Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1915-11-25

NSSSSiuSu W iooh dI blc WiicihB'
"I recognize the language" said he
at length.
Perceptibly my heart beat faster.
ut is written" went on the clerk,
"in the Dalmatian dialect of the Ser
bo-Croatian language by man pos
sessing very fair education. cannot
read it myself. One word out of five
l might decipher."
"Tell me, please, who can read it?"
I begged, my heart once more pump
ing at normal speed.
The consular clerk examined his
manicured nails, frowning the mean
while.
"It's very hard to know just wher
to direct you," he answered after some
moments. 81 happen to know that it
will not do you any good to visit the
Offices of the Austro-H Hungarian con-
sul-general, for we once had an occa-
sion to have translated letter writ
ten in the Dalmatian dialect, and they
couldn't help us. Over three they can
translate only German, Hungarian,
Polish and Bohemian. The man wha
translated the letter for US is no long
er in the city. He
"Who are these Dalmatians in
terrupted. "Where can I find one of
them in New York?
"They come from a kingdom-a
part of Austria bordering on theh
Adriatic Sea-" the Americanized Rus
sian was good enough to answer.
"Most Dalmatians are of Slavish de-
scent. A few of them speak the
Venetian dialect of Italian. They are
mostly sailors and farmers by occupa-
tion. Like the Montenegrins who live
near them, they are nearly all tall
in stature and very dark complexion
ed. Very few of them come to Amer
lea.
My informant looked up from his
nails, to gaze upon the gloomy facade
of building across dingy Stone
Street. He shrugged his shoulders as
he concluded:
"Maybe-in some sailors or immi
grants clearinghouse on West Street
possibly Greenwich Street - yor
might be able to find person who car
make the translation"
l thanked the clerk for his trouble
and pains, and made my way across
town to the North River.
1t was the keeper of a Polish immi
grants clearinghouse who finally put
me on the right track. In room
lined with frowzy-looking servant
girls and booted form laborers await
ing employment, the red-nosed pro
prietor informed me that one, Szabt
Roth, keeper of saloon, could reae
Dalmatian and "all other Slavish dia
lects."
! Four steps down from the street, il
a low-ceilinged room reeking with tn,
fumes of stale beer and cheap spirits
I found Szabo Roth.
He was rheumy-eyed, piggish
looking man of a great weight ane
flabby flesh. Toug-looking character.
draped the greasy bar and rubbed
shoulders against the blued plaster
wall. Sailors clad in sweaters EN-
blazoned with the onec-white initials
of various transatlantic steamship
companies, foreign-looking fellow
with hugh mustashes curled trucul
emily upward, ox-eyed Slavish immi
grants spat and swore and scuffie'
their heavy foot-gear on the saw-dust
covered floor.
81 am Szabo," admitted the mass o
flesh behind the end of the bar.
was the end nearest the entrance.
The red-rimmed eyes of the speake
eyed me suspiciously. Doubtless, de
cently-clad, shaven and brushed citi
zens were all too infrequent visitor
at the Greenwich Street dive.
"Can you read Dalmatian writ
ing?" I asked bluntly, coming directl
to the point.
"Can l eat my breakfast" mocke
Szabo, with leer to the nearest O
his customers.
There was a drunken guffaw fror
at least two of them who understood
English.
"For dree years I run a boarding
house in Brazza," supplemented tn
fat man hastily, as he noted my flus
of annoyance. 81 can handle der Dal
matinatz like native" he added.
"T've got letter for you to trans
late" I said, simultaneously feelin