Waterbury evening Democrat., 1905-04-10
MISS PASTORS WOOINC
Life Story of Millionaire Stokes
 Poor Fiancee.
WORKED FOR YEARS IN AFAoToRY

- e~esOOSs WORKED FOR YEARS IN A FACTORY Russian Jewess Tells How She First
 Met Her Lover, the Wealthy New
 York Charity. wor1ker-sent to In-
 terview Man She Will Soon Wed,
 She Dreaded Meeting Him = Her
 Cheerfulness Inexhaustible.
 Life is a riddle of which love is the answer" Thus wrote Rose Harriet Pastor of New York, the Russian Jew ess, cigarmaker and settlement work CT, in visionary mood some time ago, and the other day her expression as she spoke of J. Graham Phelps Stokes, the millionaire settlement worker in New York, her ideal man, whose promised wife she is, indicated that she had found the answer, says the New York Herald.
 This girl full of enthusiasm, of fine aspirations and of innate culture and goodness, coming from one extreme of the social scale, has met by one of the strange chances of fortune man equally earnest, sincere. and filled with devotion to mankind from the other extremity of the scale.
 "Our souls met, and we knew that we belonged to each other" The man and the girl use almost identical lan- guage fin describing the conditions un- der which they entered into their pres ent relation. Each protests against the use of the conventional word engage ment" to describe this relation. You may call it affinity if you wish," said the girl. T do not give it name."
 Tired though she was with seeing many persons, a light shone in Rose Pastors face as she talked of the life that is opening before her. Simple and cordial in her manner, she seems to ex- pect the same qualities in those with whom she talks. She is not beautiful, but there is that in her face which at- tracts and holds attention and inter- ests as mere beauty would not. Her hair is the most striking thing as one first looks at her-auburn and full of waves and lights. She parts it, en- phasizing her low, broad brow.
 Her eyes are brown, and her face lights up in wonderful manner as she talks. She wore dark skirt, a white shirt waist and white collar, with touch of brown that toned in with her hair and eyes. It was a cos tune such as she might have worn to her work. Once when she was about to pose for photograph she excused herself to change her dress. Her pa- tience and cheerfulness were inex- haustible. All day long she submitted to photographers, sketch artists and in- terviewers. Her life was as an open book, and all who cared might turn. to the chapter in it where her worst con dition was recorded.
 Quite at her ease, without embar rassment, apology or boastfulness, Miss Pastor, sitting in the simple little sitting room of her fat in the Bronx district of New York, told her life story. -..s.
 q was only three years old when I left Russia,' she said, but think l can remember little about it, just very little faint shadow of remem- brance. Then there was London, where we lived in Whitechapel and were very poor indeed. learned to read there, and when I was nine years old we came to America. We lived in Cleveland, and when I was eleven and half years old went to work in a tobacco factory, rolling tobacco for cigar-always that for twelve years.
 When I first went to work man came in and sent me home. I did not know why then, but do now. It was because I was too young to work in a factory. But it was not long until I was back at the work. I was not un- happy. I am never unhappy at work.
 "One day a boy lent me Les Miser- ables.' That took hold of me in won- derful way. That boy was the son of the owner of the factory. His father sent him through Yale. He went back to Cleveland, opened law office, and while waiting for clients wrote The Fugitives,' which was brought out last year.
 Tt will be two years next July since I came to New York. and soon after I came l went to work on the Jewish Daily News. The first interview to which I was assigned was one with Mir. Stokes. I did not want to do it. I pictured him as old and stiff. My editor insisted. When I was told that he was out of town I was delighted. You will have to go again. said my editor. Again received the same in- formation that he was not in town and was relieved. An interview was arranged. however. and. as I went to keep the appointment I met Edward King and induced him to accompany me.
 "when I met Mir. Stokes I said, oh. I did not know you were like that and we fell to talking Of many things that interested us both. In showing me around the building we stepped out on to balcony. and as we stood looking down on the people I noticed his ex- precision and thought how much he looked like Lincoln, the same kind of beautiful homeliness.
 .As ve have come fo know each otf-