Children of the Ghetto

remotest idea that he was other than a God-fearing, industrious, and even philanthropic citizen. The measure that had been dealt to him he did but deal to others. He saw no reason why immigrant paupers should not live on a crown a week while he taught them how to handle a press-iron or work a sewing machine. They were much better off than in Poland. He would have been glad of such an income himself in those terrible first days of English life when he saw his wife and his two babes starving before his eyes, and was only precluded from investing a casual twopence in poison by ignorance of the English name for anything deadly. And what did he live on now? The fowl, the pint of haricot beans, and the haddocks which Chayah purchased for the Sabbath overlapped into the middle of next week, a quarter of a pound of coffee lasted the whole week, the grounds being decocted till every grain of virtue was extracted. Black bread and potatoes and pickled herrings made up the bulk of the every-day diet No, no one could accuse Bear Belcovitch of fattening on the entrails of his employees. The furniture was of the simplest and shabbiest,-no aesthetic instinct urged the Kosminskis to overpass the bare necessities of existence, except in dress. The only concessions to art were a crudely-colored Mizrach on the east wall, to indicate the direction towards which the Jew should pray, and the mantelpiece mirror which was bordered with yellow scalloped paper (to save the gilt) and ornamented at each corner with paper roses that bloomed afresh every Passover. And yet Bear Belcovitch had lived in much better style in Poland, possessing a brass wash-hand basin, a copper saucepan, silver spoons, a silver consecration beaker, and a cupboard with glass doors, and he frequently adverted to their fond memories. But he brought nothing away except his bedding, and that was pawned in Germany on the route. When he arrived in London he had with him three groschen and a family.

'What do you think, Pesach,' said Becky, as soon as she could get at her prospective brother-in-law through the barriers of congratulatory countrymen. 'The stuff that came through there'-she pointed to the discolored fragment of ceiling-'was soup. That silly little Esther spilt all she got from the kitchen.'

'Achi-nebbich, poor little thing,' cried Mrs. Kosminski, who was in a tender mood, 'very likely it hungers them sore upstairs. The father is out of work.'

'Knowest thou what, mother,' put in Fanny. 'Suppose we give them our soup. Aunt Leah has just fetched it for us. Have we not a special supper to-night?'

'But father?' murmured the little woman dubiously.

'Oh, he won't notice it. I don't think he knows the soup kitchen opens to-night. Let me, mother.'

And Fanny, letting Pesach's hand go, slipped out to the room that served as a kitchen, and bore the still- steaming pot upstairs. Pesach, who had pursued her, followed with some hunks of bread and a piece of lighted candle, which, while intended only to illumine the journey, came in handy at the terminus. And the festive company grinned and winked when the pair disappeared, and made jocular quotations from the Old Testament and the Rabbis. But the lovers did not kiss when they came out of the garret of the Ansells; their eyes were wet, and they went softly downstairs hand in hand, feeling linked by a deeper love than before.

Thus did Providence hand over the soup the Belcovitches took from old habit to a more necessitous quarter, and demonstrate in double sense that Charity never faileth. Nor was this the only mulct which Providence exacted from the happy father, for later on a townsman of his appeared on the scene in a long capote, and with a grimy woe-begone expression. He was a 'greener' of the greenest order, having landed at the docks only a few hours ago, bringing over with him a great deal of luggage in the shape of faith in God, and in the auriferous character of London pavements. On arriving in England, he gave a casual glance at the metropolis and demanded to be directed to a synagogue wherein to shake himself after the journey. His devotions over, he tracked out Mr. Kosminski, whose address on a much-creased bit of paper had been his talisman of hope during the voyage. In his native town, where the Jews groaned beneath divers and sore oppressions, the fame of Kosminski, the pioneer, the Croesus, was a legend. Mr. Kosminski was prepared for these contingencies. He went to his bedroom, dragged out a heavy wooden chest from under the bed, unlocked it and plunged his hand into a large dirty linen bag, full of coins. The instinct of generosity which was upon him made him count out forty-eight of them. He bore them to the 'greener' in over- brimming palms and the foreigner, unconscious how much he owed to the felicitous coincidence of his visit with Fanny's betrothal, saw fortune visibly within his grasp. He went out, his heart bursting with gratitude, his pocket with four dozen farthings. They took him in and gave him hot soup at a Poor Jews' Shelter, whither his townsman had directed him. Kosminski returned to the banqueting room, thrilling from head to foot with the approval of his conscience. He patted Becky's curly head and said:

'Well, Becky, when shall we be dancing at your wedding?'

Becky shook her curls. Her young men could not have a poorer opinion of one another than Becky had of them all. Their homage pleased her, though it did not raise them in her esteem. Lovers grew like blackberries-only more so; for they were an evergreen stock. Or, as her mother put it in her coarse, peasant manner. Chasanim were as plentiful as the street-dogs. Becky's beaux sat on the stairs before she was up and became early risers in their love for her, each anxious to be the first to bid their Penelope of the buttonholes good morrow. It was said that Kosminski's success as a 'sweater' was due to his beauteous Becky, the flower of sartorial youth gravitating to the work-room of this East London Laban. What they admired in Becky was that there was so much of her. Still it was not enough to go round, and though Becky might keep nine lovers in hand without fear of being set down as a flirt, a larger number of tailors would have been less consistent with prospective monogamy.

'I'm not going to throw myself away like Fanny,' said she confidentially to Pesach Weingott in the course of the evening. He smiled apologetically. 'Fanny always had low views,' continued Becky. 'But I always said I would marry a gentleman.'

'And I dare say,' answered Pesach, stung into the retort, 'Fanny could marry a gentlemen, too, if she wanted.'

Becky's idea of a gentleman was a clerk or a school-master, who had no manual labor except scribbling or flogging. In her matrimonial views Becky was typical. She despised the status of her parents and looked to marry out of it. They for their part could not understand the desire to be other than themselves.

'I don't say Fanny couldn't,' she admitted. 'All I say is, nobody could call this a luck-match.'

'Ah, thou hast me too many flies in thy nose,' reprovingly interposed Mrs. Belcovitch, who had just crawled up. 'Thou art too high-class.'

Becky tossed her head. 'I've got a new dolman,' she said, turning to one of her young men who was present by special grace. 'You should see me in it. I look noble.'

'Yes,' said Mrs. Belcovitch proudly. 'It shines in the sun.'

'Is it like the one Bessie Sugarman's got?' inquired the young man.

'Bessie Sugarman!' echoed Becky scornfully. 'She gets all her things from the tallyman. She pretends to be so grand, but all her jewelry is paid for at so much a week.'

'So long as it is paid for,' said Fanny, catching the words and turning a happy face on her sister.

'Not so jealous, Alte,' said her mother. 'When I shall win on the lottery, I will buy thee also a dolman.'

Almost all the company speculated on the Hamburg lottery, which, whether they were speaking Yiddish or English, they invariably accentuated on the last syllable. When an inhabitant of the Ghetto won even his money back, the news circulated like wild-fire, and there was a rush to the agents for tickets. The chances of sudden wealth floated like dazzling Will o' the Wisps on the horizon, illumining the gray perspectives of the future. The lottery took the poor ticket-holders out of themselves, and gave them an interest in life apart from machine-cotton, lasts or tobacco-leaf. The English laborer, who has been forbidden State Lotteries, relieves the monotony of existence by an extremely indirect interest in the achievements of a special breed of horses.

'Nu, Pesach, another glass of rum,' said Mr. Belcovitch genially to his future son- in-law and boarder.

'Yes, I will,' said Pesach. 'After all, this is the first time I've got engaged.'

The rum was of Mr. Belcovitch's own manufacture; its ingredients were unknown, but the fame of it travelled on currents of air to the remotest parts of the house. Even the inhabitants of the garrets sniffed and thought of turpentine. Pesach swallowed the concoction, murmuring 'To life' afresh. His throat felt like the funnel of a steamer, and there were tears in his eyes when he put down the glass.

'Ah, that was good,' he murmured.

'Not like thy English drinks, eh?' said Mr. Belcovitch.

'England!' snorted Pesach in royal disdain. 'What a country! Daddle-doo is a language and ginger-beer a liquor.'

'Daddle doo' was Pesach's way of saying 'That'll do.' It was one of the first English idioms he picked up, and