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] 
 
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