The San Francisco call., 1904-07-03

world. l thrust my hands into my
pockets-I had only SIX dollars and
thirty-two cents.
After a few minutes we began to
pour out Of the steamer. Leaving the
barge office l stood in the street with
my knapsack in my nand. Where
shall l go?" l asked myself l knew no
one in the new land, and my knowl-
edge of English, though not very mea-
ger, was not quite sufficient to make
me feel at home. After short reflec-
tion 1 decided to repair TO the Jewish
quarter. Instinctively / sought the
poor Jewish settlement near the heart
of the city, in the main business por-
ton.
l wandered about aimIessly for an
hour or more, and finally / reached the
corner of Hester and Ludlow streets.
The scene made me pause.
There were thousands of people, and
everybody was selling something. The
sidewalks, or the planks that served as
sidewalks. were decayed; there might
have been pavement years ago, but
now the thoroughfare was slushy, and
there was a sound like kneading dough
as the crowd jostled hither and thither.
Some blessed and some cursed. some
laughed and some cried, some shrieked
and some grunted-but all in a broth
erly and frank manner. What a varie
ty of voices. Small, piping. baby
voices; healthy. sweet, contralto
voices; sour, quarreling voices; soft,
plaintive voices; harsh. cultural, dis
agreeable voices. What types of faces
and what fashions of dress! Aged, de-
crepit Jews with maps OF Jerusalem
cat the time of the destruction) on
their faces; fresh, blooming faces
marred only by merciless poverty and
suffering; worn-out women with wrin-
killed. cheeks and withered bodies; and
young women with lustrous black hair
and sparkling eyes for which Fifth
avenue ladies would have gladly ex-
changed their jewels.
l looked at this curious and pathetic
scene. This misery is the work OF
cruel persecution" I murmured to my
self. Jewesses with shriveled faces
and dim, once brilliant eyes, carrying
big baskets on their arms. passed me
and murmured mechanically in plain
Russian Yiddish and in pitifuT tones:
"Reb Yid (Mr. Jew, buy something.
Everything cheap, almost for nothing. ;"
Then l heard a voice that made me
turn around and stare. Women!
women candles for shabbos! Six for
five cents-for shabbos!'
The candle-vender was tall man
with a white beard, dressed in a
threadbare coat that had once been of
good quality, and a costly Russian fur
hat that betrayed long wear. From his
shoulder hung a box by a strap.
five cents-for shabbosi" he repeated
automatically.
1 observed him closely. "Is it posi-
ble-Mr Takiff?" l asked myself in
credulously.
He seemed to feel scrutiny and raised
his eyes. His face was marred by deep
burrows of sorrow, and his eyes looked
melancholy.
Mr.. Takiff?" I said.
He looked at me studiously. "Israel?"
he answered hesitatingly.
I nodded my head: was over
whelmed with emotion
Mr.. Takif?" I repeated.
Call me not Naomi, call me Mara;
for the Almighty has dealt very bitter
of Naomi, shaking my hand Affection
ately.
questioned.
i told him.
He quickly thrust his merchandise
into his box and said: Come TO my
house. She will be glad to see you
I OWNED who she" was.
do not trouble yourself on my ac-
count do not want you to lose to-
days profit" urged.
Let the whole business go to
blazes!" he answered bitterly Il stay
here all day and make thirty or forty
cents, and sometimes l must give away
half of my profit to that tall policeman,
who often threatens to make me move.
This is American business" he added
with a sigh.
How delighted / am to see you, my
good Israeli' he said with manifest
pleasure, as we pressed through the
busy crowd. You will excuse me for
calling you Israel; in America you will
be Mister" he explained ironically.
"Oh, she will be so pleased to see ycut'
he repeated without mentioning her
name. I'VE are not far from my
home; we live on Ludloff (Ludlow)
street."
Here we are" he said few minutes
later, stopping before a dingy, five
story tenement house. I'VE live high
upon the fourth
Finally we reached the fourth floor.
The gray-headed Mr.. Takiff burst out:
stairsi They take my breath away" He
tried to open one of the several doors
in the dark hall. 1t was locked. She
must have gone out. Well go into my
sisters until she gets back
He knocked at the other door on the
same floor. "Gittele. we have a guest.
Can you recognize him?' he said to the
WOHldH WHO IcSpOtlQ6Q IO Ills hHOCh.
1 recognized her instantly. She was
the same Gittele I had seen, years be-
fore, buxom and healthy, but her face
bore the marks of suffering.
She looked at me and smiled, saying
she could not recall me. When my
host told her who / was she seemed de-
lighted at seeing me again.
Are you long from home (meaning
Russia)?"
I told her how long
Blessed are those who know not Of
this cursed landi" shessaid with a sigh.
"At home we were somebody. Every
one knew of us and we (she always
spoke for her husband, too) lived in
comfort; but here-would that Column
bus had never been born, so that we
had been spared from coming to this
land of rigorous servicei Woe to Reb
Dovidle, at whose table every needy
person found food and assistance
In the meantime ! cast a glance
about the house. There were only
three rooms. The one we sat in was
the kitchen and dining room, the fur
niture of which consisted of a small
table covered with oilcloth, a stove
near the sink, dish shelves on which I
noticed a samovar and six candle
sticks; on the walls were a picture of
the President 0f fha TTnitad States of