp his hand. From that time on, he was the Zion ist orator of the East Side. He took a strange pleasure in his new occupation, and by degrees there came upon him the desire to go to the Holy Land and visit the city of the great kings of his race. Often he would discuss it with David, and each time he drew more brilliant pictures of Jerusalem than before. By degrees the pictures became realities. His own soul rebuilt Solomon s Temple and Palace, the great walls which Titus had thrown down, the Hall of the Sanhe drim and the Palaces of the Princes of Israel. What with his studies and im agination, he erected within himself a more glorious city than ever Solomon had known. His intimate friends noticed the THE END of the DREAM change in him, and a few shook their heads and said, " Joshua is becoming the victim of his own dreams/ Little boys in the street made fun of him, but not often. Young David, who was growing up into a stalwart, muscular youth, soon silenced them according to the simple code of East Side youths. He tried the best he could to turn his father s thoughts away from Zion, but soon perceived this to be impossible. Once or twice he vent ured to assert that the Jerusalem of to day was a miserable, misgoverned, Turkish city, with no charm save that of historical association and memory, but, to his pain and surprise, his father broke into tears, and then, rising angrily from the chair, pointed his finger at David, exclaiming : " My son ; my son ; your mind has been poisoned by our renegade people. They invent these foolish tales to cover up their own sinfulness, and to shield GHETTO SILHOUETTES their cowardice and treachery. Zion has not died. Zion will never die, so long as there is a true Jewish heart. Zion gave the world all its life and beauty, and to day its radiance is as bright as when Sol omon sat upon his throne of gold, or its mighty armies marched forth conquering every land. The King still sits there up on his throne, and the generals still com mand their victorious armies, but the silly world and our wicked people close their eyes and refuse to see them in all their splendor, but I see them, my son, night after night, when this good city is asleep. My soul leaves the body and flies across the wide seas to the Holy Land and vis its the cave of Abraham and the Temple- stones on Mount Horeb, the olive groves where the people cut the great timbers which still form the ceiling in the Tem ple, and which are as bright with pure gold as when the artificers of Hiram, THE END of the DREAM King of Tyre, presented them to his lord and master, Solomon. If we are but true to our faith, we will go there some day, David, my son, and be wel comed back to our own. I shall serve in the Temple ; but you, my beloved boy, shall be one of the great doctors who will teach our people, and through our people the world. Study hard, my son, so that you may be worthy of your high calling. Your glory is mine, and your honors are mine. In my old age you shall hold up my arms as Aaron held up Moses . And you shall be a light in Israel and a joy to our king." David listened to his father s outburst, and with kindly boyish tact answered : " I ll study hard, father, and do the best I can." And the boy was true to his word. He went through the public schools at the head of his classes, and then, entering [ 13 GHETTO SILHOUETTES the City College, soon made himself a name as a brilliant and thorough scholar. He had long passed his father in culture and knowledge. Even in Hebrew and the Talmud his trained memory and studious habits had enabled him to ob tain a comprehension of the subjects that Joshua, brought up in the cruel atmos phere of Little Wallachia, had never pos sessed. He was in the junior year of the college, when one evening, returning home, he found his father strangely happy. They ate their little meal together, and then his father, rising from the table, walked around to where the boy sat, em braced him and kissed him on the fore head. " It is all done, David. To-morrow we start for Zion. Here are the tickets for you and me, and here is the banker s draft, which will buy us a beautiful home not far from the Temple. The ship [ 1 THE END of the DREAM leaves to-morrow, and then you and I will start to enter in our possession/ David was too surprised to make re ply. He realized that his father was la boring under a delusion, and yet his love and pride forbade him to make any com ment. He forced a smile and said, as cheer fully as he could : " Yes, father, we will go to-morrow and see the great land which God the Lord has marked as His own." That evening he bade good-by to his friends, and the next morning they made ready to start. Just after breakfast they were astonished at receiving many calls. Somehow or other the news had spread abroad, and scores of neighbors had come to wish them godspeed. Neither David nor Joshua knew how popular they had become on the East Side. The calls and the tokens of affection afforded them in- [ is] GHETTO SILHOUETTES finite pleasure. A little girl brought a bunch of roses, and said that her mother would like to have them laid on the city gate of Jerusalem. A gray-haired wid ow entered the room and, sobbing, laid a roll of bank-notes before Joshua, begging him to spend it upon poor Jews in the Holy Land. One gruff neighbor presented them with two steamer-rugs, and another brought a guide-book with a series of admirable maps. They must have had a hundred calls that morning, and nearly every visitor left some expression of re gard. The trip across the sea was uneventful. Joshua read, studied, and dreamed, and spoke only to David. At last, they reached Jaffa. David was one of the first to see the place, and turned to tell his father. But Joshua was invisible. David went down to the cabin and started back in surprise as he [ THE END of the DREAM opened the stateroom door. He saw Joshua, but hardly recognized him. His hair and beard, which were now gray and almost white, had been combed, oiled, and brushed until they looked like those of the great patriarchs. In place of the clothing which he had worn up to that time, he had on a stately gaberdine and robe such as belonged to the doctors of the Middle Ages. " Dress, my son," said Joshua, " in your best clothing, because you are a prince of the House of Israel, and it would be doing poor honor to our king if we went ashore attired like common people." The boy complied, and put on the handsome suit which his father had pur chased just before their departure. He now understood why Joshua had been so seemingly extravagant. Heretofore, he had wondered at the suit, which was lined [ 17] GHETTO SILHOUETTES with the richest silk, and with which had come an assortment of other personal wear worthy of a rich man. They went ashore, and the father mani fested a little surprise and displeasure at the sight of some Turkish soldiers. The red fezzes and flags grated upon him, and the cheap commercial activity of the place, the squalor, and dirt, poverty and degradation, which were visible every where, were too much for the man of dreams. He was silent for ten minutes, and then his face brightened up as he turned to David, and said : " You must not mind this, my son ; Joppa " (and from now on he used the old name for the place) " belongs to our king by the right of conquest, but in his kind ness he lets these poor wretches manage it themselves. He is ready to rule it when they say the word, but he is wait ing for them to see the folly of their ways I i8 ] THE END of the DREAM and ask him to direct them. He does not even send his own guards down here, but permits them to use those brutal red- capped soldiers, who are a disgrace to the place/ The steamer had arrived too late for the afternoon train which goes to Je rusalem, and they stayed all night at a ho tel. The elegance of Joshua and David attracted attention, and numerous were the whispers of the guests and the attend ants. The quick ear of David caught many of the utterances, which were in English, German, French, and other tongues. " That s a rich Rabbi taking a pupil to the Holy Land," said one. "That s a crazy Zionist," quoth another. " They are scholars sent out by the American Exploration Fund," suggested a third. "They are German agents going out [ 19 ] GHETTO SILHOUETTES to locate new concessions/ whispered a fourth. The next morning they were up bright and early and took the first train to Je rusalem. When they alighted from the carriage the old man s face lighted up with a strange splendor. " We are home, David. This is the city of our king. Have you ever dreamed of anything so beautiful. Look at the palace yonder/ and he pointed to a huge building reeking with the dirt of* centuries. " That belongs to one of the princes of Israel. You shall have a bet ter one, with a great audience-chamber and a vast library, and I shall sit with crowds at your feet and listen to your wisdom. There/ pointing to a cheap hotel, " is the hall of a great rabbi. When we have been presented, we will call upon him. Those people coming and going are only his servants. When [ ^o] THE END of the DREAM you have your hall, you shall have five times as many servitors. Let us go to the Temple." He seized the boy s hand and walked swiftly along the first street. They were suddenly halted by a small procession of Greek monks carrying a crucifix and bawling discordantly. The old man s grasp tightened and he whispered to David : " Those are envoys bringing tribute to our king. All day and night they come from every country of the world/ Then he added, as a detachment of Turkish sol diers marched passed to prevent the Greek monks fighting with their colleagues : " Those are the guards they bring with them. Notice how unhappy they look at the idea of being compelled to come all the way here to render homage to our king." When the crowd passed they resumed [ 21 ] GHETTO SILHOUETTES their walk. They went up one street and down another. Sometimes they ap parently doubled upon their track and passed the same houses two and three times. At odd intervals Joshua would stop and explain to David the nature and history of some building in front of them. As the day wore on, his imagination grew more intense and terrible. Turkish wom en in their veils were transformed by him into the lovely daughters of Israel ; business men into generals and statesmen ; camel-drivers wore crowns, and muleteers were bright with gems and gold. It must have been four in the afternoon when they reached the open place where stands the Mosque of Omar, beneath which are the giant rocks which Solo mon used in building his walls. Some drowsy janizaries guarded the door, but an amiable gentleman who seemed to speak every language, though outrageous- [22] THE END of the DREAM ly, accosted them, and, for a moneyed con sideration, led them through the guards and into the sacred enclosure. David felt a chill go over him as they proceeded within the building. There were a myriad little doors, graceful and artistic as are all Saracen constructions, but so grimed and decayed that they seemed like the corpse of a building which had been dead a thousand years. They entered a court where the grass and weeds were pushing aside the stones of the pave ment and converting the place into a strange and mournful wilderness. In the centre of the enclosure rose before them the exquisite edifice which is a wonder of the world, a stone palace whose blue tint makes it seem carved of lapis lazuli. From its centre sprang the graceful cylin drical tower surmounted by the dome and crescent which tell the story of the prophet and his dead legions. GHETTO SILHOUETTES " That is the Temple, David. That is where the Lord makes His dwelling- place. It is not stone but priceless sap phire. Those little dots of color are gems ; the yellow is topaz ; the white, diamonds ; the green, emerald ; the black, onyx ; the scarlet, ruby ; the brown, sar donyx, and the golden-green, chryso- prase." As they stood there they were joined by a man of middle age, whose face was very kind and gentle. He had overheard Joshua s comment and had divined the situation. He pointed out the minor buildings in the enclosure and explained them in a way which showed him to be a scholar as well as a pleasant companion. Joshua listened in turn, and David forgot the chill of the atmosphere in the strang er s conversation. Suddenly came the call of the Muezzin, and all the soldiers and attendants in the THE END of the DREAM great enclosure fell upon their knees in prayer. The stranger dropped likewise, as did David, but Joshua remained stand ing. " Kneel down, for Heaven s sake," said the stranger. " I shall not kneel," answered Joshua, " until I am in the presence of my king." The stranger seized him and pulled him down. " Kneel down, I say. You are a Jew like myself, and our lives will be taken unless we kneel." " I shall appeal to the king," answered Joshua. In his excitement the stranger forgot his tact. " King ? there is no king, but the ac cursed Sultan. We are strangers in our own city. We are interlopers where Sol omon once sat, and where our generals [ 25] GHETTO SILHOUETTES once held sway. We are fugitives on the face of the earth, and our only king dom is in our own hearts, and in the years to be." Joshua listened, dazed, and then turned from the stranger and looked at his son. Through the glamour of his dreams, he saw the truth written upon his boy s face. Again he turned and gazed upon the Mosque, upon the red-fezzed men, upon the decaying buildings, and the dilapi dated splendors of the Saracen past. The evening prayer was over and the Mos lems had resumed their former attitudes. Suddenly Joshua sprang to his feet, threw his hands high in air, and, pointing to one of the doors of the Mosque, called out : " Rise, David ; rise, my friend, for here comes our king and all the princes of Israel." A strain of martial melody floated to them from the distance. THE END of the DREAM " Do you hear the music, my son ? That is the song which David wrote, and which the harps and cymbals played be fore Solomon. Kneel again, my son, for now the king has come." He was about to kneel, when suddenly a tremor ran through him, and he fell toward the ground. David and the stranger caught him ere he touched the earth, and laid him gently down. Joshua had been presented to the king. r r It The Romance of a blinder NORFOLK STREET is not an attractive thoroughfare. Every where there is a distinct odor of life and death. The one pertains to the victims of poverty and ignorance, and the other to the debris which is allowed by a not over-well governed city to ac cumulate in the gutters, alleyways, and cellars of the tenement-houses. The latter add a somewhat picturesque charm to an otherwise ugly neighborhood. Some are old-fashioned, handsome, three- story mansions, which, despite cracked windows, filthy doors and indescribable coatings of grime, still preserve faint traces of their former grandeur. Beside them are modern five-story " dumb-bells," gaudy with cheap brick trimmings, and THE ROMANCE of a MINDER with the flower-pots and colored gar ments that show themselves in every window. Nearly every house has a store on the ground floor, and each is over crowded with inmates. They swarm everywhere, dirty-faced children, slat ternly women and poorly dressed men. Nearly all look hungry, cold, despondent and unhappy. Upon the faces of the older is the furtive look which goes with the workers of the sweat-shops. Only the little children show the happy ex pression which ought to belong to all the ages of humanity. On the third floor of one of these tene ments, not far from Grand Street, lived Simon Lublin, a Polak of about thirty. He was what is known as a minder, that is to say, a person learned in the law and the Hebrew language, who teaches little children, receiving them in the morning and minding them all day, until their [29 ] GHETTO SILHOUETTES parents call for them after working-hours, and take them home. It was a monoto nous and hard life, but it pleased Simon, who, beneath his calm and sorrowful face, had a very warm heart. He was loved by the little folks, who viewed him more as an adjunct father or assistant mother than as a teacher. Their love was justi fied. Where ordinary minders perform lip-service to their little charges, Simon went to the opposite extreme in devotion to his scholars. He always gave them more food in the middle of the day than they were entitled to under the Minder s contract, and oftentimes when the weather was clear and beautiful, he would take them on little rambles to stores and other places where he was welcome. These trips were a fairyland to the children, who never tired of describing and re-describing them after nightfall to their parents. Simon was one of those THE ROMANCE of a MINDER curious types which are exceedingly rare in our Western race, but common in the territory which was once the mighty kingdom of Poland. He was a scholar, and a dreamer. He had but little sym pathy with the world, for what he knew of it had been cruel and repugnant from his earliest childhood. He loved New York in a dull way, because here he en joyed a strange liberty, and a freedom from persecution which he had never known at home. There were no anti- Semite brawls. There were no savage police, and no grasping tax-gatherers. So far as he was concerned, there was no government, because to him government meant perpetual interference with the rights of the individual. The police and the firemen were to him visitors from an unknown world. The former carried no swords, nor bayonets, while the latter were like the soldiers of some king who [ 3 ] GHETTO SILHOUETTES was forever at war with the armies of the King of Fire. Time and again, he and his little folks had craned their necks out of the windows, watching the steam fire- engines go dashing past, calling up in his imagination the fiery chariots in which patriarchs and prophets were once sup posed to ride. The children were three - fourths of Simon s life ; the other fourth was an extraordinary friend, Mr. Tom Braden, who was also his boarder. Mr. Braden was a reporter and literary man ; that is to say, he pursued professional pursuits with the pen, when not engaged in either getting intoxicated, or recovering from intoxication. He had drifted down into the East Side when preparing a series of articles on Immigrants, and had engaged a room from Lublin at the rent of $1.50 per week. The articles were duly written, [ 3*] THE ROMANCE of a MINDER sold, and paid for, and the proceeds spent with cheerful alacrity in the cafes of Newspaper Row. About this time, Mr. Braden discovered that by living in a room in Norfolk Street at $1.50, he had a surplus of $ 3. 50 over a room in Thirty- fourth Street, his former home at $5 a week, and that this surplus enabled him to prolong his daily carouses. So he re mained on the East Side. This was not the only motive. He had become attached to his landlord, and a warm friendship had sprung up between them. Each was the victim of cruel and destructive forces. Braden s were of his own creation ; Lublin s were those of his home associations and of centuries of oppression. One summer when Simon fell sick, Tom nursed him and stayed sober a fortnight. After that Simon in variably brought his boarder a bowl of hot Russian tea every morning. [ 33 ] GHETTO SILHOUETTES Three nights a week, Braden taught his landlord English, and in return was instructed in Polish. This mutual instruction was of benefit to both in many ways. It turned Lublin s literary taste into new channels, and, be sides giving Braden a glimpse into Polish and Russian literature, it increased the number of his hours of sobriety. After several months had passed, Tom became interested one evening in a short story which was being used as the night s exer cise. When the lesson was over, he wrote the story out, giving it a quaint touch of humor which the original did not possess. The next day he submitted the manu script to the editor of a weekly. The latter happened, for a wonder, to be not overbusy and, telling Braden to sit down, read the proffered sketch. To Tom s sur prise he became interested and read the matter to the end. [ 34] THE ROMANCE of a MINDER " That s good stuff, Braden. Foreign, isn t it ? " he asked. " Yes, from the Polish." " I thought I recognized an element of Sienkiewicz about it, but it contains humor which that author does not pos sess. Who wrote it ? " Braden was nonplussed for a second, and then a queer thought entered his head which inspired him to answer, " Simon Lublin/ " If you run across any more of his work as good as this, bring it here first. Pll pay double rates for it. There s an order on the cashier." Braden received the check in a dazed way, cashed it, bought a couple of drinks, and then, moved by some inexplicable impulse, went to Norfolk Street instead of his favorite rendezvous on Park Row. He stopped on Grand Street, bought a lot of cake and fruit, and, with his pur- [ 35] GHETTO SILHOUETTES chases in his arms, reached the tenement and entered Lublin s room. There sat the teacher wearing the little silk skull-cap, which is the badge of the Polak peda gogue, and in front of him were a score of urchins at their studies. They turned as the door opened and smiled, for Tom was a good-hearted man who always was liked by little folks. Lublin was startled, as it was the first time Tom had ever en tered the room at that time of the day. " What is the matter ? Nothing wrong, I hope ? " " Not a bit. Only good news. I ve just sold that story you read me last night for $40, and here is your half," and lay ing down his bundles, he counted out and handed over the money to the teacher. The pale face of the teacher flushed up with pleasure, and then became nat ural again as he answered, " Thank you, [36] THE ROMANCE of a MINDER I cannot take it. I did nothing at all. You earned it, and it is all yours." " Not I. You taught me ; you found the story and translated it, and I merely wrote it down, and put on a few flour ishes. Put it in your pocket, and divide these things amongst the youngsters." Lublin complied amid a murmur of delight from the urchins, which grew into a roar when the cakes and fruit were handed out among them. There was little or no study the rest of the day. Thus began an odd literary partner ship. Simon translated, and Tom re wrote, embellished, and sold. Most of the stories were ascribed to the real au thors, but to keep up the original decep tion, Braden was obliged every now and then to charge some bright bit of litera ture to the teacher. In this way the teacher unconsciously became known to the editorial and read- [ 37] GHETTO SILHOUETTES ing worlds. Several publishers made in quiries as to the new star, but as there were a dozen Lublins in Europe, who were engaged in journalism, their in quiries, though revealing that the name was not assumed, failed to secure any identification. The work was entitled to the credit it gained. Lublin made wise selections, and, in translating, added un consciously the poetry and delicacy of his nature, while the Bohemian put in the fun and sparkle so dear to the Amer ican heart. Success did not change the conduct of the pair. Tom drank, per haps, a little less, but treated a good deal more. Simon opened a bank account, and from week to week added to his capital. The summer of the second year arrived. One warm evening, when the lesson was over, Lublin began to read, and Braden to prepare manuscript. The house was [ 38 ] THE ROMANCE of a MINDER quiet, and the street outside half deserted. Through the open window, which opened into what landlords facetiously call a light-shaft, came the voices of two men quarrelling. It was in a strange language, no odd event in the tenement-house. Had the tone been ordinary, Tom would not have noticed it. But the rage which seemed to permeate the words disturbed him, and after a few minutes pause, in which he stopped writing, he looked up from the paper with a quick toss of the head. Simon had stopped reading, and, with a strange expression of surprise and horror on his face, was listening to the conversation. He saw that his friend was about to speak, and laid a warning ringer across his lips. Tom realized that some thing of deep interest was going on, and sat motionless. The heated conversation began to cool down until the words were scarcely audible. Simon crept noiselessly [ 39 ] GHETTO SILHOUETTES to the light shaft and leaned out of the narrow window so as to catch the slight est sound. Five minutes passed, ten, fifteen, and then the unseen speakers seemed to end their talk. Lublin closed the window very care fully so as to make no noise, and then moved on tip-toe to Tom. Leaning over the latter, he whispered, " They are human fiends. They own the clothing store on the ground floor, and are going to set fire to it some night next week, in order to defraud the insurance com pany. We must call the police and have them arrested/ " That would be of no use. We have no evidence but what we have heard, and we cannot identify the speakers. Let s wait. To-morrow I ll see the President of the Vesuvius Insurance Company, and see what can be done. I d like to catch the gang. It would make a great story, [ 40 ] THE ROMANCE of a MINDER and I could sell it to a morning paper for two or three hundred dollars/ The next morning he called upon the official and told the story of the previous evening. The President listened very in tently. " I thank you for calling. You have put us on the trail of a gang of firebugs who have been setting stores on fire and defrauding the companies for the past eighteen months. What is the name of your friend ? " " Simon Lublin." " Lublin ? Yes, I remember it now. That s the Polish writer?" " The same," answered Braden. " If you will kindly wait, I ll send for our detective." The officer soon appeared, and was in troduced to Tom, who, under skilful questioning, gave a more complete story than he had to the President. When he [41 ] GHETTO SILHOUETTES closed, he said, " I suppose there is no hurry. The men said they would bring the job off next week/* " All the more reason for suspecting them this week," retorted the detective, " those firebugs are so dishonest that they deceive one another and even themselves. I shall put them under surveillance with in another hour/ The prediction was verified. The fire broke out three days afterward just be fore one o clock in the morning. Owing to the precautions taken, no innocent lives were lost, as had occurred in several other cases, and no great damage was done. The flames were confined to the store, where, through the lavish use of kerosene by the incendiaries, they gained enough strength to give a good battle to the firemen for a half hour. The fire-alarm was a signal to the police, who promptly arrested the entire gang of firebugs. [ 42 ] THE ROMANCE of a MINDER Tom s article, giving the history of the case, appeared the next morning in a leading paper, and on pay-day he offered the usual one-half to Lublin. This time the latter refused the money point-blank whereupon Tom, in high dudgeon, departed for Newspaper Row, where he signalized himself by extending bibulous hospitality, to the utter discomfiture of every reporter who entered the cafe. Two weeks afterward a notice appeared in the daily press. " Simon Lublin, the author and scholar, has been appointed to the chair of Polish and Russian literature in St. Jerome s College. The chair is new, having been founded a week ago by Edward Thornton, President of the Vesuvius Insurance Company of this city." [43] WWW m Revenge is I day was done, and the great army of the business world was moving in solid streams up Broadway and the Bowery, toward its homes, far and near. The law office of Spencer & Spencer was at last quiet. The clerks had gone for the day, and the two partners sat in the library, their feet upon the table, and their lips busy with cigars and conversation. " We have had a good day, John. You won that case very nicely, and got a much larger verdict than I expected. At my end of the line, I settled that mortgage, and received $550, eighty more than we figured upon." The brother blew a ring of smoke from his mouth as he replied : [44 ] REVENGE is MINE " Things arc booming, Ned, and I think we are justified in a special dinner this evening, followed by a night at the opera. What s on hand to-morrow ? " " I ve got that Rubenstein case on trial in the General Sessions." " Will you get the fellow off?" "So far as I can see, Til acquit him with flying colors. The fellow is as guilty as Hades, but he is such a clever scalawag, that I question if he ever com mits a crime without first preparing a perfect defence." "That s a business-like criminal. It is lucky that there are not many like him." "Yes; he is an exception to the rule. This is the fifth time I shall have de fended him, and it looks as if it would be like the other four. In every one he was guilty, and in each instance, I won through his own strategy. It was a good thing for me, as the Court and the Bar [45 3 GHETTO SILHOUETTES gave me all the credit, whereas I did not deserve one bit of it." " That is interesting. What is the case to-morrow ? " " It is a $5,000 robbery at a fashionable boarding-house. He went there in dis guise as a literary man, picking out the hour when there was no one but the landlady around. He impressed her fa vorably, engaged a room, and, before even ing, had gone through the bureaus and trunks of four wealthy boarders, and se cured enough money and jewelry to keep a family for a year." " Does the landlady recognize him ? " " Only too well." " I am blessed then if I see how you can get him off." " That shows that you are not up in criminal law, John. You see there is only one witness against him. He was very careful to avoid everyone else in the [ 46 ] REVENGE is MINE house. This is the landlady, who is near sighted, nervous, and irritable. On cross- examination I ll confuse her, and she will break down. To-morrow in court he will do as he has always done before, and make up as carefully as an actor does on the stage. He will look like a cheap and vulgar bartender. He will have two or three boon companions in court, who look like him, and who will be made up in the same way, so that when I call the attention of the jury to the accidental resemblance between the pris oner and these strangers, and then dilate on the cruelty of mistaken identity, I would win the case anyhow. But, in ad dition, I have a beautiful alibi. For a month the fellow has been engaged to a very pretty girl living in the same neigh borhood as the landlady, and both the girl and the mother, in the excitement of the occasion, are certain that he was at [47] GHETTO SILHOUETTES the house when the landlady swears the robbery was committed. To make things doubly sure, a good old clergyman, who looks as patriarchal as Abraham, will tes tify to the same facts. Now, as a matter of truth, the clergyman has two days con fused, while the two women are mistaken as to the hours. But, in spite of this, they will go on the stand to-morrow, and make first-class witnesses. You can see the force of the situation. It will leak out that this beautiful young girl loves the prisoner. She will break down upon the witness-stand ; the mother will weep in sympathy ; the clergyman will grow indignant at the luckless boarding-house keeper, and the jury will believe that it is a case of pure malice. It is a mad world, my masters, and none know its madness more than we lawyers." " That is true, Ned ; but sometimes I fancy that in our professional relations we [48 ] REVENGE is MINE do as much harm as good. Here we, through our education and brains, are keeping this scoundrel out of Sing Sing, and allowing him to prey upon the com munity. It makes me sort of sickish when I think of the number of criminals we have defended and kept out of the clutches of the law." " No sentiment, old boy ; business is business. The criminal eats society, and we eat the criminal. Where would all the noble criminal lawyers be, if it were not for the criminals ? " The conversation might have gone in to a discussion of professional ethics, when it was interrupted by a rapping on the outer door. John rose and opened it, admitting a woman of about twenty- eight or thirty. " Mr. Spencer ? " she inquired. " That is the name of both of us, Madam. Take a chair/ [ 49] GHETTO SILHOUETTES " I want the one who is defending Mr. Rubenstein." Edward, the Senior, bowed and said, " I have that honor ; what can I do for you?" " I am very much interested in the case, Mr. Spencer, and I came to see you about it. I am a relative of Rubinstein, and he has given us considerable trouble through the life he has led for the past twelve years. His mother died from a broken heart ; he ruined his father, and he drove his wife to the streets to obtain her living the best she could. I don t say this to indicate that there is any wrath in those who love him. No mat ter how much we may feel in regard to his conduct, we do not want him to suffer the deepest disgrace of all and go to States-Prison. This is why, whenever he has been in trouble, we have raised the money for his defence. It may be [50] REVENGE is MINE that you have given him credit for it, but in every case the money was raised for him by others." A new light came into the lawyer s mind, but he said nothing. " When Rubenstein was arrested this last time, he retained you, but had no money. The next day a gray-bearded man brought you $100 as a retaining- fee, did he not?" " That is correct, Madam," Mr. Spen cer replied. " Last week the same man brought you a trial fee of $200." The lawyer smiled. " My dear woman, you know the secrets of our office as well as we do." A strange look came over the woman s face which puzzled the two lawyers, al though they were skilful physiognomists. " Sometimes we women have to know a great deal more than we like," she [ 51 ] GHETTO SILHOUETTES answered, " but will you acquit him to morrow ? " " I am not sure about that, Madam. A petit jury and a nominating convention are two of the mysteries which no man can solve, but I believe that in every probability I shall secure his acquittal." " I suppose it is the old defence of the well-conceived alibi." The lawyer bowed and said, " You seem very well posted." " I hear too, Sir, that it is a different one from those he has employed before, and that this time he is to use a pretty girl, to whom he is engaged, and his pro spective mother-in-law, and also a super annuated dotard of a minister as his wit nesses. Am I correct?" The two brothers laughed lightly, and the elder responded. " Absolutely cor rect, Madam. Is this a good alibi, do you think ?" [52] REVENGE is MINE " I think it is the best possible. Sup posing, Mr. Spencer, the District Attor ney should discover the goods, or should get the pawnbroker where the goods were pawned, or should get witnesses as to the robbery, would that change the aspect of the case ? " "Very much so, Madam. If the Dis trict Attorney did those things, I would stake my professional reputation that Rubenstein would be convicted without the jury leaving their seats. But there is no danger of it. The prisoner is a very thoughtful man, and, so far as I can see, there is someone behind him with even a higher intelligence, who has defended him in all these matters. Whether it is a confederate or not, I cannot say, but I have often marvelled at the skill with which he covered his tracks, although in his conduct and conversation he is so careless." [53] GHETTO SILHOUETTES The woman was biting her finger-nails, and the lawyer paused. There was silence for a minute, and then she said, slowly : " Supposing this girl should not testify as you expect ? " " That is impossible. She is deeply in love with the man, and is bound to save him. Between ourselves, I think the fel low is sincerely in love with her." " I do not believe, said the woman, " that he could be sincerely in love with anybody." " You may be right in general, Madam, but in this case you are mistaken. He has made her many presents, and during the past month I have secured her special passes, so that she could see him in the Tombs at the hour when the public is not admitted." " I take it all back, Mr. Spencer," answered the woman, " I have been at the Tombs myself on all the visiting-days, [54] REVENGE is MINE but I never knew that the girl was going there, too." " Do you think/* continued the woman, "that the girl s mother will stand true upon the witness-stand ? " " I am pretty certain she will. She views Rubenstein as her son-in-law, and makes almost as much ado over him as she would over her own boy." " Then you can rely upon her because next to the love of a wife or a fiancee is that of a mother. And how about this old clergyman ?" Spencer laughed heartily. " He is all right. I think Rubenstein has already engaged him to perform the ceremony, and he is looking forward with joy to the event. Cheer up, my woman, cheer up ! Don t break down. Every thing is coming out all right. We will acquit Rubenstein, and all go to his wed ding and drink the health of him and his [55] GHETTO SILHOUETTES tidy little bride. It is barely possible that his love for her may cause him to change his mode of living and become a decent man." The office fronted to the west, and through the windows the sinking sun sent a red glare which filled the rooms with its dull splendor. The woman pushed back her chair and rose. Despite her shabby clothing, the gray in her hair, and the marks of care and suffering on her face, she was still handsome. Her oval face was Oriental in its symme try ; her dark-brown eyes had the softness and luminous beauty of the Hebrew race, and her figure still preserved much of the grace and strength of its early attractive ness. She drew herself to her full height, and for a second stood like a statue. The lawyers looked at her in surprise, not un derstanding the change that was taking place within her soul. Then, with a look [56] REVENGE is MINE that was as cold and stern as that of a judge pronouncing sentence of death upon a condemned murderer, she said, in meas ured speech : " Mr. Spencer, I am very much obliged to you. You have relieved me of a great fear. You did not know, I see, that your client, the thief Rubenstein, had a wife, who had cared for him and protected him through his years of disgrace and crime. You did not know that she, through her love for that man, had gone down into the deepest depths. You did not know that he had blasted the lives of all near and dear to him, and had done things to that wife which would have made ordinary women kill him. Four times when he fell into the meshes of the law, she raised the money which secured your talent. Was he grateful for this act of self-sacrifice ? Did he come back to her, as she entreated and as he promised [57] GHETTO SILHOUETTES to do ? Did he give up crime and crim inals ? The fact that you defend him to morrow is sufficient answer. When he was arrested and thrown into the Tombs in this present case, there was but one soul in the world who would help him, and it was that woman, his wife. To raise the retaining fee, she pawned her finery ; to raise the $200 for your trial-fee, she has mortgaged everything in her home ; and for this he has lied to her and made believe love her, and during all this time he was laughing in his sleeve and enjoy ing the sentiment and affection of the little girl who will testify for him to morrow. It is a long lane which has no turning, and that woman, his wife, has found it out. She has taken to the Dis trict Attorney the pawnbroker where Rubenstein pawned the stolen property. She has taken the police to the place where Rubenstein hid what he had not [58] REVENGE is MINE pawned, and she has forced his associates to become witnesses for the State of New York. And that woman will be in Court to-morrow and will see him convicted/ The two lawyers were dumfounded. They looked at her, but before they could speak, she bowed and said : " Gentlemen, that woman, his wife, is myself. Good-evening ! >] She was true to her word. The Ses sions were crowded the next day, nearly all of the people having come to witness the trial and the expected acquittal of the Prince of House-thieves. But he was not acquitted. What with the pawnbroker, the goods, and the other evidence, the jury, as Mr. Spencer had predicted, found him guilty without leaving their seats. When the verdict was announced and en tered upon the minutes of the Court, there was a murmur of voices and a gasp of surprise from many in the audience. [59] GHETTO SILHOUETTES Only a few saw a shabby woman walk over to the chair where Rubenstein sat, and say, in a low voice : " We have had a very satisfactory trial, Rubenstein, but this time I was for the prosecution, and not the defence." [60] tb The Story of Philip i MY friend Mary was a young woman of rare promise. She had displayed considerable abil ity as a painter in her girlhood, had studied under competent masters, and had taken a finishing course in Paris, where she won the plaudits of both her teachers and the public. She had the talent which comes from a keen love of nature, and from having been brought up in a li brary. Her New England parents and grandparents had put by much money, which enabled her to taste of the good things of life, especially of travel, art, and literature. She loved ancestry, and no wonder, for [61 ] GHETTO SILHOUETTES her forebears were people worth loving. They had been intensely religious, and this hereditary quality reappeared in her character and work. Her emotions, ar tistic and otherwise, ran to religious sub jects and things pertaining to the ethical side of humanity. One day Mary and I went down into the great slums which lie east of the Bowery. We carried sandwiches, fruit, and flowers for a poor family which Mary had un earthed and inwardly pledged herself to care for as far as she could without in fringing upon their self-respect. We also went to meet Philip, a wonderful little Russian Jew or Lithuak, who was Mary s ideal of what Jesu must have been in his youth when he confronted the learned doctors in the Temple. She had spoken of him so often that I was eager to meet him. Philip was not at home when we THE STORY of PHILIP reached the frightful abode which he called by that name. So at least said an urchin who stood in the dark doorway of the tenement-house. Mary and I climbed the dirty stairs, stumbling on splinters and broken boards, and at one point almost falling over a huge box, which was half full of garbage and debris. On an upper floor we entered a small apartment, in which eight people lived. It was dark, dingy, and altogether unwholesome. In one corner hung some clean, white clothes and a well-dusted boy s cap. Not far from it, a little shelf was fastened to the wall, on which were a few books. I recognized two of them as having been purchased by Mary when we were out shopping, some time previously. A half-dead woman, who dragged herself from a reclining position on the floor to welcome us, said that the corner where the clothing hung was Philip s, and that GHETTO SILHOUETTES ever since he had been attending the St. John s Guild excursions, he had been washing and ironing the babies raiment and at the same time taking care of his own poor apparel. We left after a few moments, and went to the wharf where the St. John s Guild excursion-boat was to leave that day for Staten Island. " Now, you stand here," said Mary, pointing to the left side of the gang plank, " and I ll stand over there on the right side, and we will watch for Philip. When you see a boy with a heavenly face, carrying twins, bending over them and singing, that will be Philip." The hot sun streamed upon the wharf; crowds of poorly dressed women and cry ing children swarmed in from the side- streets, and went on board the roomy barge which, with its tug, lay alongside. I was becoming tired, and my eyes wan- THE STORY of PHILIP dered across the river to the forest of shipping beyond, when I heard a tune, sweet and low, hummed by someone near by. I looked up, and saw, approach ing, a slip of a boy with twins in his arms. His head was bare, and his hat lay upon the face of one of his little charges. On his back was strapped a big bag, and under his arm was a bundle of clothing. Behind him came a middle- aged woman carrying two babies and leading a third child, who had hold of her skirts. The boy s face was a dream of beauty, mingled with pathos. His skin was very white, and so thin that it seemed an ivory veil, drawn over sym metrical bones. The large, brown eyes gleamed like those of an antelope, and the dark, gold-red hair, half curly and half waved, swept over his slender shoul ders. Down the plank he went, stop ping to show the woman, who was his [65] GHETTO SILHOUETTES mother, how to take a firm step, and en couraging his brothers and sisters. Once he seemed about to slip on the smooth boards, but his compressed lips and firm bearing showed that there was no dan ger of mishap. I recognized Philip, and spoke to Mary. We followed him into the barge, where I was presented to her protege. We spent the day on the float ing hospital, and enjoyed the trip beyond the harbor, through the Narrows and into the lower bay. In the afternoon, when the tired chil dren were sleeping soundly beneath the shady awnings of the upper deck, we formed a circle near them, and Philip told us of a visit he had made the day before to a little church in his neighborhood, and of the rapture he felt when he gazed upon the stained-glass windows, the stately altar, and the carving and coloring of the interior. He grew interested in [66] THE STORY of PHILIP his own story, and did not notice that Mary was sketching him as he talked. The story and the sketch were finished at about the same time, and she handed her work to us with a pleased smile. She had caught the boy s expression and re produced it with almost photographic ac curacy. Later on, the boy excused him self, and vanished into the lower part of the barge. As he went down the com panion-ladder, his mother leaned over tow ard us and said, with a strong Slavonian accent : " He is a good boy. He has gone down to wash out the children s clothing and dry it in the drying-room they have on board. He always does that when we go on these picnics, and there is a nurse who looks over the cloth ing afterward, and sews on the buttons and fixes up the tears." GHETTO SILHOUETTES II The excursion came to an end, and there was peacefulness for us both as we passed in the evening through the streets from the wharf to the Third Avenue Elevated Railway, and thence onward to Mary s studio in Fifty-ninth Street. " Come to-morrow," said Mary, as we parted at her doorway. " Philip has promised to sit for me in the studio, and I am to allow him to bring the little ones after they are properly washed and dressed. I have hired my housemaid to take care of the youngsters and amuse them while I am sketching Philip." I went the next day, and for many days afterward. As the picture progressed, Philip fell into the habit of studying it when the sitting was over. He wondered why Mary put him in a queer building with no roof but the sky, and who the [ 68 ] THE STORY of PHILIP solemn-looking, strangely dressed, bearded men were that had been painted standing or sitting around him upon the canvas. He knew every type of man in New York, even the queerly dressed immi grants who, during the warm weather, come up every day from the barge office ; but never had he seen, either on the street or in the few books which he had read, anyone who looked like the characters that had been sketched by Mary in the picture. He spoke about it, inquiringly, and Mary told him the story of the Tem ple and its splendors, of the Rabbis and great doctors who once were the glory of Jerusalem, and of the argument which Jesu had once had with them, in which he had amazed them with his strange learning. The boy listened with rapt attention, but made no comment. Shortly after this, I noticed that Philip began to reach GHETTO SILHOUETTES the studio a half-hour or even an hour before the appointed time. He would stand or sit in front of the picture where his face was the central figure, and watch the canvas as if it were a scene in real life. Several times he muttered some thing, and once I fancied I heard him say : " I may have been there after all/ During the sittings he grew more con fiding, and told her, piecemeal, the details of his dismal life in the tenement. It was a pitiful story, a tragical story, marked by endless incident of sorrow and suffer ing. He spoke of the sickness of the babies, of the death of a lame sister, who, according to his canons, was the most beautiful child that ever lived, of his mother s hopeless grief, and of the wretched plights of his father when the latter was unable to obtain work in the sweat-shops. I learned, for the first time, of the THE STORY of PHILIP cruel money-lenders of the East Side, who grind the poor and extort more money from them, by reason of their hideous poverty, than the meanest pawnbroker does in other parts of the city, and of the queer co-operative schemes whereby a dozen families, by paying a few cents a day, are enabled to obtain the services of a doctor, and the necessary medicines, without any other cost. Philip also spoke, though rarely, of the ill-treatment he had received from neigh bors, and of the pitfalls into which youth and innocence in that quarter of the city are forever being drawn. We encouraged these talks, because they brought out expressions of perpetual variety of force upon the youth s face. Time and again, Mary would catch one of these and transfer it to her canvas. Philip s face was very mobile, and always accompanied the tenor of his thought. [71 ] GHETTO SILHOUETTES In this way it served as a model for the face of Jesu, which Mary was painting, and several minor characters of the tableau. One day Philip did not come to the studio, and Mary asked me to call at his home. I did so, and found the boy quite ill. I sent for a physician, one of those noble men who consecrate their knowledge and talents to the alleviation of the poor. He examined the child, shook his head, and said : " It is the old story ; no particular dis ease, but the undermining of human life by wrongful modes of living and a deadly atmosphere." He believed that there was still hope if the boy could be taken away from his mephitic surroundings, and have the benefit of fresh air, good food, warmth, and sunlight* [7*] THE STORY of PHILIP III Thus it came about that Philip made his home in our little flat. Two weeks passed by, and then on several days we missed him for an hour or two. We thought he had strolled over to Central Park, to enjoy the flowers and trees, and gave the matter no thought. One day the housemaid told us that, instead of going to the park, Philip had walked the long distance down to his home, cleaned up the house, washed the babies clothing, and stayed, making his people comfortable, until nearly the hour when he was needed in the studio. When he returned, we spoke to him about it, and told him that he must not go to Hester Street until he recovered his health and strength, and that if he did go he was liable to grow weaker and die. He murmured something unintelligible [73 J GHETTO SILHOUETTES about not being able to live without see ing the babies and his mother, and then walked over to the canvas, which was now nearing completion. Several days afterward, a number of friends, artists and critics, gathered at the studio to see Mary s work. They pronounced it the best tableau she had ever painted, and one very critical acquaintance, who was seldom known to praise anything or anybody, astonished the circle by pronouncing it a stroke of genius. We were delighted at the praise, which, I am sure, was deserved, and which acted as a stimulus to Mary s industry and skill. The hours passed rapidly now, as the end of the work appeared in sight. In leisure moments, we built castles in Spain, around the picture, and soberly discussed how much it should be sold for, and what should be the distribution of the money. [74 ] THE STORY of PHILIP Some should be set aside for Philip s benefit, and another portion would enable his family to buy a little grocery-store in a down-town basement, or in one of the suburbs like Mount Vernon or Stapleton. But there was one thing which dis turbed us. Philip had lost his joyous look. When he posed on the little plat form, he no longer smiled, but gazed, with a longing that was pathetic, upon the can vas, whenever he turned his face that way. His expression seemed to change from what it had been, until Mary grew fear ful that she would be obliged to alter the face on the canvas, and make it more like the new Philip, older, sadder, and more careworn. We tried hard to bring back his former joyousness, and resorted to all sorts of expedients. Mary bought him candy, but it had lost its former fas cination. I gave him a penknife. He smiled, admired it listlessly, and then put [ 75 ] GHETTO SILHOUETTES it away. We even got up a party for the benefit of his family, and had them all up to the studio, but the boy s mood never changed. One day a sort of ecstasy spread over his face. He grew feverish, and that night slept longer than usual. In the morning, Mary asked him if he felt well, and he startled us by answering: " Where is the Angel Lord, lady, of whom you have told me? Will he not look after me ? " She was mute a little while, and then, with a voice in which I detected a strange tenderness, she told him of the care and love which Jehovah, the God of both Christian and Jew, had for all, especially for those who needed it the most. He listened, smiling, and then, lying back in the easy chair, he turned his little wan face from her and seemed to sleep. [76] THE STORY of PHILIP At twilight that evening, I looked at him as he sat by the window, reading, and then at the picture. The difference be tween the two faces had become so ex traordinary that it brought up a half-for gotten story I had read years before. "Mary," I asked, " do you remember the Flemish legend of the artist who painted the Madonna and used a peasant- girl for his model ?" " Yes/ she replied, " the woman got so interested in * Our Lady that she used to come and sit before it, tell it all her thoughts, hopes, joys, and sorrows, and finally starved to death because she could not leave it." " Perhaps it was more dreadful still," I remarked, " for I often half believe that the painter stole the woman s soul and put it into the canvas." " Oh, no," responded Mary. " He was the medium, and the woman the [77] GHETTO SILHOUETTES actor. He never knew what had been done until long after she had passed away." As she spoke, she looked at Philip. He was standing motionless, looking fix edly at the canvas. He might have been the painted figure in the frame himself. In fact, the latter looked more real and human than did Philip, on whose face there gleamed a strange lustre. Mary turned to me, and, with her slender hand, motioned me to join her in the hall. Here she asked : " For what purpose did you tell me that story ?" " Nothing/* I answered. " It was only a sudden impulse, and yet I have a fear at my heart in regard to the boy. Let us send him away for a few weeks in the country. He is tired and nervous, and his imagination is intensely active. Perhaps I am superstitious, but I really [ 78 ] THE STORY of PHILIP have a horrible dread that the picture is absorbing his life and his soul." "I think you are right," replied Mary; " we will take him away to-morrow morning, and have a vacation ourselves with him." We retired early that night, but I could not sleep. I tossed and turned, and, whether waking or sleeping, I seemed to see two Philips, one painted and one alive, yet could not tell which was the real and which the copy. Just after dawn I heard a rustle in the studio, and rose to see what it was. I drew the curtains aside which separated our room from the other one, and called Mary. She was at my side in a second. In front of the canvas knelt Philip, as if in prayer. His hands were extended, and he was saying something in a low, sweet voice which we could not understand. Upon the picture and the boy was a warm, celestial [79] GHETTO SILHOUETTES light which seemed supernatural, but was really the first splendor of the sunrise. I made a step forward, and the boy fell for ward in my arms. Mary ran quickly to my aid. The white face was even more beautiful than ever, but the heroic soul within had been carried away by the in visible angel of the dawn. Mary afterward gave the picture to a little chapel, uptown, where it is to-day. [80] The Run on ]obblelousky > s JOBBLELOUSKY S bank is a revered institution of the East Side. It started in prehistoric times, that is to say, before the beginning of the great Russian immigration. The head of the house was a patriarchal gentleman, who owned several blocks of houses, all free and clear of encumbrance. His sons and sons-in- law, all neatly dressed, polite and ener getic, were the clerks, book-keepers, and cashiers in the establishment. Incident ally, everyone of them was also the owner of real estate, and was in a fair way to ri val the progenitor in the course of time. Blaustein, the little shoemaker on the corner, said that Jobblelousky was as rich as Rothschild, and Blaustein was the gossip of the neighborhood and knew [81 ] GHETTO SILHOUETTES more about the private affairs of every in dividual than all the men in the white- marble police-palace in Mulberry Street. At any rate, Jobblelousky was very rich. Certainly, he was worth a million dollars, and his income rolled in very much as the waters of the Hudson sweep into the sea. He was the banker of the East Side. There are banks and bankers over there, but where they did business in hundreds, Jobblelousky did it in thousands. The Chemical Bank, which is the most con servative in the world, put his note on a par with that of Uncle Sam, and the trust- companies accepted his signature as they would that of the Treasurer of the United States. Every day, from two to five hun dred people entered the bank to deposit or withdraw, to borrow or indorse, and all went away convinced that this bank was as firm as the eternal hills. No one had more confidence in Job- [ 82 ] THE RUN on J o B B L E L o u s K Y s blelousky than his three neighbors, Wein- berg, the sweatshop-man ; Einstein, the dealer in buttons and tailors trimmings, and Weinhole, the petticoat-maker. They carried large accounts in the bank, and had even larger credits. It was the first week in December, and the three men happened to meet in the bank. They exchanged salutations, trans acted their business, and went out to gether. It was a dull day, so far as their shops were concerned, and Einstein said: " Come in my shop, friends, and have a glass of raisin- wine ! " The invitation was accepted, and the wine proved very palatable. The first bottle was followed by a second, and the conversation became quite lively. "I often wish," said Weinhole, "that our people at this time of the year could get up a Christmas excitement like the Gentiles ; it makes me mad to see things GHETTO SILHOUETTES so dull down here and so lively on Broad way and Sixth Avenue. " " That is so," exclaimed Weinberg, " Christmas is a fine thing, especially be cause people pay any price that s charged. My brother, who has a store on Sixth Avenue, says he will make a hundred per cent, in the Christmas season, where he cannot make more than forty the rest of the year ! " " It would be a good idea/ added Ein stein, " if we could have a Jewish Christ mas without any religion to it: a sort of a big chanuka." " No doubt about it," answered Wein berg. " Just think how the women would like the evergreens, and the little folks the drums and horns, and the dolls. Religion is a good thing, but now and then it does hurt business terribly." Weinhole was looking toward the window. [ 84] THE RUN on JOBBLELOUSKY S " But one fellow s business is not dull down here. That s old Jobblelousky. Look at the crowd going in there. Ev eryone is carrying in from five cents to one dollar clear profit to the bank. Just think of it ! Here, in New Year s week, he ll pay forty thousand dollars, at least, out in interest. I only wish I could have some of it." " So do I," echoed the other two. " By the way, I think we can get some of it." " What do you mean ? " was the ex cited query. " I mean this : We ll start a run on the bank and buy up deposits." " Oh, nonsense. How could you ? Jobblelousky is as strong as the govern ment. No one would ever get afraid about Jobblelousky." " Now, that s just where you are wrong. You have only been ten years in this city, [8s ] GHETTO SILHOUETTES and I have been here twenty-five. There were two runs on Jobblelousky s, and the people drew out more than half the money they had there. It did not hurt him much, because he saved all the inter est which he would otherwise have paid. Now, I ll tell you what we ll do. I ll go over there this morning and borrow $ i o,- ooo. He ll ask me why, and I ll say it is to buy a store. "Later on, one of you two borrow $11,500 and the other borrow $12,000. That will be our capital, and to-morrow, when we have the run in full blast, we ll buy up claims against Jobblelousky at a discount." " Do you think we can start a run ? " asked the cautious Einstein. " Certainly. Our people are so sus picious that they are worse than Gen tiles. If we start it in the right way this evening, we ll have this street [ 86 ] THE RUN on Jo B B L E LO us K Y S packed with people to-morrow at eight o clock/ " How are you going to do it ? " " Wait until four o clock, when the bank closes ; then go to my wife and say Thank God, I will tell you a secret, Jobblelousky is ruined. He has been speculating in Wall Street, and has lost all his money and half of the money belong ing to his depositors. I found it out through a friend, and I have gotten all my money. Your sister and your cousin have accounts there. You go round now and see them, and tell them to get into the bank early in the morning and draw their money and make them promise to you that they will not speak about it to anybody and never tell who told them. The promise is not enough. Make them swear that they will tell nobody. If the secret gets around, nobody will get any thing. " [8 7 ] GHETTO SILHOUETTES At four o clock, the three husbands showed their money to their wives and told them the dread secret. The wives beamed with delight and shivered with sympathy at the thought of a sister or a dear cousin losing their accounts in the bank. Usually, dinners in the three households consumed three-quarters of an hour, but on this day they were hurried through in ten minutes. The moment the meal was over, the dishes were washed, the house righted in double-quick time, and the wives were on the street. Officer Gilligan and his colleague, Gill- hooley, who were on that beat, said after ward that they never saw so much calling in all their lives as happened that evening. It kept on all night, and there were more people going from house to house at five in the morning than at nine in the even ing. At seven o clock the next day, a mob of five hundred people were in front [88] THE RUN on JOBBLELOUSKY S of the bank. At eight o clock, there were a thousand ; at nine, the police-reserves were called out, and the crowd formed into huge, serpentine lines. It ran half around the block, and then doubled on itself and redoubled like a snake about to spring. When Jobblelousky arrived at the bank from his residence up-town, he was almost paralyzed with amazement. He was about to speak to the man nearest to the carriage, when the crowd recognized him and gave vent to a roar, in which rage, hatred, and cruelty were intensely manifest. A police-sergeant came forward and said: " I would not stand here, sir, if I were you. That crowd is too excited and may give us trouble. Go inside and open the bank and pay them off/ The bank was opened, and all the force put to work, paying off the depositors. [ 89 ] GHETTO SILHOUETTES This is not quick work upon any occasion ; to-day, the excitement both within and without the bank made it doubly slow. Women became hysterical, and strong men broke into tears at the prospect of losing their savings. About ten o clock, in the window of each of the three conspirators appeared a large sign. On one, it read : CLAIMS AGAINST THE BANK BOUGHT Up. On Einstein s, it read, in Hebrew : OUT OF GREAT RESPECT FOR MR. JOBBLELOUSKY, IN HlS RECENT CALAM ITY, WE WILL BUY Up DEPOSIT-BOOKS AT A VERY SMALL DISCOUNT. While in Weinhole s, the placard read : WE ARE SURE THAT JOBBLELOUSKY WILL EVENTUALLY PAY EVERY CENT, BUT THOSE WHO WANT IT Now CAN SELL THEIR CLAIMS HERE FOR CASH. [90] THE RUN on J o B B L E L o u s K Y s All three places did a rushing business from the start. As the day wore on, the three tradesmen advanced the discount from five to twelve per cent. At two in the afternoon, there was a slight slacking of business, and the trio met. "The crowd is as great as ever," said Einstein, " but they are not selling claims in my place." " Nor in mine," said the other two. Weinhole looked thoughtful, and then whispered, " I ll go down and hire twenty professional mourners at fifty cents apiece to come up and weep." "That is a fine idea," replied Wein- berg. " It will arouse sympathy and emotion." Ere long, the professional mourners ap peared upon the scene, and filled the air with their waitings. Each had a bank book in her hand, which had been pro vided for the purpose by Einstein, and, [91 ] GHETTO SILHOUETTES instead of getting on the line, they hung around the bank, only to be driven away by the police. The effect was instanta neous. The selling of claims revived, and kept on until eight o clock that evening. The next day, the conspirators borrowed some $30,000 from the Broadway banks, as their first supply of cash was nearing its end. At twelve o clock, business fell off, and this time Weinhole rose equal to the occasion. " I ll get a band of drunken Dutch musicians to play all the afternoon, around the corner, and I will select dead-marches and other kinds of dismal music. The music would do the work alone, but when it is played badly by drunken men, it will make our people crazy." At seven o clock that evening, the trio closed business. They had used up all their money, and had cleared nearly $6,000 on their three days work. [92] THE RUN on JOBBLELOUSKY s The next morning they entered the bank. The run was over. Confidence had been restored, and the very people who had drawn their money out were now putting it back, and cursing them selves for having lost their interest or for having sold their claims to the speculators. The three conspirators entered the bank about half-past nine and walked to the cashier s window. " We would like to take up those notes, Morris," they said to the official. He looked at them a moment, left the window, and came back with the notes and Jobblelousky. The money was counted out, the notes stamped " paid," and handed back. " That was a fine piece of business you did," said Jobblelousky. " You saved me $20,000 in interest, which is, of course, clear profit, and made about $5,000 your selves. But if you will kindly bring in [93 ] GHETTO SILHOUETTES your pass-books I shall close your ac counts for good. To-morrow morning I have the honor to inform you all three of you will be arrested on a charge of malicious conspiracy, for which you were indicted yesterday. " [94] A B/Vv/ of Prey WHEN Isaac Goldstein made up his mind to become a crook, circumstance, or the " Prince of Flies," as the Hebrew myths call the devil, seemed to favor him. His specialty was confidence-operations, but what he prided himself upon, was his skill as a card-sharper. There is an element of grim humor in nature which compels a man to admire his little, dwarf qualities, and to ignore his big, stalwart ones. It was so with Isaac. Had he confined himself to those forms of malefaction known as obtaining money under false pretences, this story would never have been written. But it was through his over- weaning conceit, in respect to legerde main, that caused his ultimate downfall. [95 ] GHETTO SILHOUETTES For several years his hunting-ground extended from Grand Street and East Broadway on the north, to Chatham Square on the south. Once or twice he had made voyages of exploration and dis covery to the Barge-office, but here he soon learned that the incoming Slovak and Polak did not possess enough money to reimburse any chevalier d industrie for the time, energy, and risk involved in the acquisition of illegitimate gain. Just as there is an odor of sanctity in this world, so there is a malodor of sin, and this ethical perfume, by degrees, so permeated Isaac s being, that he became unpleasant to the moral nostrils of the East Side. He noticed the change him self, with some degree of vindictiveness. It came home very forcibly one even ing when he was politely informed at Schmuckler s restaurant that he was no longer welcome within its doors. Shortly [96] A BIRD 0/* P RE Y afterward, entrance was refused at Men delssohn Hall. Then a cafe declined to accept his patronage. The worst insult of all came when the proprietor of a cheap saloon, in Essex Street, refused to serve him with drink, accompanying the refusal with the remark that he might be a poor man, but he would not knowingly " take money which had been stolen by a thief." Thus, as time rolled by, Isaac found that his circle of acquaintances had nar rowed to criminals, and men consorting with criminals, and that the only places where he was welcome were those which had an unsavory reputation, with Jews and Gentiles alike. He resented the an tipathy in many ways. He increased the costliness and splendor of his attire ; he invited more people to drink and smoke with him, and he denounced, in unmeas ured terms, the hypocrisy and sanctimony [97 ] GHETTO SILHOUETTES of the bourgeoisie. If his genius had been political in character, he would have become a ranting anarchist, but as it was, he remained a noisy and very conceited criminal of the third or fourth class. One evening he encountered a young man who lived in another part of the city. In a quick glance, Isaac saw that the stranger was the possessor of money, and did his best to win the liking of the chance acquaintance. An invitation to drink was accepted, and thereafter one to play cards. To increase the interest of the game, Isaac called in two accom plices, and, between them, before the night was over, they had relieved the in experienced young man of some $250. The loser was game, and left with a smile upon his face. After he had departed, Isaac made some pleasing joke about the ease of the separation of a fool and his money, and paid the customary commis- [98 ] A BIRD O/*PREY sion for their services to his two lieuten ants. Even among the crooked gentry of the East Side there is a code, if not of honor, at least, of business. A commis sion, or percentage, belongs to the dis coverer of the victim, another to the proprietor of the place where the victim is shorn ; a third to the accomplice who aids in the shearing, and, oftentimes, a fourth to the philosophic policeman who stands outside the door and prevents as sault, battery, and disorder on the part of a recalcitrant loser. As Isaac had been the discoverer, as well as the chief oper ator, his disbursement that evening was very small. He paid $20 each to the two accomplices and the proprietor of the place, $2 to the waiter, who protested, by the way, and demanded $5 but did not get it; $10 to the ward-detective, who happened to drop in that evening as the game was progressing, and $5 to the F 99 ] GHETTO SILHOUETTES policeman who stood outside of the door, waiting for any emergency that might occur. Isaac strolled over to the Bowery, ate a hearty supper, and then, feeling ju bilant, went up to the Tenderloin to enjoy life, as the deadly existence in that dis trict is facetiously termed by its votaries. The young man who had been despoiled went to his home. On entering, he found his father sitting up for him and reading, to pass away the time. The quick eye of the elder man saw that something troubled his son, and affectionately asked him what it was. The latter responded, quickly, that it was nothing in particular, and that he was only tired. The old man was not to be deceived, and, finally, the son broke down and told his father of the events of the night. " You might give me the name of the place," said his father, " and I will see if I can get some of your money back." A BIRD o/* P R E Y The son remembered the address and gave it to him ; and then frankly declared that he had been justly punished for his folly in gambling. The next day, the old man dropped in to the saloon and sat there, sipping min eral water and reading the papers. By a few judicious gifts to the waiter and a little gross flattery to the proprietor s wife, he soon broke the ice and was viewed as a pleasant, social acquisition to the place. Before he left, he had learned not only the name, antecedents, and accomplishments of Mr. Goldstein, but also of the ingenious system whereby the powers of law and order were enlisted in the protection of the noble industry of gambling. The next day, and the third, the old man was a visitor to the saloon. On the former occasion, he made Goldstein s ac quaintance, whose esteem he won by stories, or rather hints, of misadventures, GHETTO SILHOUETTES which compelled him to lead a very quiet life. On the latter occasion, he made an agreement with Goldstein to bring in wealthy men who had a penchant for card-playing, upon the condition that he should receive a double commission. A few evenings after this, the old man ap peared with the first victim. This one proved an easy, though not very profita ble, prey. After he had lost $20, he broke into tears, sprang from his seat, and rushed, sobbing, from the house. The people in the saloon laughed, and the old man apologized for the incident and declined to receive any commission upon the transaction. The following week, he appeared with another victim. This was a bearded, well-dressed man, of quiet manners and soft speech, who accepted an invitation to a friendly game of cards, and, ere five minutes had passed, showed that he was I02 A BIRD O/*PREY very clumsy with his hands, and, on the other hand, that he was the possessor of a large amount of money. Goldstein chuckled, inwardly, and determined to be the owner of that money before the night was over. With the determination was the happy feeling that the stranger was about as poor a card-player as he had ever encountered. There was only one fear in the matter, which was that the stranger might become alarmed at the outset and so leave the game before the losses had grown considerable. Goldstein, with ex cellent diplomacy, determined to play carelessly himself in the beginning, and to allow the proposed victim to win a trifling amount. He passed the word to his ac complice, only one of these useful men being on hand. The game passed along very quietly for about an hour, during which time the winnings and losings had been about equal. Then Isaac began his GHETTO SILHOUETTES professional work. The stranger played worse than ever, and yet, by some queer fatality, the cards behaved in the most extraordinary manner. When Isaac dealt, no matter how he had prepared the cards in advance, the stranger invariably won, and when the stranger dealt, in what is known on the East Side as the shoe maker s style, luck seemed to run the same way. At the end of another hour, Isaac Goldstein had lost $400, which was all the money he had with him that evening. The stranger bade them all a pleasant good- evening and disappeared. The old man had sat by the table that evening with a blanched face and saucer- like eyes. When the game was over he said : " I am very sorry. What was the trouble ? I cannot understand it that you, so fine a player, should lose." " I am blessed if I know," said Goldstein. " Sometimes no science in the world can I0 4 A BIRD of PREY beat blind pig-luck, and to-night was one of those cases. Can you get him around to-morrow night ? " " I don t know, but I ll try hard." " Well, you bring him around. I ll get two of my best friends, who are about as clever in crooked work as you ever saw, and if we don t win our money back I ll go back to Blackwell s Island for sixty days." The next evening Goldstein was in the saloon on time, and with him were two birds of prey as sinister as himself. Half an hour passed, during which several drinks were consumed, and then the old man entered with the victor of the preced ing evening. This time, luck was just the reverse of the night before. Within one short hour, the stranger had lost the money he had won when he was victor and at least $700 besides. He then rose, excused himself, and said that he would [ 105 ] GHETTO SILHOUETTES return on the following evening for re venge. The commissions were paid by Gold stein, and, in honor of their successful coup, a jollification was had, then and there. They were about to leave, when the old man said : " I think you had better stay a little while, because I expect another man here who is just as good as the one we had. He may be talking in a saloon down the street, and I will go over and bring him back here/ " Bravo, old boy, you are a trump," shouted one of the blacklegs, clapping the old man upon the shoulder. Scarcely a half hour had passed after the old man had gone away, when the door opened and four men, cleanly shaven, trimly built, and stern-looking, entered the place, and put everyone under arrest. The pro prietor looked up. [ 106 ] A BIRD of PREY " That s all right, gentlemen. You need not be in any hurry. I ll telephone for a Judge and have everyone here bailed in fifteen minutes. You need not think you can make any trouble here for run ning a quiet, gentleman s game." " I don t think you will, my friend," said the leader of the party, throwing back the lapel of his coat and showing a large shield. " We are not policemen, but Secret-Service men, and we have ar rested you for making and passing coun terfeit money." The captives were marched to the nearest station-house and there searched. Upon each and all was found some well- executed, counterfeit money. There was consternation among them, and each of the precious gang thought only of him self. For once in their lives they told the truth. They had received the money from Isaac Goldstein, while Isaac pro- GHETTO SILHOUETTES tested that he had won it, gambling, from an old man, utterly unknown to him. The sergeant of police gazed, wearily, at Goldstein as he remarked : " This is no case of mine, but if I were you, I would not talk too much. It will not pay you to prove that you are not a coun terfeiter by admitting that you are a com mon gambler." The next day they were examined be fore a commissioner, and all were dis charged excepting Goldstein. To increase his torments, the waiter and the bar-tender, to whom he had given bad bills, also made complaints against him. At the follow ing term of the Court he was tried for passing counterfeit money, and, to his un speakable horror, was found guilty by an unsympathetic jury. As he was being led from the court-room, in the Post-Office building, to the anteroom where prisoners [ 108 ] A BIRD of PREY are confined, he started back. There was the old man who had brought the victim to him that had been his undoing. " That was a fine chap you brought for us to work," sneered the prisoner. " Yes, indeed, he was/ responded the old man. " He is a professional prestigi- ator one of the best, I think, in the country. I paid him $ i oo the first night, when he won your money, and $200 the second night, when you won his, and the reason I did it, Goldstein, was a very simple one. A few nights before that, you enticed my son, as good a young man as ever lived, into that place. You gave him enough liquor to weaken his will power, and then you robbed him of $250, which represented his savings for three months. I have got the money back, Goldstein, and I have punished the crook who came near starting my boy upon a downward career. I bid you good-day/* [ I0 9 ] GHETTO SILHOUETTES Mr. Goldstein promises, when he has served his term, that he will never em ploy an unknown man to secure victims for his card-table. bit Solomon and Santa Claus SOLOMON BELAK was a newsboy. He lived not far from Chatham Square and sold papers in that un- romantic neighborhood. His name did not appeal favorably to the Irish-Ameri can contingent which inhabits that district and they rechristened him Sullivan Blake, so that while theoretically or legally he was the former, yet to the great outside world he was the latter, or, to be accurate, he was simply Sully Blake. To be a news boy in Chatham Square is not an easy matter. The struggle for existence is severe, and every new-comer has to fight his way upward. Sully had begun his life s work when but five, and for two years had had a hard time, but he was quick, strong, and sturdy. He gave a GHETTO SILHOUETTES blow as rapidly as he received one and, thanks to the friendship of a little col league, Paddy Conners, he developed a knowledge of boxing and wrestling that enabled him to win the reputation of being a very promising " toy-scrapper." With Jewish shrewdness he had culti vated the tradesmen by doing them little favors from time to time, and in return had built up a good, legitimate trade. He called them his " regulars," thereby dis tinguishing them from the ordinary cus tomers he secured by accosting or crying his wares aloud. Chatham Square is a boundary of China town, and the almond-eyed sons of Con fucius had attracted the attention of the boy from the first. By degrees he formed several acquaintances among the Chinese shopkeepers, and picked up a hundred words or more (many being very objec tionable), which gave him a high reputa- [112] SOLOMON and SANTA CLAUS tion for vast learning among the other newsboys. He did not sell many papers to the Chinamen, but he did build up a curi ous industry. It was to read to them Eng lish letters, and address envelopes for them when they were corresponding with their own people in this country or in China. In this way Sully made more money than any one of his little colleagues. From the "papes," as he called the newspapers, he averaged about thirty-five cents a day, and from the Mongolians as much more. This little income enabled him to be comparatively independent and to help support his widowed mother. Mrs. Belak was a typical Slovak. Her husband had died shortly after arriving in this country, and she had found herself thrown upon the world without any cap ital save two boys, Solomon and his older brother, Lewis. She had struggled brave ly, and had kept the wolf from the door [ "3 ] GHETTO SILHOUETTES by sewing fourteen and fifteen hours a day. It had been a very hard fight, and at times the poor soul had felt like laying down her work and letting the great tide sweep her away wheresoever it would. But pride, a strong character, and, above all, the maternal instinct, had held her at the post of duty, and she had kept on unfalteringly. Both her boys had done well, so far as boys can do. Lewis, who was now ten, had become a cash- boy and afterward an office-boy, and was now earning $3 a week. He was of a different mould from Sully, being slen der, studious, and rather sickly. His ap petite was poor, and perhaps the daily fare of the family was badly suited to his little frame, because he did not grow in strength and stature and took no seeming interest in anything save his mother, brother, and his work. Thus, although Lewis was the elder and wiser, Sully SOLOMON and SANTA C L A u s was the real breadwinner and was becom ing the head of the house. Mrs. Belak tried to provide for the boy s education ; in the evening they went to a Minder s school, where they learned a little Hebrew and less English, and on Saturday both boys attended the synagogue. Here Lewis was a regular attendant, but Sully, on account of the necessities of his business, was obliged to stay away on most of the Sabbaths. This was the only cloud upon the mother s horizon. The idea that her son might grow up godless filled her heart with vague fears. Godlessness she knew was but a step from dissipation and debauch ery, these from vice and crime ; and be yond them was the station-house and the jail. But as Sully did not manifest any irregularity in speech or conduct, her fears remained unexpressed and to a cer tain extent decreased as the weeks and [ "5 J GHETTO SILHOUETTES months rolled away. She did not realize what good boys they were until one time when she fell sick from what the doc tor diagnosed as a mild form of typhoid, but what in reality was the too com mon disease which ought to be called the New York tenement-house fever, a disease which lurks in every foul dwelling where avaricious landlords crowd 200 beings into little dens where 50 would be more than enough inmates. During this spell Sully arranged matters so that he was home nearly all the day, while Lewis sat up with her from the time he reached the house after business was done until he left the next morning for the store where he was employed. In November, times were hard in that part of the city and many small shops failed. The proprietors asserted that they were being ruined by the department- stores ; but as a matter of fact the change [116] SOLOMON and SANTA GLAUS came about from the growth of the city. Dwelling-houses were being torn down to make room for business-establishments, and the older settlers were being driven away by ever-increasing armies of Italians and foreigners, who patronize other places. Among the concerns which failed was the one where Lewis was employed. The boy was bitterly disappointed, but his mother and Sully tried to console him. He started out the next day to look for a new place, and spent a week in going from store to store. His sickly appearance told against him, and when Friday night came he was so heart-broken that he gave out. The next day the mother perceived that he was seriously sick and sent for a doctor in the neigh borhood. The physician saw at a glance that the trouble was partly mental and partly the result of poverty and its en vironment, and prescribed a tonic and a [ "7] GHETTO SILHOUETTES generous diet. He did the best he knew how, but he did not realize that a gen erous diet was almost an impossibility to the household. Mrs. Belak endeavored to follow out instructions. When her money ran short, she pawned something or other, until when the Christmas season arrived there was scarcely anything port able left in their three poor, little rooms. It did not affect Sully much, because the pawnshop and poverty are familiar twins to the people of the tenements. But he did feel apprehensive as to the future. He worked harder than ever and increased his sale so that he made $i a day. Yet even this did not equal the former income of the family when both boys were working. And there was this extra expense of meats and other costly articles. The night before Christ mas Sully had just sold his last copy of the six-o clock evening papers and was [ "8 ] SOLOMON an d SANTA GLAUS debating whether it would pay to go down to Newspaper Row and buy another supply or not. It was a vile night and few people were stirring. He said to himself, " I can work the saloons, but so will all the other boys. I do not believe that I could sell more than eight or ten and that would hardly pay me, especially if I bought twenty. Still less is there any use in going around to Chinatown, because I saw all my regulars this after noon. I guess I had better go home and read something to my mother or tell her stories while she is sewing." He was still arguing with himself when a little hand, but a strong one, struck him a friendly blow on the shoulder. " Hello, Sully ! Let s go round and work the Santa Claus racket ! " Sully looked up and saw Paddy, whose face had been newly washed, his hair combed, and his clothes nicely brushed. [ "9 ] GHETTO SILHOUETTES " What s that, Paddy ? A theatre ? " " No ! It is a Christmas show around the corner." " What do they do ? " "Oh, they have a Christmas-tree with candles, candies, and oranges, and then an old bloke who is made up with a red nose and white whiskers and a big stom ach comes in and gives things to all the kids. I go there every Christmas and get something. It s lots of fun. They give you a piece of paper and you write down three or four things that you want Santa Claus to bring you. And he brings you one of them, if it does not cost too much I think his limit is about twenty cents. Then there is a lot of singing and speeches and praying. But I never listen to that because I m a Roman. That reminds me, Sully, you are a Sheeny. I do not know as you can get anything from Santa Claus. He brings SOLOMON and SANTA C L A u s things to Protestants and Romans, but I don t think he brings them to Sheenies. I don t know why, unless it is that Sheenies don t have any saints, anyhow. Never mind, though ; you might come around and get an orange and a cake and it s very warm, and there are some nice peo ple there from uptown who don t put on lugs." The two urchins went round to a Christmas-tree festival at a mission in Doyers Street. It was the first time Sul ly had ever attended an affair of this sort, and his big eyes opened wide when he entered the room. It was filled with girls and boys, most of whom he knew by sight. Numerous gas-lights made the place bright, and a great Christmas-tree at the end of the hall seemed a mass of glittering jewels. Some twenty well- dressed men and women conducted the affair and most cheerful of all was a GHETTO SILHOUETTES huge stove, which made the place as warm as midsummer. Some one was talking as they entered, but Sully did not listen to the words. His eyes were set upon the Christmas-tree, which seemed to him the most beautiful thing he had ever looked upon. Then as he grew familiar with it he noticed that the colored shapes which dappled the green leaves were things good to eat or to wear ; the yellow balls were oranges and the red and green ones apples. The snowy festoons were popcorn and the glittering objects were candies and confections. There, too, were cornu copias, such as he had often envied in the windows of the little shop near his house, but these were larger and hand somer than any he recalled. There came a burst of music, and he looked over at the piano. There sat a young woman who, as a matter of fact, was very pretty SOLOMON and SANTA GLAUS and well dressed, but who to the newsboy seemed a vision of loveliness. It was the first time he had ever been near a well- bred, fine-looking woman, handsomely dressed, sitting at a piano. She played well, and all the love of music of his race was stirred within him. After she had finished the composition, something from the German composers, she sang Adam s Christmas-song in a way that brought si lence to those in the room and moved every heart. The melody of the song awoke strange echoes in the boy s soul ; the place faded, and he seemed to be floating amid warm clouds over a land scape of marvellous splendor. Then there came an address which jarred upon his nerves terribly. He felt a strange relief when Paddy nudged him, and said : " We ll start writing a letter to Santa Claus now. That old chap does the [ "3 GHETTO SILHOUETTES talking to kill time while Santa Claus is dressing in the other room." Paddy produced two pieces of paper which he had secured in some shop in the neighborhood. It was a pale-yellow wrapping-paper, but its surface was hard and smooth and on it the pencil moved with delightful ease. Paddy s letter to Santa Claus was very brief. He wanted a pair of skates, or a pocket-knife, or a book, and at the end the youngster s heart found expression in the clause, " or a doll for my little sister." Sully wrote very slowly. The whole thing was strange to him and very pleas ant, but back of the pleasure was a vague fear that something wasn t altogether right. He knew he was a Jew and that Santa Claus was some nice person or make-believe that belonged to another religion, but, whether person or make- believe, the boy was uncertain if he had [ 124 ] SOLOMON and SANTA GLAUS any right to send a letter to the saint. The remark of Paddy had set him think ing that if a Roman could come to the place, why could not a Jew ? Suddenly a bright thought came to him ; he would leave the matter to Santa Claus himself. Seizing the pencil firmly, he wrote the following : Dear Sandy Claws Please bring me a cloak for my mother or a coat for my brother or a steak for my brother or some eggs for my brother or a job for my brother when he gets well SOLOMON BELAK SULLIVAN BLAKE and then he added, in the Hebrew char acter, " I am a Jew." He thought that if Santa Claus was a spirit he could read Hebrew, but if he was only a man, he would be none the wiser. GHETTO SILHOUETTES The letters were collected by a young lady and taken to the post-office, which consisted of a little window in the door leading into the next room. Here they were examined by the postal-clerks, who were the committee conducting the af fair. Paddy s letter was answered by a knife, which was placed in an envelope with Paddy s name upon it. Sully s let ter was read by the pianist. She gave a sigh as she read it, and said to herself, " Oh, the seas of trouble down in this district/ and then noticed the Hebrew characters at the bottom of the page. " I wonder what this is," she said. " It must be the most important part of the letter." Then, speaking aloud to the committee, she asked, " Is there anyone here who can read this ? " It went the round of nearly all before it reached two young men, friends of the pianist, who had dropped in out of curi- L 126] SOLOMON and SANTA CLAUS osity. One was a senior from Columbia University, and the other a downtown lawyer. They looked at it, puzzled a moment, and then broke out laugh ing. " This is written by a little Russian- Jewish boy, and it is easy to see what is going on in his mind. There is sickness at home, his brother being probably the sufferer and being also out of a job; his mother has been pawning everything in the house, and he has come here in the hope of getting something for them. He is a conscientious young rascal and is afraid that his being a Jew will shut him out from Santa Claus s good offices. By the way, he calls him Sandy Claws as if he were a kind of a crab, and then the young beggar writes in Yiddish to prevent any narrow-minded, ignorant man from read ing what he says." There was a narrow-minded, ignorant [ 127] GHETTO SILHOUETTES man on the committee, who disclosed himself by the remark, " Well, I don t believe that we ought to give Christmas presents to such chil dren ; it is encouraging them." The pianist looked up with an indig nant laugh : " You don t mean that. If there be any time when creeds and races ought to be forgotten, it is around Christmas, when everything should be joy and light." The lawyer bowed, whispered to his friend, and left the room. He was back again in ten minutes, and under his arm was a large bundle done up in brown paper. Upon this, written in a bold hand, were the two names : SOLOMON BELAK, SULLIVAN BLAKE. When Santa Claus came out from the post-office and not from the chimney, L 8] SOLOMON and SANTA GLAUS there was a gasp, a moment of perfect si lence, and then a series of yells and cat calls that would have done credit to a madhouse. His make-up was just about what Paddy had described. A white wig and beard made a halo about his face, which was as red as that of an old Knick erbocker, and his waist, owing to a couple of pillows, was fairly aldermanic in pro portions. When he began to read off the list of names the uproar died away as if by magic, and every child sat with a look in which expectancy, joy, fear, and despair were inexplicably mingled. One pale, little Italian girl was called and received a box. She opened it and saw a doll, a book, and a pair of stockings. These were the three things she had speci fied in her letter. The hot blood rushed to her face, she seized the doll in one hand, kissed it, and then fainted from sheer delight. I2 9 GHETTO SILHOUETTES When it came to Paddy s turn, he ad vanced with the tough walk and the square-set jaw which mark the child of the Bowery, received his knife with a dignified bow and with the pleasing re mark, " Much obliged, Santa Claus ; there are no flies on you/ and came back to his seat. Then came an Italian name, a Ger man name, and a Chinese one. Sully s heart went down and he felt certain that he would not receive a present from the kindly saint. Something rose up in his throat and he would undoubtedly have left the room but that his name was called out so loudly that it seemed to him to sound like the report of a cannon. He rose and walked down to the platform, his heart beating strange music inside of him. Santa Claus turned, raised the huge bundle, and said, in a different tone from SOLOMON and SANTA GLAUS what he had used during his other speeches, " Here s a cloak for your mother, my boy, and a coat for your brother, and I ll send the eggs and beefsteaks to-mor row." Sully was too excited to speak. He blushed, stammered inarticulately, took the heavy package, and rejoined Paddy. That quick-eared urchin had caught the saint s words and, first punching his com panion in the ribs, asked, affectionately, " Say, Sully, ain t he great ? He is the best thing that comes down the pike." All that poor Sully could do was to nod his head and to grin like one with the toothache. The boys sat there until the exercises were over and the fruits, cakes, and candies had been distributed among the children. Then, laden down and happy, they sought their homes. But with Sully strolled the Columbia man and the lawyer, who left him at the door, GHETTO SILHOUETTES promising they would call there on the morrow. They kept their word and called there several times, and Santa Claus sent not one but many beefsteaks, and enough eggs to bring back the color to Lewis s cheeks and the strength to his poor mother. It was about the i5th of January that Lewis got out and was able to go about, and a few days afterward he began a new engagement as office-boy in the lawyer s office at $3.50 a week. Sully is still selling papers. He speaks seldom of the Christmas-tree to any body excepting his mother and brother. He did say one evening to Paddy that, while he was just as good a Sheeny as ever, he thought Santa Claus was just as much a Sheeny as a Roman or a Prot estant. 4 f f f but The God of His fathers WHEN Nature framed Israel Josephs, she seemed to have brought his soul from some long-distant past when faith and conduct were stronger and more obdurate than they are to-day. The body was that of the modern age attractive, graceful, and vigorous. He came to New York to find the liberty and prosperity which were barred from him by law and custom in the Old World and set himself resolutely to work. He had no vices, unless it might be the occasional purchase of some volume of literature and the dedication of several hours a day to study which might have been applied to labor. He prospered with the thrift which comes from a healthy [133] GHETTO SILHOUETTES mind in a healthy body. He mastered English in quick time, and ere he had been here three years he spoke it so well as to be taken for a native and not a for eigner. As fortune would have it, he met a young woman and fell in love. She was a neighbor and helped her par ents in their trade, which was the making of artificial flowers. Aida Berwin was a fair type of the East-Side Jewess. She had all the virtues of her race, being af fectionate, industrious, faithful, and up right. Her art instincts were admirable, and the products of her hands found a readier sale at higher prices than those of her parents. She was very pretty, with the large, lustrous, brown eyes, the olive cheeks where the red blood came and went in waves, the blue-black hair, and the exquisitely rounded figure which mark the Separdim of Spain rather than the Ashkenazim of Russia. [ 134 ] THE GOD of His FATHERS But her character belonged to the modern age. She enjoyed music and the drama ; she liked sight-seeing and danc ing ; she appreciated attention and admi ration. When she found that she had won the love of Israel, she was overjoyed. She had admired this stern, handsome man from the first time she had seen him. His force of character, his high integrity, his refinement, and learning had appealed to her heart and to the instincts of her race. To Jewess as well as to Jew, there is an innate reverence for ability and learning, deeper and more intense than that felt for wealth and power. The Rab bi precedes the merchant, and the doctor outranks the millionaire. The fact that Israel was a successful business-man, that his wealth was large according to East- Side standards, and his credit practically unlimited, did not detract from his value in her eyes nor in those of her relatives. [ 135 ] GHETTO SILHOUETTES The courtship was long. The girl did not wish to give up her liberty nor to close the door upon the many admirers who laid siege to her heart. At the same time, there was a slight element of fear or of awe deep down in her soul in re gard to this favorite suitor. She knew she loved him, but at the same time she realized his mental and spiritual superi ority. But the day came when she ac cepted him and the formal engagement was had. The betrothal-celebration was a social triumph in Norfolk Street, and the presents from the bridegroom-to-be were rich and many. Israel was in the seventh heaven of de light. If his character was strong, so was his love. In the pantheon of his nature he had placed the image of the girl along side of those of duty, right, honor, and worship. A week had not elapsed before little differences began to manifest them- [ 136] THE GOD of His FATHERS selves. Aida wanted to go to the theatre to see some society-drama; Israel had read a review of it, in which it was heav ily scored as verging upon the improper, and refused. Had he been politic he would have explained the reason of his refusal, but to his mind it was an insult to his intelligence to bring up all the de tails in order to show that she was wrong and he was right. In acting this way, he believed he was paying her a compli ment, but she, like ordinary New York girls, considered that he was arrogating an authority which certainly did not belong to him before they were married. Then, of course, the thought came to her, that if he was strict and arbitrary before mar riage, what would he not be afterward ? She recalled a family next door, where the husband used to beat his wife with great regularity, and she shook her pretty, little head with dim foreboding. The [137] GHETTO SILHOUETTES first disagreement was followed by a sec ond, a third, and many others. In every case it was the same trouble, the man s stern conception of duty, his love and reverence of Aida, and his natural habit of doing that which he believed to be right. The day finally came when, to the astonishment of the neighborhood and the horror of the relatives of both parties, the engagement was broken off. Every gossip was eager to find out the story of the trouble, but little satisfaction did they obtain. Israel, calm and digni fied, glared in silence at the first question er, and to the second gave an answer so sharp and angry as to dissuade others from attempting the same course of ac tion. Aida, on the other hand, was hys terical and took all the blame upon her own shoulders. If some good angel could only have opened the eyes of the two, the estrangement would not have lasted a [ 138 3 THE GOD of His FATHERS half-hour. There are good angels in life, but they do not always happen around at the right time, and in the love-affair of Israel and Aida no spiritual friend ap peared upon the scene. Weeks passed and months, and finally one day Aida, it may have been from loneliness, a warm, affectional nature, or despair, married one of the beaux of the neighborhood. The wedding was held in Zion Hall, on East Broadway, which fashionable assembly- room was packed to suffocation by the friends of the contracting parties. Israel was not there, and although the bride groom, partly in friendship and partly in mischief, had sent him wedding-cards, the only answer he had made was a brief note of declination and a little wedding- present of considerable beauty. The newly wedded couple went to housekeeping and settled not far from the business-establishment of the former lover. [ 139 J GHETTO SILHOUETTES Time passed on and brought its changes. Two children blessed the union of Aida and her husband Morris, and added to the other cares of the household which had come into being. Morris, popular and debonair, had developed a love of drink, which had now grown upon him to such an extent as to injure him both socially and commercially. The entreaties of Aida were vain, as were the intercedings of his relatives. He was on the down ward path, and little hope seemed to be left for him. Those who knew him well never tired of referring to his strange luck. Time and again the policeman on the beat would help him home, where he would carry other drunkards to the sta tion-house. When arrested for inebriety a reputable lawyer would always appear for him, and his fine be paid by some unknown friend. By degrees the rumor spread around THE GOD of His FATHERS that his family, although they had dis owned him, were still trying to protect him from the consequences of his mis deeds. In vain they denied the report. They had discarded him forever and he was a disgrace to their race, but their denials were useless. Who else could have any motive for befriending him, for paying his fines, and for supplying him with law yers, doctors, and even medicines? The drunkard got so low finally that Aida was forced to resort to the pawn shop. Twice she had gone to raise money in this way when she received a letter from a lawyer downtown, notifying her that under the provisions of a trust created by a distant relative she was to receive thereafter the sum of $8 a week. The news took her breath away. She hurried to the lawyer s office in quest of information. The professional man, a GHETTO SILHOUETTES dignified, white-haired member of the Bar, gave her but little. He would en deavor, however, to obtain authority to disclose all the facts in the matter, but until that was done he was compelled through professional etiquette to keep silent on the subject. He could tell her that the client who had created the trust was a distant relative, who was interested in her and her children, but did not care to have his name employed lest he should be overrun by beggars. The little income worked good and evil. It kept away the shadow of starva tion, but it encouraged the evil habits of Morris, who no longer was deterred by the fear of the suffering of his family. Once, when crazy for liquor, he robbed his wife of her weekly stipend, and for three days there was nothing to eat in the house. On the third day the grocer s man entered the place, bringing with him a [ 142 ] THE GOD of His FATHERS supply of food so generous as to last them a week. On another occasion Morris stole the rent-money his wife had put aside, and dispossess proceedings were brought by the landlord. The legal notice had not been nailed upon the door more than six hours, when the marshal appeared, apologized obsequiously for the disquiet ing paper, declared that some serious mis take had been made, and went away with the document. When he left the house he stopped a few doors below, at the office of Israel, where he was seen to receive a roll of bills, but as Israel now owned several tenement-houses in the neighbor hood, the fact occasioned no comment. Rumor is very busy on the East Side, and it was no longer the luck of Morris that was spoken about, but the luck of Aida. In summer, if there was a children s excursion, there were always tickets [143] GHETTO SILHOUETTES brought to her by some agent of the af fair. When the sanitarium opened at Rockaway, she and her little ones were the first to be invited and go down there. They were induced to remain six weeks where ordinary inmates are allowed to stay but one. Strange men in the neighborhood presented the children with toys and books, fruit and flowers, until it did seem as if the luck of the mother had been extended to her children as well. When there was an epidemic in the neighborhood her tenement was the first to be cleaned, disinfected, and put in thorough repair. Her landlord was no toriously mean, and great was the astonish ment of the inmates of the house when, instead of ordinary repairs, the miserly owner almost rebuilt the interior of the huge building and supplied it with every improvement known to the model tene ment. [ H4 ] THE GOD of His FATHERS When the oldest child was five, Aida had a call from the teacher of a kinder garten, who asked her to send the two children to the school. The teacher blushed and hesitated as she said that she was just starting the affair and if Aida would send the children she would take them for a nominal sum, in order to have the nucleus of a class. It was what Aida had been praying for, and she acceded gladly. The luck followed the school. No such kindergarten had ever been known before on the East Side. There were games and toys, and every child had its own, which were supplied by the school. Model meals were served so dainty that the scholars preferred to eat in the class-rooms rather than at home. An extraordinary system of prizes for scholarship was instituted, so that the little folks were perpetually bringing home books and pictures, gloves and collars, [ 45 ] GHETTO SILHOUETTES handkerchiefs and toys. How the teacher could afford it all was a puzzle to the neighborhood. They concluded, finally, that she was a wealthy crank who posed as a kindergartner in order to conceal her true character as a philanthropist. Poor Morris went from bad to worse. He became a corner-lounger, a bar-room loafer and brawler, and finally a sodden drunkard. Her friends advised Aida to separate from him, but she was too proud to publish her troubles to the world. Besides this, the sorrows of her life had changed her character and converted her from a somewhat frivolous girl into a thoughtful, self-sacrificing woman. She realized the great mistake she had made, and determined that she would do the duty which her own actions had imposed upon her. It may be that she was in spired to some extent by the constant sight of Israel, whom she saw every now [ 146 .1 THE GOD of His FATHERS and then upon the street or in his office as she went by. He always treated her with the greatest courtesy, and to the children had become a second father. When the kindergarten was out and they did not arrive at home in time, she knew well that they were visiting her former lover in his office, and that they would return in due season, bearing always some little token of affection. Once when the oldest boy had fallen in the street and coated himself with mud and water, Israel had promptly undressed him, bathed him, and supplied him with a new suit of clothing and hat and boots to match. In October Morris came home about nine o clock one evening in a condition which was worse than usual. He was drunk, and he was also ugly and quarrel some. Insidiously liquor had under mined the man s character, spiritually as well as physically. The blithe-hearted- [ H7 1 GHETTO SILHOUETTES ness of the bridegroom had departed by degrees, and had been replaced by the nervous irritability and savage nature of the drunkard. Something occurred when he was in the dining-room of their apart ment which angered him. What it was, no one ever knew. He was alone, and Aida was sewing in the parlor. She heard him stagger about, stumbling against chair or table, and then curse in maudlin rage. Then came the crash of breaking glass, followed by a wild, drunken yell for help. It was not an unusual sound, and she did not hurry from her task as she had done when these sounds first occurred. But when she had gone down the long hall to the dining- room, her heart rose up in her mouth. The glass which had been broken was the big lamp which had been given to her as a wedding-gift, and the oil, spilled in every direction, had converted the [ H8 ] THE GOD of His FATHERS room into a blazing furnace. She ran back to the bedroom to awaken the chil dren, pulled them from the bed, and then started for the door. There was only one door in the tenement which opened from the private hall into the main hall. As she approached, the flame and smoke were sweeping toward her, and she saw that the avenue of escape was cut off. The iron fire-escape was in the rear of the building, and that, too, was useless. In her frenzy she turned and dashed to the windows, threw up the sash, and called wildly for aid. The house was old, and the flames spread rapidly. A crowd collected, and not far away was heard the thunder of the fire-engines as they came speeding down the streets leading toward the house. Smoke was filling the room, and Aida, with a mother s thoughtfulness, tied wet towels around the mouths of the children [ 149 ] GHETTO SILHOUETTES and her own, so as to prevent suffoca tion. When would the engines come ? When, above all, would the fire-ladder be raised ? Suddenly there came a crash. The window alongside of the one where she was standing was shivered into fragments, and a man came through amid the break ing glass and half fell upon the floor. He had cut himself, and blood was streaming from his face and hands. Something within her heart told her who it was be fore she turned her head. When she looked at the man it was Israel. He had a coil of rope over his arm, and swiftly tied it around the body of the oldest boy and lowered him from the window, which was on the fourth floor, down to the ground. A great cheer came up from the crowd, which loosened the rope, and still greater ones came when THE GOD of His FATHERS the second child and the mother were lowered likewise. There had been a dispute in the room between the man and the woman. Israel had wanted to lower her first, but she had refused and had put the rope herself around the chest of the oldest boy. The engines were now at work, and streams of water were flowing into the building from front and rear. Every where was smoke and everywhere the dull, horrible noise of a fire in a living house. Why did not Israel come ? What was the trouble ? The fire-ladders now shot up, and the firemen sprang through the windows into the apartment. A minute or two passed, and then they reappeared at the windows bringing two men in their arms through the smoke. These were lowered to the ground, where Aida stood trembling with GHETTO SILHOUETTES anxiety and horror. A fireman who came down the ladder said : " One of them has croaked. The other one came near it. He was a fool and tried to save the dead man." Aida gave a gasp and fainted. It was as the fireman had said. Morris had per ished in the fire caused by his own drunk en hands, and Israel had been severely burned in trying to save him. It was several weeks before Israel re covered. During that time he was the idol of the East Side. Old and young called at his house night and day and fairly wearied the servant and the nurse with their affectionate importunities. Very few were permitted to see him, but among these were Aida and the two children. When she approached the bed where the sufferer lay, one hand hung out over the coverlid. Aida was unable to speak. She fell upon her knees, seized [ 152] THE GOD of His FATHERS the hand, which was painfully white and thin, and covered it with kisses and tears. Israel s body never moved, but the hand slowly left her lips and caressed her forehead and cheek. The woman drew back, seized the hand again, kissed it re peatedly, and cried : " Oh, forgive me, if you can forgive me ! I am a very poor, weak woman and you are the noblest man in the world. I have never said anything, but I have known all the time who has saved me and my children, who has made our lives happy, and who, best and noblest of all, tried to save Morris from himself and even from the fiery death which he brought upon his own head/ The hand became strong and ended the speech by clasping her lips. She kissed it again and again, until the nurse whispered to her, when she left. Israel s store is larger now and he lives f 153 ] GHETTO SILHOUETTES in a fine residence far up near the Park. There are four children in his family, two of whom are very young, and the mother, Aida, beneath a calm and beauti ful face, has about the happiest soul that can be found upon Manhattan Island. [ 54 ] The Ruin of a Schatcben I Abraham Abrahams was the most successful Schatchen of the East Side was admitted by envious rivals. His pleasant manners and rare tact enabled him to be of invaluable service to Dan Cupid, while his tireless energy put him in possession of informa tion which was of inestimable value in bringing about thrifty marriages. It takes talent of considerable extent to suc ceed in the ancient and honorable calling of Schatchen, or matrimonial agent. This is true in Russia and Austria, where the business is time-honored and respected ; it is much more so in New York, where both Gentiles and American Jews are opposed to the calling, from some strange preju dice inexplicable to the European mind. [ 55 ] GHETTO SILHOUETTES " I cannot understand it," said Abra ham, one day, " why it is that these Americans, regardless of race and religion, should laugh at my business. They are almost mad in their opinions respecting young men and young women. So far as the sexes are concerned, every wise man knows that a boy is a fool and a girl a Bedlamite. They see each other, blush, squeeze hands, and rush off and get mar ried without the slightest thought as to the future. No regard for business ! No respect for institutions ! No thought of that which is more important than love, namely, hard cash ! If I had my way, I would declare all marriages illegal unless they were transacted through the office of a Schatchen. I married my friend Isaac Bierbohm, who had $8,000, to Minnie Gadsky, who had $5,000, and to-day they must be worth $25,000, and have five children besides. Now, if I had not mar- [ 56] THE RUIN of a SCHATCHEN ried them, that fool-damsel would have wedded young Greenberg, who has not a penny, and the husband would have es poused some fashionable girl that would have made his life a burden." Abraham s soliloquy was interrupted by a visitor. This was a lady of uncer tain age, the uncertainty being as to whether she was over or under thirty-five. She was not ill-favored, nor could she be called handsome. Neatly dressed, and pleasant-spoken, she gave the impres sion of belonging to a well-to-do family and of having had the advantages of edu cation and polite intercourse. Introducing herself as Miss Rebecca Slatsky, she said : " I have come, Mr. Abrahams, to en gage you professionally to secure a hus band. I am tired of single life and have been willing to marry for several years, but I have been unable to get the right man. The few that seek me turn out to [ 157] GHETTO SILHOUETTES be worthless, while those that may have been good mates did not agree with my tastes. My family are quite well-to-do, but I have almost nothing in my own right. I have accumulated nearly a thousand dollars, and if you can get me a really good husband I am willing to pay you $500. " Mr. Abrahams heart rose up in his throat at this announcement, and he in wardly determined that he would gratify her wishes, if he had to call upon every unmarried man on the East Side. " I am both sorry and glad," continued the lady, " that I have not more money, because I realize that a happy marriage to a woman of my years must depend largely upon a good business foundation. On the other hand, if I had wealth, I should always have a lurking fear that a suitor was looking for my money and not for me." [ 58 ] THE RUIN of a SCHATCHEN " Your sentiments, Miss, are very cred itable," responded Abrahams, bowing to his client, " and ought to be those of every member of your sex. Women prac tise so many deceptions, I assure you, that it fills my heart with delight to hear you enunciate such noble principles. Have you any preference in regard to husbands?" The woman looked at the ceiling for a moment, and then said, slowly : " Of course, I have my dreams and my ideals, which I do not expect to realize in this life. I should be satisfied with a good man who could support me comfortably and who would be the head of our little household. He must be sufficiently edu cated and polite to be presented to my family, and must be orthodox in his faith. These are the only conditions which I in sist upon, and I leave all the rest to you." Mr. Abrahams made the regular for mal inquiries as to her residence, family, [ 159 ] GHETTO SILHOUETTES relatives, and references, and then, notify ing her that he would report within four or five days, escorted her to the door of his bureau and bowed her to the head of the stairs. That very afternoon he started out to verify her statements, and before an hour had passed had learned enough to con vince him that her declarations were true. He also learned a number of facts which set him to thinking. One refer ence, a quiet, business man who had a store on Eighth Avenue, spoke very high ly of Rebecca, and then added, " She is a very queer woman. She has a morbid fear of fortune-hunters. I do not believe she is poor at all. Her people are very well-ofF and I know that she has more than $5,000. I once saw three bank books in her satchel, and they were so well worn that I knew she must have made a great many deposits. When I [ 160] THE RUIN of a SCHATCHEN joked her about it, she flushed up, and said she only had $50 in each bank, but from her nervousness and her keeping her eyes away from mine, I knew that she was concealing the truth/ At the house of a second reference was an old woman who had known Rebecca and her family for many years, both in this country and at home in Russia. " She is a very fine girl," exclaimed the old woman, " but she is very foolish. She has refused a great many offers mere ly because she thought the men were after her money ; in fact, she told me so herself. Now, why should a woman re fuse a man because he wants his wife to have money ? It shows that he is wise and will be a good husband. And why should Rebecca refuse a man for that rea son, unless she had money ?" That evening Abraham thought the matter over. He smiled to himself as he GHETTO SILHOUETTES followed up the clews of the day. This new client was a dreamer, like most Jew ish women, and was also romantic. She must have considerable money put by, and she was concealing this very important fact from her marriage-broker. Here was an opportunity to get not only the fat fee promised by Rebecca herself, but to obtain a second and larger one from someone who was in need of ready cash in his business. He knew a dozen men, bright, pleasant, and ambitious, who wanted wives badly, but needed money more, and any one of them would pay him an enormous commission to secure an available life-partner with a handsome bank-account. Conscience told him to beware and not go outside of his instruc tions, but the prospect of a brilliant busi ness-stroke was too fascinating for him to listen to the small voice. The next day he called upon five or [ 62 ] THE RUIN of a SCHATCHEN six men and, without using any name, spoke of a client who had considerable wealth and desired to wed. Each expressed a strong desire to be presented to Rebecca the moment he heard the story. He wrote to his client that he would be pleased to introduce sev eral aspirants to her, either at his office or at her house. She replied promptly by mail that she would rather meet them at his office, as she did not want her rela tives to know of the affair. Abrahams, after reading the note, looked carefully at the paper. It was very stylish station ery, and the handwriting was that of a well-educated person. He shook his head smilingly and said, " You are a smart woman, Rebecca ! You almost fooled old Abraham Abrahams with your talk about fortune-hunting and poverty. If I had not a wife and twelve children I would marry you myself." f GHETTO SILHOUETTES The first engagement was duly made, and on the appointed day Rebecca called. She made a pleasant figure as she swept into the bureau. She was well-dressed and bore all the marks of attention to personal welfare. In her hand was a neat satchel, which she laid on Abra hams^ desk. " Has the man arrived yet ? " she asked. " Yes, he has been here fifteen min utes," was the Schatchen s reply. " If you are ready, I will go in and make you ac quainted. I think the first visit should be short, just to break the ice. I would not make it less than fifteen minutes, nor more than half an hour. I have noticed where it is too short, the men think the woman is nervous and ill-tempered, and where it is too long they think she is stupid and lazy." " I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Abrahams. I ll take twenty minutes ; [ 64 ] THE RUIN of a SCHATCHEN and I am very glad to learn this valuable point." Then Rebecca was introduced to Jacob Rosen, and was left alone with the would- be suitor. Mr. Abrahams returned to his desk and sat there musing. His eyes rested upon Rebecca s satchel, which was a stylish affair in alligator-skin, mounted in silver. He felt a strong temptation to open it, and his hand touched the spring almost involuntarily. The persons in the next room were talking in low tones, and he knew that if they rose he could hear them without difficulty. He pressed the little spring, half-fearful that the satchel was locked. But it was not ; the mouth sprang open, and the interior was visible. He saw a bunch of keys, a pretty memorandum-book, a bank-book, and a large pocket-book. Abrahams turned and GHETTO SILHOUETTES looked at the door. The persons were still talking, and the tones of their voices told him that Rosen, who was a very entertaining man, had succeeded in inter esting his vis-a-vis. He knew there was no danger of any sudden interruption, and, with a quick movement of his hand, re moved the bank-book, and in a second had read its contents. He raised his eye brows slightly as he perused the page. "$3,200 in the Bowery Bank? I was perfectly right. That woman is a crank on the subject of fortune-hunting, and she has got money, and lots of it." He replaced the bank-book and turned his attention to the porte-monnaie. In this there were small change and a piece of court-plaster. He was about to re turn it when he noticed that there was something in the private compartment. This he opened and found a letter from the banking-house of Seligman & Co. [ 1 66 ] THE RUIN of a SCHATCHEN It was a brief, business communication notifying Miss Rebecca Slatsky that the enclosed check was a quarterly dividend upon the stock held by her. The check was for $552. A slight rustle in the adjoining room caused him to return the pocket-book to the satchel. He shook his head, and then with his pencil wrote figures upon a piece of paper. A quarterly dividend of $552 repre sented an annual one of $2,200. This at three per cent., the market-rate of in vestments, meant at least $75,000. The poor old maid in the next room had cozened him beyond all expression. She was, in fact, the richest heiress for whom he had ever done business. It was clear he must get rid of Mr. Rosen, because that man had promised an extra com mission of only $100. $75,000? That ought to bring him a commission of at GHETTO SILHOUETTES least $10,000. Abrahams was a quick thinker, and within the next ten minutes he had sketched out a brilliant plan of campaign. The interview came to an end and Abrahams escorted Rebecca to the head of the stairs, where he bade her good- day. He said on parting: " Do not make your mind up yet, be cause I have two or three other very ex cellent aspirants, from whom you can make your choice." His client thanked him, and de parted. In the next two weeks several suitors were presented to Rebecca, but the one who found most favor was Solomon Burn- ham, who had a large store on East Broadway. When Solomon began busi ness his name was Bernheim, but social reasons induced him to translate the Ger man into English and so make a good [ 68 ] THE RUIN of a SCRATCH EN aristocratic, American name. The mar riage-engagement was finally announced. No suitor could have been more atten tive and devoted. No mercenary mar riage ever had a smaller suggestion of pecuniary motive. It may have been due to the high spiritual nature of Mr. Burn- ham. It may have been due to several conversations which Mr. Burnham had had with Abrahams. One thing is cer tain. Mr. Abrahams received a large cash-fee in advance, and also a well- endorsed promissory note payable two days after the wedding. The nuptials came off with considera ble eclat. For a bride who was penni less, it certainly was a notable event. Her relatives made many handsome pres ents, while those of the bridegroom, his kindred, and friends, were enough to stock a small store. There was a brief honey moon, which was to have been a month, [ 169] GHETTO SILHOUETTES but it lasted only four days, and it culmi nated in a scene which was the talk of the East Side for many days. Mr. Abrahams was sitting in his office at ten o clock in the morning. From the old-fashioned horse-car, which runs through the street, a couple alighted whose faces did not suggest that they were a happy bride and groom upon their wedding-tour. They entered the house where Mr. Abrahams did business, as cended the stairs, and came into the office without knocking. Abrahams s face was wreathed with smiles as he saw them. He rose and advanced toward them, extending both hands. His expression changed as, to his surprise, the fair Rebecca struck him full in the face with her parasol. " You miserable wretch ! What do you mean by marrying me to a bankrupt merchant ? " THE RUIN of a SCHATCHEN Before he could answer, Burnham, shaking his fist, screamed out : " You scoundrel, where are the $80,- 000 you told me this wife had ? " " Didn t I tell you that I was a poor woman ? " said the bride. " Yes, yes," stammered the Schatchen, " you did ! You did ! You said you had $1,000, and you would give me $500." " Then why did you tell this man that 1 was worth $80,000 ? " "Why did you prevaricate ?" thun dered Burnham. " Well, I saw her letters. They were in her satchel, and I read them." " Oh, you are a sneak as well as a pre varicator, then ! " screamed Rebecca. Then both bride and groom fell upon the Schatchen and smote him hip and thigh. There was a fierce struggle, and the last seen of Abraham Abrahams he GHETTO SILHOUETTES was dashing down East Broadway, his clothes torn, and a stream of blood trick ling from his nose, while Mr. Burnham was bawling at the top of his lungs from the office- window : " I ll have a warrant out for you to day from Essex Market and send you to Sing Sing for robbing me." Time works wonders, and in spite of the mutual deception, Mr. and Mrs. Burnham are living a very happy married life. She proved as skilful in helping him in his business as she had in winning him as a husband. Of Abraham Abrahams, it is said that he is conducting a schatchen-business in Cincinnati, and is so poor that his office is on the curbstone. [ 172] A Monument of Patience WHEN Rebecca Gruenwald was graduated at Wellesley Col lege, the joy of being the first scholar of her class was more than balanced by the news she had received that morn ing from her home in New York. Her father had failed, his health had broken down, and it was necessary for her to take up the burden of life on her own account and become a bread-winner. She received the congratulations of scholars, teachers, and friends with quiet dignity, and late in the evening took the train for the metropolis. Upon arrival at her home on Henry Street she found her worst fears realized. Her father, who, when she last saw him had been in seeming health and strength, [ 73 ] GHETTO SILHOUETTES was now an invalid, while her mother looked ten years older. Her younger brother had left college and was already earning a livelihood. It seems that her father had invested nearly all of his money in what appeared to be a legitimate, sub stantial enterprise, acting upon the advice of a lawyer for whom he had the highest regard. The enterprise proved a swindle, all of the old man s money being swept away, and liabilities coming up which threatened to overwhelm him for the rest of his life with unsatisfied claims. Some eight or ten men had been ruined in this matter, the only one who had come out of the affair unscathed having been the lawyer. An investigation by the District Attorney had been made, but without giving any encouragement to the victims of the swindle. There was no doubt but what the lawyer was morally guilty, yet he was a shrewd practitioner, and [ 174 ] A MONUMENT of PATIENCE had not violated the law in any way so far as was known. He had acted through several catspaws, who had vanished when the final collapse occurred. At the end of a week Rebecca had started on a new career. She translated her name from Gruenwald to Greenwood, not because she was ashamed of the Ger man, but because she did not wish to fight social prejudices. She opened a cigar-stand in the big office-building where Mr. Goslyn, the lawyer, had his place of business. Her friends were some what surprised at her action, but admired her for her pluck. They thought it was very curious that she should have begun business in the same building where Mr. Goslyn was, but she dismissed their ques tions with the curt reply that it was the only place where she could engage in trade. Before the failure, her family had resided in a handsome, old-fashioned [ 1 75 J GHETTO SILHOUETTES house on Henry Street, not far from Clinton, but Gruenwald, who was the soul of probity, had given up house and everything else to his creditors, and had taken a small apartment a few blocks from the old home. Leah s business prospered from the first. After a month she did so well that she engaged a little cousin as a clerk. She came to her place of business early in the morning, dressed with faultless taste, left it for half an hour at noon for her luncheon, and remained there until nearly all the tenants of the building had departed for the day. She must have had a natural genius for trade, because nearly every day she learned or thought out something which proved of profit. One was the keeping a stock of stamped envelopes. Another was supplying visit ing cards and writing them when de sired. Her chirography was admirable, A MONUMENT of PATIENCE and hardly a day passed but she wrote several dozen for customers. She noticed also that lawyers and clients when they won cases were apt to celebrate it with festivities, and while in that mood were always wont to buy expensive cigars and costly knick-knacks. For their bene fit she kept several boxes of cigars at $i apiece, and a few choice holders in meer schaum and amber, for which when sold she obtained very high prices. By degrees she came to know all the people in the building, and to win their esteem. Her cousin noticed that she made apparently a special effort to win the friendship of Mr. Goslyn s clerks and his neighbors on the same floor of the building. In this she was very success ful. The office-boys of Mr. Goslyn s place had each a small credit at her stand, and the two young men who were junior clerks in the law-office were her most [ 177 J GHETTO SILHOUETTES devoted admirers. Strangest of all, Mr. Goslyn came to take a deep interest in the pretty stand-keeper. She treated him with great dignity and yet affability. The result was that he purchased every thing which he possibly could at her counter, and occasionally left flowers and fruits as a token of regard. The cousin observed that she never touched the fruits, and that the flowers were always thrown into the gutter when business was over. At the end of six months Mr. Goslyn, in running over his books, noticed that business was falling off. New clients did not come to him with much regularity, and old clients went off to new lawyers. At the end of a year the change was more marked, and Goslyn felt slightly alarmed. To add to his discomfort, he found that his popularity was on the wane. It had been a matter of profes sional habit with him to wear a perpetual A MONUMENT of PATIENCE smile, and to assume an air of camaraderie which was foreign to his nature ; but it had always proved a profitable investment, and for many years had made him one of the most liked tenants in the building. He spoke about it to Leah at one time, who looked very thoughtful, and said : " It is probably due to the fact that the people here do not appreciate you at your full worth. With your high stand ing at the bar, and your fine character, I think you would make a deeper impres sion if you were calm and dignified, rather than kind and genial." Goslyn s chest expanded as he swal lowed the bait, and he thanked the young woman for her advice. The next day, to the surprise of the elevator-boys, his demeanor was as cold and chilling as that of an iceberg. People who were accus tomed to his smile looked in amazement at the distorted frown which now ap- [ 179 ] GHETTO SILHOUETTES peared upon his countenance. The result, as may have been expected, was to pro duce two new feelings in the building. The younger element said that he was " putting on airs," and had grown insuf ferably conceited. The older and wiser element declared that he had been having serious business trouble, and was trying to conceal it beneath an ill-timed hauteur. But both of these feelings worked against the lawyer. His dwindling popularity rapidly disappeared, and ere another year had gone by he was the most disliked man in the huge structure. About this time his two clerks left him and opened offices of their own upon the same floor. He sneered at their depart ure at first, but soon saw that it was a more serious matter than he had con ceived. Nearly one-third of his clients, and those the best, went with the young men. [ 180] A MONUMENT of PATIENCE Two months after this, while he was away arguing a case in the Court of Ap peals, someone broke into his office and stole the contents of his safe. He en gaged private detectives, but did not re port the loss to the police. The tenants, to whom this seemed a strange proceed ing, talked the matter over, and reported it to the superintendent of the building, who in turn called upon the captain of the precinct. The next day the ward-detective in terviewed Mr. Goslyn, who seemed very much distressed at the episode. He informed the officer that no money had been taken, although there were more than $100 in the safe, and that the papers concerned clients, and were of great importance on account of family secrets. His explanation was so labored that the ward-detective returned, not to the station-house, but to Police Head- [ Si ] GHETTO SILHOUETTES quarters, where he had a long consulta tion with the head of the Central Office detectives. Although Mr. Goslyn was unaware of the fact, he himself was put under surveillance, and for the next four weeks did little that was not known in Mulberry Street. Whether that distinguished institution had any idea of the trouble upon the law yer s mind is uncertain ; but a very clear and active intellect knew well what was going on. It belonged to Leah, to whom every thing which had occurred seemed to have been expected. Thus, when a detective reported to head-quarters that Goslyn had telegraphed one day to two witnesses in respect to a case pending in the Supreme Court, Leah had received from the tele graph-operator in the building the names and addresses of the people to whom the telegrams had been sent. Forty-eight hours afterward, when a curiously worded 182 A MONUMENT of PATIENCE despatch was sent from the office to Mr. Goslyn upstairs, a copy of it, by some strange coincidence, happened to be given to Leah at the same time. In the newspapers the next day, in the column of telegraphic news, was the an nouncement that two New Yorkers had been arrested on a charge of complicity in a series of big swindles which had oc curred two years previously. A week afterward Goslyn s office was besieged by reporters. The day previous he had been arrested, his property levied upon, and attachments issued against a num ber of banks, trust companies, and safe- deposit corporations upon accounts held in various names. Mr. Goslyn was a good fighter, and when the motion to va cate the attachments and order of arrest was argued in the Supreme Court, he was represented by a galaxy of legal talent. His affidavits made out a seeming [ 83 ] GHETTO SILHOUETTES case of absolute and injured innocence. But when it came to the hearing of the other side (that of Mr. Gruenwald, who was in court sitting alongside of Leah), a series of thunderbolts falling into the room could not have produced a greater sensation. The lawyer, a handsome young man, known to the bar as a practitioner of quiet manners but rare ability, produced a series of papers, and, using these as notes, gave Mr. Goslyn s history and his relations with Gruenwald in a manner that left no doubt in the mind of any listener as to the defendant s complete guilt. In fact, it was clear that the great swindle had been Goslyn s own creation from the beginning, and that the poor catspaws who had run away were merely tools in the hands of the master-criminal. The life of each catspaw was traced, his actions and flight related, the money ac counted for which each had received and A MONUMENT of PATIENCE which had supported him abroad, the banks which had sent the money located, the accounts drawn against laid bare, and, finally, the proof adduced that all these accounts were Goslyn s, kept in both his own and other names. The papers which had been in the safe were produced in court and with them photographic copies, so that in the event of their disappearance or suppression their incriminating evi dence could not be destroyed. These gave the complete history of every action which went to make up the swindle. The affidavits of the former clerks and of the office-boys covered every loophole of escape. It did not appear that these em ployees had any criminal knowledge of the transactions, or that Goslyn had taken anyone into his confidence, excepting the two catspaws, and even these had been creatures rather than accomplices. When the lawyer closed his case the [ 85 ] GHETTO SILHOUETTES judge denied the motion to vacate with the remark, " I am sorry that I cannot render judgment absolute, because I never before had a case so clearly and thor oughly presented as this has been on the part of the plaintiff, Gruenwald. I beg to congratulate you, sir, upon the rare excellence of your work/ The lawyer smiled and bowed as he answered : " I thank you from the bottom of my heart for this high eulogy, which is de served though not by myself. This wonderful preparation has been made by a woman without any aid, either profes sional or financial, from third parties. The lady in question is Miss Leah Green wood, the daughter of the plaintiff, who is now sitting in court with her father." The announcement almost stunned Goslyn ; and then a light broke in upon him. He knew enough German to realize [ 186] A MONUMENT of PATIENCE that Greenwood was the English version of Gruenwald, and he cursed himself for his folly in not having thought of it be fore. Then he recalled how he had often in friendly converse told incidents of that very case to the girl, who had smiled and shown such interest in his stories. He also remembered, with an inward curse, how popular she had been with his employees and with all his clients ; and it dawned on him that she was the cause of the decay in his business. He never understood before why Ger mans and French, Russians and Jews had, all by degrees, deserted his offices. Now that he recalled the singular linguis tic talent which he had so often admired in Leah when she sold goods in various languages over her counter, he saw how the thing had come about. If curses could produce results, Leah would not have left that court-room alive. Yet in [ 187] GHETTO SILHOUETTES the heart of the lawyer was an apprecia tion of the talent, bravery, and patience which had enabled the dark-eyed, slender girl to undo all his actions, and to punish him for his misdeeds. He leaned over to his senior counsel and made one re mark : " I think the game is up, but isn t she a hummer ! " And the elderly lawyer nodded approv ingly as he replied : " She ought to have been a member of the bar. If she had been, she would have beaten you and me together." Mr. Gruenwald did not get back all of the money he lost. Goslyn had squan dered a good portion of his ill-gotten gains, but enough was recovered to enable the old man to move back to his former home and enjoy comparative affluence. The cigar-stand was sold at a very hand some profit, the celebrity of the case in- [ 188 ] A MONUMENT of PATIENCE creasing its market value by about thirty per cent. Goslyn is practising law in Chicago at present, and is said to be doing well. And not long since Mr. Gruen- wald sent out the betrothal cards of Leah and the young lawyer who had repre sented him in the lawsuit. [ 89] R 01 LD2 RETURN TO the circulation desk of any University of California Library or to the NORTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY Bldg. 400, Richmond Field Station University of California Richmond, CA 94804-4698 ALL BOOKS MAY BE RECALLED AFTER 7 DAYS 2-month loans may be renewed by calling (510)642-6753 1-year loans may be recharged by bringing books to NRLF Renewals and recharges may be made 4 days prior to due date. DUE AS STAMPED BELOW MflR 1 s 6 Jan 12,000(11/95) YC 53441 THE UNIVERSE OF CAUFORNIA LIBRARY