This is a reproduction of a book from the McGill University 
 Library collection. 
 
 Title: Uncle Moses : a novel 
 
 Author: Asch, Sholem, 1880-1957 
 
 Publisher, year: New York : E. P. Dutton & CO., [cl 920] 
 
 The pages were digitized as they were. The original book may 
 have contained pages with poor print. Marks, notations, and 
 other marginalia present in the original volume may also 
 appear. For wider or heavier books, a slight curvature to the text 
 on the inside of pages may be noticeable. 
 
 ISBN of reproduction: 978-1-77096-110-4 
 
 This reproduction is intended for personal use only, and 
 may not be reproduced, re-published, or re-distributed 
 commercially. For further information on permission regarding 
 the use of this reproduction contact McGill University Library. 
 
 McGill University Library 
 www.mcgill.ca/library 
 
UNCLE MOSES 
 
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UNCLE MOSES 
 
 A Novel 
 
 BY 
 
 SHOLOM ASCH 
 
 Authorized Translation from the Yiddish by 
 
 ISAAC GOLDBERG 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 E. P. DUTTON & CO. 
 
 681 Fifth Avenue 
 
Copyright 1920, 
 
 By E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY 
 
 All riffhti reserved 
 
 Printed in the United States of America 
 
CONTENTS 
 PART ONE 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. Over Williamsburg Bridge ... 1 
 
 II. Children 9 
 
 III. Dawn 15 
 
 IV. Brother Berrel and His Family . . 20 
 
 V. Uncle Moses 28 
 
 VI. “The American” in America ... 33 
 
 VII. Uncle Moses’ Career 42 
 
 VIII. The New Pharaoh 50 
 
 IX. Uncle Moses Visits Masha ... 57 
 
 X. Kuzmin Townsfolk 64 
 
 XI. Esther and Ahasuerus .... 70 
 
 PAKT TWO 
 
 I. He’ll have Children 79 
 
 II. Masha 85 
 
 III. A Sweetheart 90 
 
 IV. Mannes the Agitator 95 
 
 V. Uncle Moses is not Caught Napping . 103 
 
 VI. After the Betrothal 109 
 
 VII. Charlie Melnick 115 
 
 V 
 
VI 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 VIII. Coney Island 125 
 
 IX. America and the Jew 129 
 
 X. “Thousand and One Nights” , . . 138 
 
 XI. Masha Rebels 144 
 
 XII. The Devil Takes Him 151 
 
 XIII. Masha Sees Uncle Moses .... 161 
 
 XIV. The Blue Room 169 
 
 PART THREE 
 
 I. Man and Wife 178 
 
 II. A New “Uncle” 185 
 
 HI. A Son 190 
 
 IV. Sam 195 
 
 V. Kuzmin Goes Out on Strike . . . 201 
 
 VI. The “Frame-up” 211 
 
 VII. “On the Other Side” 217 
 
 VIII. “What’s Going on Here, People?” . 224 
 
 IX. Alo^e . . , ...... 232 
 
UNCLE MOSES 
 
UNCLE MOSES 
 
 TART ONE 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 OVER WILLIAMSBURG BRIDGE 
 
 T he sun was setting over lower New York. It seemed 
 that, of all places in the world, she had chosen as 
 the scene of her setting the towering, darkening struc- 
 tures that rose on the banks of the East River. Yet 
 despite the height of these box-like edifices, despite the 
 rivalry in which one sought to climb higher than the 
 other, here from the Williamsburg bridge they appeared 
 humble and diminutive against the lofty dome of the sky, 
 like so many card houses built by children at play. And 
 the card houses were lost, forsaken amid the broad and 
 lofty expanse, standing as if ashamed that they should 
 have dared to raise their heads so high above the earth. 
 
 It was a fiery sun whose blood-red disk poured streams 
 of light 'over the city. From the direction of the ocean 
 a powerful hand drew delicate veils over the b lood-re d 
 streams, and over the blue fi elds that stretched as far as 
 the eye could reach across the heavens aboye. lower. New 
 York. It was as if the veils sought to screen from human 
 
2 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 sight what was going on there below. All at once the 
 huge, forsaken stone boxes lighted up ; the window-panes 
 glowed and flashed with the crimson of the setting sun. 
 And New York’s down-town section, bathed in the fires 
 of the w'aning day, looked like a new confused Babylon, 
 like an ancient ruined city that had crumbled to dust 
 from sheer old age. The high, solitary, flashing walls 
 were the ruins of forgotten sun temples, — of wild heaven- 
 climbing towers that men had once built whereby they 
 might ascend to the sky and wage war with the gods. 
 
 The Williamsburg bridge was like a living giant of iron 
 that had stretched across the East River clutching at 
 either bank with his hands and feet while over his back, 
 like wild iron creatures with flaming heads, flew one 
 train after the other. And these wild creatures had de- 
 voured thousands and thousands of people. Tightly 
 packed together they looked with terrified faces through 
 the little windows, — the iron monster’s window-eyes. It 
 was the iron boxes, now aglow with the setting sun, send- 
 ing back their dwellers for the night to their wives and 
 children across the river. 
 
 The si)eeding trains and their human cargo were so 
 many and ran so frequently, that the iron giant groaned 
 under the burden. At times it seemed as if the colossus 
 would be unable to endure the strain any longer, — as if 
 he would release the grip of his hands and feet upon the 
 banks and send everything pitching into the deep river 
 below. But every time another train dashed across, the 
 giant would merely shudder; his back would bend in 
 soft, elastic fashion, and the train would glide over him 
 like steel skates over ice. 
 
 The succession of trains was unending. From every 
 corner of the metropolis they burrowed their way through 
 
OVER WILLIAMSBURG BRIDGE 
 
 3 
 
 the holes in the earth, emerging upon the giant’s back. 
 One after the other; two at a time, — even three simul- 
 taneously, each seeking to outdistance the other. Across 
 either side of the giant’s belly ran a constant stream of 
 trucks, automobiles and street cars like insects that had 
 attacked a huge body. And the giant bore it all, — 
 groaned and endured everything. 
 
 To one side there is a walk for foot-passengers, but this 
 thoroughfare is the only deserted section of the bridge. 
 Across it, on this early autumn evening, a father and 
 daughter were returning from New York to Brooklyn — 
 to Hopkins Street — on foot. Beneath them sped the 
 trainloads of persons, and before their view shone lower 
 New York in the hues of the setting sun. But they saw 
 nothing of this. They were engrossed in the ir own con- 
 versation, and not even the din of the eljvated trains 
 drew their attention. 
 
 Their home was situated under an elevated railway 
 structure, and their ears had therefore become so accus- 
 tomed to the song of iron that the shrill screech of the 
 wheel upon the rail seemed to them the sound of the air 
 they breathed. ... Nor were their eyes caught by the 
 grandiose scene afforded by the sun as its colors played 
 upon the countless window panes. Their eyes had be- 
 come habituated to beholding only useful objects and to 
 avoiding matters of external interest. Not even for a 
 moment was their conversation interrupted. Now it 
 was the daughter who continued her heated speech. 
 
 “Shame on you, papa. You didn’t come home for two 
 days. iWe didn’t know where to hunt for you. Mamma 
 was crying, and the children were crying. We aU thought 
 you were lost. Shame, papa!” 
 
 The daughter who addressed such words to her father 
 
4 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 was fourteen and a half years of age, and attended the 
 public grammar school, grade 8-B. Yet she was so well 
 acquainted with all the family affairs and secrets that she 
 was not at all ashamed to mention them to her parent. 
 Moreover, Madia was no longer a child. With her 
 fourteen and a half years, with her American experi- 
 ence” and her 8-B public school education, she was wiser 
 and better educated than her father and mother, who 
 had remained as “green” and helpless as when they had 
 first arrived from their Polish village. 
 
 For a moment Madia was silent. Her little cheeks 
 grew red and her deep black eyes sparkled more brightly 
 than ever. She straightened her long black braids, the 
 sole adornment of her person, and one which ill became 
 her short, outgrown dress. Her long red hands stuck 
 far out of her short sleeves. She kept pulling her sleeves 
 down over her wrists, but when one sleeve yielded the 
 other would slide upwards, thus engaging her in a con- 
 stant struggle, 
 
 A cool breeze blew from the sea, wafting the green, 
 damp odor of the ocean across the bridge and bringing a 
 salty taste into their mouths. The father and daughter 
 became hungry. The wind played havoc with Masha’s 
 braids and raised her short skirt high, revealing alto- 
 gether too much of her shapely legs. Masha fought with 
 the wind, now thrusting down her skirt to cover her 
 legs, now pulling down her sleeves to warm her hands. 
 And the joyful knowledge that her father was going to 
 work on the following day bore her home to her mother 
 on wings. 
 
 By the time father and daughter had reached Hopkins 
 Street, it had already grown dark. Warm gas lights 
 illuminated the shop-windows. Before the mo\’ing-pic- 
 
OVER WILLIAMSBURG BRIDGE 
 
 5 
 
 ture house and the ice-cream parlor, stood children gaz- 
 ing with envious eyes at the boys and girls who entered 
 these precincts on pleasure bent. 
 
 Two of the children, catching sight of Aaron Melnick 
 being led along by his daughter Masha, recognized their 
 father and rushed to him with a joyous shout. ‘ ‘ Papa ! ’ ’ 
 They followed along. Masha, with a word and a nod, 
 quieted the children. Afraid lest her father might dis- 
 appear at the very door to the house, she kept him very 
 close to her. But the nearer Aaron Melnick approached 
 to the doorway of his home, the surer his return be- 
 came to both him and Masha. Before the door of the 
 house the women were taking the air in the mild evening ; 
 half washed and half dressed, they were awaiting the 
 return of their husbands from work. The neighbors, 
 who were intensely interested in one another’s family 
 affairs, were well acquainted, as may readily be imag- 
 ined, with the tale of Aaron Melnick ’s desertion of his 
 wife and children. It was with deep satisfaction, there- 
 fore, that they now beheld Masha leading her father 
 back to his family; and as if they wished to admit her 
 into their matronly companionship, they complimented 
 her with glances and nods for the good work she had 
 accomplished in bringing back her father. 
 
 Inside, Aaron found his wife Rosa with their infant 
 child in her arms; the tot, as if he knew tJiat it was the 
 only son among the four girls that Aaron had had by his 
 wife, always refused to leave his mother’s hands. Rosa, 
 who although but thirty looked like a woman past forty, 
 had retained but a single token of her youth, — ^her thick 
 black tresses, whose youthful sheen did not all become 
 her aging face and the neglected gold teeth which flashed 
 here and there from between her lips. Sorrow and mis- 
 
6 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 fortune had embittered her; holding the child on her 
 arm all day long caused her the keenest physical pain. 
 She glared at her husband. 
 
 “Just look. Here he is, back again. The lost treasure 
 has been found.” 
 
 Rosa was on the point of adding to her sarcasm, when 
 little Masha intervened, took the child out of her mother’s 
 arms and said: 
 
 “Mamma, hush! Won’t you be still?” 
 
 “And why should I ? — For fear that he’ll run away, — 
 the precious jewel?” retorted the mother more spiritedly 
 than ever, after she had caught her breath with release 
 from the daily burden of the infant. “Let him run off. 
 Who sent for him?” 
 
 “Mamma, pa’s going to work tomorrow. Uncle Berrel 
 got him a place. Hush, now.” 
 
 The word “work” produced a marked effect, and the 
 mother’s tone changed somewhat. 
 
 “So! He’s going to work, is he? And he won ’t leave 
 me and my little ones to starve, will he ? The scoundrel ! ’ ’ 
 
 But Aaron did not care to give his wife the satisfaction 
 of having her way. The daily troubles that life had 
 brought them had poured so much bitterness into their 
 hearts that their sole pleasure came to consist in provok- 
 ing each other. Yet this enmity had not prevented them 
 from living together for fifteen or sixteen years, — from 
 having children. It was as if this very enmity were the 
 cement that held their lives together, and when Aaron 
 saw that the fires in his wife’s eyes were quenched by 
 his daughter’s words, he grew vexed. 
 
 Let your mother go to work. Isn’t she healthy 
 enough for it ? Why do I have to be the one ? ” he grum- 
 bled from his corner. 
 
OVER WILLIAMSBURG BRIDGE 
 
 7 
 
 “What did you bring him home forU’ Rosa began to 
 Bcream at her daughter. “ I ’ll smash the door in his face. 
 Out of my house ! Out of my house this very minute.” 
 Masha stood in a quandary, puzzling her brain for 
 some way to save the situation. She ran from one to the 
 other, imploring them with her childish eyes and hands. 
 
 “Mamma, be quiet, I beg you! Papa, hush, I beg you! 
 It looks bad to the neighbors. ” 
 
 And into her little head came a big thought: Her 
 father was hungry and tired; her mother, too, was ex- 
 hausted and famished; the house was dark and gloomy. 
 That was why they were quarreling. Now suppose she 
 should set the table and serve supper ! The room would 
 be light, and they wouldn’t quarrel. Quickly she lighted 
 the gas and the room grew bright. And surely enough, 
 no sooner had the light been turned on than man and 
 wife ceased bickering. In the full glare of the light 
 they seemed ashamed to face each other before their 
 daughter’s gaze. Rosa commenced to weep her ill for- 
 tune. Why had this cruel man dragged her to this hope- 
 less “America” ? And if only she could go to the graves 
 of her father and mother and tell them into whose hands 
 they had entrusted her, the poor folks would be unable 
 to rest in their tombs. Aaron sat in his corner as silent 
 and motionless as a graven image. The children began 
 to come in from the street, clamoring for supper. Their 
 mother sent them to their father and to the devil. At 
 this Masha gave the infant into the arms of her sister 
 and went out to get something to eat. She discarded her 
 first plan, which had been to borrow fifty cents of the 
 butcher’s wife on the first floor, to be returned when her 
 father resumed work. The fact that her father had come 
 back, and had been provided with a position through her 
 
8 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 uncle, infused stren^h and confidence in her. Boldly 
 she entered the corner grocery and called for bread, 
 butter, cheese and canned tomato-soup, even adding to 
 her order pickles and pickled herring. The grocery 
 man eyed her in astonishment. Whereupon ^she replied, 
 proudly: “Papa’s going to work tomorrow at a job that 
 Uncle Berrel got for him. ” The grocery man understood 
 and raised no further objections Her statement that 
 “papa’s going to work tomorrow” was a magic-ring 
 that opened up the grocery to her, and the butcher’s 
 shop as welL She got what she asked for. Masha was 
 righ{^ No sooner had the light been turned on and the 
 sumptuous supper served by Masha, — pickles, pickled 
 herring, canned tomato-soup and all, — than man and 
 wife ceased their recriminations. Not only this, but 
 Aaron Melnick recalled that he was tlie father of four 
 girls and a boy, whereupon he sat the children around 
 the table, admonishing them to behave themselves. And 
 about that table sat the happiest of families, eagerly 
 eating supper. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 CHILDREN 
 
 VRON MELNICK had told a lie. Nobody had prom- 
 
 ised him a position. That night as he lay abed with 
 a child at each side, the thought of his predicament came 
 strongly home to him. He feared the coming day, when 
 his wife and children would wake up and find him still 
 at home. This grown-up man, the father of five children, 
 felt as he had felt years before in his childhood days, 
 when he had played hookjack from Hebrew school and 
 tremblingly anticipated a thrashing. And the feeling 
 overwhelmed him with a sense of abandonment and 
 shame, as his children snuggled their heads against him. 
 
 Aaron was not fond of his children when he looked 
 upon them as a group. Thus considering them he saw in 
 them the cause of his misfortune, his servitude. Yet, 
 viewing them as individuals he felt for each of them a 
 distinct affection, — each had a special spot in his heart. 
 Celia, the one next to Masha, was frightfully fond of the 
 “movies.” Ever since her uncle had taken her to a 
 “movie show” she had been imitating everything she 
 had seen. She would take a pillow, transform it into an 
 infant, and wrap her mother’s sliawl around the child 
 and herself, thus giving a performance of “Mother and 
 Child.” That very night, indeed, after the generous 
 meal, the Melnick family celebrated the reconciliation 
 of the parents with a special representation by Celia. 
 
 9 
 
10 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 Aaron forgot his abandonment, his bitterness, and laugh- 
 ingly joined in the child’s play. It was really Celia and 
 her mimicry that had drawn Melnick back to the bosom 
 of his family. But now Celia had become once more a 
 very, very little girl, v/ith a dirty mischievous face which 
 even in the repose of sleep seemed to make an impudent, 
 self-confident grimace at everybody. A sorrow seemed 
 to have flown from the child’s spirit; her father’s return 
 had brought to her a new sense of security and like a 
 lambkin she nestled close to him, twining hands and 
 legs about her father’s body. 
 
 The next youngest child, Stella, was much different 
 from Celia, — exceedingly timid and bashful. Whenever 
 a stranger entered the room she would hide in a corner 
 and cry. The perpetual quarrels of the parents, amid 
 which she had been brought up, had instilled in the child 
 such a fear of people that she would cry at night be- 
 cause of the terrible nightmare that had visited her. 
 Ever since the father had left home the child had been 
 afraid to sleep altogether. Habituated to snuggling 
 against her father’s strong bosom and there feeling se- 
 cure against all harm, that night, for the first time since 
 his disappearance, she had sought him out and found 
 untroubled slumber. 
 
 To Aaron it seemed that the two childish bodies were 
 tightly clasping him, determined to hold him fast, beg- 
 ging him for their sakes to harness himself once more to 
 the yoke that he had so freely cast aside. 
 
 And he rebelled against resuming the yoke. He called 
 to mind how many years he had been working on the 
 Bowery, and the dreams and hopes he had had of liberat- 
 ing himself from the Bowery workshop, striking out in 
 business for himself and building a foundation for the 
 
CHILDREN 
 
 11 
 
 future. And all these hopes he had sewn into the trou- 
 sers that he made at the machine. Until once he 
 gathered the strength to rebel, to put an end to such a 
 life and go in quest of something new. And now must 
 he return to the old life, — go back to the Bowery without 
 anj^ hope that things would ever change, — that this would 
 be only temporary ? Must he bury himself forever, with- 
 out a ray of hope for anything better? . . . 
 
 Uncertainty and dejection tortured him at night, — 
 stifled him like evil spirits. He dreamed a horrible 
 dream, so horrible that he cried out in his sleep. It was 
 not a human lamentation, however, but a certain beastly, 
 incisive howl. His wild weeping was such that his chil- 
 dren aroused him. 
 
 “Wha — what?” he asked. “What is it, Masha?” 
 
 “Papa, what’s the matter with you? What are you 
 crying about?” 
 
 “Who — I? Nothing. Why did you get up ? ” 
 
 “You were crying so terribly, as if you were being 
 killed.” 
 
 “Nothing. Come into bed. It’s cold. ...” 
 
 The children slept with their parents, — the younger 
 ones with the mother, the older ones with the father. 
 The only one that slept alone, on a bed made of three 
 chairs, was the eldest, Masha. But even she, during cold 
 nights, would steal into her father’s bed. So that this 
 night she gladly accepted her father’s invitation, while 
 her two little sisters rolled aside to make room for her. 
 
 No sooner had she lain down than Aaron suddenly 
 said : 
 
 “Masha, you’ve grown up to be a smart girl. Listen. 
 Do you want your father to be forever enslaved to a 
 sewing-machine in Uncle Moses’s shop? Do you want 
 
12 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 us to live forever in poverty? You understand me, — 
 you’re a clever little girl. If I should go back to work 
 now— I’ll work at the machine for the rest of my days. 
 I’ll become and remain a wretched operator, without hope 
 of anything better. And all of you, — ^you and the little 
 ones, — will have no time to grow up. You’ll have to go 
 to work as soon as possible. Would you have it so? 
 Would you?” 
 
 “It’s our luck, I suppose, that we should have been 
 born of poor parents. Then we can go to work, too. 
 What else can you do?” 
 
 ” If I only had time, — only a couple of months to look 
 around for something else. And if I only had a little 
 money with which to get a start in some other line. Why, 
 just a short while ago a townsman of ours came from 
 the old country and simply refused to enter Uncle 
 Moses’s employ. ‘I’ll sooner die of hunger in the streets 
 than work for another,’ he swore. Well, he managed to 
 get some money together, is now in the jewelry line, sell- 
 ing it on the installment plan, and thus has a business 
 of his own. If you people would only stop nagging mo 
 and let me catch my breath.” 
 
 The girl was for a moment lost in thought. She looked 
 at her father, and by the dim light of the gas, which 
 burned all night, she could make out his reddened eyea 
 She felt pity for him. 
 
 “Suppose you did have a little money,” she asked 
 finally, — “what then?” 
 
 “I’d buy some merchandise and go peddling. I’d 
 sell jewelry on the installment plan, I’d take orders for 
 grocery from door to door. Certainly I’d never go back 
 to that prison on the Bowery.” 
 
 “And how much do you need?” 
 
CHILDREN 
 
 13 
 
 hundred dollars, my child, a hundred dollars.” 
 And can Uncle Moses lend you that much if he cares 
 to?” 
 
 “If he cares to, — of course. But what’s the use of 
 talking? I’ll have to go back. I’ll . . . Let her be 
 patient,” — he pointed to his wife — “until I get a place. 
 As for Uncle Moses, I can ’t return to him. He certainly 
 won’t take me back.” 
 
 “But you said you had a place, — that Uncle Berrel 
 got you one.” 
 
 “That was a lie. I didn’t want to make all of you feel 
 bad. How could I have a position? I can’t face Uncle 
 Moses. I’ve insulted him. And I will not go to work 
 for anyone else. You’ll have to get along as if I weren’t 
 here. Imagine that I’m dead and buried, — that I have 
 gone forever.” 
 
 The girl said nothing. A thought was stirring in her 
 little head. She was concocting a plan whereby the 
 hundred dollars could be got for her father, so that he 
 might try his luck. There was but one way, and that 
 way led to Uncle Moses. She had never seen this Uncle 
 Moses, but she felt sure that when she met him she 
 would get the money her father needed. She silently re- 
 solved upon such a course. 
 
 In the meantime Masha had made a place for herself 
 in the bed. She twisted her legs about, and as she did so, 
 she kicked Jigainst the other children until all three were 
 awake. And when the smaller sisters saw that Masha had 
 joined them, the unusual event deprived them of all 
 desire to sleep. They began to play, to tickle one an- 
 other and shove one another about, bursting into laugh- 
 ter. Masha forgot the deep plans she had laid for pro- 
 curing the hundred dollars for her father, — the money 
 
14 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 so necessary to his starting upon a new, big, happy 
 life. Feeling a dig and a kick, she paid back in kind. 
 Her sisters began to climb about, using their father s 
 strong, manly body as the ladder. Aaron, too, forgot all 
 his troubles. There was something soothing and pleasant 
 in the touch of these cool, childish bodies that caressed 
 his skin. He began to frolic with them, patting them 
 playfully. And there was a slap for every year in 
 each child’s age. This amused the children immensely 
 and their joyous laughter woke up the tots in their 
 mother’s bed. Whereupon, migrations began from the 
 father’s bed to the mother’s and vice-versa, until they 
 had continued so long as to awake “the devil.” Their 
 mother awoke. 
 
 ‘ ‘ What in tliunder does this mean ? Up already ? Day 
 isn’t long enough for you, so you want the night to play 
 in, too?” 
 
 The children quickly drew the quilts over their heads 
 and pretended deep slumber, snoring loudly. One of 
 them, the very youngest, could not restrain himself and 
 burst into hearty laughter. WTiereupon the others 
 promptly followed suit, filling the room with their merry 
 din. 
 
 Aaron had, together with his children, drawn the quilt 
 over his head ; he, too, was afraid of his wife. The joyous 
 laughter of the children, however, infused him with 
 new spirit. All at once he began to understand the 
 sense of sewing trousers. He understood the eight years 
 that he had been working at Uncle Mose’s shop on the 
 Bowery, and resolved to thread himself once again into 
 the needle — that his children might laugh with the merry 
 peal of youth. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 DAWN 
 
 I T was still dark when sorrow thrust Aaron Melniek 
 forth from his home. His wife and children except 
 Masha, were still fast asleep. Aaron had dressed very 
 quietly, had tip-toed into the kitchen, lifted up the in- 
 verted pot, imder which his wdfe kept the children’s 
 bread, and was about to take out a piece. But he sud- 
 denly thought of something, made a gesture and turned 
 to the door. 
 
 ‘ ‘ Papa, where are you going ? ’ ’ Llasha had grasped his 
 hand. 
 
 “Is that you, Masha? AVhy have you got up so 
 early? Back to bed!” 
 
 ‘ ‘ I heard you dressing. I won ’t let you go. I ’m afraid 
 you won’t come back.” 
 
 Aaron’s lips curled into a hard, bitter smile. 
 
 “Silly little goose, go back to bed. Do you expect to 
 follow me around wherever I go? I’m going. up to Uncle 
 Berrel’s. I must talk matters over with him. "We’ll 
 go together to Uncle Moses, ’ ’ 
 
 Masha looked her father straight in tlie eye. 
 
 “Will you come home at night?” 
 
 “Of course I will. Where else do you imagine I’ll 
 go?” 
 
 Masha for the moment forgot that she was a “grown- 
 
 15 
 
16 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 up.” Something came over her. Suddenly she nestled 
 her head against her father’s bosom and said: 
 
 “Don’t worry. — ^Why should you? We’ll get out of 
 this somehow or other. I’ll get some groceries on trust. 
 Don’t worry, pa; everything will be all right.” 
 
 Aaron was somewhat vexed by the child s words, so 
 he mumbled: 
 
 “It’s all right. Good-bye.” And he hurried out. 
 
 The sun was rising over lower New York. Like a for- 
 eigner entering a country for the first time it seemed to 
 wander over the heaven’s vast expanse, shedding before 
 it streams of light that inundated the fields of the sky. 
 The silence of night still reposed in deep slumber over 
 the lofty towers and roofs of the down-town sky-scrapers. 
 It was as if they were just stirring out of sleep, and the 
 thousands upon thousands of window- walls began to blink 
 in the morning light. The iron giant, — the Williamsburg 
 bridge than spans the river, — ^woke, too, stretched its 
 hands and legs and began its daily labors by helping 
 across the sleepy car that carried Aaron Melnick and a 
 half-aw'ake conductor. Soon, on the streets, the first 
 men began to appear. They were solitary souls, — per- 
 sons who live in the night, — drivers of milk wagons and 
 bakery wagons, newspaper deliverers. Greater New York 
 is arising. There is the first call. From somewhere 
 sounds the clang of a street car’s bell, while overhead a 
 solitary elevated train rumbles across. The streets are 
 still littered with yesterday’s refuse. Ash cans, half- 
 burned boxes set on fire the night before by the urchins, 
 old pieces of furniture thrown out from some house. On 
 the boards before the house windows the remnants of 
 yesterday’s meal are being aired. And worn-out, dried 
 clothes dance like spirits of the dawn upon the fire- 
 
DAWN 
 
 17 
 
 escapes and from the clothes lines. Darkness has been 
 surprised by day, and the light has revealed all of night’s 
 secrets. 
 
 With a guilty, self-conscious smile Aaron climbed the 
 dark stairway. Asphyxiating odors of yesterday’s food, 
 of sleeping persons, of unaired bed-clothing, issued from 
 every door. The odors were mingled with the cries 
 of infants in the cradle. From behind several doors 
 could be heard the cursing of quarrelling couples, and 
 above all the racket, on the top flight, Aaron could hear 
 the familiar sing-song of his brother’s pious readings. 
 
 He foimd his brother in his prayer-shawl and phylac- 
 teries, seated before the table in a tidy corner of the 
 kitchen, reciting from the Mishnas. His sing-song intona- 
 tion, however, did not wake his son Charlie, who was 
 sleeping in the opposite comer upon an improvised bed. 
 As soon as Berrel caught sight of his brother, he inter- 
 rupted his chant and cried out with a joy that shone from 
 his dove-like eyes: 
 
 “Well, see who’s here! Aaron! What are you do- 
 ing here so early ? ” 
 
 “I came up to listen to your praying. I know that 
 you pray early in the morning, before going to work. ’ ’ 
 
 His brother looked around to make sure that no one 
 overheard him, and replied, very softly : 
 
 “What are you so angry about? With whom? With 
 your wife and children? What Jew does a thing like 
 that? Your daughter, Masha, was here yesterday looking 
 for you. It’s a pity. Consider what you’re doing!” 
 
 “Please don’t bring that up,” replied Aaron sharply. 
 “If you do, I ’ll leave this very minute. I came up to ask 
 you whether there happened to be a place for me in 
 your shop. Is there?” 
 
18 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 “What? You want to work at shirts, with all the 
 Gentile girls? How much can you earn? And what’s 
 happened between you and Uncle Moses ? They told me 
 you were studying to be a cutter.” 
 
 “May he be roasted alive. I’ll never cross his thresh- 
 hold again. Let him keep his favors. No more relatives 
 for me. Working for relatives is worse than hell itself. 
 I’ve had enougli. I want to try my luck with a stranger. ” 
 “But in the shirt trade, among old Jews and Gentile 
 girls ? Heaven forbid, — ^you, the father of four children ! 
 How much can you earn?” 
 
 “I don’t care how much, as long as I make a change 
 to something new. We’ll see. We’ll go together.” 
 Gnendel entered from the next room and although she 
 was already a grandmother, — although she had been in 
 America for twelve years and had had five children, whose 
 pay she practically tore out of their hands, she still wore 
 the same elegant wig with the three curls over her shining 
 forehead, just as she had been accustomed to do at home, 
 in Poland, when dressed in gala array for the synagogue 
 on the Sabbath and other holy days. While America 
 had had a devastating effect upon her husband Berrel, 
 having in a very short time made a bent old man of him, 
 it had affected Gnendel in quite the opposite way. 
 Gnendel had grown younger in America. She had here 
 become “liberal.” Instead of Zeena Ureena* which 
 had been her spiritual food in her old home, she began 
 here to read Yiddish newspapers and take an interest in 
 everything. The children often took her along to the 
 Jewish theatre, which she enjoyed immensely; she was 
 
 * The “Zeena Ureena” is a book, particularly intended for 
 Yiddish women, containing an exposition of the Bible plenti- 
 fully besprinkled with folk tales. 
 
DAWN 
 
 19 
 
 fond, moreover, of attiring herself in her daughters’ 
 cast-off shoes and altered dresses, so that, in a certain 
 manner, she managed to follow the fashions, except that 
 she was a trifle behind. Her husband’s piety and devo- 
 tion to the sacred books, which at home had been her 
 pride, had in America lost their value to her almost en- 
 tirely. And because the machine had aged Berrel so 
 quickly and bent him over, he lost all attraction and re- 
 spect in her eyes. She made life hard for him in his de- 
 clining years. 
 
 “'Well, pack up and make room,” cried Gnendel to 
 her husband. “The children want their breakfast.” 
 (She accented the flnal word, as she was very fond of 
 using the new English terms that she picked up from her 
 children.) 
 
 “The day’s begun. The family’s getting up,” said • 
 Berrel to his brother with a smile that streamed from his 
 clear, liquid eyes. He gathered his sacred books and 
 carried them to a corner. “You remember, Aaron, — at 
 home I used to live by day, together with all the rest, — 
 when they were awake. Here I live by night, when 
 they’re all asleep. "What am I by day? Nothing. A 
 wretched shirt-maker, sitting amongst Italian girls sew- 
 ing shirts. To my wife and children I am nobody. But 
 at night, if you please, %vhen they’re all asleep, I become 
 Berrel once again. I study my page of the Gemara, my 
 section of the Mishna , — I listen to the words of the 
 Master as I did in the old country. Then it seems to me 
 that I am back in the House of Study,' studying away so 
 contentedly. America is a topsy-t^vy place. We live 
 here by night. By day we are dead.” 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 BROTHER BERREL AND HIS FAMILY 
 
 “ HARLIE, Charlie, get up ! Everybody’s dressed!” 
 
 Gnendel was trying to wake the boy who was 
 asleep upon the improvised bed in the kitchen corner. 
 
 “What? Is he still sleeping, — the student? He im- 
 agines he’s in the old country. He’ll lose his job again 
 and we’ll have to work for him !” cried Deborah, Berrel’s 
 eldest daughter, a young lady of some twenty odd years. 
 She had just entered from an adjoining room. She was 
 dressed ready to go out and a pair of sparkling eyes 
 seemed to light up her dark complexion. Her thick 
 lips, however, and the blue veins that stood out upon her 
 thin neck, detracted from her looks, thus giving the girl 
 much concern. And ever since her younger sister Rachel 
 had been married before her, Deborah had become 
 simply unbearable. 
 
 “There! He’s up already. What do you want of the 
 boy?” interposed the mother. 
 
 Charlie, w’hose rumpled hair was covered with bed 
 feathers and whose face was still clouded by sleep, 
 jumped up as if fire had broken out and stared bewil- 
 deredly about. He soon gathered his wits, however, rubbed 
 his eyes and slowly commenced to dress. 
 
 “Mamma, isn’t breakfast ready yet? I don’t care. 
 I’ll eat breakfast outside. I have no time to wait and 
 
 20 
 
BROTHER BERREL AND HIS FAMILY 21 
 
 then be docked by the foreman for being late!” This 
 from Deborah. 
 
 “But Deborah, it’s all ready. The coffee is on the 
 table. Your father prayed a little longer than usual. 
 Then your uncle came. Here. What’s your hurry?” 
 And the mother dashed to the stove. 
 
 “That’s no affair of mine. Uncle or no uncle, when I 
 get up my breakfast ought to be waiting for me on the 
 table. I can ’t afford to be late on account of my uncle. ’ ’ 
 “Deborah, dear,” admonished her father as he put his 
 phylacteries away. “Deborah!” 
 
 Deborali who well remembered her father as he had 
 been in the old country, where he was the most highly 
 respected Khassid* in the town with a splendid home, — 
 who had lived through the bitter times of advancing pov- 
 erty that had forced him to move his family to America, 
 when she was already a grown-up girl, felt, more than 
 the rest of the children, a certain respect for her father. 
 Her father’s cry of “Deborah, dear!” summoned the re- 
 membrance of their former home in the little Polish 
 town, where her parents called her by that same name. 
 She paused, and was on the point of going to help her 
 mother with the breakfast, as she was once wont to do, 
 but as she looked at her brother who was dressing in 
 such calm, leisurely fashion, she was provoked. 
 
 “Well, everything here goes upside down.” 
 
 Deborah had been the first of the children to earn 
 
 * Member of a Jewish sect founded in Poland about 1750, 
 by Rabbi Israel ben Eliezer Baal-Shem, to revive the strict 
 practises of the earlier Khassidism. This earlier sect was 
 founded about the third century b.c. by opponents of the Hel- 
 lenistic innovations. It was devoted to the strict observance 
 of the ritual of purification and separation (Webster’s New 
 International Dictionary, under Chasidim). 
 
22 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 money and bring it home to her mother; she had found 
 employment from the very first day on which she landed. 
 Wherefore she imagined that she was the real mistress 
 of the household. She grudged her brothers and sisters 
 their opportunity to attend the public schools — one of 
 them for a year, the other for two years. She had been 
 obliged to toil from the very first, whence she got the 
 notion that she supported the rest. Her brothers and 
 sisters indeed had now been working for a long time ; it 
 was Charlie whom she envied most. He was the only boy 
 and had come to America while yet a child, thus having 
 gone to the public schools longer than the others. To- 
 day he was a grown-up fellow, yet he did not work 
 ^‘steady,” in the evenings attending “preparatory 
 school” and in the daytime sporadically picking up 
 whatever work presented itself. His sister simply could 
 not endure seeing that he would soon be ready to enter 
 college; maybe he would finally become a la'wyer, thus 
 gratifying his ambition. She felt convinced that all this 
 was due to her self-sacrificing youthful toil, — that be- 
 cause of him her lips and hands had become so coarse, 
 and her neck so thin tliat the veins showed through. Be- 
 cause of him she had remained an old maid. 
 
 “Anyhow, my breakfast won’t go to waste. There’s 
 someone here to eat it,” she snarled, glaring daggers at 
 Charlie. 
 
 He made no retort, how’ever. He was too accustomed 
 to such scenes, from his earliest childhood. He under- 
 stood her and pitied her. And quietly, as one who had 
 been brought up at her expense, he dressed in silence. 
 
 ^Vhat’s the trouble? Is the ‘boss’ at it again?” 
 came Clara’s voice from the next room, soon followed 
 by Clara herself. 
 
BROTHER BERREL AND HIS FAMILY 23 
 
 *‘I see you’re staring at me. You don’t know me,” 
 smiled the elder of the two men good-naturedly. “The 
 old Berrel has died. Here I was born anew. I myself don’t 
 remember the other Berrel. It’s an utterly different 
 fellow you have here.” 
 
 Clara, too, had her hat and coat on. She was several 
 years younger than Deborah, and had been able to get a 
 year’s public schooling. She worked at a better trade, 
 too, — as a saleslady in a ladies’ hat establishment, and the 
 elegance required in her calling was visible in her dress 
 and in her manner. 
 
 “Anyhow, mamma, she’s not the whole ‘boss’ in this 
 house. We pay in our share of the expenses, too. Isn’t 
 that so, mamma?” 
 
 Deborah, however, was out of reach of Clara’s words. 
 She had already slammed the door behind her 
 
 “Pack your phylacteries and your psalms and your 
 prayer-shawl together, for the Lord ’s sake ! It ’s all your 
 fault. Every morning he spreads his books all over the 
 table and the children haven’t any room for breakfast!” 
 grumbled Gnendel, pouring out the bitterness of her 
 heart upon her husband. 
 
 Berrel tingled with shame that this should happen in 
 his brother’s presence, and only smiled through his clear, 
 child-like eyes. 
 
 “Gnendel, we have company here. Gnendel.” 
 
 Gnendel did not deign to reply, but silently prepared 
 the table. In a moment the erstwhile prayer-desk was 
 transformed into an eating table. Berrel washed and 
 urged his brother to sit down for a bite. 
 
 Aaron, who felt most uncomfortable in his brother’s 
 home, had long yearned to flee the place, but he pitied 
 Berrel from the bottom of his heart, becoming more fond 
 
24 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 of him than ever as he witnessed his domestic sufferings. 
 Therefore, with a powerful effort of his will he decided 
 to remain, washed (although he was not in the habit of 
 doing so before meals) and sat down to table with his 
 brother. 
 
 Charlie came to table without his hat on ; nor had he 
 recited morning prayers or performed the matutinal 
 ablutions. Berrel, who was reciting a blessing and must 
 not interrupt it with other speech, mumbled reprovingly 
 to the youth, ‘ ‘ Nu, nu, nu ! ” 
 
 *‘What are you grumbling about?” asked Gnendel, 
 taking the boy’s hat and thrusting it upon his head. 
 “Go, Charlie, and recite ‘Hear, 0 Israel’.” 
 
 The seventeen-year-old boy did as he was told, — took 
 his father’s prayer-shawl by the fringes, mumbled a few 
 words, kissed the shawl and sat down to eat. 
 
 “Gnendel!” boomed Berrel, angrily. 
 
 “What’s the trouble. You pray for him. You pray 
 for us all. In America there ’s no time to pray. ’ ’ 
 
 Aaron stared at his sister-in-law in amazement. Was 
 this the pious woman who in the old country used to 
 lead the women in prayer at the synagogue and come 
 running in to the House of Study every other day to 
 discover whether a certain piece of meat or a fowl were 
 fit for food from the Mosaic dietary standpoint ? She had 
 always had questions of food purity to be settled. What 
 had become of her during the few years that she had been 
 in America? 
 
 Gnendel, however, as we have seen, had become “lil> 
 eral.” Berrel ’s home was divided into two camps. One 
 party was composed of the father and the two older 
 daughters, — Deborah the ‘old maid’ and Rachel, who 
 had married a Galician Jew. These two remembered 
 
BROTHER BERREL AND HIS FAMILY 25 
 
 their father from his prosperous days, and still respected 
 him. The other party was comprised of the mother and 
 the two younger children, Charlie and Clara, who had 
 completed their bringing up in America. They were 
 fond of their mother, who returned their affection. The 
 parties clashed at every meal. 
 
 Berrel himself could not understand what had come 
 over his wife since she had landed. But he was used 
 to this bepuzzlement. There were so many things he did 
 not understand in America. He simply got used to them 
 and stopped asking questions. The twelve years that he 
 had been in America were lived in solitude, in abandon- 
 ment amidst his family circle. He had none to converse 
 with. Not only were his children estranged from him, 
 but the very wife who had borne him the children and 
 with whom he had shared so many years of his life, be- 
 came a stranger to him here in America. This spiritual 
 solitude drov e the man to religious ecstasy. He sought 
 life in his religion. This world he had already lost; so 
 he desired the next world, for which he w’as preparing, 
 to be richer and more glorious. He did not eat the same 
 bread as the rest of his family. Saturday evening he 
 would go to a friend who lived on a Jewish street and 
 who dealt in kosher butter and cheese. He would recite 
 prayers wdth him, would purchase a cheese and a half- 
 pound of butter and would live upon this fare from 
 one week to the next. It was of this food tliat he now ate 
 his breakfast. 
 
 A quarter of an hour later Gnendel’s kitchen was 
 quiet and empty. Everybody had gone off to work. 
 
 "When Aaron and Berrel reached the street Aaron 
 looked closely at his brother and for the first time fully 
 realized how old Berrel had become during his brief 
 
26 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 residence in America. He was already an aged man with 
 a grey beard and stooping shoulders. Yet what a short 
 time ago, it seemed, had this man been Berrel the Khassid 
 of Kuzmin, with a jet-black beard, blooming red cheeks 
 and black, sparkling eyes ! Berrel the Khassid, who was 
 so active in all community affairs, — a veritable “live- 
 wire.” He had been a merchant, had ridden to Ger to 
 the Chief Rabbi and had been a deep student. And was 
 ^ ^this he ? It seemed to Aaron that he had two brothers, — 
 
 I that Berrel the Khassid had remained in the little Polish 
 I town and that this one at his side was a decrepit old 
 operative, a complaining, broken-down old fellow. 
 
 Berrel noticed Aaron’s glances and knew the thoughts 
 that stirred behind them. 
 
 “But, Berrel,” smiled Aaron, “how can you ...” 
 
 Aaron choked back his query. 
 
 “Bah, the end isn’t so far off. I ask nothing more of 
 the world. I’ve had enough.” 
 
 And now Aaron could understand why, amid his servi- 
 tude, his brother had not lost hope and courage. Not 
 until now had he discovered the reason for his brother’s 
 calm contentment, for the untainted clearness of his eyes. 
 Now he saw it all. His brother believed in a future life, 
 and the nearer he came to the next world, the happier 
 and calmer he grew. It seemed to him that he could 
 see his brother sailing to the shores of an island where 
 there were awaiting him stored-up treasures that he had 
 accumulated during his life, and that his enjoyment of 
 them was soon to begin. The nearer he came to the 
 island, the happier and calmer he grew. Belief in the 
 future world infused the brother with strength to endure 
 so placidly and patiently the vici.ssitudes of the present. 
 For the first time Aaron envied his brother his belief, 
 
BROTHER BERREL AND HIS FAMILY 27 
 
 and he began to seek in his own life something analogous 
 to his brother’s faith. But he could discover nothing. 
 His life was empty — only poverty, monotony, and barren, 
 slavish toil for his daily bread. . . . 
 
 “Come along with me, Aaron.” 
 
 “Where to?” 
 
 ‘ ‘ I w- ant to take you to Uncle Moses. I ’ll speak a good 
 word for you and see that he takes you back. It’s our 
 fate, I guess ... We must suffer in exile. Decreed 
 from above . . . But in the next world . . . who knows ? 
 TeU me, Aaron, do you ever pray ? ’ ’ 
 
 “I never gave the matter much thought,” said Aaron, 
 more to himself than in reply. 
 
 “If that’s the case then where’s the good of living 
 altogether? WTiat’s the use?” 
 
 “What’s the use?” echoed his brother’s words in 
 Aaron’s thoughts, and he really couldn’t see what good 
 there was in it all, for he saw no life other than that he 
 lived on this earth. And such a poor, ugly life it was — 
 and so monotonous. Yet he followed his brother to 
 Uncle Moses, bent upon begging Uncle Moses to let him 
 continue that monotonous life. . . . 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 A long time before the beginning of this story, there 
 suddenly appeared in a Polish town a stranger, 
 dressed differently from all the inhabitants, in a short 
 coat, strange checkered trousers made of woman ’s goods, 
 a broad derby and a white ample winged collar, — what 
 was then called a “father-murderer.”* On his fingers 
 flashed large gold rings, and on his velvet, checkered vest 
 a gold chain. He had no mustache, — only a small beard. 
 The stranger’s coming caused such a sensation that, had 
 he not appeared on the street in company of a well- 
 known inhabitant, — with Joseph the Barley-Grinder in 
 other words, — he would have spread terror wherever he 
 went. Only very old inhabitants were able at last to 
 recognize in the stranger Joseph’s eldest son, who years 
 before had left for distant parts. The younger folk did 
 not even know that Joseph had so old a son, and those 
 who did know thought that the son had died long before. 
 His sudden return to the lanes of the village brought 
 back to many the remembrances of their own youthful 
 days. They recognized in this stranger their old boon 
 companion, their school mate, and approached him with 
 a warm welcome. And before long the whole village rang 
 with news of “the American” who had come home from 
 the far, far land. That night Joseph’s home was be- 
 sieged by relatives, near and distant, by neighbors and 
 * Cf. our slang “herring-choker.” 
 
 28 . 
 
UNCLE MOSES 
 
 29 
 
 by anxious members of the community, who came to ask 
 news of the children and friends they had in America. 
 If one of them had a son in Africa, in Brazil, or even in 
 London, he came to ask news of the American. For what 
 sort of place this America might be was not clearly un- 
 derstood in the village. In those days everything was 
 called America. Just across the border, it seemed, was 
 one vast city and the name of that city was America. 
 
 Soon the village began to resound with “the Ameri- 
 can’s” wealth. Stories w^ere told of a gold-knobbed cane 
 that he had brought to his father, and of presents, — 
 gold watches and chains, — ^that he had brought for his 
 brothers and the whole family. And when he appeared 
 on the Sabbath day in a new checkered suit, and a silk- 
 lined overcoat (for the fine honor he had been shown, he 
 had had a blessing recited for his father and had paid 
 a whole ruble) he created such a turmoil that the village 
 imagination flew to dizzy heights of conjecture as to this 
 “American’s” riches. Joseph, the Barley Grinder; who 
 was not of very high standing in the community, earned 
 his living by grinding barley in his little shop by night, 
 and went about by day in a half-sleepy state. Yet over 
 night he became one of the most respected of the deni- 
 zens, as if he had won the grand prize in the lottery. And 
 all day Saturday there was a procession of gifts, — spud- 
 dings and tsholent , — from the kitchens of the leading 
 families to Joseph the Barley-Grinder’s table, — in token 
 of welcome to the remarkable guest, the “American.” 
 
 It was rumored that the American had come thither on 
 big business, — that as soon as the Sabbath had passed 
 he would set about establishing a huge barley-mill and 
 that he had already purchased from the touTi landowner 
 all the fields in the outlying district. The men folk cal- 
 
30 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 culated that they would all grow rich from the enterprise. 
 And no sooner was the Sabbath past than various busi- 
 ness men came to Joseph’s home, — brokers and mer- 
 chants, — with divers proposals. One suggested oxen. 
 Another, wool. A third, a loan to the landowner at high 
 interest. Still others went farther and deeper and com- 
 menced to reveal a noble-spirited concern with affairs of 
 the heart. For they had heard that the American was a 
 bachelor. The American lent a respectful ear to every- 
 body, displaying the keenest interest, making inquiries 
 into all particulars, and holding out hope to all. It 
 seemed that he was ready to begin at once. But he did 
 no business in the town. 
 
 In a few weeks, after the American had wandered idly 
 hither and thither about the village, still living at his 
 father’s, establishing no mills and starting no business, 
 and yielding nobody a groschen’s earnings, he lost aU 
 charm for the villagers. No one any longer took any in- 
 terest in him. No more did the checkered trousers from 
 America call forth the admiring wonderment of the 
 populace. Even his golden rings and his golden gifts 
 were forgotten. Joseph the Barley-Grinder likewise suf- 
 fered a fall in the public esteem. Once more the grind- 
 ing of the stone mill was heard by night, groaning away 
 in Joseph’s little shop, and by day there would be seen 
 a sleepy, flour-covered old man. Everybody went back 
 to his own affairs. No more thought was given to “the 
 American.” 
 
 But just at the point when the villagers had lost all 
 interest in “the American,” the American’s interest in 
 them began. He inquired of every acquaintance how he 
 made his living, how much he earned a week and how 
 much he really needed. He visited homes to see how the 
 
UNCLE MOSES 
 
 31 
 
 people lived, what they ate and where they slept, and 
 when asked why he needed to know all this, and whether 
 he wished to engage their services, he would smilingly 
 reply : 
 
 “A person should know everything. It’s good to 
 know. ’ ’ 
 
 Shortly afterward the stranger disappeared from the 
 village, taking a younger brother along and leaving his 
 father, it was bruited about, a couple of hundred rubles 
 to enlarge his mill with. And just as he had suddenly 
 appeared from America, so had he vanished. At first, 
 indeed, his departure had not been remarked. Then, 
 when the news had spread that the American had gone, 
 it was agreed that matters could not have ended other- 
 wise. For America is a magical charm that follows one 
 everywhere, and he w^ho has but crossed America ’s thresh- 
 hold can never remain for long in any other part of the 
 world, not even in his own birthplace, because something 
 fa.scinates him, pulls him back, even as the criminal is 
 drawn to the gallows. 
 
 Strange enough, the village began to follow “the 
 American ’ ’ to America ! At first no one had noticed how 
 the tovm was gradually, ever so gradually getting smaller. 
 The old folks journeyed to the cemetery and the young 
 folks vanished to America. At first ^‘the American” 
 took over his own family : his brothers ; then his relatives, 
 his brother’s children, his uncles, the sons-in-law and 
 the uncles’ sons. Then there began to turn to him the 
 children of relatives by marriage, acquaintances, and or- 
 dinary “townsfolk,” asking him for passage across the 
 ocean. Absolute strangers suddenly discovered that they 
 were remotelv related to “the American,” sent him let- 
 ters in proof of their claims and begged their passage. 
 
32 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 Nor did the American refuse them. And gradually the 
 village dwindled; the allotted places in the cold eyna- 
 gogue lost one occupant after the other : entire families 
 disappeared. 
 
 Saturdays, after regular prayers, at the Dayon’s* 
 reading of the Pentateuch the diminution of the wor- 
 shippers is plainly evident. There are now more women 
 than men in the town, — more elderly persons than youths, 
 more children and aged folk than persons in their prime. 
 All the rest have followed the “American.” Even the 
 old grinder has closed shop, and the moaning of the 
 mill-stones in the night is no longer heard in the market- 
 place. lie has left for America to see his children be- 
 fore he dies. And thus to this very day, one after the 
 other journeys thither in the w'ake of “the American,” 
 as if he draws them on by a magic spell. 
 
 In America the inhabitants of the village found one 
 another anew. On the Bowery stood a filthy, dust-laden 
 three-story structure, covered with the dust that the 
 elevated trains whirled up from the streets. And in 
 the upper stories dwelt the entire village of Kuzmin. And 
 the village sewed clothes for the American. And who 
 might not be found here in this Bowery building? The 
 Hebrew teachers of the town, — the leading citizens side 
 by side with artisans and the scum of the village, — all 
 sat on the top floor of the Bowery edifice, sewing and 
 sewing away. And whosoever landed here, remained for 
 the rest of his days. They knew but one round : in the 
 morning from their homes to the Bowery; at night, from 
 the Bowery to their homes. Over the entrance to the 
 house on the Bowery was a small, dust-covered sign, 
 which bore “the American’s” name: Moses Mebiick. 
 
 *Dayon, — assistant to a Rabbi. 
 
CHAPTER YI 
 
 ^‘tHE AMERICAN” IN AMERICA 
 
 I N the clothes shop stood “the American,” Uncle 
 Moses, coatless, paring his nails with a pair of huge 
 tailor’s shears. Along the entire length of the shop stood 
 a row of long, broad tables, laden half way to the ceiling 
 with clothes of every description: coats, sack-coats, 
 trousers and vests. 
 
 About the tables bustled robust youths with firm, full 
 chests, silent through fear of the “Uncle.” Only from 
 time to time would one venture to wink to the other. It 
 was early, and the operatives were just arriving. 
 
 “Ku2min is crawling. Just look how Kuzmin crawls 
 along,” said Uncle Moses, pointing with the shears at 
 the employees as they entered, some of them with 
 beards, some of them without, some old and bent, others 
 of middle age who walked in with a certain unwilling- 
 ness, climbing up the stairs to the upper story, where 
 the workshop was situated. 
 
 “Look, look at Kuzmin creeping along! — Hey there, 
 you ‘greenhorn’ Notte! "What was it they called him in 
 the old country? Notte Buttermilk.” And as he spoke 
 he stopped one of the workmen, a man of middle age 
 whose eyes were still dim with sleep and whose temple- 
 locks were still wet from his morning ablutions. 
 
 “What makes you crawl so slowly? Do you imagine 
 this is Kuzmin ? Over in Kuzmin they crept along ; in 
 
 33 
 
34 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 America, we run. Hurry up ! Understand ? Lift your 
 feet, you cucumber ! ’ * 
 
 The men at the tables smiled as if to flatter their em- 
 ployer, but they dared not laugh out loud. The “Uncle” 
 raised his glance, his sparse yellowish eyebrows were lost 
 in the flabby folds of his countenance, and as the young 
 men caught sight of Uncle Moses’s “bare” eyes staring 
 out of his chubby, wide face, they grew suddenly dumb. 
 
 ‘ ‘ Come over here, young man, ’ ’ called Uncle Moses to a 
 youth w^hose beard, shorn round, attested his piety, and 
 who had just entered last of all. He had permitted him- 
 self this liberty because, in the first place, he was a 
 cousin to Uncle Moses, and secondly, he was a newly- 
 wed ; on his white cheeks, puffed wdth sleep, there could 
 still be discerned the imprint of the kisses he had just 
 abandoned. 
 
 “Young man, postpone all that until Saturday, so that 
 it’ll be at your expense. Not in the middle of the week, 
 for in the middle of the week it’s at my expense. Un- 
 derstand?” 
 
 The young man, who because of his relationship to the 
 employers considered himself an exception in the shop, 
 could not understand what Uncle Moses was driving at. 
 He ventured to ask. 
 
 “Wliat does Uncle mean?” 
 
 “I mean your billing and cooing.” 
 
 The young man’s face flushed blood red; he was com- 
 pletely lost. The men at the tables burst into laughter, 
 which Uncle Moses silenced with a glance, raising his 
 sparse eyebrows. 
 
 “Hey, Harris, catch this fish here,” cried a man’s 
 voice from outside. At the same moment a tall Italian 
 .^and his wife were thrust into the salesroom. 
 
“THE AMERICAN’’ IN AMERICA 
 
 35 ' 
 
 Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid. I’ll sell you the 
 best suit in stock.” 
 
 And before the customer had a chance to turn around, 
 he was seized by two salesmen who tore off his trousers 
 and put on a new pair, which was so small that the 
 seam ripped in the back. Next he was squeezed into a 
 tight coat, from the sleeves of which projected a pair of 
 long arms that made him wonder where they had come 
 from. One of the men pulled at the coat from behind, 
 the other tugged at it from the front, straightened out 
 his chest, pounded his shoulders, and soon a third sales- 
 man brought him a mirror and let him view himself. 
 
 ‘‘Doesn’t he look like a gentleman? Sam, come over 
 here, won’t you? Take a look at this fellow,” cried the 
 young man who had helped the Italian on with the suit. 
 “Doesn’t he look like a gentleman?” 
 
 “He certainly does,” answered Sam, approaching and 
 smoothing the shoulders of the suit with his large palms. 
 “He’s all right.” 
 
 At this juncture a little girl entered the place. Her 
 two black braids had just been washed, combed and in- 
 tertwined with ribbons, and fell across her shoulders. 
 Her brown jacket, which was now too small and had 
 been worn almost threadbare, was nevertheless immacu- 
 li.te. There rose from it a strong odor of vinegar which 
 she had used to remove the stains. Under the jacket 
 she wore a white apron, as if she had come to school for 
 an examination. 
 
 “I want to see Uncle Moses. Can I see Uncle Moses?” 
 the little girl inquired of the first person she met on the 
 threshold. 
 
 The man stared at her. 
 
36 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 “Uncle Moses isn’t here. What do you want of Uncle 
 Moses ? ’ ’ 
 
 “I know what I want,” she retorted, and walked 
 over to another young man. 
 
 “ I ’d like to see Uncle Moses. ’ ’ 
 
 Uncle Moses was still standing with the shears in his 
 hand (a habit which he never succeeded in shaking) in 
 the front part of his establishment, before the door to 
 his private office. This was close to the stairway that led 
 to the upper floors, where the workrooms were situated. 
 Hearing the little girl inquire for him, he asked, without 
 moving and without raising his eyes : 
 
 ‘ ‘ What ’s the matter ? ’ ’ 
 
 From his voice the girl could tell that he was Uncle 
 Moses. She quickly approached him and began in be- 
 seeching, childish tones: 
 
 “Please, Uncle Moses, be good to my father. You can 
 help him. Please help him.” 
 
 ‘ ‘ Whose child is this ? ’ ’ asked Uncle Moses, turning to 
 his men. 
 
 The employees shrugged their shoulders, as if they 
 always used motions instead of words. 
 
 “What is your name? Whose daughter are you?” 
 ‘My name is Masha. I’m Aaron Melnick’s daughter. 
 You are his uncle. I know you. You’re Uncle Moses. 
 Papa told me.” 
 
 So that s whose daughter you are? I know now, I 
 know you. Well, what do you want?” 
 
 “I want you to lend my father a hundred dollars. Pa 
 wants to go into business. He hasn’t any money. You 
 have. Please, lend him a hundred dollars Please 
 Uncle.” 
 
 Uncle Moses raised his glance. He was about to say 
 
“THE AMERICAN" IN AMERICA 
 
 37 
 
 something rude to his little visitor when he caught sight 
 of her two wet braids and the white little apron, and took 
 a liking to her. He lowered his eyes again and said : 
 
 ‘ ‘ Go home, kid ; go back to your mamma. I ’ll see what 
 I can do.” 
 
 “And you’ll lend pa a hundred dollars, so that he can 
 go into business? Yes, Uncle?” 
 
 “All right. Go home. I’ll see what I can do.” 
 
 The little girl remained for a moment facing Uncle 
 Moses. As she turned to leave she confronted her father 
 and his oldest brother Berrel, who had just entered. 
 The two brothers had made their way thither in fear, and 
 approached Uncle Moses with terror in their hearts. 
 
 ‘ ‘ Here ’s pa ! ” cried Masha as she beheld her father. 
 
 “Do you know, papa, — Uncle Moses has promised to 
 lend you money to go into business.” 
 
 “What are you doing here? Home with you! Go 
 home at once ! ’ ’ shouted Aaron, stricken with humiliation 
 at the thought that his child should have come before 
 all these men to intercede for him. 
 
 Masha huddled into a corner. 
 
 “What’s the matter?” Uncle Moses had cried when 
 he saw the two men enter. His “What’s the matter?” 
 had served to detain them. 
 
 Sam, a youth of twenty odd years, ran over to the 
 two brothers, stopped them and said something. 
 
 Sam was Uncle Moses’ favorite, — his sister’s child, 
 whom he had taken to America and given a place in 
 the business. Sam was very loyal to his employer, guard- 
 ing his uncle’s interests like a watch-dog. Uncle Moses 
 knew this and had more trust in Sam than in any other. 
 He had made him cashier. When anything was sold no 
 one except Sam was permitted to receive the money. 
 
38 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 Uncle Moses was moreover fond of Sam because the youth 
 resembled him, even when Moses himself had been a 
 butcher’s boy in the old country. Sam could win his 
 imcle over to anything and all of the uncle’s townsfolk 
 in search of favors first turned to Sam, asking him to 
 act as intercessor. 
 
 “Sam, speak for him. It would be a most charitable 
 deed. Sam, do Aaron that favor,” begged Berrel in 
 his brother’s behalf. 
 
 Sam went over to Uncle Moses. 
 
 “Uncle,” he said, “Aaron Melnick of Kuzmin has 
 returned to work. Shall we take him back?” 
 
 “Nothing doing,” was the Uncle’s reply; he busied 
 himself with the shears, as if to say that all doors were 
 closed. “Let him go with his brother to Brooklyn and 
 sew skirts with Italian girls. I don’t need him any more. 
 He’s too old for me.” 
 
 Sam looked at Berrel, made a gesture of helplessness 
 and pursed his lips. His attitude clearly said that he 
 could do nothing. 
 
 “Uncle, have pity on . . . ” began Berrel, venturing 
 to advance a step closer to Moses. “He has a wdfe and 
 children. Let Uncle have pity at least on the wife and 
 children. It will be a merit in the eyes of the Lord. A 
 great merit.” 
 
 ‘ ‘ I perform no more deeds of merit. I ’ve done plenty, 
 all I’ve got in return was curses. What was it he said 
 about me? Just tell us, Sam, what he said about me 
 when he stamped out of the workshop upstairs?” 
 
 “What does Uncle care what was said or who said it. 
 The beggars! If it wasn’t for the Uncle, they’d all be 
 rotting away in Kuzmin yet. Uncle took him over, — him 
 and the bed clothes, sent him money and passage for all 
 
“THE AMERICAN” IN AMERICA 
 
 39 
 
 of them. And he dares to open his mouth against Uncle ! 
 I tell you, it’s his luck that I wasn’t around. I’d teach 
 him to talk back to Uncle!” And Sam was seized with 
 a vehement attack of loyalty to his employer. 
 
 “He said something, it’s true. But really, does he 
 know what he ’s talking about ? He has a hard time of it, 
 and his troubles make him speak harsh things. Even 
 God pardons. He speaks nonsense. Let Uncle. . . .” 
 
 “Nonsense! Well, nobody must talk nonsense in my 
 place. There must be no talking at all. Nobody must 
 open his mouth. Did you hear ? Not a sound ! ’ ’ Uncle 
 Moses raised his brow's ‘ ‘ What did they call him in the 
 old country, Sam?” 
 
 “Aaron the big-mouth.” 
 
 * ‘ Big mouth, is it ? ” And Uncle Moses burst into loud 
 laughter. ‘ ‘ Big mouth — ^big mouth is good. But there ’s 
 no mouthing in America. That’s all right for Kuzmin, 
 — ^not here in America.” 
 
 During the conversation Aaron stood by with head 
 bowed, his gaze directed to the floor. In unbroken silence 
 he received all the mockery that was heaped upon him. 
 He was anxious as soon as possible to return to the shop 
 upstairs, to be back at the machine, to be harnessed once 
 more to the yoke of life. 
 
 “Let Uncle Moses have pity, — if not on him, at least on 
 his wife and children. How are they to blame if he talks 
 nonsense? He’ll know enough now to keep his mouth 
 shut. He’ll remember for the rest of his life. ...” 
 
 “Nothing doing.” 
 
 All this time Masha had been standing in a comer, 
 seeing and hearing her father made the target for mock- 
 ery and insult. Her cheeks flamed and her hands 
 trembled. At first it seemed strange to her that her 
 
40 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 father should submit in silence. Then it began to pain 
 her. She felt a powerful impulse to weep, to scream, 
 but managed to restrain herself. “They are grown-up 
 folks; they know what they’re doing.” But when she 
 heard them call her father “big mouth,” she sprang from 
 her comer, ran over to him and seized his hand. Large 
 tear-drops bedewed her eye-lashes. 
 
 “Come right home, pa. Don’t stay in this place. 
 They’re wicked persons. Don’t worry, pa. We ’ll man- 
 age to get along. We’ll find a way out. . . . Don’t take 
 any money from him” (she pointed to Uncle Moses). 
 “You’re a bad man!” she exclaimed, addressing Moses. 
 “You’re a brute, a beast, — a dog! That’s what you 
 are!” 
 
 “Masha, for God’s sake, what are you doing? Beg 
 Uncle’s forgiveness. What have you said?” 
 
 “I won’t ask his forgiveness. Come home, pa. Come! 
 I don’t want you to be here.” 
 
 “Shut up ! Take her away ! ” cried Sam to Aaron and 
 Berrel, shoving Masha away from Uncle Moses. 
 
 Uncle Moses raised his brows, from under which stared 
 his moist, bluish eyes. He laid aside the shears, folded 
 his hands across his paunch and surveyed the girl who 
 was tugging at her father’s hand. He bit his clean- 
 shaven lips and said, as if to himself : 
 
 “I like this kid.” 
 
 Hearing the Uncle’s voice, Sam released his hold upon 
 the girl. For a moment the employer eyed the child, and 
 she stared fearlessly back at him. The man attempted 
 to look her straight in the eye ; he became serious, bit his 
 lips again, and said to Masha: 
 
 “I wish you were my daughter.” 
 
“THE AMERICAN” IN AMERICA 
 
 41 
 
 Masha looked squarely at him. Her lashes became 
 again moist with tears and she retorted: 
 
 “I hate you!” 
 
 The Uncle smiled. His thick lips parted showing his 
 sound, white teeth; he played with his golden watch- 
 chain and suddenly called out: 
 
 “Sam!” 
 
 “Yes, Uncle!” cried Sam, hastening over to him. 
 
 “What was it they called him in the old country,?” 
 he asked pointed to Aaron. 
 
 ‘ ‘ Big-mouth. ’ ’ 
 
 “Well, take Big-Mouth upstairs and set him to work. 
 And give him a raise of five dollars per week. He has her 
 to thank for it.” And he pointed to Masha. 
 
 Aaron, Berrel, Sam and the bystanders opened their 
 eyes and their mouths in amazement, and looked hard at 
 Uncle Moses to see whether he really meant what he had 
 said. 
 
 “Do you see? Do you see that? Thank Uncle. Kiss 
 his hand, ’ ’ cried Berrel to Masha. 
 
 Masha, however, was looking at her father, waiting to 
 see what he would do. She saw him joyfully dash upstairs 
 behind Sam to the workshop while Uncle Moses cried 
 after him: 
 
 “Run, Big-Mouth, run!” 
 
 Her father made no reply; he simply smiled con- 
 tentedly. 
 
 The girl ran hurriedly from the place. The tears 
 coursed down her glowing cheeks like shining pearls. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 UNCLE MOSES’ CAREER 
 
 O F late Uncle Moses had been devoting much thought 
 to himself, to his career, his past and his future. 
 This was very unusual for him. And after Masha left, 
 he fell into meditation anew. She had made a deep im- 
 pression upon him. 
 
 Uncle Moses had never had a childhood. He had been 
 brought up by his father, the barley-grinder, who ground 
 barley for the peasants w'hile his own children hungered. 
 From his earliest days he had been obliged to pay his 
 own way ; he would carry bundles home for a woman, or 
 take chickens to the slaughter-house. It was at the 
 slaughter house that he fell in with the butcher boys, in 
 whose company he might thereafter always be found. He 
 would help prepare the cattle for slaughter and at times 
 skin a sheep. In this fashion he managed to earn his 
 bread, until he grew up unaided. He had nobody and 
 belonged to nobody. When the time came for him to 
 enter the army and he feared that he would be sent off, 
 he ran away from his native village, stole across the 
 border and crossed the ocean in a cattle-boat, paying for 
 his passage by tending the cattle during the voyage. He 
 landed with a body black and blue from the blows of the 
 sailors and with two rubles in his pocket. And today he 
 was Moses Melnick, the Bowery Manufacturer, President 
 of the Congregation Anshi-Kuzmin, giving employment 
 
 42 
 
UNCLE MOSES’ CAREER 
 
 43 
 
 to half of Kuzmin; the former leading inhabitants of 
 Kuzmin were now pressers and operatives in his employ, 
 trembling before him and fawning upon him. He owned 
 tenement houses in which dwelt his townsfolk from Kuz- 
 min, In the hospital a couple of beds bore his name; 
 here the former citizens of Kuzmin came when illness 
 overtook them in their old age. Above the gate to 
 the cemetery in which the men and women of Kuzmin 
 went to their last rest, glittered the inscription “Moses 
 Melnick” in gilded letters. 
 
 But what was he getting out of life? At times it 
 seemed to him that he, even as his workmen, was like a 
 thread in a needle. The machine whirred and the needle 
 sewed, sewed along, willy-nilly. Everybody in America 
 was threaded into the needle ; and he, too, from the very 
 first day. Ever since he had carried the first can of beer 
 from the saloon in which he had found work on the first 
 day of his arrival, down to the present hour, he had been 
 as a thread in a needle, without a moment’s time to 
 pause and reflect. His very vitality drove him ever on 
 like a wild machine, affording him not a moment’s re- 
 lease. Night after night he would lie awake in his bed 
 planning, building his career. 
 
 And the beds on which he had done this planning were 
 of different sorts. There were filthy mattresses in dark 
 basements; there were better beds in bright apart- 
 ments; but whatever bed he lay upon he concocted the 
 same business plans, — plans for opening a lunch room 
 on a street-corner, not far from a factory. This he had 
 carried out, maintaining the restaurant for a couple of 
 years during the early days before his marriage. Then 
 he changed from the lunch-room to a store dealing in 
 men’s clothes that had been damaged in process of manu- 
 
44 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 faeture. These he bought from large factories and 
 shipped south. Out of this store grew a men’s clothing 
 factory. Always his head was filled with plans for the 
 future. Then followed schemes for building houses. This 
 desire assailed him like a mania. Wherever he came 
 upon an empty lot he was seized with a passion to raise 
 high tenement houses upon it. He began to build at the 
 very time when he was hardest pressed for money, — in 
 the very midst of a crisis, standing on the brink of a 
 financial abyss. It was at such times as these that he 
 would initiate his most daring enterprises. It was like a 
 game to him, — a wager, — as if he wished to measure his 
 powers. 
 
 It was not need that spurred him incessantly on in thi^ 
 mad race for wealth. Uncle Moses himself had very few 
 wants. For himself he desired next to nothing. It 
 made no difference to him what sort of place he lived in, 
 — ^what sort of bed he slept in. Even now he often felt 
 a longing to sleep in some basement, and he really de- 
 rived very little pleasure from his brightly lighted room, 
 the soft bed, and the delicately carved furniture upon 
 which he was afraid to sit down. And even today, at 
 the lunch hour, he would go with his workmen to the 
 cheap restaurant across the street, elbow his way in the 
 crowd and bolt a sandwich, a potato and a cup of cof- 
 fee while standing, not caring to go with the other busi- 
 ness men to the better restaurant for merchants. It 
 was not because he was stingy, but because he was more 
 accustomed to the poor surroundings in which he had 
 spent the greater part of his life, and he felt more at 
 ease amid them than in more sumptuous quarters. It 
 was something more than money that pulled him out of 
 bed so early in the cold winter mornings in order that 
 
UNCLE MOSES’ CAKEER 
 
 45 
 
 he might be the first in the shop and see whether the 
 workmen came on time ; it was more than money, too, that 
 held him in the city during the hot summer months. 
 Despite the intense suffering the heat caused him, for 
 he was of very corpulent build, — he refused to go off 
 to a summer resort and sweltered amid the dusty piles 
 of clothes, panting and fanning his sparsely covered head 
 with a handkerchief, unwilling to entrust his affairs even 
 to Sam, in whom he reposed the utmost confidence. It 
 was something more than money. It was as if he were 
 enslaved to his inexhaustible energy, — as if that energy 
 goaded him ever on like an evil spirit whose commands he 
 must fulfil to the letter. 
 
 For Uncle Moses had no one to work for, — no one to 
 whom to leave his money. He was a widower. He did 
 have children, but they had been born out of wedlock, — 
 born of another man’s wife. Nor was he certain that 
 they were his children. In any case, he was not fond 
 of them. 
 
 It had come about in this way: 
 
 When Uncle Moses was a young man, at the time he 
 wished to make the change from his lunch room to the 
 men’s damaged-elothes store, he married a partner’s 
 daughter. The marriage was more a matter of business 
 than of love. Uncle Moses had not known, in his younger 
 days, what love was. He was so engrossed in his busi- 
 . ness that he had no time to devote to such interests. His 
 yoimg wife, who came from Galicia, was of a sickly, 
 refined nature and endowed with a sentimental tempera- 
 ment. She really loved him. Not so much him person- 
 ally, however; she would have loved any man that she 
 might have married, because she was born to love a man, 
 to deify him and be his willing slave, whoever he might 
 
46 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 be. She looked up to him as to a god, she respected his 
 powerful, manly neck, feared his serious careworn face 
 and wondered at his vitality and his activity. But he 
 did not see her. To him she was a thing. Often she lay 
 at night by his side yearning for caresses, for a token of 
 tenderness, and tried to nestle against him. She wished 
 to be fondled like a child, and there he would lay with 
 his massive body facing the wall either snoring loudly 
 or absorbed in various projects. His mind was forever 
 taken up with coats, trousers, vests, buttons, linens, 
 goods. He kept forever thinking of these, seeing noth- 
 ing around him. And whenever nature asked its amorous 
 toll he would comply coarsely, with not a jot of senti- 
 mentality. His wife, however, had no amorous desires, 
 — she yearned for love, for affectionate warmth. This he 
 could not give, because it was not in him. He did not 
 understand what she wished of him, and kept wondering 
 why she had no children. And once, after visiting a 
 friend, — an elderly person, — on the occasion of his silver 
 W'edding, and beholding how the children of the aged 
 couple joyfully brought their parents a cake set with 
 brightly burning candles, he came home in ill humor, and 
 grumbled to his wife: 
 
 “Children. . . . Why have you no children? Go see 
 a doctor.’' 
 
 But his wdfe was not anxious for children ; she thirsted 
 for love and languished away. Daily she grew weaker 
 and more ill. To be sure he felt pity for her. Life held 
 no pleasures for him. Whenever he would go out with 
 his friends for a good time, he would condemn himself 
 for having left her at home alone. He would rise, leave 
 his companions and return to his house. But he could 
 
UNCLE MOSES’ CAREER 
 
 47 
 
 give his wife nothing. He could not understand why 
 fihe should be sick, and he would cry out : 
 
 ‘ ‘ What ails you ? Why don ’t you go to a doctor ? Why 
 ere you always ill ?” 
 
 Several years before her death he had already ceased 
 to have a wife. As a result, his thoughts turned to other 
 women. And he took a liking to a woman who ran a 
 Jewish restaurant wdiere he ate his lunch. She was a bru- 
 nette, with well-arched black eyebrows. He became par- 
 ticularly fond of the jet-black hair that fell like temple-' 
 locks over her cheeks. Once he had seen her behind the 
 counter in a white jacket and an apron, jingling her 
 keys, and had ordered something of the waiters. She 
 reminded him of a housewife from the old country and 
 he commenced to make advances to her. Moses Melnick ’s 
 actions caused general amazement ; the woman, however, 
 was very good to him. Her husband, whether he noticed 
 things or not, pretended to see nothing. Moses lived with 
 her in secret and she gave birth to a child every year. He 
 was not sure w^hether the children were his or her hus- 
 band’s. The husband would come to him and extort 
 money, threatening him with a scandalous exposure, and 
 Uncle Moses would pay. This business he entrusted to 
 Sam, who extricated him from all difficulties. He was 
 well provided for now. 
 
 His relations with another woman brought about the 
 complete ruin of his own wife. In a short time she died, 
 without leaving him a child. Here was Uncle Moses left 
 without an heir. The children of the restaurant woman 
 were officially her husband ’s, and Moses was by no means 
 sure that they were his. For ten years he continued a 
 widower. Everybody said that he was still a young man, 
 and the matchmakers wore out his threshold. He did 
 
48 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 not intend, however, to marry a second time. He didn’t 
 need to. He continued his clandestine relations with the 
 restaurant-keeper’s wife. As he approached the fifties, 
 however, he began to feel a certain lonesomeness without 
 a family. His passion for business began slowly to 
 diminish. He lost his enthusiasm for building new 
 houses and starting new enterprises. He began to feel 
 content with his old interests,— to long for domestic 
 warmth, for children of his own with whom on holidays 
 he could go to the synagogue services and appear before 
 friends. His thoughts turned to marriage, and he lis- 
 tened to the matchmakers. 
 
 None of the matches proved to his satisfaction, how- 
 ever. There were widows, abandoned wives, women with 
 sons, women with daughters, with cloak factories and still 
 others with various establishments. Out of lonesomeness 
 he sent to Kuzmin for his father. He sought out the 
 most distant relatives and brought every one he could 
 find to America. He was by no means fond of his rela- 
 tives, and complained that they were good only for tailor- 
 work, for the machines or for work as pressers. There 
 w'as not a single educated person in their number, or a 
 person of independence who had made his own way, who 
 could stand on equal terms with Uncle Moses and be able 
 to converse with him. Uncle Moses scorned them for the 
 servitude which he had himself imposed; he detested 
 their fawning, cringing manner. He longed to find among 
 them an independent spirit who could address him as an 
 equal. And thus, whep Masha sprang from her corner 
 and called him “beast . . . dog!” she made a strong im- 
 pression upon him. For the first time some one had 
 dared to upbraid him. And who? A little girl, a mere 
 child, whose fate lay entirely in his hands. She would 
 
UNCLE MOSES’ CAREER 
 
 49 
 
 take nothing from him, “She hates me,” he laughed to 
 himself, “because I insulted her father.” And he en- 
 vied Aaron IMelnick the child that had taken his part. 
 
 He would have given his all to Aaron Melnick for that 
 little girl who had so stoutly taken her father’s part. 
 
 Uncle Moses still considered himself a young man. He 
 did not feel within him that age which his fat face and 
 his heavy body so plainly betrayed. He did not often 
 look into a mirror; besides, the alterations in his face 
 and his body had come on so gradually that he did not 
 notice them and it seemed to him that his face was the 
 same as ever. He felt capable of beginning all over 
 again. Every new thought released in him new sources 
 of energy, and the idea that now so suddenly came to 
 him seemed to have fired him with a new flame of life. 
 
 “. . . I must bring her up, — ^bring her up for myself. 
 To be my child and take my part, too. ...” A fresh 
 stream of vitality bounded through his veins. 
 
 And with that impulsive spirit characteristic of him 
 in carrying out whatever occurred to him, he proceeded 
 at once to execute his plan. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE NEW PHARAOH 
 
 K uzmin was a faithful slave to “Pharaoh.’* Kuz- 
 min sat at work, sewing coats, trousers and vests 
 for persons whom they would never see. The whole vil- 
 lage of Kuzmin worked upstairs in Uncle Moses’ shop. 
 There was Reb Joel Khayim, the head of the synagogue, 
 and Itshe the cobbler’s boy, and Junder the ladies’ tailor, 
 — the dandy of Kuzmin, who once had woven a spell 
 around the hearts of Kuzmin’s beauties, — and Khayim 
 the barber-surgeon, who cupped the women (whatever 
 happened to be the ailment of any woman in town he 
 would always tell her to lower her chemise and would 
 proceed to place the bleeding cups upon her) ... Asa 
 result, Khayim had received a good drubbing at the 
 hands of a couple of irate husbands, and two of his front 
 teeth had been missing since. Today he applied no more 
 bleeding-cups, but worked in Uncle Moses’ garret sewing 
 trousers. All Kuzmin sat there sewing for Uncle IMoses ; 
 he had reduced the entire population to the same level. 
 There were no more leading citizens, sjTiagogue digni- 
 taries and humble artisans, — ^no more Talmudic experts 
 and coarse fellows. No more cobblers, foremen, men who 
 applied bleeding-cups to women . . . and men who 
 tickled the women while they fitted on their dresses. All 
 now served a single idol ; all performed the same rite — 
 they sewed trousers. . . . 
 
 50 
 
THE NEW PHARAOH 
 
 51 
 
 But Kuzmin refuses to die. In Uncle Moses’ garret, in 
 company of the needle, old Kuzmin and all its distinctive 
 features are born anew. Every stone of the old home, 
 every house and nook is lovingly and yeamfully recalled 
 by the loyal sons of the village, sitting there with the gar- 
 ments in their hands, longing for their native spot. 
 Here and there falls a tear; now and then a groan is 
 heard from one who has recalled its beauty. 
 
 “Well, Leibel, why so silent? Let’s hear the tune that 
 the old cantor used to sing. ’ ' 
 
 And Leibel, who had always been fond of appearing 
 as cantor but had never in the old home had the oppor- 
 tunity of demonstrating his abilities in that direction, 
 now shows Kuzmin at its needles and garments what 
 he can do. 
 
 The sounds of the old cantor’s melody transport the 
 hearer to Kuzmin, — to the old synagogue, — and all recall 
 the beautiful Pentecost Sabbath, when every worthy sat 
 in his pew wrapped in his prayer-shawl, enraptured by 
 the cantor’s singing. And today all Kuzmin sits sewing 
 trousers. 
 
 Soon, however, the old synagogue vanishes, together 
 with the early Sabbath morn and the longing for Kuz- 
 min. Only trousers and needles are left of the vision. 
 
 Sam appears on the threshold of the door leading to 
 the shop and bawls out : 
 
 “Just look! Kuzmin is singing! Fine! You’ll catch 
 the devil from me, I promise you. I’ll call Uncle 
 Moses up in a second!” 
 
 And the word is passed along from one leading citL 
 zen of Kuzmin to the other. 
 
 “Hush, hush! The governor is here.” 
 
52 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 They called Sam “the governor,” and Uncle Moses 
 “the Czar.” 
 
 And they were more afraid of the governor than of the 
 Czar. 
 
 At such times Kuzmin would grow dumb with fright 
 at sight of the little urchin Sam, who at home had been 
 a butcher’s boy and here was the “governor” of Kuzmin. 
 
 But Kuzmin possessed a valiant intercessor, in the per- 
 son of old Melnick, the father of Uncle Moses. The old 
 man would wander about with the gold-knobbed cane that 
 his son had presented to him. The stiff derby to which 
 ,he had not yet grown accustomed, tortured him, so he 
 would put it on askew. He felt bored and lost in 
 America, and missed his mill sorely; through ennui he 
 had taken to drink. True, he had been fond of his glass 
 of whiskey even in the old country, but here in America, 
 while he could afford it and where there were always 
 plenty of good fellows who would treat him, the old 
 man was never sober. He had no friends. All of his 
 former acquaintances worked in his son ’s shop so he liked 
 to visit the shop and pass the time with them, chatting 
 abut Kuzmin and the good old days. Often the old man 
 would take it into his head to sit down and sew trousers 
 himself, seeing all the companions of his childhood, all the 
 most highly respected members of the community, sewing 
 away there in the garret. Why shouldn’t he sew, too? 
 So he would come and help along in the work. Uncle 
 Moses, however, would have none of this. Moreover, when 
 the old man came to the workshop he interfered with 
 Kuzmin’s labor; he would engage the men in conversa- 
 tions about the old home, — about old landowners, town 
 affairs, about the rabbi and the cantor. And often Kuz- 
 min would become so engrossed in these discussions that 
 
THE NEW PHARAOH 
 
 53 
 
 they would get into a quarrel over some rabbi or 
 slaughterer, and the disputants would forget that they 
 were no longer leading citizens of Kuzmin. The mere 
 talking about these matters afforded them intense pleas- 
 ure. The old father was drawn to the shop. Uncle 
 Moses had given orders to Sam not to allow old Melnick 
 to enter the work-room, but when old Melnick got drunk 
 he heeded nobody, feared nobody, and would strike Sam 
 with the golden knob of his cane, forcing entrance. 
 
 “The impudent rascal! Worthless rogue! The 
 butcher’s boy ! He won’t let me in, ha? My son’s fore- 
 man, and he’ll try to keep me out?” Whereupon he 
 would brandish his cane and advance into the shop, his 
 derby askew, waving his red bandana handkerchief and 
 crying, “Out of here, you scoundrel. Out! Out!” 
 And Sam would retreat. 
 
 Kuzmin would rejoice at the “governor’s” defeat. 
 They did not dare to show their joy aloud, however. The 
 governor could wreak vengeance, so they would nudge 
 one another and wink. 
 
 “What did they call him in the old country? Pilferer, 
 hey you pilferer!” cried old Melnick to Sam as the latter 
 descended the stairway. “Your mother used to steal 
 barley from my shop. I once caught her at it myself. 
 And here you’ve become a regular Pharaoh in America. 
 May wolves devour you and my son and America all to- 
 gether !” 
 
 Kuzmin shook with suppressed laughter, the workmen 
 nudged one another. 
 
 “Did you see what a licking the ‘governor’ got?” 
 
 “The same to aU enemies of the Jew.” 
 
 “His mother used to steal meat in the butcher shops. 
 
54 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 What did they used to call her? They called her 
 Nekhe.” 
 
 And the workmen began to evoke memories of Kuzmin 
 and tell tales about the good old times. 
 
 But soon everything grew suddenly hushed. Kuz- 
 min trembled and sat as if transfixed. Then it became a 
 machine that held a needle in its hand and sewed. Uncle 
 Moses himself had appeared in the shop, coatless, with his 
 huge shears in his hand. His watch-chain, stretched 
 across the entire length of his rotund paunch, imparted to 
 his figure a certain formidable authority. He spoke not 
 a word, simply staring about him. Kuzmin bent low over 
 its trousers and sewed away^ industriously. Uncle Moses 
 approached his father and took him by the arm. 
 
 “Papa, come down.’’ 
 
 ‘ ‘ I don ’t want to. AVhat do you want of me, anyway ? 
 I’m not afraid of you,” cried old Melnick, tapping his 
 cane with that defiance which a glass of whiskey always 
 poured into him. 
 
 “Papa, you’re interfering with the workmen. They 
 mustn’t be disturbed. Come down with me,” urged the 
 son in a soft voice, taking his father’s hand. 
 
 “I don’t care to go. I’m not afraid of you. What 
 do you think; — ^you’re a new Pharaoh, — a Czar? I’m 
 not afraid of the policeman himself. I’m not afraid of 
 anybody’. I don’t need you! What did you want of 
 me? Why did you ever bring me here? Send me back! 
 I want to go back to the old country !” 
 
 ‘You’ll go back. You’ll go back. Come down, papa. 
 Don’t bother the workmen.” 
 
 “I will not!” cried the old man. “I don’t need you, 
 —damn you!” he fumed. “You and your whole 
 America. I’ve saved up all I need by myself.” Where- 
 
THE NEW PHARAOH 
 
 55 
 
 upon he took out a little bag that hung next his hare 
 chest. 
 
 ‘ ‘ Here ’s the money for my burial expenses. All from 
 my own labor. I ask nothing of you. Send me back. 
 Why do you keep me here, as Pharaoh did with the Jews 
 in Egypt? Send us back! Release us from Egypt. I 
 don’t care to remain here I” 
 
 Uncle Moses wondered what to do. He respected his 
 father deeply; it was a matter of honor with him. But 
 when it came to being humiliated before his own towns- 
 folk, before whom he always appeared in the full au- 
 thority of his sovereignty (for such was his power), — 
 this he could not brook. He soon mastered himself, how- 
 ever, and altered his voice : 
 
 “If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to. Very 
 well, remain here with your townsfolk, chat about Kuz- 
 min, about old landowners, the pauper-king who was 
 worth seventy and a half dollars in American money. 
 Stay here ; stay here. I like to have you stay here. ” And 
 he left his father. 
 
 The old man cried after him : 
 
 “What sort of Pharaoh do you imagine you’ve be- 
 come? Who are you, anyway? Old Melnick’s son, — 
 that’s who. Your father is an old drunkard. A fine 
 pedigree that is!” 
 
 Kuzmin dared not hear. Uncle Moses went from ma- 
 chine to machine, inspecting the work. He was plunged 
 in serious thought. His grave mien filled his townsfolk 
 with terror, banishing even the inner pleasure at the 
 father’s scolding. When Uncle Moses came to Aaron 
 Melnick’s table he paused, thrust his hands into his pock- 
 ets for a moment and surveyed him. 
 
 “Leave your address with Sam, I’ll come to see you 
 
56 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 this Sunday,” said Uncle Moses as if to himself. Then, 
 with a smile on his face, he left and went over to his 
 father. 
 
 “Well, daddy, will you come along with me now? 
 Come downstairs with me, pa.” 
 
 ‘ ‘ I won ’t go ! ” shouted the old man again. ‘ ‘ What sort 
 of Pharaoh do you think you Ve become in America ? I’m 
 not afraid of you ! Ha! Just look at this Pharaoh, king 
 of Egypt. Wlio are you, anyway?” 
 
 “All right, — if you wish to stay. Stay. Stay. . . .” 
 said Uncle Moses half to himself. ‘ ‘ Hey, Sam. Take the 
 address of that fellow there. What’s his name, now? 
 Big mouth. I ’m going over to his house this Sunday to 
 see Masha. I like the kid, ’ ’ he said to himself as he went 
 downstairs. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 UNCLE MOSES VISITS MASHA 
 
 A aron MELNICK sat in his place trembling with 
 . fright and confusion. Uncle Moses was coming to 
 him on Sunday to see Masha ! Uncle Moses — in his home. 
 The Uncle himself, — ^to his humble home to see Masha! 
 
 Aaron and his wife Rosa tidied up the “parlor” for 
 the reception of their distinguished guest. The large 
 bed was taken out of the front room, where the whole 
 family slept, and placed in a comer. The kitchen table 
 was transferred to the “parlor” and was bedecked with 
 the Passover tablecloth. On one wall they hung up the 
 photograph of Aaron and Rosa taken at their wedding 
 and representing them under the nuptial canopy; on 
 the other, hung pictures of the respective fathers and 
 mothers-in-law : dignified folk of Kuzmin who had al- 
 ready gone to their rest in the village cemetery. Then 
 there were the wedding presents that w^ere still preserved 
 in the family : the spice-box, two small silver goblets, an 
 Elijah the Prophet’s glass, all washed and polished so 
 that they should sparkle from their place by the mirror. 
 The children were scrubbed and washed and combed as if 
 in preparation for the Passover feast. There were not 
 enough clothes, however, to dress all of them in festive 
 attire. One of them had a pair of whole shoes, but no 
 dresses. The other had a dress but not a pair of p 
 sentable shoes. So it was decided to “disown” one of t 
 
 1 
 
 57 
 
58 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 children. Not exactly disown, but hide her, — send her 
 out of the house during the uncle ’s stay, — and dress the 
 other children in the pooled sartorial resources. Fate 
 selected Celia, who had to leave the house ; her new pair 
 of shoes were worn by her younger sister Goldie. And 
 poor Celia had looked forward to being present when the 
 Uncle came. In her imagination she had already beheld 
 the “movie” that she would act for the Uncle. In Uncle 
 Moses she saw a person of such unbounded wealth that 
 surely all the moving-picture houses and ice-cream par- 
 lors in New York belonged to him. If he but wished it 
 he could enter any moving-picture house or sit down in 
 an ice-cream parlor and eat one dish of cream after the 
 other, and have whatever his heart desired, — all the 
 “sundaes” and the “short-cake” he pleased. This was 
 the only way in which she could picture Uncle Moses. 
 He could give her a certain card that upon presentation 
 would open all the doors of the “movie” houses and 
 ice-cream parlors to her and entitle her to whatsoever she 
 desired. And now she most forego all this and be content 
 with a glimpse through a chink into the parlor where 
 Uncle would be sitting. (That is, if they would let 
 her.) 
 
 Rosa, too, recalled her girlhood days. She desired to 
 make a good impression upon Uncle Moses. She was 
 proud of her Masha, — proud to think that a daughter of 
 hers should have found favor in the Uncle’s eyes, and 
 that Masha would mean the fortune of them all. Her 
 child s beauty was her own. She rummaged through her 
 chests for whatever she could find that might conceal 
 their poverty from Uncle Moses’ eyes. She had always 
 a tidy, capable housewife in the old country and 
 ^6 was as such that she now desired to impress Uncle 
 
UNCLE MOSES VISITS MASHA 
 
 59 
 
 Moses. She tidied and beautified her humble home, her 
 children and herself. The neighbors understood the im- 
 portance of this visit, and lent all the aid they could. 
 They willingly loaned the poverty of their own homes to 
 Rosa. One gave her a piece of cut-glass that had been 
 received as a wedding gift, and placed it conspicuously 
 upon the table ; another brought a tablecloth ; yet another, 
 two new chairs. For they had all heard of the great good 
 fortune that had befallen the Melnicks next door, — ^that 
 Uncle Moses had raised them all of five dollars per week 
 on account of one of their children, a girl, and that 
 Uncle Mo.ses himself was coming to visit them. Where- 
 fore all the neighbors were anxious to help the family 
 secure the great fortune and win Uncle Moses’ favor. 
 Aaron Melnick surveyed critically his wife, his children, 
 his home. He could scarcely believe his eyes. Never 
 since he had come to America had he seen his wife so 
 beautiful and so well dressed, — his children so neat and 
 his home so comfortable and inviting. And he was grate- 
 ful to Uncle Moses for this good fortune. He forgave 
 Uncle Moses everything, — forgave him the servitude and 
 the mockery he had to endure. He could see only the 
 favors Uncle Moses had done him. The Uncle had given 
 him a raise of five dollars per week, — the Uncle had 
 taken a liking to one of his daughters and was coming to 
 pay him a visit. Whereupon he became an ardent ad- 
 mirer of the Uncle, seeing only good qualities in the man. 
 He was genuinely thankful for Uncle Moses’ beneficence. 
 
 Aaron’s brother Berrel, and Berrel’s wife, were also 
 present to receive Uncle Moses. Berrel’s wife, indeed, 
 had decked herself out as if she were going to theatre, 
 donning her daughters’ best clothes. The stylish jmuth- 
 ful clothes looked funny upon her, — the hat with A 
 
60 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 large plumes resting upon her worn-out mother’s face! 
 The closely trimmed suit, and the high-heeled shoes upon 
 which the cramped woman walked as if they were stilts ! 
 The woman’s effort to appear gaudily bedizened was so 
 evident that she inspired pity. Everybody had heard of 
 the Melnick’s great fortune, and wished to bask in the 
 sun, . . . Folks fawned upon Aaron and Rosa. Melnick 
 and his wife, however, were by no means elated with the 
 visit of his brother and sister-in-law. To the Melnicks 
 it seemed that Uncle Moses already belonged to them. 
 He was their uncle, — and here were their relatives com- 
 ing to suck at the sugar that was their sole property! 
 
 The Uncle was late in coming. It was as if he grudged 
 them the happiness he brought, letting it turn sour. And 
 in the meantime the Melnick children soiled their dresses 
 and the neighbors’ eyes grew weary watching for the 
 important guest. “Where is he?” was the question that 
 passed from one to another. The eyes of the relatives 
 began to glow with the fires of revenge. Sister-in-law 
 Dvoshe was already chuckling, whispering to her hus- 
 band; 
 
 “He’s got nothing more important on hand than to 
 come visiting here!” 
 
 Yet, as if to crush these folks with envy, the Uncle 
 came, entering the kitchen suddenly with Sam. He 
 planted himself in the kitchen and refused to go farther, 
 as though to deprive them of the pleasure of having him 
 see the decorated parlor. Without removing his coat or 
 hat he sat down upon the first kitchen chair he saw. 
 Grasping his cane firmly, he surveyed the room and the 
 assembled friends and relatives who stood before him 
 ^estruck. 
 
UNCLE MOSES VISITS MASHA 
 
 61 
 
 “It’s all right here,” he said, half to himself. “My 
 townsfolk live very well. ’ ’ 
 
 He felt deep contentment with himself at the thought 
 that he provided his townsfolk with a decent livelihood, 
 enabling them to live and dress becomingly. The thought 
 that he was a pretty good fellow after all put him in good 
 humor. He began to smile, arose, and stepped into the 
 parlor. The sight of this room pleased him more than 
 ever. He looked with delight at the fine table which 
 was laden with cake and fruits. He stretched out his 
 hand toward the fruits and the onlookers were filled with 
 joy. The Uncle was going to eat. But he took no fruit. 
 He looked at the glass and said meditatively : 
 
 ‘ ‘ Cut glass. It ’s all right. ’ ’ 
 
 Then he asked to see the children. Aaron introduced 
 them. Uncle IMoses surveyed the youngsters. 
 
 “And where is Masha? I’d like to see Masha !” 
 Masha, however, was not to be found. She had con- 
 cealed herself somewhere. Her mother, her father, the 
 entire roll of relatives, scurried hither and thither in 
 search of her, for a long time in vain. At last she was 
 discovered in a neighbor’s home. Her father dragged 
 her by the hand, while Uncle Berrel screamed advice: 
 “You silly girl, go in! What are you doing here? 
 The Uncle has come. ...” 
 
 “Masha, you’re ruining me! You’re ruining me for 
 life,” wailed her father, beggingly. Masha was dressed 
 in a new skirt and white apron; her long, black braids 
 were more attractive than ever. Her cheeks were flam- 
 ing red. She bit her thin lips with her small white 
 teeth, and growled: 
 
 “I don’t want to see him!” 
 
62 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 Uncle Moses looked at her for a long time, then 
 smiled. 
 
 “She’s the girl that called me ‘beast’.” 
 
 “A silly little goose. Much she knows what she’s talk- 
 ing about,” commented Berrel, trying to smooth matters 
 over. 
 
 “That’s nothing. I like it. Here. Because you 
 called me ‘beast,’ I’ve brought you some chocolate. 
 Sam!” 
 
 Sam silently handed Uncle Moses a box of chocolate. 
 The Uncle offered it to Masha. 
 
 “Here. This is for calling me ‘beast’.” 
 
 Masha refused to accept the gift. 
 
 “Take it! Take it! Child, what are you doing?” 
 cried the entire company. 
 
 Masha took the chocolate. 
 
 “Open the box. You’ll find something.” 
 
 “Open it, Masha, open it!” chorused the company. 
 
 Masha opened the box with trembling fingers. Out of 
 the box fell a ten dollar piece and various articles of 
 jewelry. 
 
 “The dollar piece is for your ma. And the jewelry 
 is for you. For calling me ‘beast’,” added the Uncle 
 with a smile. 
 
 Masha turned the light of her round black eyes upon 
 him. They were still the eyes of a child, yet already a 
 woman’s tenderness shone in them. She rested her gaze 
 upon Uncle Moses. There was a coquetry in her glance 
 that betrayed the future woman, — a coquetry as yet 
 veiled by childish bashfulness. 
 
 Uncle Moses was captivated by her glance. He smiled 
 inwardly. 
 
 “Thank uncle!” 
 
UNCLE MOSES VISITS MASHA 
 
 63 
 
 ‘ ‘ Kiss his hand ! ’ ’ they all cried to Masha. 
 
 Masha grew confused. She wished to do what they 
 were all telling her to. Uncle Moses, however, would 
 have no hand-kissing. He took her head tenderly and 
 imprinted a kiss upon her hair. The onlookers were en- 
 tranced. Many eyes were filled with tears. Aaron and 
 Melnick were in the seventh heaven of delight. 
 
 * ‘ I know you ! I know you ! ’ ’ All at once Celia had 
 come dashing into the room, half undressed and un- 
 washed. She had been watching the scene from the 
 kitchen ; filled with jealousy, she could no longer contain 
 herself. 
 
 “My God!” gasped her mother, seizing her and about 
 to thrust her back into concealment. 
 
 But Uncle Moses had already seen her. 
 
 “Who is this child?” 
 
 “Nothing, — a child,” answered Aaron. 
 
 “And what can you do?” asked Uncle Moses. 
 
 “Play ‘movies’,” replied Celia pertly, her mischievous 
 eyes sparkling and her dirty face aglow, as she looked 
 from behind her mother’s festive dress. 
 
 “ ‘Movies’? That is fine. Come on, come on. Here’s 
 • • • 
 
 But Rosa had already sent the little heap of poverty 
 into a corner, whence came the sound of the poor little 
 girl’s sobbing. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 KUZMIN TOWNSFOLK 
 
 I T had proved impossible to organize Uncle Moses’ shop 
 into a union. The most ardent efforts on the part of 
 the Jewish labor organizations seemed always to strike 
 against an iron wall. The reason for this was that the 
 relations betw^een Uncle Moses and his townsfolk were 
 not purely industrial, but rather personal, — almost in 
 the nature of a family relationship. To the former in- 
 habitants of Kuzmin, Uncle Moses was the head of a large 
 family, — the ruler of a small kingdom. Kuzmin was 
 proud of the Uncle’s wealth and property. "Whenever 
 they visited a house that belonged to him, they swelled 
 with pride as if it were their own. And Uncle Moses 
 concerned himself with their domestic life. They made 
 him the arbiter in their disputes and he delivered judg- 
 ment, even as did the patriarchs of old. They were loyal 
 to Uncle Moses, and should anyone ever try to introduce 
 discontent or thoughts of union, the attempt was at once 
 reported to Uncle Moses. Upon this. Uncle Moses would 
 at once climb up to the shop, seek out the “revolutionist” 
 and stand beside him, surveying him in silence so long 
 that the poor fellow would wish to sink into the ground. 
 
 “Sam. "What did they call this fellow in the old 
 country?” he would inquire of his “governor,” point- 
 ing to the union “revolutionist.” 
 
 “Big Moyshe,” would be Sam’s curt reply. 
 
 64 
 
KUZMIN TOWNSFOLK 
 
 65 
 
 ‘‘So! So you’re Big Moyshe. And you’d like to 
 unionize my shop 1 Not here, my friend. We don’t work 
 on Saturdays, nor on holidays. And this shop won’t 
 admit union men. All my employees are my relatives, 
 townsfolk. If I were to let in ordinary workmen the shop 
 would be open Saturdays, holidays, even on New Year’s 
 and the Day of Atonement, as in all union shops. I 
 don’t need that.” And he would sweep the place with a 
 gesture. ‘ ‘ It costs me money. I maintain the shop only 
 for your sakes, — so that my townsfolk may be able to 
 make a living. What would you do without me? Who 
 brought you to Amenca ? To whom did you appeal for 
 your passage across, and for money to bring over your 
 families? To whom do you come now when you’re in 
 trouble? When one of you, God forbid, falls ill?” 
 Uncle Moses was now shouting at the top of his lungs 
 and his hearers trembled. ‘ ‘ To whom do you come ? To 
 Uncle Moses for everything 1 Don’t you? Isn’t that so? 
 And this fellow wants to start a union in my shop! 
 Not here, my good friend ! Nobody can force me to keep 
 open Saturdays and holidays. There aren’t any mere 
 workingmen here. They’re my kith and kin. My rela- 
 tives and townsfolk make a living from me and I work 
 as hard as any of you. You can see that for yourselves. 
 And for whom? I don’t need to do it for myself! It’s 
 all for you, — for you alone. I’ll close up shop, and 
 you can go hunt work elsewhere. If you ’ll be hard up for 
 a few dollars I’ll let you have them anyway. So don’t 
 be afraid. But I’ll have no more of this.” 
 
 “Why is Uncle so angry? Why need he pay so 
 much attention to the empty talk of a worthless fellow?” 
 the townsfolk begin to whine. 
 
 “Must we all suffer because of him?” cries Aaron 
 
 
66 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 Moyshe, a distant relative of the Uncle. At home he 
 had been a hungry tramp, forever wandering about the 
 country, and here he had become a presser. “Just let 
 me get at him. I’ll give him a union!” yells the irate 
 relation, brandishing his fists. 
 
 “No, no. Hold on. No fighting in my place,” cau- 
 tions Uncle Moses. “But if there’s anybody that isn’t 
 satisfied with conditions here, then let him find himself 
 a better position. Sam, see what we owe him, and pay 
 him to the penny. And here, take a few dollars extra 
 to tide you over.” 
 
 Uncle Closes’ generosity touched all. His open hand 
 won every Kuzmin heart. He never denied a townsman 
 assistance. Indeed, the “revolutionist” himself was 
 moved by Uncle Moses’ speech and his present of a few 
 extra dollars, and deeply regretted his words. 
 
 “Apologize to Uncle Moses. Beg his pardon this very 
 instant!” cried his shopmates. 
 
 “Let him kiss the Uncle’s hand. Kiss his hand,” 
 cried Aaron Moyshe to the “revolutionist.” 
 
 Uncle Moses, however, refused to let the rebel kiss his 
 hand but the man was not discharged. Ever since that 
 time he was known as “the union man.” 
 
 This is not to say that no work was done in Uncle 
 Moses’ place on Saturdays. On the contrary, Saturday 
 was the busiest day in the store. To be sure, the pious 
 townsfolk passed the day in the synagogue and at home 
 with their families. Those of the employees who were 
 not orthodox in their beliefs, chiefly the younger element, 
 were invited by Uncle Moses on Saturday to come into 
 the store and help sell or attend to alterations when a 
 customer desired them. Saturday was the day of largest 
 earnings. And the townsfolk, receiving no pay for this 
 
KUZMIN TOWNSFOLK 
 
 67 
 
 ■work, looked upon it as a means of expressing their loy- 
 alty to Uncle Moses. The elder employees would gather 
 on Saturday nights at the home of one of their number 
 and recall the good old times in Kuzmin. They would 
 send out for cans of beer and revel in their recollections. 
 
 The majority of the folk from Kuzmin had been 
 brought up in intimate communion with nature. Kuz- 
 min was situated upon the banks of the Vistula, nestling 
 amid plum-trees, vegetables and grasses. When the 
 Passover season drew near, the zephyrs from the open 
 fields w'ould come wafting youth into every heart. Among 
 these Kuzmin townsfolk there were men who had lived 
 half their lives in orchards; fishermen •who swam across 
 streams and dams splitting the ice of the frozen waters 
 in winter: there -were unassuming fellows, who at home 
 had been engaged in milking cows, selling milk, vege- 
 tables and fruit. And here they dwelt walled off from 
 nature, living out their days in a dust-laden shop. 
 Whether the sun shone or the rain poured down, they 
 saw only the trains that sped by. Seldom was any of 
 them able to catch sight of the sky by day. And should 
 a former inhabitant of Kuzmin on a clear winter’s night 
 suddenly discover the moon, which would peer for an 
 instant through a cleft in the heavens down upon Essex 
 street, it was as great a treat as if a new towmsman had 
 just arrived from Kuzmin. And Kuzmin’s former in- 
 habitants would be filled •with a strange, imdefinable 
 yearning. They longed for the sky above Kuzmin, for 
 its moon, for its fields and orchards and when they came 
 together Kuzmin became the topic of discussion. For 
 the only life they knew was the life they had left be- 
 hind in their old home. 
 
 Uncle Moses, too, came from Kuzmin, and although he 
 
68 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 was their “boss,” their ruler, their sovereign, he was one 
 of their own townsfolk. His life had been no different 
 from theirs. His childhood, his youth, the happiest days 
 of his life had been spent in Kuzmin. His sweetest mem- 
 ories were linked to that village, and whenever he was 
 reminded of some friend of his youth or of a cherished 
 spot where he used to play about with the Gentile boys, 
 he was almost moved to tears. Often he would break in 
 upon a Saturday night gathering of Kuzmin folk and 
 listen to the stories told. But at such times they would 
 be stricken dumb, afraid to utter a word; fawning upon 
 the Uncle and listening to him instead. He could see 
 that his intrusion had banished their high spirits. So 
 he would leave. 
 
 The older Uncle Moses grew, the more he longed for 
 Kuzmin. It seemed to him that he was still a carefree 
 young man in search of a wife. He had ventured forth 
 to foreign parts to make his fortune, and now he would 
 return to Kuzmin a wealthy bachelor, and would marry 
 the belle of the village. Yes, he would choose a girl 
 from a refined family and make her his wife. His life in 
 America was not taken into account. He had not mar- 
 ried here; he had not established a home. Here he had 
 worked himself up to a secure position and had accumu- 
 lated money. Now he must marry, set up a home and 
 live a dignified life, as befitted a man of his standing. 
 The years had sped by, however, and he had been taken 
 up with business and had overlooked the matter. When 
 he awoke and was ready to begin his new life, he realized 
 that he was too old to return to Kuzmin. 
 
 Masha had revived his hopes. Uncle Moses knew he 
 was getting old and hesitated to entrust himself to an 
 utter stranger. Never in his life had he relied entirely 
 
KUZMIN TOWNSFOLK 
 
 69 
 
 upon another ; never had he trusted in any one but him- 
 self. And now in his advancing years, when he felt the 
 need of love and devotion, he was afraid to give himself 
 into the hands of a stranger. This young, ripened girl, 
 who had looked him fearlessly and proudly in the eye 
 and called him “beast” had awakened in him a feeling 
 of respect for another personality, and this feeling Uncle 
 jyioses had for none of the persons in the shop with whom 
 he spent his days. 
 
 Besides, he looked upon Masha as belonging in a way 
 to him. She was the daughter of one of his relatives,* — 
 one of the men who earned a living in his shop and whose 
 fate depended upon him. And to Uncle Moses, all who 
 earned their living through him belonged to him, — ^they 
 and their wuves and children. Masha had grown up for 
 him. He must see to it now that her aversion for him 
 be turned into adoration. She would idolize him, he 
 told himself, if he showered her with favors. 
 
 Masha’s position in her home had suddenly risen when 
 it was discovered that because of her, her father’s wages 
 had been raised five dollars per week. She acquired 
 dignity in her parent’s eyes; they paid her marked re- 
 spect, as if there had fallen upon her a ray of that power 
 and grandeur which, in the eyes of all the townsfolk, 
 surrounded Uncle l\Ioses like a sun. ... To her relatives 
 ]\Iasha became a prodigy, a sorceress. She was spared all 
 hard work and her mother refrained from scolding her. 
 She had become a marked favorite. And Masha could 
 not understand it all. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 ESTHER AND AHASUERUS 
 
 M asha was now brought up in the warm rays of 
 Uncle Moses’ kindness. Through her, her par- 
 ents and family were raised to new heights, for Masha 
 had become the magic ring that unlocked the heart of 
 Uncle Moses. 
 
 There was something in the little girl that made the 
 man forget his business and his worriment and turn his 
 thoughts upon himself ; this was the reason for the power- 
 ful fascination Masha exercised upon him. He would lie 
 at night unable to sleep ; his mind would teem with busi- 
 ness, competitors, debtors. And he asked himself : “Why? 
 For whom ? For what purpose am I giving up my whole 
 life to them?” But the thought of Masha would come 
 to him like a flood of light. He pictured himself as a 
 young man, brimming with life and ambition. He could 
 see himself in his own home ; the table was all set, and 
 beside him sat she who loved him, whose thoughts were 
 all for him. 
 
 He no longer desired her to be his child. No . . . He 
 began to show her father favor, — all for her. He 
 had taken Aaron out of the shop, raised his wages and 
 made him cashier of the sales department downstairs. He 
 procured a piano teacher for Masha, sent her gifts fre- 
 quently, and came to visit her every Saturday and Sun- 
 day. 
 
 70 
 
ESTHER AND AHASUERUS 
 
 71 
 
 First of all, he had her father move to a larger suite 
 of rooms ; Masha must study, and must go out often for 
 *valks. To the amazement of everybody, Uncle Moses 
 began to take particular pains with his personal appear- 
 ance. The older and maturer Maslia became, the more 
 Uncle Moses dyed his hair, kept himself always clean- 
 shaven, dressed like a young man and used perfume. 
 He evoked general pity and sympathy. Behind his back, 
 indeed, he was made the butt of gibes, — a thing that 
 had never happened before. In his presence, of course, 
 people showed only the highest respect and pretended to 
 have noticed no change. 
 
 Uncle Moses, however, saw nothing. He had begun to 
 live as in a dream, — as in another world. It seemed that 
 his life had taken a topsy-turvy course. In his youth he 
 had been concerned only with business and his heart 
 was as cold as the heart of an old man. And now in his 
 declining years Uncle Moses was suddenly becoming 
 young once again, recovering his lost youth. No longer did 
 he dwell engrossed in commercial affairs, with damaged 
 clothes, with unsold stock. His thoughts were wrapped 
 about a maiden who was developing from a child into 
 a woman. He noted every change that Masha displayed. 
 And each Saturday he would regard her closely, telling 
 himself that since the previous Sabbath her hair had 
 grown thicker, — her teeth sharper and stronger. He re- 
 joiced at the rounding of her figure, her increasing height 
 and weight, the filling out of her body. Every week he 
 discovered the budding of a new charm. 
 
 He became kinder to his employees; his eyes grew 
 clearer and stood out from the flesh which surrounded the 
 sockets. He was always smiling, and whenever it hap- 
 pened that anybody proved delinquent in his work. 
 
72 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 there was no trace of anger on his part. The change in 
 the man was almost beyond understanding, though 
 everybody knew that the cause of it all was Masha, to 
 whom they had recourse when they needed favors. Just 
 as once upon a time the Jews resorted to Esther to in- 
 fluence Ahasuerus in their favor so did the Kuzmin folk 
 look to Masha as their intercessor before Uncle Moses. 
 If any of them was marrying off a daughter, or was hav- 
 ing a set of gold teeth made, or needed to undergo an 
 operation, — Masha was sent to Uncle Moses. Nor did he 
 ever refuse her. No sooner did she appear than his eyes 
 lighted up, the fleshy folds of his cheeks seemed to 
 disappear, his entire appearance became more human 
 and his countenance, usually so inscrutible, shone with 
 a radiance that all could understand. And since Masha 
 won whatever she asked of Uncle Moses, even as Esther 
 with Ahasuerus, the folk from Kuzmin began to call her 
 Esther ; Uncle Moses became Ahasuerus, and Aaron Mel- 
 nick — Mordecal 
 
 • •••••• 
 
 And now, in honor of the two “corpses,’* who were 
 preparing for the next world, all Kuzmin gathered to- 
 gether to accompany them on their living funeral. Uncle 
 Berrel had nothing left for him to live for in this world. 
 Nothing to live upon, either. He had lost his “boarders,” 
 — his children. They had married. One by one they had 
 grown up and wedded. Charlie, too, had grown up and 
 no longer needed his sisters’ aid. During the summer he 
 washed dishes at a summer hotel and earned enough for 
 his winter needs. In the early winter mornings he 
 helped the proprietor of a newspaper-stand deliver 
 papers to his customers, thus providing funds to pay his 
 way through college, where he was already studying law. 
 
ESTHER AND AHASUERUS 
 
 73 
 
 He no longer needed his mother’s assistance, either. The 
 youngest sister, — the hat saleslady, — soon had a suitor. 
 And suddenly the father and mother became aware that 
 their children’s happiness had proved the parents’ mis- 
 fortune. They were left without children, without 
 “boarders,” and there was nobody to sustain the house- 
 hold. To be sure the mother could have found “work”; 
 —her eldest daughter was willing to take her in. None 
 of the married children was willing to take in the father, 
 however. No place could be found for him. He was 
 already too weak to work; as for supporting him and 
 giving him a place to live, one child passed that duty on 
 to the next. Whereupon the old man said that he wished 
 to die in Kuzmin ; and be buried in Kuzmin ’s cemetery. 
 So Masha got Uncle Moses to provide Berrel with the 
 funds necessary to take him home to “die.” . . . 
 
 In honor of the two “corpses” the townsfolk of Kuz- 
 min had assembled at Berrel ’s home on the night before 
 the ship sailed, to bid farewell to the departing friends. 
 The two “corpses,” Uncle Moses’ father and Berrel, sat 
 at the head of the table, drinking everybody ’s health, and 
 the families, — the sons, daughters, sons-in-law and grand- 
 children, took affectionate leave of them. They wept the 
 departing men as they would weep the dead. And the 
 townsfolk asked pardon of them. 
 
 “What’s the difference? We’ll all journey home. 
 We’ll all go where they’re going! — ” cried one towns- 
 man, an old man who longed for the Kuzmin cemetery. 
 
 “Reb Berrel, give them all our best wishes. Remem- 
 ber us to everybody over there.” 
 
 “If you should meet any of my people, Reb Mordecai, 
 remember me to them.” 
 
74 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 “Yes, do us that favor,” wept an old lady. 
 
 The “corpses,” however, were very lively. They did 
 not feel at all as if they were going home to die. Berrel’s 
 eyes sparkled and his beard was carefully groomed. It 
 seemed as if at last he had attained the happiness that 
 he had been w’aiting for all his life, — that now he was to 
 receive recompense for all his sufferings. Every motion 
 revealed his tranquillity, his quiet joy. 
 
 Old Melnick, too, made merry, drinking everybody’s 
 health and exchanging quips. 
 
 “When I meet your old father Khayim in the next 
 world, he’ll ask me, of course, ‘How’s my son doing in 
 America?’ And I’ll answer, Your son eats impure food 
 and doesn’t keep the Sabbath. That’s why you turn 
 about so in your grave. And he’ll haunt you at night 
 and choke you. You’ll catch it, I promise you. Oh, 
 maybe you won’t catch it ! ” 
 
 And all the townsfolk greeted the “dead man’s” jests 
 with hearty laughter. 
 
 At the sailing of the ship, however, the scene truly 
 resembled a funeral. The children wept, clung to their 
 father’s neck and implored his pardon for any wrong 
 they had done. 
 
 “Father, forgive us if we have ever treated you 
 badly.” 
 
 “Father, we’ll never forget you. As long as you live 
 you’ll receive money from us regularly.” 
 
 “I’ll not need your money very long,” smiled the 
 father calmly and good-humoredly. ‘ ‘ Be happy, my chil- 
 dren, and serve the Lord.” 
 
 He called his only son, Charlie, aside, and whispered 
 to him : 
 
ESTHER AND AHASUERUS 
 
 75 
 
 “I ask only one thing of you. I had other hopes; 
 well, it can’t be helped now. But promise me, — and give 
 me your hand on it, that when you hear that all is over, 
 you’ll recite Kaddish for me. Promise me, my son.” 
 The onlookers all knew what the father was asking of 
 his son, and their thoughts turned to their own children. 
 How far from them, how estranged from them, were 
 their children in America! The townsfolk began to 
 groan, here and there somebody wiped a tear. 
 
 “Is my own son any better?” whispered one to an- 
 other. “Is yours any better?” 
 
 Charlie, who had grown into a tall, thin youth, with 
 strong arms and a firm chest, stood as if petrified. He 
 realized that it was something dear and sacred that his 
 father had asked of him. He pitied the old man and 
 nodded in acquiescence. But he spoke not a word; he 
 could say nothing to his father. For his father was 
 really a stranger to him. He loved his mother because 
 she always took his part in quarrels and would protect 
 him against his sisters. But toward his father, vv'ith his 
 praying and reading from the holy books, — ^how did he 
 feel towards his father? 
 
 In the meantime the sons-in-law were standing in a 
 corner whispering to one another. They had been collect- 
 ing some money and the oldest, — ^the Galician, — brought 
 it to Berrel. 
 
 “Father-in-law, take this to help you along during the 
 next hundred and twenty years. May you ...” 
 
 “I don’t require funds for a hundred and twenty 
 years more. Thank God, I’ve saved up a little for my 
 own needs, — from my own labor, too. ’ ’ And he pointed 
 to the little sack of money that he wore next his heart. 
 
76 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 But until those hundred and twenty years have gone, 
 don’t forsake me. The hundred and twenty years won’t 
 take very long. I can feel that now. ...” And Berrel 
 smiled. 
 
 When it came to bidding farewell to his wife, he and 
 she first realized what America had been to them. They 
 had brought their children to America. And America 
 had taken the children away. America was spewing them 
 forth, throwing them out as if they were a bit of rags. 
 America had parted them in their old age. It still had 
 a little use for the old mother. The aged father it was 
 sending home to die. 
 
 “Death could not part us, and America has done it,” 
 shrieked the old woman. She did not know what she 
 meant, but she was filled with a deep resentment against 
 the country, which had taken aw’ay from her everything, 
 — ^her strength, her children, her life, — and was now 
 spewing forth what it no longer needed. 
 
 Soon, however, the ship began to rock with merriment, 
 for Uncle Moses had just arrived with the other 
 “corpse.” 
 
 Old Melnick was dead drunk. In his hand he held the 
 little sack of money he had saved up out of his own 
 labors for his burial expenses; this he jingled as he 
 shouted at his son : 
 
 “Wliat do I need you for, you Pharaoh, King of 
 Egypt, with all your kingdom of America extending from 
 India to Ethiopia. I’ve saved up my own burial ex- 
 penses. By my oAvn toil. Ground it with my own hands 
 out of my little coffee mill. So what do I need you for?” 
 
 “Come, Berrel. Come back to Kuzmin!” he cried to 
 his companion, pulling at his sleeve. ‘ ‘ The best of health 
 
ESTHER AND AHASUERUS 
 
 77 
 
 to 70U, Pharaoh, King of Egj^pt !” he shouted to his son. 
 “Townsfolk all, slaves, back to work for Pharaoh!” 
 
 As the ship sailed off carrying the two “corpses,” 
 with it, the townsfolk stood watching with yearnful eyes, 
 and more than one envied the old men their return to 
 Kuzmin’s burial-ground, — a better fate than returning 
 to Pharaoh the King of Egypt. 
 
 The group was plunged in gloom. Even Uncle Moses 
 was sad as he watched the departing vessel. Each in- 
 dividual thought of his own final days, when he, too, 
 would sail home. 
 
 Standing apart from the rest were Masha and Charlie, 
 the two children who had been reared in America. They 
 made a fine looking pair and were of the same height, as 
 if together they had shot up wdth their proud young 
 heads. Their bosoms were on a level with each other. 
 The maiden and the young man had met at the ‘ ‘ funeral 
 of the old men” for the first time since growing into 
 adulthood. Youth called to youth. They were not look- 
 ing at the departing vessel; they were conversing inti- 
 mately and laughed aloud, revealing their glistening 
 teeth. The townsfolk, hearing their laughter, turned 
 around, and one said to the other: 
 
 “There! There’s ‘America’ for you! Much they 
 care ! Much they feel ! His old father is sailing home 
 and he stands there with a girl, laughing!” 
 
 “They belong to a different wrorld entirely, they are 
 altogether a different sort. What do you want of them ? ” 
 interrupted others. 
 
 Uncle Moses, too, was watching Charlie and Masha, 
 who stood apart during all this time, laughingly oblivious 
 to their surroundings. Uncle Moses grew sad and cast 
 
78 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 a last glance at the disappearing vessel that was carrying 
 off the two old men. For a moment he was in doubt : To 
 which world did he belong, — to that which was now sail- 
 ing back to die or to this one, w^hich stood upon the sunny 
 wharf, chatting with glistening teeth and laughing eyes? 
 
PART TWO 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 he’ll have children!” 
 
 NCLE MOSES entered his store early one morn- 
 
 ing, wearing a white flannel suit, filling half the 
 place with Colgate’s rose perfume, which might be 
 scented from him afar. His brown shoes sparkled 
 with a high polish, and their creaking seemed to an- 
 nounce: “Here he comes!” His wide, fleshy face was 
 radiant with the clean shave he had just taken. It was 
 as smooth as a freshly caught fish. He whisked off his 
 high-crowned, stiff-brimmed Panama hat and mopped 
 his perspiring head and his sweating neck with a white 
 batiste handkerchief. From sheer terror his employees 
 scampered off into the various comers and pretended to 
 be very busy arranging the suits, the trousers and the 
 coats. Uncle Moses paused in the middle of the estab- 
 lishment, looked about him in eveiy direction and sur- 
 veyed the townsfolk that worked for him. It seemed to 
 them that he stood there a year inspecting them. He 
 beckoned to Sam with two fingers, and asked his trusted 
 adjutant : 
 
 “Is everything all right?” 
 
 “Yes, Uncle,” replied Sam. 
 
 “What is Kuzmin doing?” asked Uncle Moses, point- 
 ing to the garret. 
 
 79 
 
80 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 “They’re sewing overcoats number 53.” 
 
 “Good. See to it that they keep busy. All Kuzmin 
 does is sweat aud sleep. We need the cash. Work away, 
 my boys, as hard as you can, and make money.” 
 
 “All right, Uncle.” 
 
 “I won’t be here all day. Keep your eyes open, Sam. 
 Everything’s all right, then?” 
 
 “Yes, Uncle.” 
 
 Uncle Moses winked at his cousin encouragingly and 
 looked about him again. 
 
 “Boys, today’s Sunday. A hot Sunday. Soak the 
 Italians and the Chinamen. Make money. Money.” 
 And he left the store to the tune of his highly-polished, 
 creaking russet shoes. 
 
 As they gazed upon his departing form the employees 
 breathed with relief. They ventured to come forth from 
 their places of refuge and could see the Uncle taking 
 his place in the hired automobile that was waiting be- 
 fore the door. His lips were parted in a smile. 
 
 They all knew where the Uncle was going, and they 
 cast furtive glances at Sam, whispering to one another 
 when they were out of his hearing. 
 
 “He thought he was going to inherit the Uncle’s busi- 
 ness,” snickered one, indicating Sam with his foot. 
 
 “Fool! Uncle Moses can have a dozen children yet. 
 Do you think he can’t? Just like old Petrik over the 
 other side.” 
 
 “Did you ever see such a bull-neck on a fellow?” 
 growled another. 
 
 Sam felt the glances behind him and knew what the 
 laughter meant. He looked around. His glance and 
 his countenance assumed the same expression as those 
 of the Uncle. And he really resembled him. He had 
 
“HE’LL HAVE CHILDREN” 
 
 81 
 
 penetrating eyes, a sharp nose and a strong, masculine 
 chin. The salesmen were frightened and became sud- 
 denly engrossed in business affairs. 
 
 Sam spat out and left by the front door. We wished 
 to catch a fleeting glimpse of Uncle IMoses, who had 
 long ago disappeared. He bit his lip, his fists rolled 
 into a ball and a curse escaped from between his strong 
 white teeth. 
 
 Was it for this that he had served his uncle so 
 faithfully, ever since he was fourteen, ever since he 
 had been brought over after having been left an 
 orphan by his father’s death? He had been Uncle 
 Moses’ loyal watch-dog. Uncle had used him for every 
 purpose, — ^had made him his servant, his ferret-hound. 
 He spied upon the townsfolk and the relatives who 
 worked for the Uncle, discovering who among them 
 was true to the employer and who false, and reported 
 to Uncle Moses. He had done for the Uncle things 
 for which he would, if caught, have gone to prison 
 for life ; as, for example, the time when they had been de- 
 tected with the stolen Fifth Avenue goods on their 
 hands. Sam had hidden them in the cellar, coats and 
 trousers upon which Uncle Moses had had his label 
 sewed. Sam took all the blame, and it was only after 
 hard effort that he was extricated from the mess. 
 Whenever such troubles occurred, it was Sam who al- 
 ways assumed the guilt. When Uncle IMoses had been 
 summoned before the District Attorney on account of 
 tlie Polish girl he had seduced, or whenever monthly 
 settlements with the wife of the restaurant-keeper had 
 to be made, — ^it was always Sam who saw to the de- 
 tails and took all the blame. He had risked his life 
 for the Uncle; for Uncle Moses he would not only 
 
82 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 have gone to prison, if necessary, but he would have 
 committed murder. And all this he had done because 
 he had hoped some day to take the Uncle’s place. 
 
 His loyalty had not been fawning flattery. It was 
 a sort of idol-worship. Uncle I\Ioses was his model, — 
 his ideal, whom he aspired some day to resemble. Ilis 
 worship of Uncle Moses, then, — his dog-like devotion, 
 — ^were really the worship of, and loyalty to, himself 
 and his future. It all looked ahead to the time when 
 he should be the “Uncle.” And to have all these 
 plans and hopes suddenly crumble to dust! The Uncle 
 would marry the little guttersnipe of a Masha, — Aaron 
 the Big Mouth’s daughter, -who had got him into her 
 clutches. She Avould bear him children, — one, two, 
 three, — and everything would pass to the children. 
 She’d see to it that she had children. And if need be, 
 she would provide him with another’s child, to make 
 sure of inheriting his wealth. And she had already 
 commenced to accomplish her purpose. One by one 
 she was placing members of her family in the store, 
 A younger sister was already a bookkeeper; her father 
 had advanced to the position of cashier. Then what 
 would become of him, — Sam? He would yet be driven 
 out altogether. 
 
 He recalled the numerous occasions on which he 
 might have cheated Uncle Moses out of money. His 
 cousin Mannes, who had w^orked for the Uncle before 
 Sam came, had warned him more than once. 
 
 “Eyes open, Sam. Let the Lord worry about to- 
 morrow. You help yourself today. M^iat you have in 
 the bank is yours. As to the rest, — nothing doing. 
 You don’t know Uncle IMoscs. He’ll marry a young 
 girl ill his old age. Remember what I’m telling you!” 
 
“HE’LL HAVE CHILDREN” 
 
 83 
 
 Sam now recalled Mannes’ admonition. Mannes was 
 older than he and more experienced, yet Sam had paid 
 little attention to his words. He trusted Uncle Moses 
 implicitly, — made all the money he could for him. 
 And now what had it profited him ? 
 
 “I must go to see Mannes this evening. He, with all 
 his lawyers and his Tammany Hall judges, will be able 
 to cook up some sort of plan. Uncle Moses must be 
 kept from marrying that beggar girl and letting Aaron 
 Melnick run everj'thing. For that’s what will happen 
 with him as the father-in-law. Otherwise, — we’re all 
 buried. The whole family is in danger.” 
 
 Sam considered his plan for a long time. Ilis loy- 
 alty to Uncle Moses still restrained him from doing his 
 employer any harm. Sam idolized him too much. He 
 was so fond of his benefactor that everything Moses 
 did looked right. Sam understood the Uncle’s actions 
 and was proud of them. Even Moses’ desire to wed 
 Masha pleased Sam, and were it not for the fact that 
 such a marriage would injure his interests, he would 
 have done all he could to hasten the consummation of 
 the Uncle’s plans. Sam’s ambitions for his future, 
 however, had fully matured, and he was ready to 
 trample sentimental considerations underfoot. 
 
 “Cholera seize the old duffer! He’ll have chil- 
 dren!” he thought, deeply concerned as to his own 
 future. 
 
 He was not angry with Uncle Moses. His rage was 
 directed against “the little guttersnipe Masha,” and 
 her father, who had sneaked into the “family.” He 
 regarded them as dangerous rivals. 
 
 “We must get the wife of the restaurant-keeper to 
 •pay a visit to that runt Masha with the three children 
 
84 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 she’s had by the old duffer. Let the restaurant woman 
 have a good talk with Uncle’s sweetheart.” 
 
 Ilo-ho! But there would be a rumpus when the 
 Galician’s wife would come to the young bride on the 
 wedding day ! The bride would be all dressed for the 
 ceremony, when suddenly the other woman would pre- 
 sent her five children. 
 
 “You are about to marry my husband, — the father 
 of my children!” 
 
 “Hey! But that would be a wedding!” Sam told 
 himself, avenging himself in thought. 
 
 And Uncle Moses? There he’d be standing, wearing 
 a frock coat. He would be stricken dumb with shame! 
 For a moment Sam pitied the Uncle. He paused, but 
 again his own future rose before his eyes. He thought 
 of Rosie, his own sweetheart, and bit his lips. 
 
 “The plague take him,” he said to himself. “He’ll 
 have children, the old blackguard!” 
 
 Pilled with these thoughts of vengeance he returned 
 to the store. His countenance assumed the harsh, im- 
 perious aspect he had learned Trom Uncle Moses. His 
 chin was set firmly and under his long nose appeared 
 that family grimace which the townsfolk feared so 
 much. He grunted, and then, imitating his Uncle, de- 
 clared : 
 
 “Pull in as much money as you can, boys!” 
 
 Sunday had begun in Melnick’s store. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 . MASHA 
 
 S OMETHING had come over Uncle Moses. To think 
 that he should leave the store on a Sunday and go 
 out on an all-day pleasure trip with a young girl ! ! 
 And in all truth Uncle Moses was daily growing 
 younger and taking to things that made him ridiculous 
 in the eyes of all his friends and lowered him in the 
 esteem of his townsfolk. He began to dress like a nine- 
 teen-year-old dandy. He donned shortened trousers 
 that afforded a view of his white socks; he began to 
 wear high, tight-fitting collars that nearly choked him; 
 he doused himself with perfumes. At the Galician’s 
 lunch-room, where Uncle Moses was fond of eating his 
 roast drumsticks of geese and ducks, the Bowery busi- 
 ness men stared at him and stified back their laughter. 
 The new salesman, a young man from Warsaw who 
 had just opened a cigar-store near Uncle Moses’ es- 
 tablishment and was known in the whole vicinity as a 
 sport” and practical joker, played a joke on Uncle 
 Moses. He had ordered of the restaurant woman a 
 three cornered cake in the form of a heart, stuck in 
 the center a colored picture of a red-cheeked girl, 
 which he had tom off the cover of a cheap box of 
 chocolates, and sent it over to Uncle Moses. Uncle 
 Moses saw and heard the bystanders laugh at him and 
 knew what the jest meant. His red neck seemed to 
 
 85 
 
86 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 spurt blood. But he was quite helpless. He was com- 
 pelled to be the rival of a nineteen-year-old college 
 boy, — Charlie, — who had of late become a frequent 
 visitor at Aaron Melnick’s home, going out very often 
 with Masha. Uncle Moses feared this nineteen-year- 
 old college boy very much indeed; he dwelt in fear of 
 all men younger than he. His one consolation was that 
 the college youth wore a pair of threadbare trousers 
 and dilapidated shoes and was always without a tent. 
 He could not, therefore, dress in the height of fashion. 
 Uncle Moses realized how ridiculous he was making 
 himself, how undignified was his rivalry to Charlie, 
 but he was at war. He had resolved firmly upon mar- 
 rjdng Masha, — the eighteen-year-old maiden whose edu- 
 cation he had paid for; — he was strongly determined 
 to marry and have children in his later j’^ears, — chil- 
 dren of his very o\vn, for his own pleasure in life. He 
 felt so justified in his aspirations that he could not un- 
 derstand why so much fun should be poked at him. 
 His fastidious dress was a means toward winning the 
 silly heart of the young girl. As long as she wished 
 it, he must comply. In his abbreviated narrow trou- 
 sers, his fitted coat buttoned tightly about his heavy 
 paunch, and his close-cropped donjuanesque locks, 
 Uncle Moses carried on his serious business. He hag- 
 gled over the price of goods, bought and sold houses, 
 went to meetings of charitable institutions, drove Kuz- 
 min on to labor with the goad of his glances, all as if 
 he was aw’are of nothing ridiculous in his foppishness, 
 in his youthful dress, in his hair-dyeing and his face- 
 powdering. He was the same stern “Uncle Moses” in 
 his youthful clothes as he had been of old. 
 
 For three years he had patiently waited for the 
 
MASHA 
 
 87 
 
 fourteen-year-old l\Iasha to grow up. Every other day 
 he would visit Aaron Melnick to contemplate his fu- 
 ture happiness, refreshing himself with the fruits of 
 his hidden fancies, — the joys in store for him. He 
 watched over her as one watches an increasing prop- 
 erty. When Masha reached seventeen and a half, 
 Uncle Moses began to reveal his deeply-wrought, 
 sweetly-desirous feeling. He came to take Masha out 
 for rides, — to take her out not, as hitherto, as a child, 
 but as a young woman of sense who understood the 
 good fortune awaiting her. He became her avowed 
 suitor and sought to show his manly vigor. 
 
 He smiled to himself and pleasant sensations filled 
 him as he thought of Masha, to whom he was riding 
 this clear summer’s morning which had been cooled 
 by the night’s rain and was now panting in the hu- 
 midity. He could see her in her white batiste dress, 
 the curves of her body revealed by the outlines of the 
 gown. Ever since she had grown up the Uncle was 
 fond of seeing her in white. The color white sum- 
 moned pleasant thoughts. He pictured Masha and him- 
 self after the w'edding. She had just become a mother 
 and was lying in bed with the child beside her , — his 
 child, and he was entering the room, a trifle tipsy. And 
 she, all in white, looked at him beseechingly. Her face 
 was so careworn and she seemed to ask pity. The 
 thought filled him with contentment, for his inner, 
 hidden joy was to behold her in child-bed, looking at 
 him with a careworn, pale face. It was such pictures 
 as these that Masha’s white dress conjured up; this 
 was why he was forever presenting her with white 
 gowns. He had asked her to wear the white 
 
88 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 batiste dress for this Sunday; he had promised to take 
 her on an all-day excursion to a near-by beach 
 
 Masha was already waiting for him, dressed in white 
 as he had requested. During the few years in which 
 he had become interested in her and had her educated, 
 she had come to look upon him as a father. She hu- 
 mored him, even as a tactful child often humors a 
 capricious parent. She was brought up to comply with 
 all of the Uncle’s requests, — to obey him. Her father, 
 her mother, her entire family and all the townsfolk 
 had so trained her. Not only by word, but by example. 
 And not only did they put up with his merest whim; 
 they would have done anything for him. Even if he 
 had asked of them their most hidden, most sacred, 
 most personal possession, they would have surrendered 
 it. Whenever the Uncle asked any of them a 
 service, they were transported to the seventh heaven 
 of delight. And should Uncle Moses ask after such a 
 one’s wife or grown-up daughter, his standing among 
 the townsfolk would rise immeasurably. 
 
 All of the townsfolk envied and begrudged Aaron 
 Melnick the good fortune that had come to him with 
 Uncle ]\Ioses’ interest in Masha. She had become the 
 “open sesame” to his heart, and interceded for the 
 townsfolk whenever they needed aid. And Aaron 
 Melnick promised favors to anybody he chose to please. 
 Aaron was fawned upon as once Sam had been, and 
 Rosa, his wife, wielded a mighty influence upon the 
 townsfolk of Kuzmin because of Masha’s strategic po- 
 sition. 
 
 It was in such an atmosphere as this that Masha 
 grew to womanhood, and although she was now be- 
 ginning to understand (she had already felt it long 
 
MASHA 
 
 89 
 
 before) what a hateful role she played in the matter, 
 she could not help herself. They all considered her po- 
 sition such an unspeakably enviable one, such a 
 stroke of good fortune, that she dared not speak or 
 think otherwise. And until recently she had considered 
 herself most fortunate. Of late, however, as she grew 
 olHer and learned more, she had begun to feel that 
 she would have to pay for all this good fortune. It 
 was not yet quite clear to her just what she would 
 have to pay, but she considered herself a sacrifice to 
 the welfare of her parents, her sisters, her relatives and 
 all the townsfolk. 
 
 This feeling cast a shroud of gloom and silence over 
 her refined, maidenly being. Whenever she was in the 
 company of young companions and friends at a tea 
 party or ball, she found it at times hard to laugh as 
 freely and whole-heartedly as the rest. It seemed to 
 her that something hovered above her, — something 
 strange and sad, and that everybody could see it. Over 
 her white satin dress, which was prettier and costlier 
 than any of her friends’ clothes, there hovered an 
 ominous black veil, like the shroud of a dead bride. It 
 seemed to her that she no longer had any right to re- 
 joice and laugh like other girls of her age. 
 
 And at times, at dead of night, when eveiybody else 
 was fast asleep, there could be heard crying, — a soft 
 sobbing. It was Masha, who had burst all at once into 
 tears without knowing why. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 A SWEETHEART 
 
 O N the stairs were heard Uncle Moses’ creaking shoes 
 and his inquiring voice: 
 
 “Ready, Masha?” 
 
 The parents stood in the open door. The former op- 
 erative, Aaron Melnick, had become corpulent. Rosa, 
 too, had put on weight and looked better than ever. 
 Aaron had allowed his beard to grow, — a black one, — 
 and his beer-drinking had reddened his cheeks and his 
 neck. He stood there coatless in a white ironed shirt. 
 They had just finished breakfast. Rosa was in her silk 
 petticoat, and both greeted the Uncle with a joyous 
 smile. 
 
 “Ready, Uncle! Read}M” 
 
 As much as Aaron and Rosa had hated each other 
 during their days of poverty, so much did they now 
 in their prosperity love each other. In their days of 
 sadness they had done nothing but exchange curses; 
 now amid their contentment they showered blessings 
 upon each other. They were deeply concerned with each 
 other’s health and comfort. It was “Aaron my dear,” 
 “Aaron crown of my life,” and “Rosa, may you ever be 
 well and happy,” “Darling, you haven’t had anything 
 in your mouth yet today. ’ ’ And more tender exchanges 
 of like sort. As the Uncle entered, each took him by 
 the arm and led him into the room. 
 
 90 
 
A SWEETHEART 
 
 91 
 
 Masha was not long in appearing. Oh, she had grown 
 so tall and lovely with the passing days! Her face 
 still revealed the child. Her mother’s milk, as it were, 
 lay still upon her lips. But a certain refreshing youth 
 and maturity emanated from her figure. Her thick 
 black tresses were gathered in two braids that were 
 tied with a black silk ribbon. She wore a wide-brimmed 
 straw hat and was dressed in white, as Uncle Moses 
 had requested. It was a long skirt of white tulle and her 
 waist was girded by a wide ribbon of white silk tied 
 in a knot ; white silk stockings and high white shoes com- 
 pleted the costume. Uncle Moses took it all in with a 
 single glance, and, as was his habit whenever he was 
 pleased in a matter of business, he moistened his 
 fingers and patted down his hair, — a habit he had con- 
 tracted during his years as a butcher’s boy and was 
 unable to shake. “Good!” he muttered, smiling. 
 
 “Uncle dear, maybe you’d like to have a bite? The 
 table is all prepared,” ventured Aaron Melnick. 
 
 “No time. The machine is waiting.” 
 
 “But perhaps — There are fresh eggs, young rad- 
 ishes and sweet cream,” urged Rosa. 
 
 Uncle Moses looked at Aaron Melnick with a glance 
 that plainly expressed annoyance. 
 
 “Don’t you hear? No time. The machine’s wait- 
 ing,” cried Aaron to his wife. 
 
 “Masha, come on. Come on! We’ll stop to eat on 
 the way.” 
 
 Masha joined Uncle Moses. Her parents shouted 
 good wishes from the doorway. 
 
 “Have a good time! Enjoy yourselves.” 
 
 “It’s all right. We’ll see to that!” And Uncle 
 idoses waved to them from below. 
 
92 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 “Well, Masha. Do you like it?” And Uncle Moses 
 took Masha’s hand, while the automobile started 
 through the streets. 
 
 “Certainly, I do!” replied the girl. 
 
 “I am going to give you a nice time, kid,” he said, 
 playfully patting her hand, 
 
 Masha was seized with a sudden fear of the Uncle. 
 It was the first time she had felt this way toward him. 
 As she sat there, she looked him over, — saw his massive 
 form and grew frightened. This riding in an automo- 
 bile was not at all to her liking. She would have pre- 
 ferred to go out, — to leave altogether. Uncle Moses, 
 it seemed to her, had begun to ..act strangely ; he had 
 suddenly seized her by the hand and looked into her 
 eyes, saying: 
 
 “Listen, Masha, I like you! And I want you to 
 like me! To like me very much!” 
 
 “Certainly I like you. Uncle!” 
 
 “Well then, I want you to love me ever so much, to 
 love me deeply. You must love Uncle very, very 
 much!” he told her, holding her hand and gazing into 
 her eyes. 
 
 Masha’s fear increased. She smiled childishly. 
 “You’re so funny today. Uncle!” 
 
 “Funny? Ha, ha! Funny! Listen, kid. I want 
 to tell you something today. Something that many 
 and many a woman has waited to hear from me. 
 But none of them ever heard it, I never said it to 
 anybody, and now I’m going to say it to you.” 
 
 Masha was afraid to ask what that something was. 
 Indeed, she feared to speak altogether. She desired 
 but one thing, — to get out of the automobile as soon 
 as she possibly could. 
 
A SWEETHEART 
 
 93 
 
 “Listen to me, Masha.” Uncle Moses had all at ' 
 once become serious, and had taken her hand again. 
 “I know that you’re a clever girl, and you’ll under- 
 stand. You must love your Uncle and obey him in all 
 things; you must have respect for him, — great respect. 
 You can see how everybody shows the greatest respect 
 for him. And it’s not for nothing, my child. They 
 have good cause. Uncle is fond of obedience, — of hav- 
 ing people do always as he tells them to. Do you 
 hear? Everything.” And he emphasized his words 
 with a strong pressure of her hand. “You must never 
 oppose him and never argue. If Uncle says today is 
 Monday, — then it’s Monday. If he says it’s day, then 
 day it is. And if he says night, it’s night. And above 
 all, obedience, my child, prompt obedience. In every- 
 thing. Do you understand, Masha?” 
 
 “You are so funny. Uncle!” And Masha burst out 
 laughing in his face. 
 
 Uncle Moses bit his lips. He said nothing and con- 
 sidered for a moment what to do. He decided to say 
 nothing more on the subject for the present, — to give 
 her time, to let his words sink deep into her maiden 
 heart. He could see that his words had made an 
 impression upon her. 
 
 Close by the sea, there was a Yiddish hotel fre- 
 quented by well-to-do, ostentatious Jews. Thither the 
 automobile took Uncle Moses and Masha. On the porch 
 sat corpulent Jewish matrons, — the wives of vulgar, 
 prosperous business men, — plentifully besprinkled with 
 powder, clad in their bathing robes and playing cards. 
 Here and there amid a group of women could be seen 
 a young man, likewise in bathing costume. But he, 
 also, was so stout and so covered by his bath robe that 
 
94 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 he looked like a woman too. The proprietress of the 
 hotel, the well-known matchmaker, Mrs. Fleishman, 
 stepped forward to greet the new arrivals. The 
 guests on the porch ceased their playing for a moment 
 and stared inquisitively at the couple. They all knew 
 Uncle Moses; he was of their own business fraternity. 
 They knew, too, of his relations with Masha. The 
 women called to him from the card tables: 
 
 “Mr. Melnick', did you see my husband?" 
 
 “Yes, I saw him." 
 
 “Is he coming here today?" 
 
 “He’s sweating away in the city," answered Uncle 
 Moses bluntly. 
 
 Mrs. Fleishman took Masha by the hand and smiled 
 into her face. She was at a loss as to how to greet 
 the girl. 
 
 “This is my future wife, Mrs. Fleishman," said 
 Uncle Moses, introducing Masha. 
 
 Masha blanched with terror and could not find 
 breath to speak. . 
 
 At the tables where the scantily-clad women were 
 playing cards there suddenly rose a buzzing as if from 
 a bee-hive. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 MANNES THE AGITATOR 
 
 NCLE MOSES set about his marriage prepara- 
 
 tions in all earnestness. He told Aaron Melnick 
 to prepare an elaborate engagement part}' and invite 
 all the Kuzmin townsfolk. Let there be all the beer 
 and brandy they desired — all at his expense. And 
 Uncle Moses went about like the youngest of joyous 
 sweethearts. It was a pleasure to see how he busied 
 himself, purchasing presents for his beloved and show- 
 ing them to everybody. The Kuzmin townsfolk re- 
 joiced at Uncle Moses’ betrothal as if he were mar- 
 rying into their own family. Only they envied 
 Aaron Melnick his good fortune. On the other hand, 
 they told themselves, it was better that one of their 
 own should strike such a gold mine rather than have 
 it fall into the hands of strangers. It would thus be 
 easier to obtain a favor. So they flattered Aaron and 
 his wife and even his children, as if through them 
 might be attained the pinnacle of good fortune. 
 
 In the meantime Sam was not letting the grass grow 
 under his feet. The selfsame evening of the day on 
 which Uncle Moses had gone out with Masha, Sam 
 went to his cousin Mannes. Here he sought advice as 
 to w'hat course to pursue so as to prevent the threat- 
 ened marriage of Uncle Moses to Masha, and the dis- 
 aster it meant. Of all the Kuzmin townsfolk Mannes 
 
 95 
 
96 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 alone followed the same calling in America as he had 
 pursued in the old home. There he had been a wild 
 youth and a troublemaker, got into controversies with 
 the whole village, — the Rabbi, the richest man in town, 
 the money-lender. He opposed every one of their 
 customs and standards and lived his own life. In the 
 old country he had as companions the rough and ready 
 Gentile lads. He was the only Jew who kept pigeons, 
 and simply could not bear injustice, whether to 
 himself or to strangers. He never brought his cases 
 to court; he was his own court. He was the judge 
 and he punished folk for the wrongs they inflicted. All 
 Kuzmin still remembered the joke he had played upon 
 Joel the money-lender. 
 
 ^Mien Mannes was released from his military service 
 he returned to find all Kuzmin in debt to Joel the 
 money-lender, who was the wealthiest man in the place. 
 All the trousers were held in pawn by Joel and all the 
 engagement presents and wedding gifts of the place 
 lay behind lock and key in one of Joel’s large bureaus. 
 The village groaned under the heavy yoke of the trib- 
 ute which Joel the money-lender levied upon the in- 
 habitants. They all labored for him. Every morning 
 he scattered terror as he made his rounds from one 
 house to the other, collecting his taxes. This was more 
 than Mannes could bear. Whereupon he took couns<)l 
 with the chief of police as to a course of action. Joel’s 
 maid servant knew where all the pledges were hidden, 
 but she was so loyal to Joel that she would not di- 
 vulge their whereabouts. Mannes, however, got one of 
 his boon companions to make love to her, and the com- 
 panion wormed out of the maid the information that 
 Joel kept the pledges concealed in his high wardrobe; 
 
MANNES THE AGITATOR 
 
 97 
 
 and that the keys were kept under his pillow. He got 
 the girl to promise she would one night secretly open 
 the door. That night Mannes rode up in a wagon 
 and with the help of another took the wardrobe out of 
 the place, placed it on the w’agon and drove it to the 
 river. The notes Mannes returned to every signer. 
 The humble pledges, — silver candlesticks, wedding 
 rings, ear-rings, were all sent back to their owners, ac- 
 cording to the name and address written on the little 
 ticket tied to each article, (Joel was a very methodical 
 fellow.) As to the gold watches, the chief took them 
 for himself; the cash that was in the wardrobe was 
 appropriated by Mannes. To the girl who opened the 
 door he presented a dowry of two hundred rubles and 
 married her oif into the bargain. And the whole 
 village danced and made merry at the wedding. 
 
 On the following night Mannes brought the empty 
 wardrobe back and placed it just before Joel's door. 
 
 Thus had Mannes once delivered all Kuzmin from 
 the heavy burden of Joel’s yoke. To this very day the 
 Kuzmin townsfolk recount the miracle of the deliv- 
 erance and call down blessings upon him. 
 
 When Mannes landed in America (to tell the truth, 
 he was compelled to flee because of this selfsame rob- 
 bery), he found it difficult to work very long in Uncle 
 Moses’ shop. He made no change in his mode of liv- 
 ing, He ver}’^ quickly got his bearings and saw that 
 if he was to live according to the laws he would not 
 live very long. As to waiting for other better laws to 
 be enacted, — he might wait until there was nothing 
 left of him. Clearly, he said to himself, he must act 
 at once. In America, it seemed to him, the most im- 
 portant thing was to have friends, good friends who 
 
98 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 would give a fellow a “show.” Whereupon at once 
 he joined a large number of societies, becoming exceed- 
 ingly active in the anti-prohibition organization. And 
 very soon he reckoned many Irishmen among his 
 friends; he had little use for his fellow Jews, and even 
 lived among his Irish associates, not far from the 
 butcher’s shop. He became a house contractor, em- 
 ploying a couple of Polish masons, painters and so on. 
 And friends threw jobs in his direction. Whenever 
 there was any “trouble,” he could reach the captain 
 himself, or at least the political “boss” of the dis- 
 trict. In return when election time came around, 
 Mannes was on deck. His windows would be filled with 
 the pictures and placards of his “people.” He would 
 run to see all his townsfolk and work in the interests 
 of his candidates. Mannes w'as exceedingly busy and 
 versatile. During the day he w’ould put on a green 
 necktie like his Irish friends, and would serve as a 
 watcher. More than once there would be fist-fights and 
 this was Mannes’ specialty as a political agitator. 
 When he was needed, he would be taken from one 
 election station to the next that he might discuss the 
 issues with his fists. The district boss had therefore 
 nicknamed him “agitator.” In the anti-prohibition 
 club on the corner, on the walls of which hung the 
 pictures of all previous bosses, Mannes was known 
 as the best of the agitators. 
 
 At night before the results of the election would be 
 known, Liannes would hang large brooms over the en- 
 tire house, and he and his wife and children would 
 make a racket with rattlers, in token of the other 
 party’s defeat. 
 
 This had been Mannes’ year. The entire district 
 
MANNES THE AGITATOR 
 
 99 
 
 belonged to him. The judge was his — ^the district at- 
 torney was his, and all the “cops” were his. The 
 whole city was his. And Mannes felt impregnable. 
 His fame spread to all his townsfolk. So that when 
 any of the Kuzmin folk were in trouble, mixed up with 
 the police or with the courts, they always came to 
 Mannes. And Mannes always straightened things out. 
 
 The truth was that Mannes possessed a certain love 
 of justice. By nature he could not endure unfairness. 
 The world wm so made that matters did not always 
 go hand in hand with justice; not always w^as it easy 
 to approach the law, and not always was the law right. 
 For tliis reason Mannes found his party’s methods, — 
 supporting friends and helping out adherents, — a more 
 direct road to justice than the cold letter of the law. 
 This was why Mannes was so loyal, so devoted to his 
 party. He really thought it the best, the most just. 
 For the judge, the leader of his party, who was a Jew 
 into the bargain and always shook hands with Mannes 
 when they met in the street, with a “Hello, agitator,” 
 — he would have laid down his life. The judge em- 
 bodied Mannes’ ideal. Judge Greenfield was “his 
 man”; whenever there w’ere any difficulties he would 
 go to the judge’s home and talk matters over with 
 him. Mannes had no secrets from the judge; he told 
 him the truth and the judge would tell Mannes how 
 to testify in court next morning before him. 
 
 Judge Greenfield was not only Mannes’ ideal, but 
 because he was a Jew, — and a good Jew at that, who 
 prayed every Saturday, — he was Mannes’ pride as well. 
 And although IMannes himself was not pious, and 
 cared nothing about God, yet it pleased him that the 
 Judge went to synagogue every Sabbath and was a 
 
100 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 very prominent figure in all the Jewish organizations. 
 And because in America there was a Jewish judge, be- 
 cause America contained a party like his own, which 
 did so many favors for its members, Mannes loved 
 America with all his soul. “America — my country!” 
 as he would often exclaim to his Irish companions. 
 And Mannes was a great patriot of America’s and of 
 Judge Greenfield’s, for the judge was to him the sym- 
 bol of America. On one of his walls hung a picture 
 of Washington and on the other, the Judge’s. On 
 every national holiday Mannes would display a large 
 American flag, with Washington’s picture on one side 
 and Judge Greenfield’s on the other. 
 
 Mannes, therefore, hated the new party that had 
 just sprung up, — the Socialist party. First, because 
 they were not patriots and created disturbances. Sec- 
 ond, because they opposed the Judge. He did not un- 
 derstand them; he did not know what they were after. 
 He understood the other parties. “The Republicans 
 want to elect their officials so that they can have the 
 ‘pull.’ But we don’t let them. But what do the So- 
 cialists want?” Justice? You can’t carr}-- justice that 
 far! Suppose they did have honest elections, who’d 
 ever be able to get a favor from anybody ? “Wlio’d 
 get anything out of it all?” He would argue the 
 matter thus and convince himself that he was quite 
 right. “Undependable persons would be elected, — 
 nincompoops. And if a Jew got into trouble there ’d 
 be nobody to turn to.” 
 
 “Did you ever hear the like? They want justice! 
 Who wants justice, if justice can’t do you a bit of 
 good?” 
 
 It was to his friend Mannes that Sam now turned in 
 
MANNES THE AGITATOR 
 
 101 
 
 the misfortune brought about by Uncle Moses. Sam 
 went over to him in the evening, finding him in the 
 anti-prohibition club and saloon on the corner, where 
 the picture of Washington and of the Judge hung 
 likewise side by side. Mannes was tall, thin, with 
 smooth-combed hair that parted in the middle. He was 
 turning grey at the temples, as was his close-cropped 
 mustache. Mannes understood at once that there was 
 some trouble. For if Sam was coming to him, — Sam 
 was a big bird. Uncle jMoses’ right hand, — if Sam so 
 suddenly appeared, there must be something interesting 
 in the wind. And although Mannes did not think very 
 highly of him or care for him at all, because of the 
 boy’s loyalty to Uncle Moses and his refusal to give a 
 fellow’-partisan a chance to earn some money, — yet 
 Sam was too important a bird not to cause Mannes 
 pleasure with the visit. 
 
 “What’s up? Trouble?” asked Mannes. For he 
 knew that only trouble brought persons to him. 
 “Come out with me, and we’ll talk it over.” 
 
 “You can speak as freely here as in your own home. 
 They’re all good friends of mine. You can speak.” 
 “The old man is going to get married,” said Sam, 
 drawing very close to him. 
 
 “Who? Uncle Moses?” asked Mannes, excited. 
 “Yes. To Aaron Melnick’s little daughter.” 
 
 “The old man will have children,” declared Mannes, 
 turning pale. 
 
 “Of course he will. Is he an invalid?” 
 
 Uncle Moses commanded universal interest among 
 the townsfolk, whether they were related to him or 
 not. He was a dominating figure, like a king with his 
 subjects, or a father with his children. They all felt 
 
102 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 pride in his wealth, and hoped to share in his favors. 
 
 “Well,” said Mannes. “That means your funeral. 
 I always warned you to take care of yourself. Tell 
 me, have you laid aside anything?” 
 
 “I was as faithful to him as a dog and didn’t 
 cheat him out of a penny. I saved him money wher- 
 ever I could and watched every nickel. I served him 
 like a loyal hound. And now, — what do I get out of 
 it? She’ll be driving me out of the place yet. Who 
 am I in her eyes, anyway?” And big Sam burst into 
 tears before Mannes. 
 
 Mannes had a soft heart, and we have seen, a 
 strong sense of what was right. He was not only 
 sorry for the boy, but recognized the justice of his 
 desire not to see Uncle Moses marry and thus lose all 
 chance of coming into his property, — the purpose in 
 which he had invested all his dog-like devotion. 
 Mannes felt that he must help the youth. 
 
 “Let’s see, now. Hasn’t he had something to do 
 with a certain woman?” 
 
 “He’s had three or four children by her, whom 
 he’s now supporting.” 
 
 “Then w^hy don’t you speak, you fool! Just take 
 me to that woman. Uncle Moses won’t marry. Take 
 my word for it.” 
 
 “Mannes. Don’t do him any harm. Have pity on 
 the old man,” cautioned Sam as they went out. 
 
 “What do you mean, — ‘do him harm’? Isn’t he my 
 uncle, too, and an old man as well?” replied Mannes 
 indignantly. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 UNCLE MOSES IS NOT CAUGHT NAPPING 
 
 NCLE MOSES, however, had foreseen all de- 
 
 velopments, and like the experienced business 
 man he was, he liked to make sure of everything and 
 everybody, and obviate the possibility of surprises and 
 disappointments. Before he had decided to woo Masha, 
 he had paid a visit to the restaurant-man’s wife and 
 had an understanding with her husband, too. 
 
 “How much do you ask? Name your price.” 
 
 The husband was a slim, slight, swarthy fellow, cov- 
 ered with hair on every part of his body that was ex- 
 posed, — his face, his hands, his neck. Prom out of this 
 hair sparkled two beady eyes, like two mice. He was 
 under his wife’s thumb. It was she who really ran 
 the lunch room, selling also a little Lemberg schnapps, 
 sweets, home cooking and succulent liver. And be- 
 cause his wife was an attractive creature wdth a pair of 
 dimples that played about her chubby cheeks, she 
 drew the custom of elderly business men. These cus- 
 tomers vowed that she was as tasty as the geese and 
 the duck that she sold. Her husband served as her 
 assistant, and his help consisted in his having con- 
 vinced several business men who had a much nearer 
 restaurant to patronize, that they had a share in his 
 wife’s children. On the strength of this he collected 
 money from them. And since he had only three chil- 
 
 103 
 
104 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 dren, his clients were limited and his receipts small. 
 And in all truth he did not know to whom his chil- 
 dren belonged; to him, to Uncle Moses, or to a certain 
 other employer from Delancey Street. This did not, 
 however, prevent him from being a good father to his 
 children and attending to their religious education. 
 He took them to synagogue for prayers, which he alone 
 taught them. 
 
 “Mr. Me’ nick, what do you mean, — ‘how much do I 
 ask?’ — Are tlt^ my children, then? They are yours!” 
 “But, but,” — and Uncle Moses tickled the husband, 
 — ^“you have a share in them, too.” 
 
 “Mr. Melnick, they are your children,” was the ear- 
 nest reply. “Ask Gittel, if you like.” (That was his 
 wife’s name.) “Ask her!” 
 
 “I don’t know which is mine, which is yours and 
 which belongs to the man from Delancey Street,” 
 laughed Uncle Moses. 
 
 “Mr. Melnick, she was more your wife than anybody 
 else’s, believe me,” asserted the other man. 
 
 The young man spoke thus only to extort a larger 
 sum from Uncle Moses. In his heart he was convinced 
 that the children were his. The other two men were 
 simply being deceived by his wife, because they were 
 needed in the business. 
 
 “And suppose I appoint you collector for my houses 
 on Essex Street? Will that make things all right?” 
 The man could hardly keep from falling on his 
 knees before Uncle Moses and kissing his hand. His 
 chief ambition in life was to become a tenement-house 
 rent collector. Always subjected to his wife’s will, this 
 hairy fellow had ever dreamed of some day becoming 
 a ruler, with power over others. And as his ambition 
 
UNCLE MOSES IS NOT CAUGHT NAPPING 105 
 
 never jQew beyond Essex Street, where he lived, he 
 therefore yearned to become boss over the Essex Street 
 tenants, — to strut into a home and bellow: “Give me 
 your rent or you’ll get an eviction notice!” He 
 longed to revel in this power, — to evict families, to be 
 such an awe-inspiring collector that he would send a 
 tremor of terror through all Essex Street. Yet despite 
 all this, he feared to agree at once to Uncle Moses’ propo- 
 sal, lest later he regret his action in the discovery that 
 he might have extorted more. So he added, with an em- 
 barrassed grimace : 
 
 “With a hundred dollars cash.” (He dared not say 
 more.) 
 
 “And a hundred on top of that,” smiled the visitor. 
 
 Once again the husband was seized with remorse. 
 Why had he not said two hundred? Or five hundred 
 altogether? The thought wrankled him. In a few mo- 
 ments he added: 
 
 “And a present for me.” 
 
 “What sort of a present do you want?” 
 
 “A gold watch and . . . and ...” He racked his 
 brains for something else. “ . .With another twenty- 
 five dollar bill.” 
 
 “The gold watch you’ll get. But not the twenty- 
 five dollars. Not another cent. Sign this paper declar- 
 ing that the children are yours, and that you have no 
 claim against me.” 
 
 “At once, at once, my dear Mr, Melnick,” cried the 
 hairy fellow anxiously, trembling lest Uncle Moses 
 should change his mind and at the same time satisfied 
 that he had got as much as Uncle Moses was willing 
 to give. Melnick, who, on his side, understood the 
 husband’s game, was for a moment sorry that he had 
 
106 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 not granted the fellow the extra twenty-five dollars, thus 
 causing him anguish in the thought that he might have 
 extorted still more. 
 
 “Gittel my darling,’’ called the man into the lunch 
 room. “Come in here for a moment.” 
 
 Gittel, her pearl ear-rings jingling in her ears, her 
 black hair half undone, entered with a coquettish smile 
 that peered from the dimples of her chubby cheeks. 
 
 “Pineus, dear. You called me,” said the wife, no- 
 ticing Uncle Moses. 
 
 “]\Ir. Melnick is going to be married. Wish him 
 good luck, Gittel darling,” said her husband. 
 
 “Gittel, dear,” who knew all about the conversation 
 between her husband and Uncle Moses, pretended ut- 
 ter ignorance. 
 
 “How should Mr. Melnick ’s marrjdng concern me?” 
 
 “And Mr. Melnick has just appointed me collector 
 of his Essex Street tenements. Thank ]\Ir. Melnick, 
 Gittel dear.” 
 
 And “Gittel dear,” hearing this news, burst into tears. 
 
 Her husband stole out of the room, leaving her alone 
 with the Uncle, that they might take leave of each 
 other undisturbed. Uncle Moses admonished her to 
 be true to her husband from that day on, to live more 
 decently and not to weep. After his marriage he would 
 remember her, too. And when her husband entered he 
 found Gittel quite composed. Uncle Moses took the 
 husband, too, aside, and told him to treat his wife well 
 and keep an eye on her. And both man and wife 
 wished him all happiness and joy with his young bride. 
 
 “May she have better luck with you than I, Uncle 
 Moses,” wept the woman. 
 
UNCLE MOSES IS NOT CAUGHT NAPPING 107 
 
 When Mannes and Sam came to the woman to in- 
 form her that Uncle IMoses was going to get married, 
 the couple were undisturbed by the news. Indeed, 
 they even rejoiced to hear it. 
 
 “Why shouldn’t he marry?” asked the husband. 
 “And what affair is it of ours?” 
 
 “Certainly. He’s still a young man. Why shouldn’t 
 he marry?” added the wife, like a connoisseur. 
 
 Whereupon Sam and Mannes understood that Uncle 
 Moses had been there before them and had already 
 arranged everything. They said nothing. 
 
 “Sam, you’d better quit. Wipe your mouth and 
 shut up. It’s all up now,” was Mannes’ advice. “Pre- 
 tend not to know anything about the matter, and when 
 you are told of it, be very happy. Wish Uncle good 
 luck, — congratulate him and get into Aaron’s good 
 graces. Become friendly with Masha’s whole family 
 and all her relatives. Platter them, praise them, fawn 
 upon them, — everything. You’re in their hands, my 
 friend,” concluded Mannes, 
 
 Sam knew what course to follow without being 
 told. Naturally he would do all this. Was there any 
 alternative? Yet in his heart he thought otherwise. 
 He himself was of the Melnick family, a cousin to 
 Uncle Moses, and not for nothing had he taken Uncle 
 Moses as a model, patterning himself upon him in all 
 things. 
 
 No. He could not so easily relinquish his ambition 
 to inherit his employer’s wealth and to take Uncle 
 Moses’ place some day. He was ready to do anything, 
 — ^he would stop at nothing. The marriage must not 
 take place. “The old duffer will have children!” he 
 kept thinking. 
 
108 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 Having attended to everything and forestalled the 
 possibility of unpleasant disturbances, Uncle Moses 
 told Aaron to go ahead with the engagement prepara- 
 tions. Let there be plenty of geese and beer and 
 brandy at his expense. He let the Kuzmin townsfolk 
 off for half a day that they might attend the betrothal. 
 And the Kuzmin townsfolk really looked upon the affair 
 as a cause for communal rejoicing, beholding how Uncle 
 Moses was choosing an ordinary girl from among his 
 own townsfolk for a bride. The choice had elevated 
 them all and they considered themselves closely bound 
 to the couple by family ties. 
 
 At the betrothal it was announced that Uncle Moses 
 would have the marriage take place in a synagogue 
 that he was going to present to the Kuzmin townsfolk. 
 Whereupon all the townsfolk felt like kissing his hand, 
 and were filled with gratitude for having been invited 
 and for the synagogue he was going to give them. 
 They showered him with blessings and rejoiced in his 
 good fortune and his wealth as if it were their very 
 own. They likened him unto all the race’s ancestors. 
 One of them compared him with Jacob, predicting that 
 tribes would descend from him ; another, to Holy Moses, 
 because he was buying them a house of worship. Al- 
 ready they sought a name for the synagogue and called 
 it after Uncle Moses, “S3magogue Moses Anshi Kuz- 
 mm. 
 
 And Uncle Moses bustled about Aaron’s rooms, per- 
 spiring, happy, beaming with generosity, and urging 
 the guests to have a good time. 
 
 “Eat, drink, my good Kuzmin townsfolk. Make 
 merry, rejoice, this is a happy day for me.” 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 AFTER THE BETROTHAE 
 
 E very former inhabitant of Kuzmin that lived in 
 New York considered Masha the luckiest girl 
 under the sun. So Masha, too, not daring to differ 
 from all Kuzmin, considered herself most .fortunate 
 in having been affianced to Uncle Moses. She was 
 deluged with gifts, bedecked with costly jewelry of the 
 latest fashion. Every day he sent the dressmaker to 
 her and ordered the most expensive clothes for her. 
 Daily something new was brought to Masha from the 
 Fifth Avenue shops, — silk underwear, high patent- 
 leather shoes, fans, gloves. The girl well recalled the 
 poverty of their Hopkins Street home. How, indeed, 
 could she consider herself in any other light than that 
 in which her family and her friends saw her? She 
 was looked upon as happiness itself. 
 
 During the time in which she had grown up amidst 
 Uncle Moses’ favor, she had learned to obey him. She 
 had seen how all Kuzmin, — ^her father, her mother and 
 everybody she knew, rendered obedience to Uncle Moses, 
 not daring to speak, act or think in contradiction to 
 him. “Uncle Moses said we must do this.” That was 
 the holiest of commandments, the strongest of argu- 
 ments. And Uncle Moses had said that she must be 
 his bride. He wished her to be his wife, and Uncle 
 must be obeyed in everything. 
 
 109 
 
110 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 She began to realize what it meant to become the 
 wife of Uncle Moses. She was no longer a child. 
 Though she cherished no desire, her imagination was 
 active, and summoned pictures of her as Uncle Moses' 
 wife. At times she would be sitting beside him and 
 he would be caressing her, clasping her to him, and 
 his big face would grow red as his lips parted in a 
 joyous smile. He would clutch her more tightly. 
 And she would quake with fear. She did not resist, 
 for she was used to him since her childhood days and 
 Uncle Moses had always fondled her, — had always 
 been privileged. Since they had been betrothed, how- 
 ever, she had begun to fear him. And whenever he 
 embraced her she became so hot, and felt a strange un- 
 easiness that made her feel like washing herself. 
 
 At night, when she was alone in her clean white 
 room, — which was so richly decorated with polished 
 furniture that Uncle Moses had long ago presented 
 to her, — snuggling in her newly made bed, she would 
 look forward to the days after the wedding. Following 
 such thoughts she could not stay in the bed. After she 
 had become engaged she would sit up for hours and 
 hours before lying down, afraid to go to sleep. Since 
 her betrothal, indeed, she had not undressed before 
 going to sleep, as if she feared that someone, during 
 the night, would touch her body. 
 
 After his father’s departure, Charlie, Berrel's son, 
 lived with his mother and his eldest sister. By day he 
 went to college; early every morning he continued to 
 deliver newspapers. His sister worked in a hat-shop, 
 while his mother did the cooking, washing and house 
 
AFTER THE BETROTHAL 
 
 111 
 
 chores. Despite her extreme poverty, the mother bent 
 every effort to keep Charlie at college. With that same 
 spirit of self-sacrifice which Jewish mothers abroad 
 display in their eagerness to maintain their sons in the 
 House of Religious Study, she sacrificed herself that 
 Charlie might pursue his education. In the old country 
 her greatest joy, perhaps, would have been to see her 
 Charlie a Rabbi; in America, she longed to have him 
 graduate from college. When the time came to pay 
 her son’s tuition fee the poor woman was in confusion; 
 she would ruu to her relatives or to friends, knock at 
 the door of Uncle Moses, and if absolutely necessary, 
 she would take trousers home to sew from a small con- 
 tractor, or else go to a small shop and served as an 
 operative for a couple of weeks. Her ambition rested 
 upon a purely idealistic foundation. It was not so 
 much Charlie’s career that concerned her as the learn- 
 ing itself. His education was to her (as were the 
 religious attainments of young men in the old country 
 to their mothers) a compensation for her drab, mo- 
 notonous existence. Her son’s learning was a consola- 
 tion to her, and caused her to consider herself above 
 the rest of the townsfolk. Not even her brother-in- 
 law Aaron’s great good fortune — (Masha’s coming mar- 
 riage to Uncle Moses) — could lessen her pride in the 
 fact that Charlie went to college. And often, when 
 in their conversations various members of the family 
 betrayed their envy of Aaron Melnick and the luck his 
 daughter had brought him, she would comment, with 
 an indifferent yet exalted expression upon her face: 
 ^‘Some folks look for money, and others, for educa- 
 tion. I wouldn’t swap my child’s college education 
 for all Uncle Moses’ wealth.” 
 
112 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 “You’ll have a golden chair in paradise for that,” 
 answered one of the townsfolk. 
 
 “Golden chair or no golden chair. What is the 
 whole world, anyway? You must be a person of con- 
 sequence in this world, too, — ^not a mere tailor.” And 
 this was the proud mother’s gibe at the entire swarm of 
 relatives, who had all become tailors in America. 
 
 During the first few weeks after Berrel had sailed 
 for Europe, Masha would frequently meet Charlie. He 
 would often visit Aaron Melnick’s home and go out 
 with Masha to entertainments, to friends, to lectures, 
 and at times to theatre, — when he had the money, 
 hlasha liked to look at Charlie, — ^to see his mustache 
 beginning to grow and his cheeks cover with a light 
 down. She was fond of hearing him discuss books that 
 he had read, of listening to his talk about college, — 
 about Socialism, in which he had now become inter- 
 ested. And Charlie, it seemed to her, spoke so wisely. 
 But when the girls began to poke fun at him, he would 
 turn red and be at a loss for reply. At such times 
 she liked to see how he stood there in embarrassment, 
 while her chum Celia jested at his expense, ridiculing 
 his mustache (they weren’t growing on the right spot, 
 she said). And Charlie would stand there helplessly, 
 his long arms hanging down his side, his blushing face 
 covered by a bashful smile, 
 
 “Never mind. When he grows up he’ll shave off . 
 his mustache, ’ ’ asserted another of his young lady 
 friends, trying to extricate him from the embarrassing 
 situation. 
 
 “Please, Charlie, don’t shave off your mustache,” 
 entreated Masha. “Ah, if I were a boy, I’d allow my 
 
AFTER THE BETROTHAL 
 
 113 
 
 miistache to grow as long as this — not like yours which 
 look as if they were daubed with soot/’ 
 
 The girls all laughed and Charlie, — clever, educated 
 Charlie, with a shirt that plainly showed his mother’s 
 patch on the collar, stood in deep embarrassment. 
 
 Uncle Moses had noticed that Charlie was visiting 
 Masha altogether too frequently. He therefore saw 
 Aaron with reference to the matter. 
 
 “Listen, Aaron, I like Masha to have fun. And I 
 don’t mind her going out with Charlie, either. But 
 watch, Aaron. Watch.” 
 
 “Why, Uncle! What are you talking about? The 
 child is crazy for you,” assured Aaron. 
 
 But all at once Charlie stopped calling. Aaron ex- 
 plained that Charlie had entered politics. He had be- 
 come a Socialist, and spoke at the street-corners. And 
 “pa” said that Socialism was no worth-while sort of 
 politics because the Socialists never had a chance to win 
 an election. As long as he had gone into politics, 
 Charlie should have joined the Democrats or the Re- 
 publicans, said “pa.” Then, at least, he would have 
 been able to pay his college expenses and have a good 
 position in view. But Charlie had no chance of getting 
 anywhere with the Socialists, because they would 
 never win an election. 
 
 Charlie never called and Masha gave no thought to 
 him, yet since Masha had become engaged, she liked to 
 meet him. She was a little bit afraid of him. Afraid? 
 No. A trifle ashamed. And this is what kept her 
 from approaching him. Yet what was there really to 
 be ashamed about? And she would like to see him 
 anyway. ... It seemed to her that she had some- 
 
114 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 thing very important to tell him, although she could 
 never quite recall just what it was. 
 
 And one morning Masha arose after a sleepless 
 night, with the firm conviction that she had nothing 
 to be ashamed of. Not even of Charlie. For in a few 
 weeks she was going to die anyway. Why she should 
 he so positive that she was to die, she did not know. 
 But she felt certain that something would happen to 
 her. So early that morning she went off to her 
 aunt. She knew that she would find Charlie home, for 
 after his work distributing papers Charlie would sleep 
 late until the morning was well advanced. She felt 
 like taking Charlie out for a walk, through Fifth Ave- 
 nue and Central Park, as she used to do years before 
 she was engaged, when Charlie was so frequent a visi- 
 tor. She w'as curious to see whether Charlie’s mus- 
 tache had grown any thicker, or whether he had shaved 
 them off, as he had once jestingly threatened to do. 
 There was nothing for her to be ashamed of. Charlie 
 did not know that she was not going to marry Uncle 
 Moses. He did not know that she was soon to die. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 CHARLIE MELNICK 
 
 M asha found Charlie still sleeping. Her aunt 
 received her with surprise. 
 
 “Charlie, Cliarlie! Just see who’s come!” 
 
 Charlie came groping out of the next room with a 
 dishevelled head of hair on which lay here and there 
 a feather. His black, sparkling eyes were wide open. 
 Masha was right. Charlie had not shaved off his 
 mustache. They were so short and sparse that there 
 was really nothing to shave. But because they were 
 as black as soot they imparted a manly appearance 
 to his face. Noticing Masha, Charlie was suddenly em- 
 barrassed and his childish face turned a fiery red; his 
 body, — as much of it as showed from his clothes, like- 
 wise grew red. And a good deal of his body was ex- 
 posed, for Charlie wore only a union suit. For a 
 moment Charlie was too surprised to do anything and 
 stood there with bare arms and bare legs, until his 
 mother reminded him how scantily clad he was. 
 “Charlie, what are you doing?” 
 
 Whereupon Charlie disappeared into the next room, 
 followed by Masha’s laughter. His mother apologized 
 for him. 
 
 “How can we stand this terrible heat? It’s enough 
 to make people go about naked.” 
 
 She then threw into Charlie his shirt and trousers, 
 
 115 
 
116 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 which had been drying on the fire' escape. For Charlie 
 had washed them, on his return from his work. 
 
 “I’ve come to take Charlie out for a walk in the 
 Park,” said Masha. 
 
 “Better take a ride out to Coney Island and go in 
 bathing. — It’s so muggy. I’m always urging him to 
 go to Coney Island, but he’s such a lazy fellow. He 
 just hangs around the house all day long over his 
 books,” said the mother. 
 
 “Your mother is right, Charlie. We’ll go to Coney 
 Island. On the way I’ll step into my house for my 
 bathing suit. Take yours along, Charlie.” 
 
 Charlie came in, dressed, wearing his newly washed 
 shirt and the washed trousers, which were not yet en- 
 tirely dry and clung to his limbs. Large drops of 
 v/ater trickled from his black hair down along his 
 cheeks, for he had just been holding his head under 
 the faucet. 
 
 “I’ve come to take you out to Coney Island for a 
 swim,” said Masha. “Take your bathing suit.” 
 
 Charlie was not very enthusiastic. He smiled, and 
 said that he had something to attend to in the city, 
 so that he had no time for the excursion. At his 
 reply, Masha felt as if she had been doused with 
 cold water and prepared to leave at once. The mother 
 ■wondered why Masha remained in the city during 
 such a hot spell, — ^why she didn’t go off to some sum- 
 mer resort, and explained to herself that it must 
 surely be because of the wedding trousseau she was 
 having made. For she had heard that Masha’s mar- 
 riage was soon to take place. 
 
 “They tell me you’re going to be married very soon. 
 Well, may it be with the best of luck.” 
 
CHARLIE MELNICK 
 
 117 
 
 Masha made no reply. She blushed and remained 
 silent. Suddenly, however, as if in spite, looking hard 
 at Charlie, she said: 
 
 “There’s so much to do here in the city before the 
 wedding, and Uncle Moses — ” But she did not end 
 her sentence. She turned red at the name and stopped 
 in the middle. And instead of the spite or the pride 
 that the word “Uncle” had been meant to summon, 
 it called forth sympathy for her. 
 
 Charlie felt pity for her, and he felt sorry that he 
 should have been so cold to her. So he said to his 
 mother. 
 
 “You are right, old chap.” And he slapped her 
 across the shoulder. “It’s a hot day. Come, Masha. 
 I’ll take you out for a swim.” 
 
 “Do you hear what my son calls me, Masha? Old 
 shcap. That’s what they call a horse in the old coun- 
 try. And in America that’s what they call their 
 mothers.” 
 
 “Ah, you silly goose!” And Charlie picked his 
 mother off her feet and carried her about the room. 
 
 “Let me down, for God’s sake! You’ll hurt me!” 
 begged the old woman. 
 
 “Not until you say ‘old chap.’ Not ‘shcap,’ but 
 chap, chap.” 
 
 “What’s the difference, — chap, shcap. Let it be 
 chap, then, as long as you put me down. God forbid, 
 you’U hurt me.” 
 
 “And now, the ‘salute.’ Not until you recite the 
 ‘salute’.” 
 
 “I pledge allegiance to my flag,” stammered the 
 woman, repeating the words that Charlie had taught 
 her when he was still a pupil in the grammar-school. 
 
118 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 • 
 
 “That’s the way! And now you may go down, old 
 
 chap,” said Charlie, carefully lowering his mother into 
 a chair. 
 
 “Do you see, Masha, how my son treats me?” com- 
 plained the mother. “At the most unexpected mo- 
 ment he’s liable to set me on his shoulders. And have 
 I the strength to resist him?” 
 
 “Now come along, Masha. How do you do?” he 
 suddenly exclaimed, as if he had just caught sight of 
 her. 
 
 Charlie and his mother lived in Harlem, on one of 
 the poor Jewish streets. Only when he and Masha 
 reached the street did they realize what a hot day it 
 was. It was one of those New York days on which 
 the heat spreads over the city from the very first 
 hours of daylight, — an oppressive, muggy heat, with 
 no hope of relief. 
 
 From the very beginning of day life becomes a 
 burden. Out of the open windows look heaps of 
 filthy bed clothing, while the family wash is drying 
 on the fire escapes; on the windows stand pots con- 
 taining the remnants of yesterday’s meal; on the stairs, 
 from the entrance of the house down to the very curb 
 of the street, like cast-off rags, and thrown-out, 
 broken-down furniture, wallow w’omen and children. 
 Half-naked, they overflow the steps on to the side- 
 walk. The mothers try to quiet their children with 
 pennies, which every moment they exchange for lolly- 
 pops. The lolly-pops melt in the tots’ little hands and 
 besmear their faces, and the white, neatly ironed shirts 
 that have cost the mothers so much labor the night be-.^ 
 fore become now sticky with the melted sweets. 
 
 The children jumped off the burning sidewalk and 
 
CHARLIE MELNICK 
 
 ‘119 
 
 sought relief in the broad thoroughfare. And they 
 all were riding about, some on roller-skates, others on 
 old boxes, one on a herring-cask; somebody had got 
 hold of an old cart-wheel and had invited all his 
 friends for a “ride’^ over the street. The filth of the 
 unswept streets arose amid all this joyous commotion, 
 settling upon hands and faces, upon the stones and the 
 w'indows until it reached the bosoms of the mothers, 
 who fed the filth of the street to their infants together 
 with their mothers’ milk. 
 
 Charlie and Masha walked along the street in si- 
 lence, with great difficulty making their way through 
 the swarm of children. It seemed that these youngsters 
 had been born with roller-skates on their feet, amid 
 the horses, trucks and coal-wagons that drove through 
 the district. So dense was the dust, so great the noise, 
 that they could not hear each other’s voices. The heat, 
 too, seemed as deafening as if it, too, were gliding 
 through the streets of New York upon children’s roller 
 skates. The farther they walked, however, the quieter 
 it became, — ^the cleaner, less noisy, and better appear- 
 ing the houses were. And soon the din had subsided 
 completely. They had walked to the end of the street, 
 which led to Central Park across Fifth Avenue. 
 
 The houses opposite the Park were in the shadow of 
 the trees. Large windows faced the street, but the 
 windows were blind, shut, their deep-green curtains 
 drawn. All around the houses it was cool and quiet. 
 But there was nobody inside; they were closed for the 
 whole summer. 
 
 For a long time they strolled along the street that 
 faced the Park. It was so pleasant to saunter here. 
 The street was cooled by the fluttering shadows that 
 
120 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 the green leaves of the trees cast in an intricate net- 
 work over the sidewalk. How quiet it was! It was a 
 festive silence that the trees and the grass spread about 
 them. Not a living breath stirred from the houses. 
 Doors and windows were locked and shut; all along the 
 avenue stretched a row of closed dwellings, — opposite 
 healthful Central Park. And not a living soul derived 
 any benefit from the location. 
 
 Charlie smiled wistfully at Masha. 
 
 “These houses are the best proof of the incomplete 
 development of American culture.” 
 
 “How do you make that out, Charlie?” 
 
 “These houses are a crying proof of the injustice of 
 our social order. We look upon it day after day, mil- 
 lions of persons see the crying proof. Yet they are 
 silent.” 
 
 “I don’t understand you, Charlie,” said Masha. 
 “Well, just imagine that somebody came to a city, 
 bought up all the bread and then locked it up in huge 
 granaries for himself. Or else, imagine that he had 
 purchased all the wells and had fenced them around 
 for his exclusive use. Why, such a person would 
 be stoned. Why is this here any different from bread 
 and water? The city possessed certain healthful lo- 
 cations opposite the Park, opposite Riverside Drive. 
 These splendid health-giving sites have been bought 
 up by w'ealthy persons for their own use and have 
 been covered with palaces. Then they lock them up 
 for the summer, at a time when such places are most 
 needed by suffering humanity, and go off on vacation. 
 Neither they nor anybody else have any use out of the 
 palaces. And people see this day after day and say 
 
CHARLIE MELNICK 121 
 
 nothing. I believe that such a thing is possible only 
 in America.” 
 
 “Do you mean to say that in other countries there 
 aren’t any wealthy persons with magnificent palaces?” 
 
 “Oh, yes, there are. Only in these other countries, 
 I believe, — I am not sure, but I believe so, — property 
 rights are restricted. The power of gold is limited to 
 certain rights. It must not infringe upon the public 
 interest. Here in America, however, gold has un- 
 limited power. You may buy anything. And the best 
 proof of what I say is afforded by these very palaces 
 before us. Not the palaces so much as the land upon 
 which they are built, — the land which in other coun- 
 tries would be public property, belonging to all, while 
 here in America it is sold to individuals. That is the 
 right of the feneed-off weUs. And it is all so char- 
 acteristically American. ’ ’ 
 
 “Why so?” 
 
 “America means — democratic. And Democracy, in 
 my opinion, is the worst enemy that has arisen against 
 mankind since the world began; for Democracy, as it 
 is understood in America, gives to every individual 
 possessed of wealth the right to enslave to his own 
 whim unlimited property, whether it be in the shape 
 of dead matter or living wills. Democracy is the Czar- 
 incognito. Or let us rather call it an anonymous 
 Czar. The Czar’s crown has been taken off the head 
 of an individual and placed upon the heads of those 
 who are most skilled in robbery and crime. Thus, in 
 America, the Czar has crumbled into countless petty 
 Czars. Whoever proves most skillful acquires a larger 
 measure of Czar-like power. Democracy without limi- 
 tations placed upon property rights — ^is a race, a 
 
122 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 scamper for sovereignty. It is a genuinely democratic 
 world, surely. No limits are placed, no race distinc- 
 tions are observed. Whoever has anything to stake in 
 the play, — cleverness, criminal guile, — ^may take part 
 in the game. And because of this, the Czar is here 
 more dangerous, more difficult to combat than in Rus- 
 sia. For Czardom here is forever being strengthened 
 with new blood. It is always being captured by 
 stronger, more powerful men and is protected by His 
 Majesty, His Holiness, the idol Democracy.” 
 
 “I don’t understand you at all, Charlie. But I 
 gather from all your talk that you hate the rich very 
 much. Must every wealthy person, then, be a wicked 
 one? Can’t a man be rich and good at the same 
 time?” asked Masha, as if desiring to apologize for 
 somebody. 
 
 “Yes, Masha, you are right. I must confess that I 
 feel an instinctive enmity against every rich person. 
 And more against the good one than the bad. Because 
 wealth in itself is base. Wealth in itself is a proof 
 of crime, robbery. It makes no difference how you 
 get it. As long as you have more than you need you 
 are robbing the others, — and that is base. And not 
 only for that reason, but because of something entirely 
 different. I mean that a wealthy person is an ugly 
 person. He can’t have , beautiful feelings. I don’t 
 know why I should think so ; perhaps my bringing-up 
 is to blame, the poverty in which I have dwelt, — But 
 instinctively I hate the rich.^’ 
 
 “You say that because you yourself aren’t rich,” 
 she retorted. “But if you were given money . . . ” 
 
 “I have often thought of that. I have tried to 
 imagine that they came to me and gave me a pile of 
 
CHARLIE MELNICK 
 
 123 
 
 money or that I had suddenly become rich, — that I 
 possessed beautiful palaces, horses, summer-homes, and 
 travelled to Europe, — that I could contribute liberally 
 to our ‘Foreigners’ Society.’ I’ll tell you about that 
 society later. No, I’ve told myself I wouldn’t care for 
 that wealth. Because not all the feelings and possi- 
 hilities that come with money, — not all the power it 
 confers, — can equal the sentiments aroused by poverty, 
 the feelings aroused by living on my street and look- 
 ing upon the poor people, — the women and the chil- 
 dren, — ^the feelings aroused in me when I think of the 
 wealthy. I’m glad that I’m poor. I’d wish to be poor 
 always, — to be always as I am now.” 
 
 Masha was silent. Up to this point the conversa- 
 tion had been all Charlie’s. It seemed that he wished 
 to display his learning, — ^that was why he spoke as 
 he did. But his last words suddenly moved her. She 
 felt that he meant her, and that he really felt what he 
 said. His words carried her back to her childhood on 
 Hopkins street. 
 
 “Now I understand.” 
 
 “What do you understand?” 
 
 “Now I understand why you dislike me so. — Yes, I 
 know that you hate me and that your mother hates 
 me, and everybody else, too. All the poor, good people 
 hate me since I became engaged to Uncle.” 
 
 Masha raised her large eyes and let their gaze 
 rest upon Charlie. Her eyes were large and rather 
 wide, like Spanish grapes of the best quality; they 
 were as full, too, as a grape. The white of her eyes 
 shone clear and resplendent, and she smiled, smiled 
 like a child. But Charlie feared that at any moment 
 she would burst into tears, and all the juice of her 
 
124 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 grape-like eyes would run over. So he replied, with 
 the same sort of smile; 
 
 “It’s not your fault, I know.” 
 
 The words set Masha to thinking of herself and 
 her situation. His previous speech was entirely for- 
 gotten. She became absorbed in her own thoughts and 
 said nothing during the rest of the walk, although not 
 for a moment did her eyes cease to smile and to glitter 
 as if they rather than Masha’s conversation, desired to 
 keep him company. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 CONEY ISLAND 
 
 B y the time they had reached Coney Island beach 
 Charlie himself had forgotten to chat with Masha. 
 He became an “American boy.” No sooner had he 
 jumped into his bathing suit and felt the ocean at- 
 mosphere upon his bare arms and legs than he was 
 filled with vibrant energy. Impatiently he waited 
 for Masha to come out of the woman’s section. A 
 multitude of persons swarmed upon the beach, which 
 looked like a continuation of the ocean. And often 
 the multitude rivalled the ocean, seeming more active, 
 more numerous than its waves. But neither the sea 
 nor the crowd disturbed Charlie, who always felt at 
 home amid masses of people. He loved to see the 
 crowds bustle about; the countless colors of the kalei- 
 doscopic maze that glittered upon the sea-shore stirred 
 him to an intense joy in living. The half -nude women 
 in red, blue and parti-colored bathing caps, and the 
 naked children who ran about holding cake and candy 
 in their hands, filling the air with joyous cries, the 
 family groups nearby, made him think that he had 
 come to a vast freedom- jubilee. The multitude it 
 
 seemed, had gathered to celebrate a great holiday. 
 All were naked, eating, bathing, swimming. On this 
 holiday everything was permissible. 
 
 And he shared the revelry of the vast concourse. 
 
 125 
 
126 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 He enjoyed watching persons at their pleasure. Never 
 had he beheld such crowds enjoying themselves together. 
 He had always seen them at work together, suffering 
 together, mourning and ailing together. Here, how- 
 ever, the vast masses of persons, half naked, men and 
 women in one another’s company, with the children 
 everywhere, — were ^eating together, bathing together, 
 frolicking, laughing and playing together. And joy 
 was universal. He was infected by the festive spirit; 
 it woke all the zest of his youth. He wished to plunge 
 at once into the midst of all this gladness, — to join the 
 play and the merriment, to leap into the water, swim 
 out among the bobbing heads and arms whose shrieks 
 of joy floated over the waves. And here he must wait 
 for Masha. ... It occurred to him for a moment that 
 he was in love with Masha; — that he had come to this 
 picnic, — to this holiday of nakedness and unrestraint, 
 and that he wished to plunge into it without delay. 
 
 In the meantime Masha was trying to find him in 
 the dense crowd, Charlie did not see her. As if en- 
 tranced by happiness, by the sight of the multitude, 
 he walked from group to group, watching the half 
 dressed men, women and children eat together, scatter- 
 ing the refuse about, looking on gleefully as he beheld 
 them all snuggling and rolling about in the sand in- 
 discriminately. Masha had caught sight of him and 
 followed him for a time, at last succeeding in catch- 
 ing him by the hand. 
 
 “Where have you wandered to? I’ve been hunting 
 for you everywhere ! ’ ’ 
 
 “Oh, Masha, hurry, hurry!” And he seized the 
 girl by the hand and ran with her into the water. 
 
 A wave came rolling toward them, carrying in its 
 
CONEY ISLAND 
 
 127 
 
 trough a group of human beings and water sprites. 
 Masha and Charlie were showered with sea-water and 
 human forms. It was sometime before the couple, 
 holding hands, were able to make their way out of 
 the waves and the swarm of swimmers. They emerged 
 dripping water. Charlie shouted with laughter. 
 
 “Oh, Masha!” And once more he pulled her into 
 the sea. 
 
 A second wave came rolling in and dashed the two 
 young bodies together, kneading one into the other, as 
 it were. Masha could feel Charlie’s youthful, firm- 
 fleshed body against her own, his strong hands about 
 her bosom. Charlie felt Masha’s light body rest against 
 his; the touch of the cool maidenly form, so wet and 
 soft as it reposed on him, was soothingly sweet. He 
 pulled her farther out into the water. She grew 
 afraid, screaming with fright and pleasure at the same 
 time and clung tightly to Charlie’s strong neck. 
 Charlie held her with both his hands and the water 
 aided him. He could see her slim, youthful flgure de- 
 lineated by her wet, clinging garment; the black, silk 
 material assumed the same lines as her body. It 
 clung to her and brought out every curve in strong 
 relief. He liked to gaze upon the lines of her flgure, — 
 to feel the pulsing life in her, — the repressed desires 
 that slumbered in the cold, hard bosom in his clasp. 
 But it was impossible for him to gaze and meditate 
 upon this sight for long. The sea tossed them about 
 and the rolling waves brought them the cold secret of 
 the deep, distant ocean. At every moment they felt 
 between them a third body, — the cold, fresh, mys- 
 terious body of the deep, distant sea, which was like 
 the body of a strange, haunting woman. And they 
 
 f 
 
128 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 were afraid of this strange presence, embracing each 
 other, nestling close to each other, while the cold, 
 haunting water sprite snuggled into their midst, try- 
 ing to warm itself against their young bodies and share 
 their secret, shielding them from the eyes’ of strange 
 persons. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 AMERICA AND THE JEW 
 
 T hey lay on the sand, warmed by the sun. Never 
 before had they been so close together. And 
 they had not known that people, young people, might 
 be thus together without sin and without shame. 
 
 The sun enfolded them both, and together they 
 caught the contagion of joy and contentment that had 
 spread amongst the masses of half-naked merry per- 
 sons that rested upon the beach. It did not occur to 
 them that they were young, nor were they aware that 
 they were in love. They simply rejoiced that the sun 
 warmed them and everybody on the shore. It seemed 
 that, the whole variegated multitude that seethed upon 
 the beach, with its bare arms and its bathing caps 
 of countless hues, formed a single family, of which 
 they were an infinitesimal part. 
 
 “I like to see joyous crowds,” said Charlie to Masha. 
 “I like to see everybody happy and to participate in 
 their happiness. There are folks wdio don’t care for 
 Coney Island, because, they declare, it’s the resort of 
 the uncultured masses. They dirty the ocean with the 
 refuse of their food and clutter the beach with their 
 awkward, ugly bodies, say such folk. Yet it seems 
 to me that only in a crowd can you find conten^^ment 
 and happiness, — in a vast, crude multitude. It would 
 bore me to have my pleasure all by myself. It would 
 
 129 
 
130 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 chafe me to be a lone happy mortal, or to belong 
 to a happy chosen few who alone possessed the means 
 of pleasure. Real pleasure may be had only in a place 
 like this, beholding a vast crowd enjoying itself. At 
 such times it seems that all evil and suffering have 
 vanished from the earth, and joy belongs to all. Here 
 it seems, one may enjoy pleasure to the utmost. Such 
 communal pleasure affords genuine, inner joy. One is 
 infected with the common gladness.” 
 
 Masha looked at him. She was fond of listening to 
 him. Charlie could not speak calmly; he always waxed 
 enthusiastic, his eyes flaming, his arms waving, — as if 
 from his pious, Khassidic father he had inherited a 
 certain exaltation of spirit. And not having anything 
 else to vent this fervor upon, he poured it into his 
 convictions. Nor had even the American public school 
 been able to quench this inherited ardor. 
 
 “Just look around you, Masha.” And Charlie danced 
 about gleefully. “See how far away the crowd 
 stretches. Thousands, hundreds of thousands of peo- 
 ple. Look. They’re all happy, — all having a good 
 time. I love crowds. When I’m in such a sea of per- 
 sons it seems to me I’m capable of anything, of great 
 things. There are Democrats, and even Socialists, who . 
 do not like large crowds. The masses are too coarse 
 for them, — ^uncultured, insulting their aesthetic feel- 
 ings'. I’ve often heard some of my own comrades say 
 that they felt lonesome in crowds. The fools! They 
 don’t understand what a crowd is! They imagine 
 tliat it’s nothing but a heaping together of many indi- 
 viduals, — coarse, uncouth, uneducated individuals. They 
 don’t realize that the masses form a body, a soul, a. 
 creature with an individuality of its own. Whenever I 
 
AMERICA AND THE JEW 
 
 131 
 
 get into a crowd it’s as if I had been plunged into in- 
 finity, — into the secret of our existence, which can 
 neither be felt nor endured as an individual. Masha, 
 do you know what a multitude is? It is vast, eternal 
 life itself, which existed before us and will exist after. 
 We shall die, — every individual composing it will pass 
 on, but the crowd will live. It has always .lived, in 
 ever)’^ generation, in all manner of forms. It seems 
 to me that God first created not the individual, but the 
 crowd. Whenever I find myself in such an ocean of 
 people, I feel certain that I have found my true self, — 
 that I am a part of the vast infinite.” 
 
 Masha eyed him in silent bewilderment. Many of 
 his words she did not even understand; moreover, she 
 had never heard anyone talk like this before. But 
 stranger even than what he said was Charlie himself. 
 During the year since she had become engaged to 
 Uncle Moses and had not met Charlie, he had changed 
 almost beyond recognition. He had always been so 
 bashful in the presence of girls. They used to make 
 fun of him, and he would reply with tasteless, mean- 
 ingless, witless jests. What had come over Charlie? 
 Where had he been during all this time? What had 
 he been doing? She began to feel uncomfortable be- 
 cause she could not talk as he did. She felt a certain 
 pride in him and liked him all the more for his being 
 able to talk like that. 
 
 It mattered little to Charlie whether Masha under- 
 stood hyh or not. He spoke more to himself than to 
 her. Besides, it seemed to him that most people thought 
 as he did. Charlie belonged to that growing youth 
 in America whose faith and idealism were so young 
 and fresh that they exhaled an odor of the dew of 
 
132 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 growth. Just as everything in America was filled with 
 the sap and energy of a young, blooming fruit, so was 
 American idealism as it appeared in the full bloom of 
 its youthful confidence. It was unstained by skeptic- 
 ism and doubt. It knew nothing of delving, — of mystic 
 inquiry. All this idealism was centered upon the prac- 
 tical, upon immediate benefit, driven on by the im- 
 petuous, optimistic, life-loving stream of a young, 
 growing stock. That same gushing stream of youthful 
 energy that reared sky-scrapers and threw bridges 
 miles long across valleys and rivers, urged America’s 
 brain-power to a practical, utilitarian idealism. 
 Charlie belong to a small circle of studious Jewish 
 youths who were not so much studying for a career as 
 brimming over with this youthful American idealism. 
 That optimism which had flowed into their blood with 
 their ancient faith served, unknown to them, this 
 practical idealism. Their thoughts did not cross the 
 boundaries of the present, — of every-day life, — and 
 did not wander into other worlds. It sought a prac- 
 tical answer to all problems right here in the every- 
 day world. 
 
 Charlie had also become acquainted with a group of 
 Russian- Jewish intellectuals who were active in the 
 labor movement. Through them he learned of the 
 proletarian movement in Russia, — of the Revolution, 
 of Russian idealism, of Siberia and the prisons. Rus- 
 sia and the revolution became to him a magic legend, 
 something sacred, — a Holy Land, and the Russian in- 
 telligentsia itself became sacred to him. He grew proud 
 that he came from Russia, — from the land of revolu- 
 tion and idealism. And with all the innocence of his 
 youthful enthusiasm he threw himself into the Ameri- 
 
AMERICA AND THE JEW 
 
 133 
 
 can brancR of the movement. And as he thought of 
 and felt the life of the Jewish immigrants, a protest 
 awoke in him, — the protest of a healthy youth, edu- 
 cated in a land of freedom and equality, — against the 
 life of his parents. Perhaps his father’s excessive 
 piety was to blame for Charlie’s not seeking to better 
 his position, like so many thousands of young men of 
 his kind. All his strength, his faith and his hopes he 
 threw into the service of the party, the triumph of 
 which, he believed, would improve the position of all 
 mankind. 
 
 Despite his twenty-one years Charlie was innocence 
 itself, and his attitude toward Masha was that of the aver- 
 age educated American youth toward girls, — that of one 
 comrade to another. His youthful body, which through his 
 public school training had been well-developed, and 
 rejoiced in vigorous exercise, was too chaste for physi- 
 cal passion. He had no time to hoard his strength for 
 lust; it was consumed in the strenuous motions of 
 jumping and ball-playing. The sight of a girl’s body 
 woke no unusual desires in him. He bathed with 
 Masha, felt her body close to his own, and was now 
 lying next to her on the sand in the sun viewing the 
 lines of her maidenly figure, yet he spoke to her as 
 he w'ould have spoken to a child and such he really 
 considered her. He played about w’ith her, yet felt 
 no sinful feelings. He tugged at her hand and pulled 
 her over the sand by the arm, and the sun bathed them 
 both in light and warmth. 
 
 “Come, Masha, let’s plunge into the ocean of hu- 
 manity. Just see how big the ocean of people is. 
 Come, I just love to be engulfed in a sea of per- 
 
 fy 
 
 sons. 
 
134 
 
 •UNCLE MOSES 
 
 The entire beach, as far as the eye could see, was 
 inundated with wet, barefoot, half-naked people. 
 Bodies, bodies, bodies everywhere. The scant pieces of 
 male and female attire were lost amid the bare arms, 
 necks, breasts, feet, backs. It was as if the ocean had 
 cast upon the shore wave upon wave of human forms: 
 men, women, children, in a vast confusion. 
 
 Masha and Charlie, dressed only in their bathing- 
 suits, walked among the half-naked crowds. It seemed 
 that the whole world had assembled on this beach, 
 casting off its sinful, soiled clothes, and had established 
 a naked city. The only blot upon this sea of nudity 
 was the remnant of clothing that the people had to 
 wear for “decency’s” sake. Thus they walked along 
 hand in hand, their bodies striking against each other 
 and against other bodies of strange persons. All of a 
 sudden they would feel the contact of a strange skin. 
 It was as if a Messiah had come and had lifted all 
 bans. Everything was permissible; the whole world 
 intermingled. 
 
 Charlie was seized with a desire to talk. He was 
 overwhelmed by the sight of this universal joy. 
 Whoever would have happened to be with him would 
 have been the recipient of his overflowing sentiments. 
 
 “Look, Masha, look. How vast is the ocean of peo- 
 ple, See, the whole world has assembled here. I love 
 the New York crowds. When you look upon a New 
 York crowd, you have the entire world before ^ou. 
 In all eyes shines a yearning for youth, a childhood 
 that was lived somewhere else, in another land. That 
 is New York. We are all New Yorkers. I — ^j'ou— 
 everybody that’s lying here — all of us spent our youth 
 elsewhere. And to be a New Yorker means to have 
 
AMERICA AND THE JEW 
 
 135 
 
 one’s eyes filled with a homesickness for other waters, 
 fields and suns. Every person before us was brought 
 up in a different country. Many come from the vast 
 steppes of Russia; many recall the bright sky of Italy, 
 the richly-colored, picturesque fields of Hungary and 
 Galicia. There are numbers who bring to memory the 
 Arabian desert, and not a few who were brought up 
 on the colorful rice-fields of Japan and China. Some 
 come from lofty mountains where they tended sheep 
 and COWS; others have dwelt in tiny Jewish hamlets 
 whose roofs were covered with snow in the winter time. 
 Do you remember, Masha, how our village of Kuzmin 
 looked in winter? I can see it as in a dream: the 
 little synagogue, with a little banner floating from 
 the roof, a furled flag. Papa would take me to syna- 
 gogue on his shoulders, and I’d clutch a prayer book 
 and an apple in my hand. And on the synagogue w'as 
 a flag. And here we are now, all lying naked on 
 Coney Island beach.” 
 
 Masha became sad and meditative. Charlie’s talk had 
 centered her thoughts upon her position. She, too, 
 recalled Kuzmin and could behold her childhood in her 
 grandfather’s home as in a vision. She thought of the 
 pious old Jew who used to give her candy, and sud- 
 denly all this vanished and Hopkins Street arose before 
 her. She could see herself running to the butcher’s 
 to beg him to trust her for some meat. “Pa is work- 
 ing.” Then Uncle Moses and her relations with him. 
 She grew moody, raising her thick black eyebrows and 
 her full, grape-like eyes to Charlie: 
 
 “And you wouldn’t have cared to be born in 
 America?” 
 
 “No,” was Charlie’s response. “I’m happy to be a 
 
136 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 New Yorker, bom abroad, with a homesickne^ for 
 Russia, just like all foreigners who have c6me here. 
 And all of us foreigners will make of America a beau- 
 tiful, free, glorious America. Every one of them 
 will bring along with him the best his own country has 
 to offer and will give it to America. That’s what they 
 bring with them on the ships. The Italians, the Rus- 
 sians and the Czechs and the Hungarians, — the Scan- 
 dinavians and the Arabians, — all, all, bring along with 
 them the best, the most beautiful that their country 
 possesses, the longing of their childhood, and freely 
 give it to America. One brings his beauty, his art, his 
 faith. Another contributes his sense of justice, his 
 honesty. All that is best and most beautiful in the 
 world, — everything will merge and we shall all compose 
 a vast, free, new America.” 
 
 “And what will you give to America, Charlie?” 
 asked Masha. 
 
 “What shall I give? I’ll give that which every 
 Jewish child from Russia gives. Oh, we owe so much 
 to America, and we must give her so much! America 
 gave us everything, — made us different from our par- 
 ents. We owe America a great debt for the freedom 
 she has given us. And we’ll give her the same as we 
 gave Russia, — we are in duty bound to give her our revo- 
 lutionary spirit, our eternal protest, our ambitious dis- 
 satisfaction. We owe it to America to be different 
 from our parents. When our parents landed, they 
 became slaves in America, and we must free them. We 
 are all the children of slaves. Weren’t our own par- 
 ents slaves? My father, your father. And hasn’t your 
 father surrendered you to his bread-giver just as a 
 child is delivered into servitude?” 
 
AMERICA AND THE JEW 
 
 137 
 
 “Stop, for I’ll . . . ” And Masha turned red. Her 
 grape-like eyes filled with tears. But she determined 
 not to let Charlie see that he had hurt her. In order 
 to laugh off the entire matter, she suddenly asked; 
 
 “Have you any money, Charlie?” 
 
 “I imagine, about a dollar.” He knew exactly how 
 much he had, but wished to appear a bit better sup- 
 plied. 
 
 “And I’ve got a half. That can help out.” 
 
 “For what?” 
 
 “I want to have a nice time. Aren’t we at Coney 
 Island?” 
 
 “That’s right!” cried Charlie. 
 
 “Well, go and dress. I’ll do the same. We’ll meet 
 outside. ’ ’ 
 
 He dashed off. 
 
 Only now did Charlie come to a full realization of 
 what he had said; he was filled with remorse more 
 because of her smile than because of the rash, incon- 
 siderate words he had so tactlessly uttered. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 “thousand and one nights" 
 
 A s a result of their dip in the water both felt fresh 
 Land vigorous. They were ready for anything. 
 Charlie settled into an uneasy silence, troubled by his 
 tactless words about Masha and Uncle Moses. 
 
 Masha, however, soon banished this disquietude. In 
 a soft, maidenly voice, vibrating with the womanhood 
 that already filled her being, she suggested: 
 
 “You, Charlie, better let me hold enough for car- 
 fare and with the rest we’ll have a nice time. Other- 
 wise we’re liable to spend it all and have to walk 
 home. ’ ’ 
 
 Thus speaking, she took a quarter from her money 
 and coquettishly dropped it into her purse, with an 
 arch smile. — The rest she gave to Charlie. 
 
 “Here’s my share.’’ 
 
 “What do you want to see?" 
 
 “Everything. I want to have a real good time." 
 “All right! Come along! Aren’t you hungry? — 
 I’ll tell you the truth, I’m awfully hungry," con- 
 fessed Charlie in embarrassment. 
 
 “And I, too," laughed Masha. — “But we must be 
 economical, I want to have enough money left for some 
 fun." 
 
 “What shall I buy?" 
 
 “Cracker-jacks." 
 
 138 
 
“THOUSAND AND ONE NIGHTS” 
 
 139 
 
 Charlie, however, was for having something more 
 substantial, and proposed “frankfurters.” They set- 
 led upon both, which they ate on the thoroughfare, 
 pushed hither and thither by the tide of persons that 
 washed over the boulevard, and laughing gaily at 
 each other. 
 
 The first amusement place they encountered was 
 “The Seven Wonders of the World.” Here there 
 were depicted a two-headed cow, imported from India; 
 girl twins that had been born joined together, brought 
 from China; two Liliputians, — one a Japanese, the 
 other a negro; the fattest girl in the world, who 
 weighed more than five hundred pounds; a lion-faced 
 man; a young girl with grey hair; a negro woman 
 who walked like a bear, and a wild Indian who had 
 just been discovered by a captain. 
 
 They paid five cents and gazed upon “the seven 
 wonders of the world” that had been gathered from 
 every corner of the earth in which Nature had created a 
 monstrosity. No matter if it were born on the most 
 remote of desert islands, it was ferreted out and 
 brought to Coney Island, there to be placed on exhi- 
 bition for five cents. It seemed as if Coney Island 
 were the center of the universe. In another place 
 they promised to reveal the sorcery of Egypt, dem- 
 onstrated by the great Caliph of Egypt himself, and in 
 proof of this assertion the dark Caliph had with him a 
 Chinese boy whom he put to sleep on a broomstick, 
 resting him on the empty air, raising him at will. And 
 all this was shown outside, free of charge, before every- 
 body. Those who paid a nickel to go inside saw noth- 
 ing more. 
 
 For another five-cent piece they found themselves 
 
140 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 in China, and saw the sleeping Chinese princess, with 
 her tiny compressed feet and her golden slippers. 
 And yet another nickel gained them admission into 
 Aladdin’s magic lamp, where tall, muscular Aladdin, 
 the tanned Arab with large hanging ear-rings and 
 thick red lips, appeared before them. He seemed sud- 
 denly to have sprung to life out of their childhood 
 dreams and their fairy-tale books. There he stood, 
 Aladdin of “The Thousand and One Nights”; he 
 rubbed his magic lamp and lo, there appeared in the 
 air a table laden with gold and silver vessels. Alad- 
 din takes a pitcher and pours out wine. Then he 
 strokes his magic lamp once more, and a white dove 
 comes flying. It is one of the slaves of the lamp and 
 alights upon his shoulders, whispering a secret into 
 his ear. A message from a mysterious, enchanted 
 world. 
 
 They wandered from one palace of enchantment to 
 the next. There were bared to them the secrets of 
 India, the occult mysteries of Egypt and the wonders 
 of distant Arabia. They were living, they felt, in the 
 days of “The Thousand and One Nights,” when the 
 way to India had not yet been discovered; they were 
 in the enchanted lands of the ancient Orient. They 
 beheld the temples of China, the dances of India, and 
 the Hindu princes told their fortunes and predicted 
 their futures while the Aladdins of Arabia entertained 
 them with their black magic. 
 
 Everywhere hovered the splendor and the glitter of 
 the hidden, ancient Orient. 
 
 "When they issued from the palaces of magic, they 
 both felt as if drunk. They mounted two richly 
 caparisoned horses that resembled the steeds of an 
 
“THOUSAND AND ONE NIGHTS” 
 
 141 
 
 Arabian sheik. Upon these chargers hung huge, 
 costly diamonds, rubies, sapphires and other precious 
 stones, the booty from captured princesses and from 
 Caliphs defeated in war. These horses descended from 
 a costly Arabian thoroughbred. 
 
 The breath hissed from their wide, quivering nos- 
 trils, and their delicately moulded mouths were lath- 
 ered with foam. And on these steeds, hand in hand, 
 sat a prince and his princess, — Masha and Charlie, — 
 and in front of them were mounted other princely 
 pairs. On the richly bedecked coach, too, were seated 
 children of royal blood. The entire company whirled 
 about in merry pursuit of one another, yet could never 
 reach the pursued. Whither were these princes gal- 
 loping? Into the land of dreams, into eternal happi- 
 ness, into youth. 
 
 The chase lasts only a minute. The horses are but 
 wooden; the course is but a tiny circuit. Yet w^hat is 
 the difference? Reality itself is but a moment, and 
 dream is eternal. 
 
 And soon they are seated in a ferris-wheel basket. 
 The basket rises into the air, — higher and higher. 
 There expand before them the wide heavens. Coney 
 Island and its horde of people, the ocean of human 
 beings and the ocean of water far below. 
 
 Higher still they go. Then suddenly they are 
 plunged into a deep, subterranean cavern, — their feet, 
 the ocean, and death staring them in the face. And 
 once again they float upwards, higher, higher, for- 
 getting the whole world. 
 
 Drunk with the magic of it all, they soon find 
 themselves in the yellow-violet cloud that enfolds the 
 wonder-city like a fantastic dream. Coney Island’s 
 
142 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 lights have been turned on. Streams of light flow 
 from the houses, the towers and the roofs. Illumi- 
 nated wheels whirl about at the top of the towers and 
 glisten in the light; it seems that the sky has come 
 down closer to earth, bringing the glow of the stars 
 and the dazzling radiance of the comets. Coney Island 
 has been transformed into a dream, — into a legendary 
 city sprung to life out of a children’s book. Childhood 
 years have suddenly come back to life and all its 
 dreams have come true. All the fairy tales have 
 become real, and full-grown men and women live again 
 like children, — ^have created a child-city out of the 
 fairy books and dwell in it. Over Coney Island hovers 
 a reddish-gold mist, — and in this haze the vast multi- 
 tude lives, staggers about in a drunken ecstasy, moves 
 as in a dream. Prom the stalls pour forth streams of 
 red and yellow light; the bezaars themselves are built 
 like huge toy houses, and before them stand big figures 
 with trumpets in their hands. One woman, dressed 
 like a queen in gold and silver, is conducting the mu- 
 sic with a baton. Other figures are seated upon toy 
 horses whirling around amid men and women simi- 
 larly mounted. The human beings themselves take on 
 the appearance of dolls, staggering from one booth to 
 the other, purchasing whatever they wish, — eating, 
 drinking, playing, dancing. All over the thorough- 
 fare the light pours its enlivening flood, casting a 
 glamor over everything. This is a world of children, 
 — ^the magic world of juvenile years. Everybody, 
 everybody, has become a child once more, — a grown-up 
 child. All are at play in that child’s paradise called 
 Coney Island. 
 
 As they took their seats in the car, bound for home, 
 
“THOUSAND AND ONE NIGHTS” 
 
 143 
 
 they both started, as if awakening from the dream 
 they had just been through. Once again they were 
 strangers. She felt a fetter tightening about her neck, 
 while he was overcome by the sensation of having 
 spoken nonsense all day long. To what purpose? To 
 whom? Yet they felt that they had experienced some- 
 thing jointly, — something that for a moment had 
 brought them ever so close together. And this could 
 never be undone. — The recollection of a pleasant dream 
 stirred in their weary thoughts. Together with the rest 
 of the passengers, they snatched a final glimpse of the 
 receding fairyland. From a distance, the island looked 
 like a wonderful manifestation of nature, — like a mir- 
 aculous phenomenon. Huge, flaming towers rose on 
 hig^h, one above the other. Fiery wheels whirled in 
 the air, and remained suspended as if by a miracle. 
 The flaming towers of the flaming palaces rose proudly 
 and uncommonly beautiful, as if belonging to another 
 world. They were, it seemed, the domes and minarets 
 of sacred temples that had fallen from the skies. The 
 burning wheels, the flaming spires, the illuminated 
 streets, merged into the splendor of a Mecca, a Jeru-' 
 Salem, and their majestic, radiant, holy glow drew all 
 hearts toward them. And every worshipper thanked 
 and blessed the holy wonder-city of Coney Island that 
 brought joy, exaltation and pleasure to millions. 
 
“ CHAPTER XI 
 
 MASHA REBELS 
 
 M ASHA’S parents were becoming uneasy. She 
 had gone to Coney Island for the day, it was 
 already getting late, and there was no sign of her. 
 The table was set for supper; the cut-glass, which 
 Aaron’s wife had bought since they had begun to pros- 
 per, sparkled from the cupboard, and Rosa sat at the 
 table impatiently, now tapping with the fork, now ar- 
 ranging a saucer. 
 
 “There’s Coney Island for you!” And she pursed 
 her lips in anger. Aaron was standing with his coat 
 off at the open window, watching for Masha to appear. 
 His wife’s lip-smacking made him nervous, for al- 
 though such a delay on Masha’s part was not an un- 
 common thing, they felt uneasy this day. The slightest 
 thing that happened to Masha unnerved them. It was 
 the same concern that one feels for a vast treasure. 
 Aaron thrust his head out of the window. 
 
 “Better let me go, Rosa,” he muttered. 
 
 The other children were not at home. They had gone 
 away on their vacations. Only her parents had re- 
 mained at home with Masha, to help her arrange the 
 trousseau. For Masha’s wedding was not very far off. 
 In all such eases parents are unusually concerned 
 about the bride-to-be, and in this case the bride was 
 Masha. 
 
 144 
 
MASHA REBELS 
 
 145 
 
 “Where did she go, Rosa?” Aaron had caught his 
 wife’s disquietude. 
 
 “Where? Didn’t I tell you? To Coney Island. 
 She wanted to go in bathing.” 
 
 “And with whom did she go bathing, Rosa?” 
 
 “Why do you ask me? Don’t you know? She 
 telephoned that she was going to Coney Island with 
 Charlie,” 
 
 “With Charlie, ha? Rosa, — so she went fo Coney 
 Island with Charlie ! And Uncle Moses telephoned 
 
 me that he was coming here soon with the machine to 
 take her out for a ride. He asked me about her to- 
 day at least ten times. How am I to tell him that she 
 went to Coney Island with Charlie! With Charlie! 
 He’ll be here any minute to take her out in his auto- 
 mobile. And he won’t find her here. Went to Coney 
 Island with Charlie! Ha, Rosa! Won’t that look fine 
 for you, ha?” 
 
 “How am I to blame? Did I see her? She got up 
 early in the morning and left. WTiat could I have 
 done ? ’ ’ 
 
 “Tell that excuse to Uncle Moses. Tell it to him. 
 He’ll soon be here.” 
 
 “Aaron, why do you frighten me so?” 
 
 And soon Aaron himself was frightened by the 
 fright that he had sought to make her feel. 
 
 “Rosa, don’t bother me! The child went bathing 
 and she’ll soon return. Why all this rumpus?” 
 
 “I, — a rumpus? It’s you that’s making the rum- 
 pus.” 
 
 “Rosa, stop bothering me!” 
 
 Very soon, however, they were freed of the terror 
 that each had inspired in the other. Into the room 
 
146 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 came running Masha. The parents heaved a sigh of 
 relief. Their eyes flashed with tears and anger. For 
 a moment Masha stopped short and eyed her parents 
 with a pitying, tearful glance ; then suddenly she 
 burst into loud weeping and dashed into her room. 
 
 “Rosa, what can this mean?” asked Aaron. 
 
 “How do I know? Why do you ask me? Let’s go 
 in to her.” 
 
 The parents approached Masha’s room, but found 
 the door closed. The father entreated his child from 
 the outside. 
 
 “Masha, darling, what is the matter? Tell me. Are 
 you sick, God forbid? Maybe I ought to send for a 
 doctor ? ’ ’ 
 
 “Masha, dear, we’re ready to drop. What’s the mat- 
 ter with you?” implored the mother. 
 
 Masha, however, remained speechless behind the 
 closed door. 
 
 “What shall we do now, Rosa?” asked Aaron, as 
 if his wife were solely to blame for this sorry state of 
 affairs. 
 
 “I’ll go right over to those beggars and tear their 
 eyes out for them, — mother and son both. What have 
 they against us? Why do they begrudge us our little 
 share of happiness?” cried Rosa, raging against 
 Charlie and his mother. 
 
 “Hush, for heaven’s sake! Hush!” wailed the 
 father. “Masha, Masha darling. Don’t frighten us. 
 You’ve scared us through and through,” entreated 
 Aaron from the outside of the door. 
 
 No answer came from Masha. 
 
 “W^ell, what will you do now? Uncle Moses will 
 
MASHA REBELS 
 
 147 
 
 soon be here. He telephoned that he’s coming to take 
 you out in the machine.” 
 
 At this Masha’s door suddenly flew open, and the 
 girl, her eyes dilated, screamed to her father: 
 
 “I don’t want to marry Uncle. I don’t want to. I 
 don’t want to!” 
 
 Father and mother looked at each other as if mis- 
 fortune itself had entered upon a thunderbolt. 
 
 “What are you talking about? What are you say- 
 ing? Masha dear, what’s come over you?” 
 
 “I don’t want it! I don’t want it!” And Masha 
 stamped her foot. 
 
 “Hush, quiet! Woe is me. Uncle Moses will be here 
 any minute.” 
 
 Masha went back to her room and slammed the door 
 in the face of her parents. ^ 
 
 “Well, what are we going to do now? Rosa, I’ll 
 go cra2y. I’ll go mad. I’m losing my senses!” All at 
 once Aaron beheld the abyss of poverty out of which 
 he had risen; and now he stood again upon the brink 
 of that abyss. He beheld himself once more an oper- 
 ator. He was in despair. 
 
 But, as usual in such cases, when Aaron lost him- 
 self completely, Rosa assumed command of the situa- 
 tion. 
 
 “Aaron, leave that door. Sit down to table and eat. 
 Uncle Moses will soon come in,” she ordered. 
 
 Aaron obeyed. He sat down before the table and 
 began to wring his hands. 
 
 “What will come of it now? What?” 
 
 “Aaron, keep quiet. He’s liable to pop in any mo- 
 ment. He need not know anything, or see anything.” 
 
148 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 The man saw that his wife was right. He therefore 
 grew silent and tried to sit there calmly. 
 
 “What has happened? Nothing. She went to 
 Coney Island with the fellow and came back all upset 
 with wild notions in her head. She’ll sleep it all olf 
 through the night and Avake up clear headed again.” 
 
 Now Aaron saw that his wdfe was altogether right, 
 and he felt wholly at ease. 
 
 When Uncle Moses arrived he found the couple 
 seated at the table, eating peacefully. 
 
 “Where is Masha?” asked Uncle Moses, before he 
 had crossed the threshold. For before he had uttered 
 “Good evening,” he had noticed that Masha was not 
 there. 
 
 “Hello, Moses!” (Ever since he had been be- 
 trothed to her daughter, Rosa had stopped calling him 
 Uncle and had addressed him by his first name, which 
 seemed more appropriate in the case of an engaged 
 young man.) “Hello, Moses!” she greeted. “Masha 
 has a headache. So she has lain down for a rest in her 
 room.” And before Uncle Moses had time to be seated, 
 she called into the next room. 
 
 “Masha! Masha! See who’s here!” 
 
 “Where has she been, to have such a headache?” 
 asked Uncle ]\Ioses. 
 
 Aaron blanched with fear and felt confused and 
 lost, as usual wh'en confronted with a difficult situa- 
 tion. Rosa, however, was equal to the occasion. 
 
 “She was to Coney Island for a swim. Such a hot 
 day. And she came home in a bad temper. I say, 
 Moses,” and she winked to the fiance. “Suppose you 
 go and speak to her. She’ll refuse everybody else, 
 but not you,” she added, coquettishly. 
 
MASHA REBELS 
 
 149 
 
 Aaron became paler still, but Rosa calmed him with 
 a nod. Uncle Moses did not stir from the table, how- 
 ever. He sat there indifferently, and said, as if to him- 
 self : 
 
 “If she wants to be angry, let her be angry.’’ He 
 took out a thick cigar from his golden cigar-case, threw 
 one to Aaron, bit off the top of the other, spat out, 
 chewed his cigar and addressed the father. 
 
 “What do you think of the new collector I’ve ap- 
 pointed for my houses down-town? Let’s see, — what’s 
 his name now? Judel the restaurant keeper. Do you 
 think hell be all right?” 
 
 “I don’t see why Uncle should need new people. 
 It’s never safe to trust in strangers,” replied Aaron, 
 with a little more self-confidence. 
 
 “So you don’t believe it’s safe to trust in strangers,” 
 commented Uncle Moses, indifferently. He arose, went 
 to the mirror and looked at himself. Out of a habit 
 which he had never been able to shake, he spat upon 
 his hands and smoothed down the grayish hair that 
 grew thickly near his neck, still retaining their black 
 color near the roots. 
 
 “Moses, dear, do me the favor of tasting my cheese 
 fritters. I made them especially for you,” invited 
 Rosa, whose easy manner with the wealthy man had 
 reached the point of addressing him by the familiar 
 pronoun,* a thing which Aaron simply could not bring 
 himself to do. 
 
 Uncle Moses, however, made no reply. He ap- 
 
 * I.e., “du” (often translated by thou, but lacking the stiff- 
 ness of the English pronoun in regular speech. Cf. tu in the 
 Romance languages). 
 
150 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 proached the door to Masha’s room, knocked, and said 
 in imperious tones: 
 
 “Hey, child. Come out. The machine is waiting,” 
 
 Aaron again turned as pale as the wall. But Rosa’s 
 glances reassured him. 
 
 It seemed as if Masha, too, was unable to resist 
 Uncle Moses’ voice, for soon the door opened and 
 Masha came out, very pale. She walked with slow 
 steps, came up to the Uncle and remained standing 
 before him. 
 
 Uncle Moses raised her head with his short, stubby 
 fingers and looked at her. 
 
 “What is the matter with you, Masha?” 
 
 Masha suddenly turned her eyes upon him. They 
 had become much larger than usual, and were filled 
 with tears. She looked him straight in the face and 
 said: 
 
 “Must I marry you. Uncle? I can’t. I can’t.” 
 And her round tears rolled from her lashes down her 
 cheeks. 
 
 Uncle Moses turned white and stood there speech- 
 less. 
 
 “Masha darling, what are you doing?” 
 
 “Masha, Masha!” shrieked her parents. 
 
 ‘ ‘ Shut up I ” commanded Uncle Moses in sharp, 
 scornful tones. 
 
 “All right, kid. Go to sleep,” he said to Masha, and 
 he left without so much as a glance at the terrified 
 father and mother. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE DEVIL TAKES HIM 
 
 U NCLE MOSES arrived late at his place of busi- 
 ness. He was in a serious frame of mind and 
 at once began to look over the orders. His clouded 
 countenance and his labored breathing frightened 
 everybody. He kept asking all manner of questions 
 and seemingly trusted in no one. His adjutant Sam 
 did not leave his side. Should anything displease 
 him, he would complain to Sam at once. He would 
 address his remarks to Sam, but his eyes would be 
 riveted upon the offender, and this was enough to 
 frighten the very life out of the poor culprit. 
 
 He went upstairs to the workshop. It was the slack 
 season, but Uncle Moses kept the force busy so as to 
 provide his poor townsmen with work. As usual 
 when he let them cut stock, so now he paced hither 
 and thither scattering terror wherever he went. Ever 
 since he had become engaged, however, his visits to 
 the workshop had been infrequent; during the hot 
 weather he never showed up; his present appearance, 
 therefore, came as a complete surprise. 
 
 The workmen really thought that Uncle Moses had 
 not come in that day. Sam himself, ever since Uncle 
 Moses’ betrothal, had changed tactics and was no 
 longer so faithful to his employer, so that the men 
 permitted themselves numerous little liberties, and 
 
 151 
 
152 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 freely exchanged gossip. This was one of the hot days. 
 It was almost impossible to endure the heat in that 
 low, narrow room which had been made over from a 
 garret into a workshop. The brick roof, which lay 
 bare above the workingmen’s heads, sent the heat down 
 in waves. Throughout the shop rose the sweetish, 
 nauseating odor of gas, which leaked from the rubber 
 pipes, to which the tailor’s gooses of the presser were 
 connected. The pressers stood half-naked, ironing out 
 the newly made woolen garments. The steam from 
 the moistened clothes filled the air with stickiness 
 and cast an enervating spell over all. Weariness 
 crept into one’s .marrow and lulled one to sleep. 
 Everybody was drowsy with the stench of gas and the 
 odor of sweat. More than one was unable to resist 
 the temptations of slumber and drooped over his ma- 
 chine to snatch a few moments of rest. Others, — piece- 
 workers, managed to keep awake with a song. Yekel 
 the cantor’s son had called to mind an old, old melody 
 from the Rosh Ilashanah (New Year) service which 
 the old cantor used to sing in the Kuzmin synagogue, 
 and many started from their sleep, roused by the 
 song, and suddenly recalled New Year’s in Kuzmin. 
 The music evoked sweet memories of fish and onions, 
 of Psalm recitation, of green fields and cold water on 
 TasJilikh day, and numerous other reminiscences of 
 the old home, — the sky above the village, the cemetery 
 with its solemn atmosphere, raisin wine and the Sat- 
 urday evening ritual baths. And their hearts began 
 to fill with longing. The yearning infused them with 
 courage to fight the nauseating gas and the vapory 
 atmosphere; it sustained their strength. All of a sud- 
 den Shloyme the Peddlar attacked his work with a 
 
THE DEVIL TAKES HIM 
 
 153 
 
 vim, plying the treadle of his machine with breakneck 
 speed. This was what the townsmen called “evening 
 prayers. ’ ’ 
 
 “Hey there!” cried Khayim the Ox, “what do you 
 mean by saying your evening prayers so loudly ? . . . ” 
 
 The conversation turned to the old home. Kuzmin 
 came to life with all its cottages, its roads, its taverns 
 and its fish-ponds. Once again the old Rabbi of Kuz- 
 min lived anew together with Reb Leibush'l the 
 Dayon, the old cantor and all the lanes and nooks of 
 Kuzmin. From the village burial-ground arose the 
 dead from their couches of earth beneath the tomb- 
 stones, and their souls hovered amid the tailor’s 
 gooses, the needle and thread, the overcoats and the 
 newly-cut trousers. The Kuzmin townsmen did not 
 notice Uncle Moses come in. Nor did they spy ad- 
 jutant Sam. They were dwelling once again in old 
 Kuzmin, in the twilight between afternoon and even- 
 ing prayers, in the old House of Study. 
 
 “Hey, Kuzmin, what do you call this?” — bellowed 
 Sam. “The idea! Here Uncle lets stock be cut so 
 that the beggars may be kept at work, and they’re 
 loafing. They’re right. Their work isn’t needed any- 
 way. If Uncle only took my advice — ” 
 
 But Uncle Moses silenced him with a gesture and 
 stared sternly at Kuzmin. 
 
 They were all men whom he had known in his 
 youth. He had attended Hebrew school with some of 
 them, — had run about the streets w’ith them, — carried 
 home orders for the fruit vendors on the market- 
 place and received rotten fruit as a reward. More 
 than one he remembered as men of w^ealth and refine- 
 ment, and he had not dared to consider himself their 
 
154 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 equal. He knew them all, and now they were all his 
 servants and feared him, being struck dumb whenever 
 he appeared. All at once he was himself seized with 
 a desire to hear tell of old Kuzmin, — old tales that had 
 pleased him wiien he was a child, and it seemed to him 
 that he had lived no other life than his childhood years 
 about w'hich the men were now speaking. 
 
 “Keep right on talking, Reb Shloyme. Tell us 
 more about old Kuzmin,” urged Uncle Moses, after 
 long meditation. 
 
 But Reb Shloyme remained silent. The townsmen 
 were not accustomed to speaking with Uncle Moses on 
 terms of equality. They bowed their heads lower over 
 the coats and trousers on which they were working, 
 and filled the shop with the clamor of the machines; 
 the pressers plied their irons with renewed vigor, amid 
 the odor of leaking gas. 
 
 Uncle Moses became sad. For a moment the whole 
 matter seem utterly incomprehensible. Why was he 
 holding these refined fathers of Kuzmin captive in 
 this stifling shop, enslaved to the needle? Why and 
 for whom did he drive them and himself, wearying 
 them at this monotonous toil? For a moment he won- 
 dered whether it would not be better to set Kuzmin 
 free and himself journey back to the little village 
 and become the wealthy man of the town, enjoying the 
 Sabbath and the holidays, — owning two horses such as 
 his former landlord, Itskhok the ox-dealer had pos- 
 sessed, and living the old Jewish life that he had 
 known from his childhood. 
 
 “Do you remember, Reb Shloyme, — do you remem- 
 ber old Itskhok? Do you remember his Sabbaths? 
 He’d come home on Friday evening with two nags, — 
 
THE DEVIL TAKES HIM 
 
 155 
 
 do you remember? — ” asked Uncle Moses with moist 
 eyes. 
 
 The men were afraid to recall old Reb Itskhok at 
 the time when “Uncle” used to be his driver. Their 
 employer’s words, however, stirred them deeply, and 
 they were filled with boundless love for their bene- 
 factor, who did not consider himself their superior 
 and recalled that dear old Kuzmin for which they all 
 were so homesick. 
 
 “Who doesn’t remember old Reb Itskhok, He was 
 a hospitable, generous soul, and must surely be in Para- 
 dise now,” replied the old man, 
 
 “Surely in Paradise, ha, Reb Shloyme?” said Uncle 
 Moses, as his thoughts wandered to heaven and hell, 
 about which he had forgotten entirely. It seemed as 
 if he had wasted his whole life, forfeiting his place in 
 Paradise. Perhaps there was yet time to begin a 
 good life; to build a large synagogue. Let all the 
 Kuzmin townsfolk come there to pray, while he de- 
 voted himself all day to charity. For this world he 
 was already too old. And perhaps the ancient Jews 
 were right, — There was no present world. Real life 
 began only in the next world. 
 
 But all these thoughts that had come so suddenly to 
 Uncle Moses, stayed but a moment. Only for a mo- 
 ment had his renunciation of the present world lasted, 
 — his surrender of Masha and all the delights in hope 
 of which he so patiently suffered. Soon his body again 
 throbbed with earthly ambitions and desires. Suddenly 
 he arose, his countenance assumed the expression that 
 made them all tremble, his eyes hard and motionless, 
 his glance indifferent, a scornful smile upon his lips, — 
 and said: 
 
156 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 “This work must be ready by the first. Remember, 
 for Baltimore. We must deliver the goods.” — And 
 without deigning a glance toward his employees he 
 returned to his office, burying himself in his corre- 
 spondence, in his orders, his books. But he could not 
 concentrate his mind upon anything. No matter how 
 much he tried to interest himself in the details of the 
 business, he could not succeed. He did not care to go 
 home. His home was a dreary place and he feared it. 
 Most of all he would have liked to go and see Masha, 
 take her out somewhere on an automobile trip, — to 
 a summer resort, and stay there with her over night, 
 taking delight in her beauty, her laughter, in her 
 personality altogether, living hours of the sweet an- 
 ticipations that filled his life and peopled his dreams 
 ever since he had been waiting for her. These an- 
 ticipations had not ceased, nor had he been in the least 
 frightened by her words. He knew that he could 
 carry out everything whenever he so desired, whether 
 she was willing or not. He need but raise his finger. 
 But he had begun to fear himself. Deep within him 
 stirred a suspicion that he was too old to begin a new 
 life — that he could not win the life he desired. Not 
 all his wealth nor all his power could buy it. . . He 
 fought against this thought, warding it off. And as if 
 to convince himself that he was strong enough to begin 
 a new life, he was taken with an impulse to commit a 
 wicked deed, to do violence to Masha. He would ride 
 over to Masha’s, take her out, remain in some place 
 with her over night, seduce her and then — ^not marry 
 her. He would pay her damages, money, a dowry, — 
 but not marry her. He knew that he could carry all 
 
THE DEVIL TAKES HIM 157 
 
 this through, — ^that no one could call him to account. 
 No one. 
 
 In his mind’s eye he could already see Masha help- 
 less and broken, wailing in her home. She and her 
 father and her mother came to him and implored his 
 mercy. . . . He had ruined the child. . . And he: — 
 “I’ll give you money, but I refuse to marry her.” 
 The thought of such a revenge rejoiced him. 
 
 He would have executed this plan, too, only that 
 something within told him that this was not right. 
 From the first moment that he had met her, a pa- 
 ternal feeling for Masha had stolen into his heart and 
 taken root there. It was this feeling that protested 
 strongly against his project. Moreover, deep within 
 him he felt that it was not this he desired of Masha, 
 — that if he had merely lusted to possess her, he would 
 have accomplished that long before. The real reason 
 w^hy he had waited so long for Masha and had de- 
 voted so much time to educating her, was that he 
 wished her to care as much as he did, — that he desired 
 her to love him of her own free will and not because 
 Uncle Moses so wished it. He longed to have her 
 love him, truly love him, — and to be just as anxious 
 for the wedding as w'as he. This was what he was 
 waiting for. This had been his chief hope during the 
 past few years, ever since his interest had been aroused. 
 Daily he could see this happy outcome in his mind’s 
 eye, and it refreshed him. She was his willing wife. 
 He could behold her becoming pale and weak, and he 
 felt pity for her. There she lay in child-bed, a mother 
 through him. Through her tear-stained eyes she looked 
 weakly up at him and filled him with compassion. — 
 This was what he had been waiting for, and now it 
 
158 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 would never be. They would marry, all right, and 
 have children, but one thing would be missing: her 
 willingness, her free consent. That would be absent. 
 He had seen that yesterday in her glance, in her 
 tears. Yet why should things be so? Why was her 
 free consent impossible to win? It was this he had 
 hoped for, this that made life worth while and com- 
 pensated for his long waiting. 
 
 He became angry. His passion flamed up anew. If 
 this was impossible, then let the whole matter be ob- 
 literated. He would trample upon her, crush her, and 
 cast her aside. He burned with desire for vengeance. 
 He would not break her once, but every day. He 
 would marry her whether she wished it or not. But 
 first she must come and beg him, — kiss his hand and 
 entreat him: “Marry me.” — “Oh,” he promised him- 
 self, “I’ll bring her to her knees before me. And she 
 must have children. Whether she wishes to or not, 
 She will have children by me. And I’ll keep her like 
 a dog, — tied like a puppy to me. I’ll keep her up half 
 the night waiting for me. And I’ll be out with other 
 women. Oh, I’ll lead her a merry dance!” 
 
 Deep within him, however, lurked a doubt as to his 
 virility. And his passion burned to overthrow that 
 doubt. He muttered to himself: * 
 
 “Whether she wishes to or not, she must have chil- 
 dren.” 
 
 At this juncture somebody approached him. He 
 raised his glance and saw Masha’s father standing be-' 
 fore him pale and frightened, looking about in every 
 direction to see whether they were being observed or 
 overheard. 
 
 “Uncle, it was all a mistake. The poor girl cried 
 
THE DEVIL TAKES HIM 159 
 
 all night long. She can’t imagine what came over 
 her.” 
 
 Uncle Moses knew that the man was lying, — ^that he 
 was saying these things because he feared for his 
 bread and butter. Yet it w'as pleasant to hear these 
 words. Wliereupon he busied himself with his cor- 
 respondence and, pretending not to hear, let Aaron 
 continue his apologies. 
 
 “In a few days, after she has come to her senses, 
 let Uncle call again. Everything will be explained.” 
 
 “Shut up! Let there be no more talk of this. Don’t 
 be afraid, I won’t discharge you. I am not that kind 
 of a man. Not right away, at any rate. Not until you 
 find another place. But you must understand this 
 much: — that maintaining your home as I have done 
 hitherto is out of the question. Masha is no longer 
 anything to me. — She don’t like me. I have nothing 
 against her. I wish her only the best, and should you 
 ever need a dowry for her, why you’re welcome to it, 
 just like any other townsman of mine. I’m not that 
 kind of a man. But you must understand that I’ll 
 not pay any extra expenses. If you care to remain 
 with me, you’ll have to go back to the shop upstairs. 
 If not. I’ll give you good recommendations.” 
 
 “Uncle! What is Uncle saying! AVhy, nothing has 
 happened. The poor girl will be disgraced. — What is 
 Uncle saying!” 
 
 Aaron’s words were as sweet music to Uncle Moses’ 
 ears. He put his letter aside for a moment and 
 looked at Aaron. 
 
 “Sam!” 
 
 Sam came running to the spot. 
 
160 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 “How did they call him in the old country?” he 
 asked, pointing to Aaron. 
 
 For a moment Sam stood in doubt. 
 
 “Big Mouth, it seems to me.” 
 
 “Mouth is all right!” — He arose and walked away 
 without so much as a glance at Aaron. 
 
 “Sam, the goods must be delivered to Baltimore be- 
 fore the first, do you hear?” 
 
 “Yes, Uncle.” 
 
 Uncle Moses reached the street. He did not know 
 what to do. His passion still raged in him, and he 
 went off to the restaurant-keeper’s wife, — a thing he 
 had not done since he had settled the matter of the 
 children with her and her husband. He took her 
 into a private room and sat down with her to a meal 
 of roast goose and schnapps. Her husband. Uncle 
 Moses’ collector, had to serve them. He had, moreover, 
 to remove Uncle Moses’ shoes, for which he was re- 
 warded with the sobriquet “Galician good-for-noth- 
 ing.” Uncle Moses got drunk, (something that very 
 seldom happened to him) and remained at the place 
 overnight. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 MASHA SEES UNCLE MOSES 
 
 HAT shall we do now, Rosa? What?” .wailed 
 
 7 • 
 
 The Melnick home was steeped in gloom and confu- 
 sion. The rooms had not been swept or tidied for 
 several days. Nobody ate, nobody slept. The other 
 children had returned from their vacation. Celia, 
 who in her 3’ounger days on Plopkins Street had been 
 BO fond of playing “movies,” had grown into a young 
 miss and attended High School; indeed, she was begin- 
 ning to look forward to being engaged. It was she who 
 wept most, filling the house with lamentations, declaring 
 that Masha’s actions would ruin her. The younger chil- 
 dren, who had been brought up in comfort, remem- 
 bering the poverty of Hopkins Street only as a vague 
 dream, felt the impending misfortune rather than un- 
 derstood it. They did not cry, but went about with 
 childish, w'orrying, earnest faces, and it was this 
 childish sorrow that influenced JVIasha more than her 
 father’s tears. Leah, the youngest, who from child- 
 hood had been fond of playing “the American lady,” 
 and would be forever correcting everybody’s English 
 at home, simply looked at Masha out of her big, child- 
 ish eyes. Masha was her ideal, and she was at a loss 
 for words. She felt that if Masha had decided on such 
 a course, then that’s how things would have to be. 
 
 Aaron Melnick. 
 
 161 
 
1G2 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 Aaron paced up and down the room as weak and 
 helpless as his children. His head was swathed in a 
 towel, and he kept wringing his hands. 
 
 “What are we to do now? What will come of this?” 
 
 The poor man was terrified by the vision of poverty 
 that rose before him. He had nothing in life — no self- 
 confidence, no determination, — nothing except Uncle 
 Moses’ favor, which he had bought at the cost of his 
 daughter’s happiness. And this favor was imperilled. 
 His whole livelihood, his food, his home. He beheld 
 himself sinking into the abyss out of which he had so 
 laboriously risen. The weight that he had gained since 
 his ascension to comfort and ease he now lost; he be- 
 gan to look as he had appeared in former years when 
 he worked in the shop. 
 
 Rosa, however, refused to acknowledge defeat. At 
 first she laughed the whole matter away. The girl 
 had taken crazy notions into her head. She’d sleep 
 them oif and wake up in her right senses. But when 
 she saw that the girl had not awaked in her right 
 senses, she argued with Masha, asserting that the girl 
 had no right to change her mind. 
 
 “You imagine you can call it off now? Too late, 
 my daughter. You’ve been leading him around by the 
 nose for four years. He’s missed all sorts of good 
 matches on your account. He might have married the 
 most beautiful young girl, not such a beggar as you, 
 whom he even had to clothe. And do you think you 
 can back out of it now? Now, after he has spent so 
 much money on you, and has waited so long for you? 
 And you are so crazy as to change your mind. Too 
 late, my daughter, too late. You should have be- 
 thought yourself when he spent his first dollar on 
 
MASHA SEES UNCLE MOSES 
 
 163 
 
 you, — ^when you were yet a young girl, before he gave 
 your father a job, — when we still lived on Hopkins 
 Street, not now.” 
 
 “Ah, Rosa, it is too late, anyway. Uncle Moses 
 doesn’t want to hear another word about the whole 
 affair.” 
 
 Masha had been convinced by her mother’s words. 
 Yet she did not feel in any way to blame. It had all 
 happened without her knowledge. She had not known, 
 in her childhood days, what marriage meant. Only 
 now did she realize its significance. And what fright- 
 ened her more than anything else was the thought 
 that she would always, always be together with Uncle 
 Moses. She would have to go everywhere with him — 
 be always with him. She did not hate Uncle Moses. 
 On the contrary, she was very fond of him, and very 
 grateful besides. But it was so monotonous and bore- 
 some in his company. And this ennui terrified her. 
 
 “How am I to blame, mamma? I’m not to blame.” 
 
 “Then who isf Am I to blame? Did he spend 
 money on me? Did he send me to High School? Did 
 he pay for my music lessons? He ruined his life for 
 you. He might have married a lady, — a first class 
 American lady. Anybody he chose. But he didn’t 
 marry. He waited for you. What do you think, — ^you 
 can turn his head for years and then balk? Whom 
 do you imagine you’re toying with? Do you know 
 who Uncle Moses is, — do you?” 
 
 Masha did not understand what her mother meant. 
 She could not understand how she had turned Uncle 
 Moses’ head. She could not understand what she had 
 done so to rouse his ire. It seemed to her that her 
 mother and father did not know Uncle Moses, — ^that if 
 
164 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 she were to go to him and tell him everything, Uncle 
 liloses would settle everything at once, as he always 
 did when trouble occurred. 
 
 “I’ll go to Uncle. I’ll tell him everything. You’ll 
 see. Uncle will be as good as before,” said Masha. 
 
 “Too late! Too late! He doesn’t want to hear 
 another word about the whole matter,” whimpered 
 Aaron. 
 
 “Whrt do you mean, — ‘too late?’ Not at all!” 
 scolded Rosa. “What do you mean by all this wail- 
 ing? You dunce!” And she pinched him hard. “Let 
 her go to Uncle. He’ll rid her head of all that non- 
 sense. Go, call Uncle up on the telephone!” she 
 screamed at her husband. “Wliy do you stand there 
 like a statue?” 
 
 Aaron did as he was bidden. He saw that she was 
 right, as usual. With a palpitating heart he ran over 
 to the telephone. 
 
 Uncle ]\Ioses was a long time in answering. First he 
 had them told that he was angry and did not care to 
 speak to anybody; then, that he was out and that he 
 had been sent for. Finally, as it appeared, he himself 
 grew uneasy and had Masha called up. As soon as he 
 heard her voice over the wire his anger subsided. He 
 arranged for her to come to the store at six o’clock 
 that evening. From there he would take her to a 
 “quiet little place” where they could have a talk. 
 
 About six that evening, Masha came to the store. 
 She wore her tailored, terra-cotta colored, fall suit; 
 on her head, the broad dark felt hat that had just come 
 into fashion. She did not wait at the door, as she 
 used to do, but entered the place at once. Sam has- 
 tened forward to greet her, then ran to tell Uncle 
 
MASHA SEES UNCLE MOSES 
 
 165 
 
 Moses that she had come. Uncle Moses was busy with 
 a traveling salesman in his private office, which was in 
 a corner partitioned off from the rest of the store. 
 Here was the book-keeper’s office as well as the safe. 
 Uncle Moses would not be disturbed and asked Sam to 
 entertain Masha until he should be ready. He waved 
 to Masha from behind the office window, as if to say: 
 “Wait, .Masha, I’ll be ready in a minute.” Sam 
 had guessed at once that something had taken place 
 between Uncle Moses and Masha, and told himself that 
 in any event it w'ould be wise to follow the advice 
 cousin Mannes had given him: “Get into Masha’s 
 good graces. You are now in her hands.” Ever since 
 Uncle Moses had drawn his attention to the girl, Masha 
 had pleased him. Sam had taken advantage of every 
 possible opportimity to cultivate her friendship and 
 show her respect. Now, too, he remarked to her how 
 well her suit, which Uncle Moses had bought as a 
 sample, became her, and added that if a buyer from a 
 big store in Chicago should see her in that suit, he, 
 Sam, would be able to make a tidy sum. He w'ould 
 take the order and sell it to a friend of his, a cloak 
 manufacturer. He added even more : that if he had 
 Masha for a model, — a mere supposition, of course, — 
 he would at once leave the employ of Uncle Moses and 
 go into cloak-manufacturing himself, for whatever 
 Masha put on at once acquired “dignity.” (This 
 was the highest compliment Sam could pay to a lady.) 
 But Uncle Moses did not permit him to indulge these 
 fancies for long. He soon came out of his private 
 office, looked at Sam without saying a word, simply 
 knitting his brows, and without a word even to Masha, 
 he took her by the arm and walked out. 
 
166 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 As soon as they reached the street Masha asked in 
 English : 
 
 “Are you very angry with me, Uncle 
 
 Uncle Moses made no reply. Holding her tightly 
 by the arm, he walked along, elbowing with difficulty 
 through the stream of people that poured from every 
 direction, and every building on to the thoroughfare, 
 hastening to the elevated station. It was the hour of 
 closing and the streets were black with humanity. 
 Masha and Uncle Moses could not exchange many 
 words on their way; he fairly pulled her along. 
 
 “Where are we going. Uncle?” asked Masha. 
 
 “Don’t you care to dine with me?” he asked, with- 
 out looking into her face. 
 
 “Certainly I do.” 
 
 “Then come along.” 
 
 They turned into a narrow side-street and Uncle 
 Moses led her into a well known Hungarian restau- 
 rant; the owner recognized Uncle Moses at once, and 
 gave them a place in a corner where they would be 
 free from disturbance. Moses ordered food and Hun- 
 garian wine. 
 
 Even after they had started to eat he remained 
 solemn, rarely looking at Masha, wrapped in thought, 
 although he ate and drank heartily, from time to 
 time inviting l\Iasha to drink. 
 
 “Uncle, please set things right once more. You 
 can always settle matters so well,” JMasha suddenly 
 began, placing her slender hand upon his arm. 
 
 “What shall I set right?” 
 
 “You know. Things are so terrible over at our 
 house now. Papa is going around crying, and mamma, 
 too.” 
 
MASHA SEES UNCLE MOSES 
 
 167 
 
 “And why are they crynng?” asked Moses in sur- 
 prise. “Has anything happened?” 
 
 “They’re afraid that you’ll discharge papa.” 
 
 “And why should I discharge papa?” 
 
 “You know why ...” Masha replied bashfully. 
 For a moment she was silent, then suddenly she raised 
 her large eyes, opened them wide and looked straight 
 into his face with her child-like glance, saying in a 
 girlish, but firm voice: 
 
 “I love you, Uncle. I love you ever so much. I 
 love you more than my pa or ma. You may be bad 
 to others, but you’ve always been good to me, — al- 
 ways very good. And I’ll always love you. I’ll never 
 let anyone speak a word against you. I love you. You 
 are my dear, dear Uncle.” 
 
 “Hush, Masha, hush!” muttered Moses, as if to 
 himself. “Drink some wine. Drink, — do.” 
 
 “I can’t.” Masha removed the glass from her lips 
 and placed it back upon the table. “Listen, Uncle,” 
 she added, blushing for the first time in his presence 
 as her eyes began to glitter with a humid brilliancy. 
 “Up to now I’ve never known what it meant to marry. 
 Now I know. And I think . . . And I think . . . 
 that for us to marry . . . would be unwise ... It 
 would be unwise ... I’m willing to live with you as 
 a daughter. I’ll love you as my dear, dear Uncle. Not 
 as your wife. Don’t you agree with me?” 
 
 Uncle Moses was silent. He drank heavily and 
 tried to cheer Masha. 
 
 “Drink, Masha, please. Drink.” 
 
 “Don’t, Uncle, don’t,” pleaded Masha, taking the 
 glass from him and not permitting him to drink. I 
 don’t like the way you’re drinking today. I love you. 
 
168 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 Don’t. Don’t. Answer me, please. Answer. "Why 
 don’t you speak to me today?” 
 
 Uncle Moses looked at her and smiled lovingly. 
 
 “Then you don’t love your Uncle. Isn’t that so, 
 Masha? I’m too old for you, what? It’s a bad 
 match. Yes, Masha,” laughed Uncle Moses, causing 
 her to laugh too. And all at once the whole conversa- 
 tion was somehow or other laughed away. 
 
 “Oh, Uncle! An old man? Don’t talk like that. 
 I like you. You’re my good old uncle. I want always to 
 be with you. I want to live with you in the beautiful 
 new house you’ve furnished. I like it. You dear old 
 Uncle!” 
 
 Uncle Moses called the waiter and paid the bill. 
 As they walked out, he said to Masha: 
 
 “Do you want to come with me?” 
 
 “Anywhere, Uncle.” 
 
 He called a taxi and ordered the Chauffeur to take 
 them to Harlem West. 
 
 “I want to show you the new furniture. The uphol- 
 sterer had completed everything. All is in readiness. 
 I want you to see it.” 
 
 Masha became moody and made no reply. Suddenly 
 she spoke again. 
 
 “Uncle, w’hy don’t you answer me?” 
 
 “Answer what?” 
 
 “Don’t you think it would be better for us if you 
 remained my imcle, — my good, good pa, and I your 
 daughter, — rather than for us to marry?” 
 
 “It’s all right, Masha. Hush, say no more.” And 
 for the rest of the way to Harlem they were both 
 silent. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE BLUE ROOM 
 
 U NCLE MOSES led Masha into the house which he 
 had furnished as their future home. The place 
 was in complete readiness; the furniture still shed an 
 odor of fresh varnish, the curtains were already 
 hung, and the house seemed to be waiting for its oc- 
 cupants. Uncle Moses turned the lights on in every 
 room ; the cut-glassware, the plants and the porcelain dogs 
 and cats which everywhere abounded, began to sparkle. 
 He led Masha from room to room. The apartments 
 were sumptuously furnished, in the taste of a bour- 
 geois, — they were cozy, cluttered with furniture, bric- 
 a-brac and countless gewgaws. The parlor gave the 
 effect of a store where electric lamps and porcelain 
 dogs were sold. And every moment he would surprise 
 Masha with a new light effect. Here a cat would stare 
 out of yellow, illuminated eyes ; there a cluster of 
 grapes over a closet would suddenly glow with an inner 
 radiance, and soon a piece of cut glass would be 
 similarly suffused with light. It was easily to be seen 
 that the man had expended much care in the fur- 
 nishing of the home, lavishing a wealth of love and im- 
 agination. It was the bedroom, however, that most 
 revealed the traces of his loving care. It was ar- 
 ranged with all the tenderness of a coarse person. 
 Everything in it was blue. The wall was hung with 
 
 169 
 
170 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 cheap landscapes. The bed rested upon a dais and 
 overhead stretched a blue silk canopy. The lights 
 alone did not harmonize with the color scheme; here, 
 as in the parlor, they were of different colors, — red, 
 blue, plain, — and this destroyed the ensemble. Uncle 
 Moses pressed a button, and an electric pianola that 
 was placed in another room began all at once to play. 
 
 Uncle Moses lingered for a long while in the bed- 
 room and very carefully examined the bed and all the 
 details. Masha turned red and her heart began to 
 beat fast. She longed to leave the room as soon as 
 possible. The room and the raised bed recalled 
 
 thoughts that filled her with agony, — a hot, trembling 
 agony, — as if it were a scaffold being shown to a man 
 condemned to die upon it. Yet despite all, a mysteri- 
 ous power drew her gaze toward the bed. The room 
 looked strangely familiar to her, — as if she had seen it 
 in a dream, and she felt a certain family relationship 
 to the room and to the bed, like that of a hopeless inv^d 
 to death. The thought terrified her; she moved to 
 leave the room. Uncle Moses, however, remained seated 
 on the edge of the bed and called her back. 
 
 “What are you running away for, Masha? Stay 
 here. How do you like it, ha?” 
 
 “Oh, beautiful,” replied Masha, looking away. 
 
 “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he laughed; he pressed a but- 
 ton in the wall and the room was flooded with a 
 blood-red light that turned the blue of the wall paper 
 to yellow; the whole room, indeed, assumed an other- 
 worldly glow. Everything seemed to have been en- 
 dowed with mystery, — the furniture, the colors on the 
 wall, and Uncle Moses himself, who sat there on the 
 edge of the bed like a huge, yellow monster. 
 
THE BLUE ROOM 
 
 171 
 
 The light did not last long. Soon he pressed an- 
 other button and the room was plunged into bright 
 blue. Uncle Moses was fond of light effects and had 
 supplied the bed-room with any number of combina- 
 tions. And all the while the electric pianola in an 
 adjoining room played a cheap waltz. 
 
 “Well, how do you like it, Masha?” 
 
 “Oh, beautiful!” 
 
 “But what’s the use, if you love me only as a good 
 old Uncle, — only as a good old Uncle. That’s what 
 you said, wasn’t it, Masha? Like a good old Uncle.” 
 
 “Please don’t talk like that. Uncle. I don’t like the 
 way your ’re speaking.” 
 
 “Listen, Masha.” Moses suddenly grew serious. “I 
 must speak frankly with you. You’re no longer a child. 
 You know what I mean. I don’t care to be a good old 
 Uncle. That doesn’t enthuse me one bit. I’ll have 
 none of it.” 
 
 Masha said nothing and bowed her head. 
 
 “Well, I’m glad it came out now and not afterward,” 
 continued Uncle Moses. “Now, at least, there’ll be no 
 trouble on account of misunderstanding. I can rent 
 the house or perhaps put it to some other purpose.” 
 
 “Are you angry with me. Uncle?” asked Masha. 
 
 “Angry? Why should I be angrj'? For the money 
 you’ve cost me? Oh, oh, my townsfolk cost me plenty 
 as it is. No, no. I’m not angry, neither am I de- 
 lighted. And in case you have a lover. I’ll marry you 
 off to him. Just send your father to me. What I do 
 for all my other townsfolk I’ll do for you. And I 
 wish you happiness, Masha. If your young man is 
 good for anything, let him come to me. Perhaps I 
 can do something for him.” 
 
172 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 Masha raised her large eyes and gazed at Uncle 
 Moses. She was as accustomed to him as a child to 
 its father, and she had never heard him talk like this 
 before. She grew frightened. Yet she w^as habituated 
 to him, and she approached him and cajoled him, 
 like a youngster who fears an older person: 
 
 “Dear Uncle, please don’t talk like that. I don’t 
 know what to say. I’m a silly girl. You are right. 
 You have done so much for me, my father, my mother, 
 — and I’m so bad, so foolish. My good, good Uncle,” 
 — and she lay her head against his neck, while hot 
 tears and a childish kiss, both of which came from 
 fright and helplessness, warmed Uncle Moses’ rough 
 skin. 
 
 For a moment he was content, and allowed himself 
 • to be kissed. But soon his masculine pride rebelled 
 against these innocent childish kisses. He was about 
 to embrace her and kiss her upon the lips as man 
 kisses woman, but her tears restrained him, for they 
 made a child of her, and it was the woman in her that 
 he longed to kiss. He removed her head from his 
 neck and thrust her away from him. 
 
 “You forget yourself, Masha. You’re no longer a 
 child. You’re a grown-up young lady.” 
 
 Masha blushed with embarrassment; her tears seemed 
 to remain suspended upon her lashes ; she looked at Uncle 
 Moses through the drops and was completely at a loss. 
 
 He turned off the light, very carefully locked all the 
 doors and did not even glance at Masha. It was as if 
 she were not there. 'Just before he left her, after 
 taking her home, he said: 
 
 “Don’t worry, Masha. I’ll do all I can for you, the 
 same as I do for all my townsfolk.” And he left. 
 
THifJ BLUE ROOM 
 
 173 
 
 Masha’s parents were awaiting her return on pins 
 and needles. She, however, made no reply to their 
 inquiring glances, but went straight to her room. 
 
 Aaron called after her, but his wife pulled him by 
 the sleeve and growled: 
 
 “Let her be. Ask her nothing today.” 
 
 Aaron saw that, as usual, his wife was right. 
 
 Masha passed a sleepless night. And through that 
 night it became clear to her that she no longer had 
 any right to happiness, — ^that she had been brought up 
 with a rope around her neck, — that she had been sold 
 when a child, for the benefit of her parents and the 
 whole family. She thought of Hopkins Street, before 
 Uncle Moses had intervened in their favor, and remem- 
 bered how she had been the “little mother” of the 
 household. She smiled as she recalled how she had 
 deceived the grocer and the butcher with the magic 
 phrase: “pa has a job.” She thought of the day on 
 which she had brought her father home after he had 
 run away, and other similar scenes. And she saw 
 clearly that even now she had not yet ceased to play 
 the role of “little mother,” — that she must not dare 
 to abandon that role. 
 
 She beheld the “scaffold,” — the bed-room with the 
 blue, red and yellow lights, — and perhaps it was this 
 gallows that was drawing her on. The memory of the 
 blue bed-room made her shudder, yet she was power- 
 fully attracted to it. Not for a moment could she turn 
 her thoughts from it ; it drew her on even as death lures 
 the invalid. The following day, to the complete sur- 
 prise of all, she asked her father to see Uncle Moses 
 and tell him that she regretted everything she had 
 said, and — 
 
174 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 But Uncle Moses would listen to nothing. He was 
 through with it for good. Aaron Melnick and his wife 
 came and begged him to have pity on their daughter, 
 — ^not to ruin her whole career. Uncle Moses, how- 
 ever, wished Masha herself to come to him and say to 
 him whatever she had to say. Then he would see 
 what he’d do. And he added: 
 
 “Please, do me the favor not to compel her to act 
 against her will, merely to save your bread and but- 
 ter.” 
 
 Masha felt the insult, the humiliation, of Uncle 
 Moses’ request for her to come to him personally and 
 entreat him. During the previous few days every 
 feeling of respect and daughterly love that had been 
 implanted in her by his kindly interest, had been up- 
 rooted. She felt for him now only scorn and disgust. 
 She could not, however, resist the imploring glances of 
 her parents and her little brothers and sisters, who 
 looked at her like dumb creatures, seeming to en- 
 treat: “Do it for us.” She was the “little mother,” 
 and could not withstand the instinct of that mother- 
 hood which she had taken upon herself from her ear- 
 liest childhood days. 
 
 During this epoch of trial she had gone to see 
 Charlie, not so much in hopes of receiving from any 
 of his words encouragement to continue her struggle, 
 as to try and summon that courage from the sight of 
 him. She made an appointment with him and again 
 they sauntered along Fifth Avenue and Central Park 
 for a whole day; once more, too, Charlie’s speech was 
 of big things, of liberating the world, of life, and he 
 told her of his plans to organize a strike in Uncle 
 Moses’ shop. For her alone, for her life, her interests, 
 
THE BLUE ROOM 
 
 175 
 
 he had not a word. As before, so now, Charlie was 
 interested in universal problems, with ever3i;hing un- 
 der the sun except her, and he did not see her. She 
 was on the point of confessing everything to him and 
 begging him to help her be strong, to aid her to 
 summon strength to begin life all over again on her 
 own responsibility, — ^to help her regain her foothold. 
 But Charlie was so engrossed in world-problems that 
 she wondered how to intrude herself into the discus- 
 sion, — herself and her petty life. It seemed to her that 
 this would appear too insignificant to Charlie. He 
 was above such private affairs. 
 
 She returned home from her walk with Charlie more 
 despondent and helpless than ever. She had not men- 
 tioned a word about herself to him, and it had not 
 occurred to Charlie to ask. For a moment she thought 
 of taking everything into her own hands, and she 
 actually answered an advertisement and accepted a 
 position. Wliereupon her home echoed with universal 
 mourning, and her little brothers and sisters glanced 
 at her in dumb entreaty and her father trembled with 
 apprehension. Ah, what was the difference? The rope 
 had been fastened around her neck long ago. She 
 had been born with it. 
 
 She went to Uncle Moses. She felt only scorn and 
 repulsion for him, — ^yet she went. She understood and 
 felt clearly the significance of this call, — its results, — 
 and she could behold the blue bed-room and the raised bed 
 which caused her to stifle back all her humiliation, all 
 her finer feelings, and go to Uncle Moses and beg him 
 to marry her. It was as if the blue room had fas- 
 cinated her, and deep, deep within her she longed for 
 the blue room and its mysterious lights. Her imagina- 
 
176 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 tion played about it and painted various terrifying 
 scenes. And the blue room drew her even as death 
 lures the invalid. 
 
 Uncle Moses took her, as he had done the first time, 
 to the Hungarian restaurant. He spoke of everything 
 under the sun except the subject that had brought 
 Masha to him. He did not even afford her an oppor- 
 tunity to broach the matter. He wished to taste the 
 full satisfaction of having her implore him, of having 
 her initiate the entire conversation, unaided. And that 
 satisfaction he tasted when they were once again in 
 the new house and he had taken her into the blue room. 
 Uncle Moses sat down upon the bed like an execu- 
 tioner before the block, and said: 
 
 “Well, you may tell me here what you have to say 
 to me.” 
 
 “Uncle, I am ready to marry you,” said Masha. 
 
 “Is that so? And am I no longer too old for you?” 
 “Uncle ” 
 
 “I want you to speak openly. No dodging. Why 
 did you refuse me before and why are you now will- 
 ing? Is it because your pa forced you? Tell me.” 
 “But Uncle, why do you speak to me like that?” 
 
 “I want to know. There must be a reason for all 
 this. Why is it that you are now willing to marry me, 
 when a short while ago you didn’t care to?” 
 
 “The reason is, because — I love you!” asserted 
 Masha bashfully. 
 
 “How do you love me? As a good old uncle, or as a 
 man whom you are going to marry?” 
 
 Masha raised her big eyes to his and said: 
 
 “Why should you ask me such questions? You 
 know yourself.” 
 
THE BLUE ROOM 
 
 177 
 
 ^‘Not at all. Before, you loved me differently.’' 
 
 “Before, I was a child,” answered Masha softly. 
 
 “And now?” 
 
 Masha looked at him and recognized the Uncle Moses 
 of old. She recalled the time when she had been a 
 little girl and he had humiliated her father before her 
 eyes, and now, as then, she was seized with an impulse 
 to spring up and cry into his face: “Beast! Dog!” 
 A feeling of vengeance upon herself, however, kept her 
 rooted there, sullenly, enduring his inquisitorial ques- 
 tions. 
 
 “Well, and now?” asked Uncle Moses once more. 
 
 “Now?” 
 
 “Yes. How do you love me now?” 
 
 “Now I love you as a man whom I’m going to mar- 
 ry,” she replied, looking straight into his eyes. 
 
 “As a man,” echoed Uncle Moses. He drew near to 
 her, embraced her ardently and kissed her full upon 
 the lips. Masha left Uncle Moses. Now, she felt, she 
 might do anything. And, in truth, she was capable of 
 anything. 
 
FART THREE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 MAN AND WIPE 
 
 I T was now two years after the wedding. Masha was 
 with child and Uncle Moses watched her every 
 step with the tender, trembling care that one devotes 
 to a weak child. He could not sit at ease in his office, 
 and every fifteen minutes he would telephone to his 
 home. “Masha, my darling,” he w'ould admonish her, 
 “please don’t strain yourself.” And hearing that all 
 was well at home he would feel better and would go up 
 to the workshop to jest with his townsfolk. 
 
 “Why are you so quiet, Reb Shloymele? Let’s hear 
 you sing that Kaddish-tune. ” 
 
 Ever since Uncle Moses had married, a remarkable 
 change might have been noted in his character from 
 day to day. Not only did his attitude toward people 
 become different, but his very appearance itself was 
 altered; it assumed a more human expression. A cer- 
 tain soft, helpless air had stolen into the fleshy folds 
 about his mouth and into his sunken eyes. No longer did 
 his face scatter terror. It was as if a tender, feminine 
 hand had kneaded love into the furrows of his counte- 
 nance, — ^had breathed love into them, — all the delicacy 
 of her being. And by day it seemed as if he shed 
 about him that love and tenderness which he had drunk 
 
 178 
 
MAN AND WIFE 
 
 179 
 
 at some mysterious fount. Uncle Moses smiled — 
 smiled — upon his people. Uncle Moses became friendly, 
 genial, and from day to day his employees lost that 
 fear and terror which they had formerly had for him. 
 
 The change in Uncle Moses had become most evident 
 since Masha had begun to be with child. From the 
 very first day the news had been spread in the store, 
 among the workingmen upstairs as well as among all 
 the townsfolk. The secret had been let out by Uncle 
 Moses’ own behavior, — by his restlessness, his constant 
 telephoning to his home, his pleasant smile; they be- 
 gan to laugh at him behind his back, whispering se- 
 crets into one anothers’ ears and casting furtive glances 
 in Sam’s direction. 
 
 But they feared to look at Sam. It was as if Sam 
 had taken into his grasp the reins that Uncle Moses 
 had thrown aside. Uncle Moses began to entrust the 
 business more and more to Sam. Not only did Sam 
 become the “inside man” but gradually he began to 
 take orders from outside. He it was who looked over 
 them as they came in. He it was who sent the sales- 
 man out over the various territories, and before long 
 he had become the real “boss” in the place, inspiring 
 mere fear than Uncle Moses himself. 
 
 Uncle Moses, lately, had begun to interest himself 
 in matters that lend no prestige to a business man, 
 for whom his employees must feel a certain awe. He 
 grew religious and busied himself with the synagogue 
 for his townsfolk, and the promise that he had not ful- 
 filled at the time of his marriage, — ^to buy his townsfolk 
 of Kuzmin a synagogue of their own. Up to the time 
 of his wedding he had been the President of the 
 Kuzmin society — on paper. After his marriage, how- 
 
180 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 ever, he had become personally interested in the so- 
 ciety’s vrelfare, and had bent every effort to give the 
 society the benefit of his business experience. lie 
 bought the organization a new plot of land for a ceme- 
 tery, and had at once sold half the land to another so- 
 ciety, making so much money on the transaction that 
 the Kuzmin organization procured its cemetery prac- 
 tically for nothing. And now he was employing all 
 his business wits to get a synagogue for his toAvnsfolk. 
 Already, through a business trick, he had procured a 
 piece of land almost free, and now he was negotiating 
 to exchange it for a building. There was no doubt 
 that he 'vv'ould soon obtain a synagogue for them. 
 Since he had begun to interest himself in their affairs 
 the society had grown, had prospered, and had al- 
 ready absorbed a number of smaller organizations. 
 His services to the communal welfare soon spread his 
 reputation across the borders of the Kuzmin group. 
 Other organizations tried to interest Uncle Moses in 
 plans for communal betterment; he had already been 
 elected vice-chairman of the Home for the Aged, treas- 
 urer of a Hebrew School, and director of a small hos- 
 pital. His fame as a public benefactor grew daily. 
 
 Naturally, Uncle Moses had severed all relations with 
 that other woman who had claims upon him. He 
 loved his home and his wife and became a thoroughly 
 moral personage. He revered the purity of his house- 
 hold and could not understand how he could ever 
 have lived differently. Whenever he happened to think 
 of his previous life he shook off the memory as if it 
 were a nightmare. Uncle hloses preached morals 
 among his townsfolk, becoming in time a leader and a 
 patriarch among them. They came to him with queries 
 
MAN AND WIFE 
 
 181 
 
 about the innermost details of their private lives and 
 looked to him for counsel. He would act as judge in 
 their quarrels, summoning the guilty one and admin- 
 istering stern reproof. He would make peace between 
 man and wife, and admonish them to see that such a 
 thing never happened again. And every time he was 
 able to look the woman whom he sermonized straight 
 in the eyes . . , 
 
 Uncle Moses returned home early. He simply could 
 not rest easy in his place of business since Masha had 
 begun to approach childbirth. Entering his house he 
 found Aaron and Rosa who, since Masha had become 
 pregnant, had tacitly taken charge of the household, 
 it seemed. 
 
 It was remarkable how this abject fellow’s atti- 
 tude toward Uncle Moses had changed since Masha’s 
 marriage. Not only had this former employee lost all 
 fear and respect for his son-in-law, but he fairly con- 
 sidered himself more the proprietor of this household 
 than did Uncle Moses himself. As for Rosa, there is 
 no need to speak. Ever since her Masha had married 
 Uncle IMoses, ever since her Masha had been with 
 child, Rosa had not only begun to think herself the 
 directress of the home but she had commenced to mix 
 into the business, becoming a most highly considered 
 member of Uncle Moses’ commercial diplomatic corps. 
 Before Uncle Moses had time to sit down and inquire 
 after Masha, Rosa attacked her favorite theme that she 
 discussed with him during recent days. 
 
 “That old beggar, that Galician scoundrel, was here 
 again. He asked after you, Moses. I can’t understand 
 how he could have got that position as collector. Did 
 
182 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 you marry him? Or did you ever have some match 
 with him, that you must continue to maintain rela- 
 tions with him?” 
 
 “Dear mother-in-law, please don’t bother me with 
 that. How’s my dear little Masha? Has she eaten 
 anything? Was Dr. Goldstein here? I want him to 
 visit her every day. Do you hear? Every day.” 
 
 “Father-in-law,” he said to Aaron. “Call him up, 
 will you?” 
 
 “What do we need the doctor here for? Don’t be 
 crazy, Moses. Masha is all right. Don’t bother her 
 with doctors. Dr. Goldstein will come when he ’s needed, 
 never you mind.” 
 
 “No. I want him to come every day,” he said, more 
 to himself than to anybody else. Then he climbed the 
 staircase on tip-toe to the bedroom. 
 
 Soon, however, he paused on the stairs; his face 
 lighted up with a joyful smile, while he panted with 
 mingled happiness and fear. 
 
 “Careful, Masha. Please don’t run,” cried Moses 
 uneasily, while involuntarily he spread out his arms as 
 if to be ready for any contingency. 
 
 Masha came do^vn the stairs. She was not so careful 
 as her husband desired. Nor did she respond to his 
 inquiring, happy glances. She did not even look at 
 him, but continued on her way to the dining-room, 
 where her parents were. 
 
 Uncle Moses followed, and his very soul filled every 
 word. 
 
 * ‘ Masha darling, how do you feel today ? I have just 
 asked them to call Dr. Goldstein.” 
 
 “There’s no need of him. Papa, take a seat.” 
 
 “Masha darling, what do you care?” 
 
MAN AND WIFE 
 
 183 
 
 “Please, don’t trouble me.’’ She looked at her hus- 
 band imperiously. “Sit down, why don’t you?” — Uncle 
 Moses sat down. 
 
 Masha, too, had changed since her marriage. It was 
 as if Uncle Moses had absorbed all her maidenly ten- 
 derness and had breathed into her his masculine bru- 
 tality. This could be read upon both their faces. If 
 his countenance beamed with human helplessness and 
 kindness, hers had lost every vestige of virginal amiabil- 
 ity. She had become stronger, fuller, like a ripe, 
 pulpy fruit, but her eyes gleamed with a certain fright, 
 as if she feared something that were coming to life 
 within her. — Her face, however, clearly betrayed her 
 determination to protect herself. Her tall, firm figure 
 and her determined glance expressed mastery 
 
 Her condition added to, strengthened, the impression 
 of imperious mastery that she cast about her like a 
 pregnant, dominating mother who knows that she is 
 bringing life into the world. 
 
 • Uncle Moses was filled with a certain timorous rev- 
 erence for her, as if her condition were related to 
 something beyond understanding, something religious, 
 mysterious. Not only was he inspired with an inef- 
 fable tenderness toward his own flesh and blood, his 
 other self, that lay in the deep mystery within his 
 wife’s bosom, but he felt a certain religious', mystic 
 awe before that which was now taking place in Masha, — 
 the miracle that God was working through her in the 
 creation of a life. 
 
 This it was that made him so weak and subservient. 
 This and something else. Ever since he had married 
 Masha, Uncle Moses yearned for purity. It was just 
 as if he had cleansed himself of all the impure feelings 
 
184 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 that had been left over from his previous career. And 
 Masha, — ^young, innocent Masha, whom he had brought 
 up and married, — was to him the symbol of purity. 
 Through her he cleansed himself of all his sinful life. 
 Not only she, but the very room in which she slept, 
 the very things she touched, the clothes she wore, awoke 
 in him a feeling of purity. This contact with purity 
 infected him and kept him faithful and true. This it 
 was that helped make him submissive, weak, human. 
 
 It was a totally different impulse that stirred Masha 
 now. She, too, had been infected with certain desires, 
 and the consequences were quite different from those 
 that appeared in her husband. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 A NEW “uncle” 
 
 E very touch of his, every display of tenderness, 
 which she forced herself to endure, awoke in her 
 disgust and then indifference. 
 
 She did what was asked of her because she felt that 
 when she had gone to Uncle Moses and promised to 
 marry him, she had agreed to everything. She con- 
 sidered herself a sacrifice. From the very first days 
 of her marriage a soft halo of suffering surrounded 
 her, — ^the halo of a martyr, which imparted refinement 
 and beauty to her. Uncle Moses, however, had little by 
 little dimmed the halo, finally extinguishing it. 
 
 He had succeeded in appealing to her passion, but 
 Dr. Goldstein’s electrical treatment, which had warmed 
 and rejuvenated Uncle Moses’ slumbering blood (he 
 took this in secret) was not powerful enough to bring' 
 back Moses’ youth. He had waked her from her 
 maiden’s dream but was powerless to create another 
 for her. A dream that would come true . . . She 
 really had no husband . . . She was like a fresh young 
 plant over which is placed a glass hood; the earth is 
 fed, the plant is warmed, but the twigs are restrained 
 by a glass . . . 
 
 Every touch of hers, every show of tenderness, made 
 him more refined, more innerly beautiful, planting 
 within him new desires to live. Yet she herself grew 
 
 186 
 
186 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 uglier and more coarse. Like a Pharaoh who by night 
 bathed in the blood of children, so Uncle Moses by day 
 went around in excellent spirits, kind to all, smiling, 
 better to God and man. His heart became softer, more 
 responsive, more human . . . And thus, night after 
 night, drop by drop, Masha fed her virginal innocence, 
 her refined youth to an old, withered thorn, — a stranger. 
 The thorn had commenced to blossom and she had be- 
 gim to wither. 
 
 At first she was ashamed. It seemed to her as if her 
 maidenly secrets that had been discovered to Uncle 
 Moses, were seen by everybody, — ^that they lay exposed 
 to everybody’s view. — Whereupon for days at a time 
 she would seek refuge in her room, would lock herself 
 in, ashamed even to look into the mirror, to gaze upon 
 her own face, her semblance. 
 
 Then she was seized with a yearning for her maid- . 
 enly years. She was fond of dressing up as a young 
 girl, in the same clothes that she had worn when at 
 the boarding school, and of recalling every little thing 
 that had happened to her as a girl. The conversations 
 with her companions, her playful teasing of Charlie, 
 her ridicule of him, — every minor detail evoked a host 
 of pleasant recollections. For days at a time she 
 would lock herself in, take out her school-books that 
 she had stored away for memory’s sake, — old letters, 
 which she had long ago received from chums, birthday 
 gifts, souvenirs and other innocent toys, — and fill her 
 empty, yearnful days with them. 
 
 Often she thought of Charlie, and tried to imagine 
 how things would have been if she had not married 
 Uncle Moses. How different life would have been! 
 She pictured herself as a working-girl. She was a 
 
A NEW “UNCLE” 
 
 187 
 
 stenographer and worked eight hours a day in an of- 
 fice, and was contributing toward Charlie’s expenses, 
 that he might go through college. Every night he 
 waited for her at the entrance to the office building, and 
 together they went to a moderately-priced restaurant, 
 going then to a show or to a lecture, or perhaps to the 
 library. Often, when she wished to go shopping, they 
 met Saturday afternoons at the door of a great depart- 
 ment store. She had just received her pay-envelope and 
 together they selected a suit for her. Charlie must say 
 whether he liked it, and she put on the suit immedi- 
 ately. Charlie would likewise put on his newly-pur- 
 chased necktie and they would go^ off to take in a* 
 matinee . . . 
 
 Then life became dreary to her. During the day, 
 when her husband would be away to work, she could 
 fill her hours with dreams. At night, however, she 
 would be overcome by ennui. The j)orcelain dogs and 
 cats and the silly cut-glass that sparkled from every 
 corner, as well as everything else in the house, bored 
 her; they were all so meaningless, so much alike from 
 day to day, so incapable of speaking to her, so dumb 
 and changeless. Every night, — the same rooms, the 
 same lamps, the same “Uncle,” the same smiles and his 
 same “Masha dear, darling.” The boredom that she 
 suffered in his company was becoming utterly unen- 
 durable. It gave her headaches every night, even as 
 one gets headaches from a bad odor. . . . Every night 
 the same program ; the foolish meal, — ^what purpose 
 did it all serve? Then sometimes they would go to the 
 moving pictures, or else her father and mother would 
 intrude with their cheerless, bothersome, exaggerated 
 fawning attentions. Her mother was trying to exert influ- 
 
188 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 ence regarding positions in the shop and matters con- 
 cerning the townsfolk and the family, and her husband 
 would exchange coarse jokes with her father. She was 
 starving for genuine love and youth. 
 
 Often Sam would come to visit them at night. For 
 a long time he had been following her about with his 
 speechless yet eloquent glances. And when life be- 
 came dreary and meaningless for her she began to no- 
 tice these speechless, yet eloquent glances. His face 
 was the same as her husband’s, only younger and more 
 powerful. His nostrils still quivered and his lower lip 
 trembled with strength and virility. He was, indeed, 
 'Uncle Moses, only younger and more brutal; he filled 
 the evenings with his talk and his laughter, and his 
 strong white teeth gleamed from between his ruddy 
 lips. More than once, when she desired to forget, she 
 summoned the picture of this younger, more brutal 
 ‘‘Uncle” . . . 
 
 Sam was following cousin Mannes’ advice to the let- 
 ter: “Get into the good graces of the young wife. What 
 you were unable to reach through the old man, you can 
 attain through her ...” And he took advantage of 
 every opportunity to show her marked attention. At 
 first, because of his intentions to acquire control of 
 the business; but soon, as he approached her more 
 closely and regarded her silent manner, her suffering 
 muteness, he was touched. He fell in love with her. 
 Because of her, indeed, he broke the match that he had 
 made for the sole purpose of advancing his business 
 career. His feeling for her dictated his attitude 
 toward her. He was silent, not daring by word or deed 
 to insult her or betray his feelings. He was often 
 alone with her, often took her home from the store, and 
 
A NEW “UNCLE” 
 
 189 
 
 spent many an evening with her when Uncle Moses was 
 busy with meetings and the affairs of his numerous 
 societies. He confided his plans to her and asked her 
 advice about his match. This brought her closer to 
 him, and Sam became a genuine, devoted friend. His 
 feeling for her became so overwhelming that he was 
 ready to do anything for her. Because of her he be- 
 gan to lead an altogether different life, a more respect- 
 able and more refined one. For her sake he longed 
 to make himself a more worthy person, and was at a 
 loss how to begin. So he began to attend a reformed 
 synagogue, thinking to please Masha in this manner. 
 He studied English and even began to read English 
 books. His personal appearance, too, underwent a 
 marked improvement. His friendship for her was a 
 silent, devoted loyalty, and that devotion made him 
 a finer and better man. . . . 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 A SON 
 
 ih was quiet in the house. The servants went about ' 
 
 on tip-toe, as if a corpse lay there, but from a 
 room in another part of the house came sounds of 
 bustling, — a muffled activity. A door opened and shut, 
 dishes clattered, an order was issued in a soft, se- 
 rious voice. And then more tip-toeing. 
 
 In the hall, which was seldom used, and which the 
 coldness due to remaining unoccupied rendered most 
 uncomfortable, Uncle Moses was pacing up and down, 
 biting his nails with impatience. His face was pale and 
 wan, as the result of not having slept for the previous 
 two nights; his eyes gleamed with mingled terror and 
 hope. He bit his nails and muttered: 
 
 “Father, Father in heaven — God — ^help me. I’ll do 
 anything. Everything, everything, everything. Only 
 help me, let her not suffer. Father — let her not suffer. 
 It is such a pity. Oh, oh, oh!” 
 
 Footsteps were heard in the next room and some- 
 body ran by. Uncle Moses came out. 
 
 “What’s the news, father-in-law? What?” 
 
 “God is with us, Moses, God is with us. Hush. The 
 doctor is there with her.” 
 
 “Oh, God! Have pity upon her! Father, mother. 
 Only One!” 
 
 In a flash his life passed in review before him. He 
 
 190 
 
 I 
 
A SON 
 
 191 
 
 called to mind everything he had ever done, and it 
 seemed to him that somebody stood behind him, pre- 
 venting him from founding a bright future, — holding 
 him back from becoming the man he wished to be. Now 
 for the first time he could see it. He had never realized 
 it before. 
 
 All the time he had been yearning for a better life, — 
 ever since he had managed to obtain a foothold, but 
 some power had restrained him, and now that he was 
 upon the threshold of this new life, and was about 
 to have his wishes crowned with the arrival of that 
 for which he had yearned so long, — a child of his own, 
 a pure creature whose existence he need not conceal, 
 his second self, new-born, who would give a new taste 
 and a new meaning to life, — now that the moment had 
 arrived he feared lest that haunting “somebody’’ 
 should intervene, — ^let some misfortune should occur. 
 
 “No, Father in Heaven — forgive me — I will do every- 
 thing. I’ll live a totally different life. Let me, — 
 Father in Heaven, — let me know this joy — Help me, 
 help me!” 
 
 With every passing hour of Masha’s labor it became 
 clearer to him how much Masha and the new-born 
 child meant to him. He felt that not another life, 
 but rather his very own, was either being born or 
 dying behind those closed doors. His whole past life, 
 his whole life to come, — everything lay in Masha’s 
 bosom. And at this very moment it hovered between 
 creation or annihilation. With every passing hour 
 the burdened man grew more pure, cleansed of his sin- 
 ful life, refined by this longing for purity. In Masha’s 
 groans, he heard the voice of his own soul, which was 
 now being purified in agony. How sweet were these 
 
192 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 pangs, these groans of torture. He thought of his 
 childhood years. It was Sabbath eve and he could be- 
 hold his mother’s wan face; all his surroundings were 
 those of a Sabbath eve in his childhood. No, it was 
 more like the eve of the Day of Atonement. Once, once 
 in the old country, when he was a little fellow, — he 
 could still remember it clearly, — the tall death-anni- 
 versary candle, stuck in the sand, in the brass pan 
 stood on the white table-cloth, while his mother prayed 
 before it in her white bonnet and wept, — and he, in a 
 new coat of calico just purchased by his father, stood 
 in a corner with a large devotionary in his hand, 
 ashamed of his mother’s white bonnet and her tears;— 
 he had been gathering carrots in the field all day long. 
 And stealing apples — stealing apples from a stall just 
 before the Day of Atonement, and there was his 
 mother praying before the tall candles. 
 
 The same contrite feeling came over him now. 
 Masha’s purity, her groans, her agony — and he — he had 
 stolen apples. 
 
 The sound of footsteps woke him from his revery. 
 There was a noise behind the door. He jumped up— 
 ran out. There was Dr. Goldstein in his white apron 
 and his rolled up sleeves advancing toward him, fol- 
 lowed by Aaron. 
 
 “Congratulations, Moses! Congratulations. A boy, 
 a boy, a boy!” 
 
 “Doctor, is it true? Doctor ...” 
 
 “Yes, yes. Mr. Melnick — Congratulations! Every- 
 thing is all right. She is doing well!” 
 
 “Doctor dear — ” and he bounded like a child up- 
 stairs. 
 
A SON 
 
 193 
 
 “A moment, Mr. Melnick. Let her alone. We’ll soon 
 be going.” 
 
 “Doctor, dear! I’ll never forget this favor, never! 
 Wait a minute — And how is she, — and the baby?” 
 “She is all right. And the baby, too. What did I 
 tell you, Mr, Melnick ? ’ Do you remember ? ’ ’ And the 
 doctor looked into his eyes and laughed insinuatingly. 
 
 “I’ll do something for you, — such a big thing that 
 it will be the talk of the town. You’ll see, doctor.” 
 “All right, Mr. Melnick! We’ll see.” 
 
 Uncle Moses, however, was no longer aware of the 
 doctor’s presence. He ran along the hall. In the 
 dining-room Aaron fell upon his neck, weeping and 
 kissing him for joy. A half-dozen aunts, uncles, rela- 
 tives and townsfolk surrounded him with joyous cries: 
 “Congratulations, congratulations! A boy!” He could 
 scarcely tear himself out of their clutches and made his 
 way to the bed room with soft, cautious steps. On the 
 outside of the door to Masha’s room was Sam. He 
 stood there, pale, and the tears coursed down his 
 cheeks. 
 
 “Sam, you here? Sam, my boy. I am happy, your 
 Uncle is happy, Sam, happy.” 
 
 Sam made no reply, — did not even look at Uncle 
 Moses. He stood as if rooted to the spot, trembling. 
 His nostrils dilated as he drank in his breath and he 
 bit his lips as if in anger. The tears continued to 
 course down his cheeks. 
 
 Uncle Moses grasped the door-knob cautiously and 
 was about to open it. The door, however, was locked. 
 
 “Don’t go in now. Uncle, don’t. She is tired. She’s 
 sleeping. Uncle, she’s sleeping,” whispered Sam, hold- 
 ing him back. 
 
194 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 “Sam, my dear boy, I am happy. I am the hap- 
 piest man in the world. I’m going to scatter happiness 
 among all. Sam, I know what you are to me. I’m go- 
 ing to take you into partnership with me, Sam. I love 
 you as a father loves his son.” And he fell upon Sam’s 
 neck and kissed him. 
 
 The door opened silently and Masha’s mother came 
 out. 
 
 “Mother-in-law, how is she doing?” 
 
 “Hush. She’s asleep. She’s tired out.” 
 
 “I want to see the child, just for a moment ...” 
 
 Rosa carefully opened the door. Masha was reclining 
 pale and weak, as if a holy treasure lay there. She 
 did not look at him; her eyes were expressionless and 
 stared vacantly and fixedly at one spot. Uncle Moses 
 quivered and began to advance warily on tip-toe to- 
 ward the bed. He bent over and kissed the silk quilt 
 that covered Masha. 
 
 “Masha, — ^My, my — ^my little mamma!” Masha’s pale 
 cheeks flushed slightly, as if she were a little child 
 and had been embarrassed. 
 
 Beside Masha’s bed already stood the crib. The 
 mother raised the silk covering and Uncle Moses be- 
 held a red, perspiring shapeless mass. He fell upon 
 his knees, buried his face in the infant’s bed clothes 
 and burst into tears. 
 
 Sam, who had looked on through the open door, had 
 then advanced with soft steps until he was behind 
 Uncle Moses. He, too, gazed into the crib. . . 
 
 Masha drew the silk quilt over her head and hid her 
 face. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 SAM 
 
 I T was a beautiful summer’s day. The spacious bed- 
 room in Uncle Moses’ mansion was flooded with 
 light that came in from the two large windows, which 
 looked upon the wide street. Masha, a young and 
 strong mother, was bathing her five-months-old son in a 
 tub of lukewarm water; then she wrapped it in batiste 
 against cold. The infant’s motions stirred the water 
 about, and as it cried, it furrowed its brows like an old 
 man. Masha was filled with delight, playing with the 
 child as she washed it, and pouring the water over its 
 body. Round about her the room was heaped with 
 linens, sheets, towels; everything in the place shed an 
 odor of purity and motherliness. She took the child 
 out of the tub, rapidly wrapped it in fresh sheets and 
 pressed it to her bosom, seeking to quiet the infant, 
 who had not ceased to fill the room with piercing 
 screams. Masha laughed with joy, for she knew why 
 her little son was screaming. 
 
 “You little glutton!” she laughed to him playfully. 
 “I know what you want. I know.” 
 
 “You little glutton, you!” she laughed, and through 
 the mother’s being coursed a wonderful thrill, as if 
 someone had kissed her in her sleep. A tremor of ma- 
 ternal delight passed over her. . . . 
 
 195 
 
196 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 Every time she suckled the child, strange thoughts 
 assailed her, and a mysterious sorrow filled her. A sor- 
 row and yet a longing. She felt as if she had not 
 yet been married, — that she had a child, but no hus- 
 band . . . And she yearned for a husband, who would 
 come and caress her, fondle her hair, as she sat lulling 
 her child to sleep. A husband that should be the real 
 and only father of her child. A tie between them that 
 should be true and strong, as in the case of every young 
 couple, — a real father for her child. And every time 
 these thoughts came to her she was penetrated by a 
 deep, hidden sorrow, which shamed her. She was 
 cursed forever, she thought. Never — ^never would she 
 be able to give her child a father . . . 
 
 She envied every young woman that had a husband. 
 Often, as she rode in the elevated train on a Saturday 
 night, and saw a young father holding a child in his 
 arms, with his wife at his side, she would burn with 
 envj\ Doubtless they were on their way to visit their 
 parents downtown, she would tell herself, and envied 
 the wan-faced wife her husband. No, not so much the 
 husband, as the fact that this woman had a one and 
 only father for her child. And she would be seized 
 with a longing for a pure, true, deep-rooted life. 
 
 She had no husband, she had only a child, and upon 
 this child she showered all her maternal and wifely 
 tenderness. The child brought back to her the for- 
 gotten innocence in which she had dwelt as a girl. In 
 her child she re-discovered herself. She was not a 
 wife — she was a maiden-mother. 
 
 She would lock herself with her child, not caring to 
 see anybody, not caring to go out, concealing herself 
 and her child within the bed-room like a High Priest 
 
SAM 
 
 197 
 
 in his temple, and playing with it all day long. She 
 bathed it, weighed it, dressed it, and felt secure in its 
 presence. , . . 
 
 The door to the bed-room was softly opened. Masha 
 had not noticed how Uncle Moses had stolen in on tip- 
 toe. He had gazed furtively on as Masha hushed the 
 infant, lad for a moment had paused on the thresh- 
 old, contemplating his sacred treasure. Every time he 
 saw Masha nursing the baby he would be seized with 
 trembling. With soft step and repressed joy he came 
 over to Masha and caressed her head, 
 
 Masha shuddered at his touch, as if she had been 
 rudely aroused from deep slumber. 
 
 “Who’s that?” she cried in fright. 
 
 “It’s I. Why so frightened? Every time I come 
 in to the child you get scared. There aren’t any kid- 
 nappers in America, my child.” 
 
 “Don’t ever come in while I’m feeding the baby. 
 Please. For you give me a fright.” 
 
 “But why, child?” smiled Uncle Moses. “I like it. 
 I love to see you feed the child.” 
 
 “And I don’t want you to come in. Please, do me 
 that favor.” 
 
 “But why? You’re a little child — my own little 
 child, in fact. Both of you are my two little children.” 
 Whereupon Uncle Moses embraced both her and the 
 child together and danced about for joy. 
 
 Masha was plunged into silent gloom ; mute tears 
 began to fall down her cheeks and trickled down upon 
 her naked breasts. 
 
 “What’s the matter with you? Why do you always 
 cry when I come in? What have I done to you? Why 
 
198 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 don’t you let me enjoy my new-found pleasure, the 
 pleasure that God sent me. Never have I had any 
 pleasure in all my life. Only now does it come to me, — 
 now in my advancing years — ^you and my little, little 
 baby — mine — all my very own. And why do you cry? 
 Why don’t you rejoice together with me'? Masha my 
 darling, why don’t you enjoy my great, great happi- 
 ness with me?’’ 
 
 Masha raised her eyes and looked at him. Her eyes 
 were wet with tears; she gazed at him with pity for 
 him and herself, and was silent, as if she were a dumb 
 animal to whom the Lord had not given the power of 
 speech, and must express her feelings through her 
 glances. 
 
 “Why do you stare at me so? Why don’t you say 
 something? — Ever since you gave birth to the child you 
 never say a word to me. — ^Why? Aren’t you happy 
 with the child? Masha, dear, tell me.” 
 
 “Yes, yes, I am happy with my child. — It’s no- 
 body’s except mine. — I have nothing now, only the 
 child. — I am happy.” And the tears flowed more co- 
 piously than ever. 
 
 “And why this fresh outburst? — ^Why are you so 
 sad, Masha? Why?” 
 
 “I don’t know why, Moses. I don’t know. Let me be. 
 Let me be by myself. Please. Leave me alone with my 
 child. — Don’t come in to me. Don’t come to see me. — 
 Leave me alone, please.” 
 
 “Oh, dear child. — I know. Your mother is right 
 Your mother said that it’s always like that with young 
 mothers when they suckle their children. You yourself 
 are but a small child. One child suckling another, — 
 My two little children,” laughed Uncle Moses. 
 
SAM 
 
 199 
 
 From the dining-room a voice was suddenly heard. 
 Masha turned pale. 
 
 “Who’s that there?” 
 
 “That’s Sam. — Just imagine, Masha. Your cousin 
 Charlie is the lawyer of the new union. We’ll have to 
 go to him to settle the strike in my shop. You know, 
 our townsfolk are out on strike; they haven’t been 
 to work for two weeks — and that’s all your cousin’s 
 work. I always told you that he was a dangerous 
 young man. He’d make trouble for us, I said. And 
 now you see, all this is caused by one of our own, — 
 a relative.” 
 
 “Go down; please go down and talk with them. 
 Leave me alone,” Masha begged her husband, tenderly 
 taking the infant away from her breast and placing 
 him in his crib. 
 
 “Just a minute. I just want to take a peep at him 
 as he lies sleeping.” 
 
 “Quiet, now. You’ll wake him up.” 
 
 “I’m going, I’m going.” And Uncle Moses left on 
 tip-toe. 
 
 Masha locked the door after him. 
 
 Very soon, however, there was a knock. 
 
 “Hush. Who’s there?” 
 
 “Open, Masha my darling,” whispered her mother. 
 “Why do you lock yourself in? Nobody will steal 
 you away. 
 
 “Well, what do you say to the beggars, ha? What 
 do you say to our relatives? After we’ve been giving 
 them work at our expense! Whenever there was a 
 daughter to marry off, or a wife and children to bring 
 over from the old country to America, they came to 
 Uncle. No matter what they needed or when, they 
 
200 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 always came to us. And we supported them. We kept 
 them in work, and now they go and strike on us. 
 There’s America for you. And who’s the ringleader of 
 it all? That beggar’s son, — Charlie! — He’s become a 
 regular general of the whole union. Did you ever hear 
 the like?” 
 
 ‘‘Tell me, mamma, what happened?” 
 
 “Haven’t you heard? The shop’s out on strike. — 
 They haven’t yet returned to work. And Charlie is 
 their leader.” 
 
 At this juncture a head was thrust in through the 
 open door. Mother and daughter recognized Sam’s 
 pale but energetic face with its frightened, entreating 
 eyes. 
 
 “Mamma, close the door,” cried Masha, blanching. 
 
 “The beggars! Where are they trying to crawl? 
 Isn’t the business enough for them? They have to 
 crawl right into your very bed-room!” — The mother 
 slammed the door in Sam’s face. . . . 
 
1 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 KUZMIN GOES OUT ON STRIKE 
 
 WONDERFUL thing had occurred. The towns- 
 
 folk of Kuzmin, Uncle Moses’ relatives, had gone 
 out on strike. At first Uncle Moses could not understand 
 what had happened. He saw the men rise from their 
 places at the machines, lay down their needles and 
 leave the shop. Whereupon he thought that some mis- 
 fortune had taken place. 
 
 “What’s the matter? Where are you all going?” 
 
 The townsfolk stole out of the shop as if they had 
 committed a robbery and were ashamed to look Uncle 
 Moses straight in the face. One by one they slunk out. 
 Uncle Moses stopped Shloyme the Peddler. 
 
 “Shloyme, where are you going?” 
 
 “I don’t know. I was told to get up and leave. So 
 I’m leaving.” 
 
 “What am I, — a stranger?” — cried Uncle Moses. 
 “You strike in my shop? And that’s the return I get 
 for all I’ve done for you, — for bringing you all to 
 America and giving you work and supporting your 
 wives and children? The whole business is run only 
 for your sake. And you have the ingratitude to 
 strike? Very well! Very well! I’ll teach them to 
 strike !” 
 
 The townsfolk make no reply. They left the shop 
 and gathered in the Khevra Anshi Kuzmin, — in the 
 
 201 
 
202 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 very synagogue of which Uncle Moses was president. 
 
 It had taken a long time for the Garment-Workers’ 
 Union to organize Uncle Moses’ shop. As long as he 
 himself had been the “inside man” they had made 
 no headway •whatever. The townsfolk could not think 
 of insulting liim, — they could not think of doing him 
 any wrong. “He is our bread-giver,” they replied to 
 every advance. Scarcely had Sam, however, become 
 their boss and their employer got married, as a con- 
 sequence of which Sara let them feel the burden of his 
 yoke, than the dissatisfaction grew little by little. 
 Charlie, with the aid of several prefessional agitators, 
 finally succeeded in organizing the shop in secret. The 
 word was passed from one employee to the other, un- 
 til the strike burst unexpectedly upon Uncle Moses 
 and his force. 
 
 In the beginning Kuzmin was filled with enthusiasm 
 for the fight. When it came to picketing the shop, 
 every one volunteered his services. There were selected, 
 however, Shloyme Forman and Yossel, a couple of fel- 
 lows who had been brought up as orchard-men and 
 fisherman, — fellows who could deliver a powerful blow 
 if it should prove necessary. They took bread and 
 baked potatoes along in their pockets and planted them- 
 selves before the shop building at six in the morning. 
 There they stood, guarding the place. 
 
 Now and then Uncle Moses would come out and 
 try to discuss matters with them. 
 
 “What will all this standing about bring you?” 
 
 “We don’t know. We got orders to stand here, 
 and we’re here,” replied the two sturdy fellows. 
 
 “But what do you want? Let me hear what you 
 want.” 
 
KUZMIN GOES OUT ON STRIKE 203 
 
 “We know nothing. Charlie . . .It’s all in Charlie’s 
 hands. We are ordinary, common soldiers. We were 
 told to take up our position here, and we’re here,” 
 replied the men in military fashion, recalling the 
 guard duty performed in the old country during their 
 service in the Czar’s army. 
 
 “What? Was it Charlie that brought you to Amer- 
 ica? Was it Charlie who gave you work? It is to 
 Charlie’s place you go to work all the year round? 
 All right!” 
 
 “We’re doing what we were told to do.” 
 
 “Why should Uncle stand there arguing with them? 
 You can’t talk to them! Come inside!” cried Sam, 
 tugging his sleeve with that effrontery that he had dis- 
 played toward Uncle Moses ever since the child had 
 been born. 
 
 “Let me go. I want to talk this over with them.” 
 
 “Uncle!” roared Sam. “I want you to go inside. 
 You oughtn’t to say a word to them. Have nothing 
 to do v/ith them. They’re no longer relatives of 
 yours. No longer townsfolk. I’ll not let another rela- 
 tive cross our threshold.” 
 
 And Charlie was the strikers’ idol. Charlie came 
 every evening to the Khevra Anshi Kuzmin and spoke 
 to the townsfolk; Charlie brought other speakers; 
 Charlie made the rounds of the newspapers; from some 
 source or other Charlie managed to dig up money; 
 Charlie was, indeed, the second Moses, come to release 
 his townsfolk from the bondage of Uncle Moses, — 
 Pharaoh King of Egypt. 
 
 In the synagogue were gathered all the strikers. 
 Kuzmin was at rest, and it looked like Khol^Eamayid* 
 
 ♦These are the intermediary days (half holidays) between 
 
204 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 in the old country. Here it was neither Sabbath day 
 nor any other holiday; it was an ordinary week day, 
 yet nobody was at work. And Kuzmin was not ac- 
 customed to this. The strike had already been going 
 on for a week. The first enthusiasm had evaporated, 
 and Kuzmin had begun to long for the shop. As yet, 
 none felt hunger, for everybody had laid aside a little 
 in anticipation of the strike; the union, too, managed 
 with ardent effort to collect a little for the same purpose. 
 But it was irksome for Kuzmin to go around idle. They 
 were as restless as could be, and their inactivity, as 
 well as their uncertain prospects, gnawed like a 
 canker-worm at their hearts. 
 
 “What will be the outcome of all this talk?” one 
 would ask the other in secret. 
 
 “And what sort of outcome do you have in Uncle 
 Moses’ shop; a dry crust of bread is all the oppor- 
 tunity he holds out.” 
 
 “Well, I suppose they all know what they’re doing.” 
 
 Kuzjiin, however, did not spend its days in idle 
 prattling and speculation. One would in the meantime 
 strengthen his claims upon the next world by snatching 
 a chance to recite the Psalms; another, who was fairly 
 well acquainted with the sacred books, would spend 
 some time reading parts of the Mishna; the ordinary, 
 untutored fellows would play cards near the entrance 
 to the synagogue, much to the displeasure of the elder 
 folk. “In a holy place!” Whereupon the younger 
 element would retort: “This is a strike hall!” 
 
 Kuzmin went about free and unoccupied, with noth- 
 ing to do. The men in the meantime made the ac- 
 
 the first and last days of the feasts of Passover and Taber- 
 nacles. 
 
KTJZMIN GOES OUT ON STRIKE 
 
 205 
 
 quaintance of their own wives and children; during 
 their working days there was never any time for this. 
 They walked about and devoted themselves to domestic 
 matters, mended their own clothes; yet Kuzmin was 
 not happy. 
 
 “Good heavens, Joe, why is it dragging so? What 
 will be the result?” 
 
 And Charlie’s popularity with the townsfolk grad- 
 ually began to diminish. The longer the strike lasted, 
 without any end in sight, the more these townsfolk, as 
 once their ancestors had done in the desert, began to 
 murmur against their leader. 
 
 “What will the end of all this be? We old fellows 
 should not permit ourselves to be led by a mere boy. 
 Bah! A fine showing we make!” 
 
 During all this time Sam was by no means asleep. 
 He called a family council and sent after his cousin 
 Mannes, who was a Democrat, on good terms with the 
 chief of police, and talked matters over with him. The 
 faithful relatives were summoned, and secretly sent to 
 the homes of the strikers. At first these persons w'ent 
 only to the homes of acquaintances whom Uncle Moses 
 had most aided, and engaged them as follows: 
 
 “What does Charlie promise you, — ^that he’ll fit out 
 a shop for you? Well, let’s see. Why doesn’t he show 
 what he* can do? Why does he permit you to go 
 hungry? If he has taken you away from your jobs, 
 why doesn’t he supply you with other work? He has 
 plenty to eat. He takes his wages from the union. 
 Why doesn’t he strike? He doesn’t strike, you see, but 
 he sends you people out on strike.” 
 
 And these final words were convincing. Before long 
 Sam and cousin Mannes had succeeded in winning back 
 
206 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 a number of townsfolk. It was not hunger or necessity 
 that drove them; it was simply that Kuzmin could 
 not stand idle talk, — it could not go about idle, and 
 felt homesick for the shop. 
 
 Early next morning, when Charlie entered the sjm- 
 agogue strike-headquarters, he found the assembly 
 crowded with the wives of the strikers. No sooner had 
 they caught sight of him than they surged toward 
 him, and Hannah-Rosa, the wife of Shloyme, opened 
 her mouth as spokesman for them all: 
 
 “Who ever asked you, I’d like to ask you, to interest 
 yourself in our affairs? Just because you have some- 
 thing against Uncle Moses on account of a love affair, — 
 on account of a girl that he won away from you — 
 must all of us undergo sufferings and hunger together 
 with our children? How much did you get for this 
 job?” 
 
 “For what?” 
 
 “For leading these old fools astray.” 
 
 “No. Better ask him why he doesn’t strike!” cried 
 another woman. 
 
 “Why should I strike?” 
 
 “Why don’t you strike against the union? Why 
 do you tell us to strike?” 
 
 “But I have nothing to strike against. I don’t 
 work for anybody. I am my own employer. Against 
 whom shall I strike?’"^ asked Charlie with a laugh. 
 
 “Do you hear? He*s not striking. But he tells us 
 to!” 
 
 “Why waste time talking to him? Who is he, any- 
 way, that he presumes to take sides against Uncle 
 Moses? And we old fellows let ourselves be led astray 
 by such a runt,— a mere child!” 
 
KUZMIN GOES OUT ON STRIKE 207 
 
 “Come along, boys, come along! We ought to kiss 
 Uncle Moses’ hand and beg him to take us back. Did 
 you ever hear such a thing?” 
 
 And the Kuzmin townsfolk were on the point of 
 leaving the place in a body, bound for the shop. Charlie 
 stood, it seemed, among a host of enemies; he was at a 
 loss as to how to restrain them. He did, it is true, 
 harangue them, counselling them to stick the fight out, 
 speaking of a higher standard of living, of a new and 
 more just social order, but the men paid no attention 
 to his words. They even laughed behind his back. 
 And one woman cried out: 
 
 “You better first take care that you don’t have to go 
 around with worn-out heels and threadbare trousers; 
 then you can afford to provide for the world, my fine 
 provider ...” 
 
 Charlie did not know what to do. It had been his 
 ambition, ever since he had become interested in the 
 labor movement, to organize Uncle Moses’ shop, — ^the 
 shop in which his father, his family and all his rela- 
 tives were enslaved. He held it as his duty, his debt 
 to America, to the labor movement. And all at once 
 he beheld the work of months, of years, crumble to 
 nothing. He sought to bring every power of elo- 
 quence, all his cherished ideas and convictions, to bear 
 upon the situation; he explained to Kuzmin the vast 
 brotherhood which they were entering by adhering to 
 the union and thus allying themselves with world la- 
 bor. But Kuzmin answered him with glances of scorn 
 and pity. All this brotherly alliance they left to him. 
 They were afraid to lose their means of livelihood. 
 
 At this juncture Reb Aaron Zhakhliner arose. Reb 
 Aaron had been a friend to Charlie’s father in the old 
 
208 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 country. They had both belonged to the same Khas- 
 sidic household and when Charlie’s father had sailed 
 home to die, Reb Aaron had taken his place. Every 
 Saturday he delivered a sermon at the Kuzmin syna- 
 gogue, studied the Midrash with his fellow Jews on 
 Saturday evenings, and on the occasion of the Rejoic- 
 ing of the Law he would annually read to them the 
 legend concerning the death of Holy Moses. Reb Aaron 
 Zhakhliner was looked upon by them as a sort of 
 Dayon, and, since they knew him from the old country 
 as a scholar and a pious Jew, they felt a very deep 
 respect for him. Therefore when he arose, all the voices 
 were stilled, and they listened eagerly for what he had 
 to say. 
 
 “Our case is exactly that of the Jew^s in the exodus 
 from Egypt,” began Reb Aaron in the sing-song, homi- 
 letic manner characteristic of his Saturday evening 
 sermons. “When Moses led the Jews forth from 
 Egypt,” — and he began to sw^ay piously back and 
 forth, — “as the Holy Book tells us, he took them into 
 the wilderness. After the crossing of the Red Sea and 
 other miracles, the Jews began to long for the flesh-pots 
 of Egypt. Whereupon they began to murmur against 
 Moses, and said: ‘Let us choose a leader and let us fol- 
 low him back to Egypt.’ And it’s the same thing here. 
 No sooner have we managed to free ourselves after ar- 
 dent effort from Uncle IMoses, our Pharaoh, and from 
 his taskmaster, Sam, \vho drives us to the hardest toil, 
 just the same as the Jew's in Egypt, and no sooner does 
 Charlie come to join ns in a union that shall be a source 
 of strength and universal benefit, that we shall no more 
 be treated so harshly, that no Sam shall hereafter per- 
 
KUZMIN GOES OUT ON STRIKE 
 
 209 
 
 init himself such slave-driving, — scarcely have we come 
 in sight of victory, suffering a little more hunger rather 
 than shame and harsh toil, than you begin to long for 
 the flesh-pots and say : ‘ Let us choose a leader and re- 
 turn to Uncle Moses.’ Only in Egypt it was the Egyp- 
 tian disrupters that said it, while here, all of you say 
 so. Wherefore I say unto you, even as the Midrash 
 says of the Jews in Egypt: All of you shall die in the 
 wilderness, even as the disrupters, and will not live to 
 taste the joy of gazing upon the Holy Land. For you 
 are as the Canaanite slaves, w'ho say, ‘I love my 
 master’.” 
 
 Terror fell upon Kuzmin; Reb Aaron’s hearers were 
 filled with humiliation. They were ashamed to look 
 one another in the eye. All at once there awoke in 
 them the determined resistance of the ancient Jewish 
 folk, — the old obstinacy that always appeared when 
 the gravity of the situation demanded it. All at once 
 their fear for their livelihood vanished; vanished were 
 the petty considerations that had filled their minds and 
 gnawed at their hearts. The Kuzmin townsfolk had 
 suddenly been infused with new spirit in their fight 
 against Uncle Moses, — with a new view of the struggle. 
 This was no mere contest for a crust of bread and a 
 spoonful of soup. This was a battle for freedom out of 
 slavery. And their Jewish blood began to tingle with 
 the ancient ardor for a battle on the side of right and 
 justice. Shloyme sounded the battle-cry. 
 
 “Fellows, come with me! Come, let’s drive our 
 townsmen out of the shop ! As long as there ’s no work- 
 ing to be done then let nobody work!” 
 
 “Shloyme, where are you going? I won’t let you!” 
 
210 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 cried Hannah-Rosa, seizing her husband by the coat- 
 tail. 
 
 “Out of my way! Off to the house with you! Fol- 
 low me, boys!” 
 
 And the strikers launched forth to beleaguer Uncle 
 Moses' shop. 
 
CHAPTER VI ‘ 
 
 THE “frame-up” 
 
 S AM had been expecting just such a visit, and was 
 ready to receive the besieging townsfolk. He had 
 seen cousin Mannes the “agitator,” — Mannes, who 
 worked his head off at every election in the cause of 
 the Democrats, and who, after victory, would decorate 
 his house with flags and brooms and placards that 
 screamed “I told you so.” He was, therefore, on fa- 
 miliar terms with the Judge, the Chief and all the 
 policemen of the district. Mannes had little love for 
 Uncle Moses, but hearing that his business was im- 
 perilled, and that the “Socialists” were bent on ruin- 
 ing Uncle Moses, his family-feeling flamed up. For did 
 not the whole elan swell with pride because of Uncle 
 Moses’ wealth, and weren’t they highly honored when 
 they could do him a good turn ? Mannes went off to the 
 chief and told him all about the “trouble-makers” and 
 the chief sent a gang to give them a lusty reception. 
 
 As Shloyme approached the familiar shop in which 
 they had toiled day in and day out, ever since they 
 had come to America, they were accosted by a street- 
 woman who suddenly appeared from somewhere or other 
 and threw her arms around Shloyme ’s neck. 
 
 Shloyme was rooted to the spot in terror. He tried 
 to free himself from the woman’s clutches and dash 
 
 211 
 
212 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 into the store to call out the non-strikers. But the 
 woman tightly grasped his sleeve and cried: 
 
 “Police! Police! He has insulted me!” 
 
 All at once there came upon the scene a veritable 
 avalanche of police, brandishing clubs; there were de- 
 tectives in civilian clothes too, as well as a group of 
 suspicious women who pulled at the beards and the 
 temple-locks of the pious Jews. 
 
 “What’s the matter?” asked a policeman. 
 
 “He insulted me. He suggested something shame- 
 ful,” cried the street woman, clutching poor Shloyme 
 by the coat tails. His very temple-locks trembled with 
 fright. 
 
 And this was the signal that had been agreed upon. 
 Soon clubs were flying over the townsmen’s heads. 
 Some took to flight, one leaving behind a lock of his 
 hair, another a wdsp of beard in the women’s fingers; 
 some received cracked heads and welts upon their faces; 
 still others, with Shloyme at their head, were led bleed- 
 ing to the police station by the policemen and the pros- 
 stitutes, accompanied by punches and curses. Within 
 a quarter of an hour there w^as not a trace of the 
 townsfolk; before Uncle Moses’ shop all was quiet and 
 peaceful. Only fragments of hats and pieces of coats 
 that lay strewn about in the blood-bespattered street 
 gave evidence of the battle that had just been waged. 
 
 Uncle Moses was in the store when the fray occurred. 
 He looked on from within. These were his own towns- 
 men, the companions and friends of his childhood that 
 were being so mercilessly beaten before his store. There 
 was Shloyme, — his old school-mate, with whom even 
 today he was on such close terms of intimacy, — being 
 dragged bleeding to the police-station; there was Reb 
 
THE “FRAME-UP” 
 
 213 
 
 Aaron Zhakhliner, his teacher, whom to this very day 
 he regarded with the highest respect, with his temple- 
 locks torn otf. He had no friends, no family outside 
 of these people, who were being so brutally manhandled 
 before his very door, because of him. And he could not 
 understand how it had happened. Never had he 
 dreamed that anything like this could take place. It 
 seemed to him that he himself was down among the 
 townsfolk that were being so savagely clubbed. All 
 Kuzmin was there. He ran over to Sam, who was 
 watching the scene with a pale face and quivering 
 nostrils. 
 
 “What’s the meaning of all these doings in my 
 place? "What do you call this? Who told you to do 
 this? — Stop! Stop it, I say! This very minute!” 
 
 Sam raised his eyes to Uncle Moses. In those eyes 
 flashed a glance that Uncle Moses had never beheld 
 in anyone’s eyes before. That glance, up to this mo- 
 ment, had only been beheld by others, in Uncle Moses’ 
 eyes. 
 
 “Uncle, don’t meddle, please.” 
 
 “Who’s not to meddle? I am boss here!” 
 
 “If you’re the boss, all right. Buy out my share 
 of the business and I’ll run a business of my own the 
 way I think it ought to be run.” 
 
 Uncle Moses was intimidated. For the first time he 
 realized clearly that a new power had arisen beside 
 him. He was afraid to remain in business alone; he 
 feared the energy and strength that glittered in Sam’s 
 eyes and fairly spurted from his face. And he felt 
 his weakness. 
 
 “But what are you doing, Sam? Beating up 
 people?” asked Uncle Moses, stifling back his anger. 
 
214 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 ‘‘Business!’* was Sam’s curt reply. 
 
 “But your own townsfolk and relatives?” 
 
 “No more relatives. No more townsfolk. Just plain 
 workingmen. I’ll not go into their synagogue and sit 
 down among them to chat about the days in the old 
 country. I know no relatives. In my place they must 
 work. Otherwise ’ ’ 
 
 Uncle Moses tried to interpose an objection. 
 
 “But, Sam ” 
 
 “Uncle, I am tired of it!” — interrupted Sam. “I have 
 my own way of running the business. You’ve had 
 yours. — And I don’t want to be interfered with — And 
 I’ll tell you the truth: Perhaps it would be for the 
 best if we did separate. I want to get out and do 
 things for myself. I’ve been working for somebody else 
 altogether too long. I want to go into business on my 
 own responsibility.” 
 
 Uncle Moses was silent. He had grown pale and 
 sad. A feeling of solitude enwrapped him. It seemed 
 to him that all Kuzmin had been shamed, cast into the 
 streets, and that he shared this shame and abandon- 
 ment. 
 
 He left the store without a word and went home. 
 He "wished to pour out his woes to Masha; he longed 
 for consolation, for a good word from somebody. 
 
 He desired to see his child, — to kiss it and rejoice 
 in it; always, when worries preyed upon his spirit, his 
 home life soothed him. He found Masha’s room locked, 
 however; Rosa beckoned to him. 
 
 “Moses, don’t trouble her now. She is all upset.” 
 
 Through the door he could hear Masha sobbing. 
 
 “Why is she crying? What’s happened?” asked 
 Uncle Moses apprehensively. 
 
THE “FRAME-UP” 
 
 215 
 
 “She’s weeping for her townsfolk. She just heard 
 that they were clubbed and beaten. Shell calm down 
 soon.” 
 
 “Masha, darling! Masha, my dear! Please! 
 Masha! — ” entreated Uncle Moses behind the door. 
 
 But Masha made no reply. She lay in the nursery, 
 her face pressed against the infant’s pillow, and wept. 
 Now she hated everybody, — not only her husband and 
 Sam, but her child, too, who had been born of them. 
 She hated herself, too, for having sold herself to them 
 for a crust of bread; she hated her father and mother, 
 who had urged the match upon her. Her youth rose 
 before her eyes, — her days in Hopkins Street, — and it 
 seemed to her that during all this time nothing had 
 changed, — that she, too, was one of the townsfolk that 
 was enslaved in the shop of Uncle Moses and that had 
 passed into Sam’s power. Sam was now boss over the 
 townsfolk and over her, too. Together with them she 
 had been given into his hands as part of Uncle Moses’ 
 legacy. In the struggle of the townsfolk against Uncle 
 Moses, she beheld her own struggle. She, too, wished 
 to free herself together with them from Uncle Moses 
 and Sam. And on the street, before the shop, she, too, 
 had been clubbed and maimed. Sam had struck her to- 
 gether with the rest of the townsfolk. She, too, was 
 out on strike, and longed to be of aid in winning the 
 great battle, freeing herself from Uncle Moses and 
 Sam together with all the other townsfolk. . . . 
 
 She jumped from the bed, got together all the jewelry 
 that her husband had given her, — ^the pearls and the tur- 
 quoises and the sapphires, and everything in adorn- 
 ments and cash that she could collect, — rolled them 
 
216 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 into a little bundle, dressed in simple garments and 
 walked out. 
 
 “Masha, it’s not my fault. I didn’t want such a 
 thing to happen! I couldn’t help it!” asserted Uncle 
 Moses, looking at her through entreating eyes. 
 
 She was inundated by a deep scorn for him. She 
 felt not the slightest affection for him. There was 
 nothing in her heart for him but vengeance, — the sweet 
 feeling that life was wreaking vengeance upon him. 
 She eyed him scornfully and cried out: 
 
 “I hate you! I hate every one of you!” 
 
 “Why?” begged Uncle Moses, stretching his hands 
 toward her. 
 
 “Where are you going, daughter?” cried her mother, 
 following her. 
 
 Masha made no reply. 
 
 Uncle Moses was left alone. 
 
 Amid the growing darkness, out of the shadowy 
 corners, solitude came creeping toward him. Something 
 terrified him, — he could not say what. It was coming 
 closer and closer to him. Nothing was heard save the 
 crying of the child in its room and the crooning of the 
 maid. He went in to seek solace and happiness of his 
 own flesh and blood. . . , 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 ^‘ON THE OTHER SIDE” 
 
 M asha went to look for Charlie at her aunt’s 
 home. He was not there, however, and her 
 aunt, who had not seen Masha since she had been 
 married, received her in cold silence. Masha could not 
 understand why. From her aunt she learned that she 
 could find Charlie at the strikers’ headquarters, which 
 were situated in the religious association of which Uncle 
 Moses was president. Thither went Masha with her 
 little packet of jewels that she intended for her strik- 
 ing townsfolk. In the vicinity of the building she came 
 across wives of strikers with thmr children in their 
 arms; the women had come running to the headquar- 
 ters at the news of the trouble that had taken place 
 in front of Uncle Moses’ shop. 
 
 A change of attitude had come over these women. As 
 a result of the battle that had taken place in front of 
 the shop their fighting spirit had been roused. The 
 sight of their men returning home from the battlefield 
 with bleeding heads, torn temple-locks and plucked 
 beards ignited such a revolutionary fiame in their 
 bosoms that they were ready, on the very instant, to 
 rush to the shop and renew the combat whence their 
 men had so shamefully been routed by the “enemy.” 
 Oh, no longer did they send back their husbands, coun- 
 
 217 
 
218 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 selling them to fall on their knees before Uncle Moses 
 and kiss his hands. On the contrary, they warned their 
 men that if they dared to cross Uncle Moses’ thresh- 
 old, they would be received at home with kettles of 
 boiling water. 
 
 “If you dare to go to Uncle, you may as well look 
 for another home and another vdfe,” admonished one 
 woman, holding her finger to her nose as a sign of 
 warning. 
 
 “And do whatever Charlie tells you to do, you 
 hear? Charlie knows what he’s about. You just bet 
 he does, long life to him ! ’ ’ 
 
 Once more Charlie became the “Moses” that would 
 free the Jews from “Pharaoh King of Egypt,” and 
 deliver them from the oppressive yoke. Once more 
 Charfie became the deliverer, the liberator of Kuzmin’s 
 townsfolk. 
 
 Hearing that a “lady” was asking after the folk of 
 Kuzmin, the bystanders were plunged into excitement. 
 The women surrounded Masha and soon one of them 
 recognized her. 
 
 “Oho! That’s Uncle Moses’ wife. That’s Masha, — 
 tall Aaron’s daughter.” 
 
 “You can tell what she’s come for. She wants to talk 
 for Uncle Moses, — ^to tell them to return to work. You 
 can see why she wants Charlie!” 
 
 “Because she sold herself to Uncle Moses, she im- 
 agines we’ll all sell ourselves.” 
 
 “To Uncle Moses alone, you say? And how about 
 Sam?” muttered another. 
 
 Masha’s face turned fiery red with shame. She 
 wondered how she could escape from the hostile women 
 that encircled her; she felt that she was the “enemy” 
 
“ON THE OTHER SIDE” 
 
 219 
 
 of the townsfolk, whether she wished it or not. Her one 
 concern at this moment was how to escape the women. 
 
 “Women! Women! Calm yourselves! Why all this 
 shouting?” interceded two men, quelling the din and 
 helping Masha to extricate herself from the crowd. 
 
 “Charlie isn’t here. He’s running around the courts 
 getting out the men that were arrested. But he ought 
 to be back soon. Have a seat, ]\Irs. Melnick. He’ll be 
 back right away.” 
 
 “Who is she, anyway? 'Just see how nicely they 
 talk to her, — what a hearty reception they. give her. 
 She’s not such a much. Her father sewed pants for 
 Uncle Moses like the rest of them. He was nothing 
 but a downtrodden, whining operator himself. His 
 luck that Uncle Moses fell in love with his daughter. 
 Just see what they make of her.” 
 
 “You silly goose, we could all enjoy such luck if we 
 cared to marry our daughters off to old men.” 
 
 “It’s because of her that he has our husband’s heads 
 split, — ^that he may make enough money to buy her 
 whatever she wishes.” 
 
 “Naturally if you marry an old man, at least get 
 everything out of him you possibly can.” 
 
 Masha gazed at the w^omen with eyes that entreated 
 mercy. She wished to tell them that she was just as 
 unhappy as they, — that she, too, was but an employee 
 of Uncle Moses, — likewise a slave of the firm “Moses 
 Melnick and Company,” and that she had come to 
 strike together with them, to seek liberation together 
 with all the townsfolk from the yoke of Uncle Moses’ 
 house. But the women neither could nor cared to 
 read what was written in the young wife’s large, tear- 
 filled eyes. They beheld in her their enemy upon whom 
 
220 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 they lusted to wreak vengeance for long years of suf- 
 fering, for old, repeated humiliations and for their 
 husband’s battered heads. 
 
 “Just look at the fuss they’re making over her. 
 Uncle Moses is a wily rogue; he wants to decoy them 
 back to the shop, so he’s sent his young wife to do the 
 trick. Just see how quiet they’ve become, — how afraid 
 they are of her!” 
 
 “Uncle Moses sent her, you say? — No. It was Sam 
 who sent her. She knows whom she must obey.” 
 
 The burning gibes pierced Masha to the marrow. She 
 took them upon herself as a punishment. At that 
 moment she was ready for everything, — ready to east 
 off the shame and the slavery that had been forced upon 
 her and to remain here with her townsfolk in the 
 “Congregation,” — to make their lot her own. And she 
 waited for Charlie’s arrival, that she might tell him all. 
 
 To wait for him inside the synagogue was impossible. 
 The women became so excited with animosity against 
 her, and their words grew so insulting that she had to 
 flee the place. "Who can say to what all this might have 
 led had not Charlie happened to enter. 
 
 “Hello, Masha!” greeted Charlie, with his usual 
 smile, as if they had seen each other only the night be- 
 fore. “What are you doing here?” 
 
 Masha looked straight into his eyes. During the 
 three years in which she had not seen him he had 
 changed but little. He looked just as child-like as he 
 had appeared that day on the beach at Coney Island, 
 and involuntarily she made a comparison between her- 
 self and him. It seemed to her that during these 
 years she had grown to be his mother, while he had 
 
“ON THE OTHER SIDE” 
 
 221 
 
 remained the same child as ever. The only change 
 that had taken place was afforded by the long, black 
 patch of hair that grew down from his temples in 
 Spanish fashion ; this made him look to her like a 
 school-child w'ho, anxious to have a mustache, smears 
 his upper lip with soot. For a moment the sight of 
 him made her forget the purpose for which she had 
 come. There had after all been no change during the 
 past three years, it seemed. Once again she had come 
 to him as a young girl to her boy chum, to take him 
 out for a walk or a pleasure trip as she had used to do. 
 
 “I’d like to have a personal talk with you, Charlie,” 
 she began, with her usual frank smile, which she bor- 
 rowed from the days w^hen she was still a maiden. 
 “Come out with me.” 
 
 “I’m sorry, but you don’t understand the situation. 
 The strikers regard everything with suspicion, and very 
 naturally they’d soon be thinking all sorts of things. 
 They’d imagine that I was going to betray them, — sell 
 them out. Better let’s talk right here.” 
 
 Masha suddenly recalled where she was. 
 
 “Yes, you are right. There was something I wanted 
 to talk over with you. Perhaps another time. For the 
 present, let me beg you to take this for our townsfolk. 
 It’s everything I own.” And she handed Charlie the 
 bundle of jewels and cash. 
 
 Charlie, however, smiled bashfully at her. 
 
 “You know, Masha, — I can’t do anything alone. 
 We’ll have to ask the strike committee whether they 
 are willing to accept it.” 
 
 “Very well, then. I’ll wait.” 
 
 Charlie called together a few of the strikers, took 
 them into a corner and went into discussion with them. 
 
222 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 Soon he returned and said to Masha, all the while smil- 
 ing his childish smile : 
 
 “I’m sorry, Masha, but the workingmen refuse to 
 accept this. They don’t like the idea of accepting 
 charity, you know. . . . And then, there’s your po- 
 sition,” he suddenly broke in. “You understand, 
 Masha. I ’m sorry. ’ ’ 
 
 “This isn’t charity. It’s my donation to the strike. 
 I’m striking, too. I, too, want to join the strikers. 
 Charlie, I want to side with them, to make their cause 
 my own. ... I want to be like them, like you, to- 
 gether with all of them. ...” Tears appeared in 
 Masha’s eyes. 
 
 “What’s the matter, Masha? Aren’t you well?” 
 
 “It’s nothing. You’re right. Yes, I understand. 
 I’m an enemy to you. — And donations can’t be accepted 
 from an enemy. Yes, you are right. — It is better so. 
 Good-bye, Charlie, and thanks.” 
 
 “But what’s the matter with you? — ^Wait a minute. 
 I’ll go along with you. I’ll take you home.” 
 
 “No, don’t go. with me. The strikers will suspect 
 things. No, no. You mustn’t be seen with me. I 
 belong to the other side. — You are right. Good-bye, 
 Charlie!” And she hastened from the building. 
 
 Towards evening she returned home. The house was 
 in almost total darkness. Above, however, in the bed- 
 room, there w'as a light, — the many-colored light effect 
 that Uncle Moses had installed. As she climbed the 
 stairs she could hear Uncle Moses’ bass voice quivering 
 with hoarse laughter. For a moment she stood upon 
 the threshold of the bedroom, the door to which was 
 open, and gazed upon the scene. Her husband was 
 upon the divan, playing with the hands of the infant. 
 
J‘ON THE OTHER SIDE” 
 
 223 
 
 who was lying nearby; the man laughed and rejoiced 
 with his child, showering the little hands with kisses 
 and smacking his lips loudly. Catching sight of Masha 
 in the doorway, Uncle Moses turned to her with a 
 beaming countenance and sparkling eyes. 
 
 ‘ ‘ Come here, Masha. Come here. Just see the, nose 
 it’s getting. — ^Looks more like me every day. — I’ll bet 
 your life it looks just like me.” 
 
 Masha went over and contemplated the child. By his 
 strong, energetic lips, by his long nose, by his heavy 
 breathing, she saw whom he really resembled most. And 
 the reddish light of the room recalled her shame, and 
 more than ever she felt that she belonged “on the 
 other side.” 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 ‘what’s going on here, people?” 
 
 T he Melnick family and relatives were assembled in 
 Uncle Moses’ large dining-room. It was late in 
 the evening, and everybody was quiet, as if mourning 
 the dead. Aaron Melnick was the only one who gave 
 full vent to his feelings. His head swathed in a towel, 
 he paced up and down the room groaning. “Oh, 
 Father in Heaven!” The rest, however, were silent. 
 Rosa, the mother, had grown suddenly old and infirm. 
 Uncle Moses had become bent, while a senile smile had 
 stolen into his features. He neither wept nor groaned, 
 but looked about him good-humoredly, like an old child 
 who did not know what to do and was ready to follow 
 the first suggestion. All eyes were turned upon Sam, 
 the one person present who seemed to possess unshat- 
 tered nerves and health. The nostrils of his long, white 
 nose drank in the air eagerly; he breathed heavily as 
 if he could not suck in enough air for the strength that 
 burned in his veins. He tried to calm the assembled 
 relatives, although he was really the most excited and 
 uneasy of them all. He bit nervously at his finger 
 nails and tried to compose himself. 
 
 “And I tell you that nothing has happened. I main- 
 tain what I said before: — Charlie has a hand in this! 
 It’s as clear as the light of day. He has abducted her, 
 
 224 
 
“WHAT'S GOING ON HERE, PEOPLE?” .225 
 
 so as to force us to give in to the striking men. It’s 
 a plain ease of kidnapping.” 
 
 He knew very well that this tale was a pure bit of 
 imagination, yet he told it not only to calm his hear- 
 ers, but himself as well. His vibrant energy refused 
 to believe that any harm had overtaken Masha. The 
 surrounding family and relatives knew, too, that Sam’s 
 story was an empty accusation, and all were silent as 
 before. 
 
 It was already three days since Masha had suddenly 
 disappeared, leaving not a trace. She went out and 
 never retui-ned. Sam and his cousin Mannes had put 
 the police to work on the case, had hired detectives, 
 had sought her at the home of relatives, friends, among 
 the striking townsfolk, at Charlie’s home (where they 
 had overturned the whole place). But Masha was not 
 to be found. When three days had passed without any 
 word from Masha, every one felt that something had 
 happened to her, but the fear was held in their hearts, 
 unspoken. The family and the assembled relatives had 
 remained in the dining-room till late that evening. They 
 were at a loss for what to do and could not separate. 
 
 At about this time there appeared just outside the 
 house a feminine form. The woman had already ap- 
 proached the door more than once, immediately with- 
 drawing, however, and disappearing somewhere, only to 
 return anew. 
 
 It was Masha. The child that she had left behind 
 was drawing her back to the Melnick home. In vain 
 had she tried to efface the life she had lived during the 
 past few years, — ^to obliterate it and reunite her life 
 with that past in which she had been a carefree girl. 
 Not a single day may be deleted from a person’s life 
 
226 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 and every event of our days demands its reckoning, — 
 every deed of ours comes to ask its own, whether we 
 have committed it of our own free will or not. In vain 
 she tried to persuade herself that this was not her 
 child, — that it was the Melnick family’s child, — that it 
 belonged to the “Melnick Company,” — ^that she had 
 cast the child off together with the company. 
 
 In the little room where she had boarded for the 
 past three days, in the home of a poor old woman to 
 whom she represented herself as a shop-girl, — in that 
 little room the child had appeared to her and begged 
 her to return. She understood everything, — ^that the 
 child was a result of her serfdom, of the pressure that 
 had been exerted upon her, that she had little per- 
 sonally to do with it because it had not come as a re- 
 sult of her wish nor even been bom as a fruit of her 
 passion, — that it was the product of an error, of her 
 weakness — that now all this had been blotted out, that 
 the fruits of error and weakness had vanished with her 
 step towards freedom and regeneration. 
 
 But all this amounted merely to so many words. The 
 joy of the small, dark room, the joy of working in a 
 shop, — which she had today tasted for the first time, 
 the joy of her own personal life that she had created by 
 force of her will and her strength, was troubled. Some- 
 how or other she could not enjoy her freedom. It 
 seemed to her that over at the Melnick home she had 
 left half of herself, — that she was not wholly free. She 
 felt a powerful impulse to take the little child along 
 with her to that dark, tiny room. 
 
 She did not know how she would nfanage this. She 
 sought means to accomplish her purpose, and suggested 
 to the old landlady that she would bring her child there. 
 
“WHAT’S GOING ON HERE, PEOPLE?” 227 
 
 And on the evening of the third day, without any clear 
 conception of how she would institute her new life to- 
 gether with the child, she went forth to take the child 
 away from the Melnicks to her own apartment. 
 
 Several times she had already started to climb the 
 outside steps and had retreated. It was not weakness ' 
 that caused her to turn back ; her simple maidenly 
 mind was unable to develop any practical plan whereby 
 she could begin her new life with the child. Her little^ 
 mother-heart, however, was undaunted by her mind’s 
 uncertainty, and obeyed the strong impulse that filled 
 it. Suddenly she pulled at the door-*bell — and Masha 
 strode into the dining-room where her family and rela- 
 tives were seated at this late hour, bemoaning her fate. 
 
 She was pale; her hair was still wet with combing 
 and her face w’an with the suffering she had undergone, 
 but on her countenance shone that glow which comes 
 from a soul deeply at peace with itself. Her eyes were 
 crystal clear. She paused to glance at no one, but ad- 
 vanced directly to the stairway that led to the child’s 
 room above. 
 
 The members of the company remained rooted to their 
 seats in fright. 
 
 Uncle Moses was the first to recover his power of 
 speech : 
 
 “Masha! Masha, my darling!” he cried, his voice 
 hoarse with tears, and he ran to her weeping, with his 
 face lighted up by joy. It seemed that he was about to 
 fall upon his knees before her. 
 
 “IV^sha! Masha!” cried her father. Her mother, 
 however, beckoned both of them to hold back. 
 
 “Let her be, for God’s sake! Leave her alone!” 
 
 Sam said nothing. He had turned white. His lips 
 
228 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 grew crisp, as if lie were on the point of bursting into 
 tears, and his large nostrils sucked in the air more 
 eagerly than ever. 
 
 “Masha, my darling, everything has been arranged 
 to everybody’s satisfaction. He has given in to the 
 workingmen’s demands, — he has yielded every point, 
 just for your sake.” And Uncle Moses grovelled be- 
 for her, his eyes filled with tears of joy as he told her 
 the news. 
 
 “Hush. This is no time for talk,” whispered his 
 mother-in-law, tugging at his sleeve. 
 
 Masha, however, neither saw nor heard anything. She 
 went up to the room where the child lay. 
 
 “Masha!” cried Uncle Moses, about to follow her up 
 the stairs. 
 
 “Don’t go now, I tell you. Leave her alone!” 
 warned Rosa, holding him back. 
 
 Silence again hovered over the room, but it was now 
 a different sort of silence. The men and women ex- 
 changed glances, but refrained from disturbing their 
 newly-found cahn with speech, as if they feared to 
 frighten away the vision that had arisen before their 
 eyes. The only one who could not contain himself 
 was, as usual, Aaron. 
 
 “God in Heaven, Father, Father Almighty, Father — ” 
 he gasped between his sobs. 
 
 “Won’t you be quiet for a moment! Shut up!” 
 scolded his wife. 
 
 “Let me cry,” answered Aaron tearfully, and burst 
 out more loudly than ever. 
 
 A few minutes went by. The family had regained 
 a tithe of its former composure. Aaron Melnick’s weep- 
 ing soothed them all. Rosa was the first to go upstairs 
 
“WHAT’S GOING ON HERE, PEOPLE?” 229 
 
 to the child’s room. She was met on the stairs, how- 
 ever, by Masha, who was holding the child in her arms. 
 The infant was wrapped in a quilt and pressed tightly 
 to the mother’s bosom. 
 
 “Daughter, what do you call this?” questioned Rosa, 
 trying to remove the child from Masha’s grasp. 
 
 “Mamma!” cried Masha, restraining her' mother by 
 force of the strange light that came from her eyes. 
 
 “Moses, come here!” cried Rosa to her son-in-law. 
 
 “What’s the trouble now?” Uncle Moses and Aaron 
 hastened to the woman. Sam, however, held aloof from 
 the scene, still pale with repressed emotion. 
 
 Masha avoided them all and tried to advance with 
 her child in her arms. 
 
 “Where are you going, Masha?” they all cried. 
 
 Masha made no reply and continued on her way. 
 
 “I won’t allow this!” cried Uncle Moses, seizing 
 her and barring her way. 
 
 “You have no right to prevent me. Please, let me — ” 
 
 A deep silence fell over the room. Only Sam’s 
 heavy, eager breathing could be heard. 
 
 “What are you talking about? What are you say- 
 ing? Masha, what are you doing? Please, calm your- 
 self. Everything is all right now. Everything is set- 
 tled with the workingmen. What do you want? Every- 
 thing is all right now.” 
 
 “I don’t want to remain here. — ^Let me get out of 
 here. ’ ’ 
 
 “But where are you going? What’s the meaning of 
 all this?” 
 
 “Please, let me go!” cried Masha, tearing herself 
 out of his grasp. 
 
230 
 
 ■ UNCLE MOSES 
 
 “I will not let you go. It’s my child!” And he 
 tried to grasp the child from her. 
 
 “It is not your child. You have no right to it.” 
 
 “Not my child?” laughed Uncle Moses. “Whose 
 child is it, then, you silly goose? What are you 
 prattling about?” 
 
 “It is not your child. And — please, let me go, — 
 release me!” And she looked gravely into his eyes. 
 
 Uncle Moses grew suddenly white. For a moment he 
 looked about the room. For an instant his eyes flashed 
 with that piercing glance that had once struck such 
 terror into all beholders, and his voice echoed with that 
 metallic clang that evoked fear, while his lips turned 
 bloodless and began to tremble. 
 
 “I don’t like this talk. I don’t like it. Please, 
 Masha,” he said firmly. 
 
 “She is not well. Can’t you see that she’s not well? 
 Let her alone, Moses. We ought to put her to bed. 
 Moses, telephone for Dr. Goldstein. I’m afraid the 
 girl is sick,” said Rosa, approaching her daughter. 
 
 “Mamma, please. He has no right to the child.” 
 
 “What is she saying, mother-in-law? What is that 
 she’s saying? I don’t like those words. What is she 
 saying? — I won’t let you go,” He hastened to the 
 door and locked it. — “I’ll not let you take the child 
 along.” Then all at once he huddled together, his 
 face became sinister, his eyes were ringed with dark 
 circles and he began to entreat her : 
 
 “Where are you going, Masha my darling? Where 
 are you going? What is the meaning of all this? 
 What is she saying? What? Wliat is she saying? 
 Tell me, people, what is she saying?” 
 
^‘WHAT’S GOING ON HERE, PEOPLE?'’ 231 
 
 “Does she know what she’s saying, then? Can’t 
 you see that she’s not well. Put her to bed.” 
 
 “Mamma!” shrieked Masha, not letting Rosa get near 
 her. 
 
 Silence. Masha approached the door and tried to 
 open it. It was locked. She looked around, and then 
 walked calmly over to Uncle Moses and said : 
 
 “You have no right to hold me back. I have told 
 you the truth. The child is not yours.” 
 
 Uncle ]\Ioses stood as one transfixed, and stared at her 
 for a long while, as if he could not understand what 
 she was saying. Then he raised his eyes and looked 
 around at everybody in the room. Sam was still stand- 
 ing, as before, pale, biting his nails and avoiding Uncle 
 i\Ioses’ glance. Suddenly Uncle Moses went to the door, 
 opened it, and said, as if to himself : 
 
 “All right.” 
 
 Without looking at anybody in the room jMasha 
 walked hastily out of the room. 
 
 “Daughter, — my child, where are you going?” cried 
 Rosa, running after her into the corridor. 
 
 In the dining-room the silence was so deep that Sam 
 could be heard chewing at his nails. For a long time 
 Uncle IMoses looked at him — Sam was unaware of the 
 insistent gaze — and the silence remained unbroken, as 
 if the company lay under a magic spell. All at once 
 Aaron Melnick’s child-like weeping burst out with a 
 frightened wail: 
 
 “What’s going on here, people? What’s the mean- 
 ing of it all? Tell me, — what’s going on here? I 
 can’t understand. I can’t understand.” 
 
 But nobody answered him. 
 
/ 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 ALONE 
 
 ROUND the establishment of “Melnick and Com- 
 
 pany” wandered an old man whom the employees, 
 half in earnest and half in jest, called “Uncle.” The 
 old man spent most of his time upstairs in the work- 
 room among the operatives. He would take a seat 
 among his townsfolk, and was fond of passing the 
 time with them, hearing and telling stories of the old 
 home, of Kuzmin. Often the old fellow would simply 
 hobble from one workingman to the other, and when the 
 foreman would appear, — cousin Mannes, whom Sam had 
 taken into the business, — Mannes would go over to 
 Uncle Moses and slap him across the shoulder. “Come 
 On, Uncle!” And should Uncle Moses happen not to 
 hear him, or refuse to obey, Mannes would go to sum- 
 mon Sam. And just as once upon a time Uncle Moses 
 used to coax his father away from the workmen, so 
 now did Sam do with Moses. Sam’s earnest face as- 
 sumed a kindly expression, and tenderly he took Uncle 
 Moses by the arm and said to him good-naturedly: 
 “Are you not ashamed. Uncle? Come on.” 
 
 And Uncle Moses would really be filled with shame, 
 and would go down from the shop with Sam, without 
 speaking a word. 
 
 For a few minutes he would wander about the of- 
 fice, or the sales department, exchanging a jest here 
 
 232 
 
ALONE 
 
 233 
 
 and there with one of the employees. He would even- 
 tually tire of it all, and would leave for the saloon 
 across the way. 
 
 This would at once be reported to Sam, who would 
 be overwhelmed with humiliation to think that his 
 Uncle should be idling his time away in a saloon. He 
 would send over his cousin Mannes to bring Uncle 
 Moses back. And when Moses returned Sam would 
 say to him, this time without his kindly smile: 
 
 ‘ ‘ Are you not ashamed, Uncle ? Come on ! ” And he 
 would call one of the store boys, telling him to lead 
 Uncle Moses home. 
 
 Often Uncle Moses would sit by himself in the spa- 
 cious bed-room and play with the various light effects 
 that he had installed at the time of his marriage to 
 Masha. Now he would flood the room with red, and 
 now with a bright blue light, and would go over to the 
 divan on which he had so often played with the child ; 
 he would mutter something to himself, smile, and smack 
 his old, dry lips. Then suddenly he would start, gaze 
 about him in fright and shame, to see whether he had 
 been noticed by the servant in the next room. He 
 would slam the door behind him and go out into the 
 garden, or back to the shop. . . . He had also been 
 seen on the steps of a large tenement house in the 
 Bronx where a workingwoman and her child boarded 
 with strangers. Often an old respectable gentleman 
 would be noticed hovering before the tenement-house 
 door, and when the neighbors asked whom he was look- 
 ing for, he would smile and reply: “It’s all right.” 
 Once it happened that he entered the home of those 
 strangers with whom the workingwoman and her child 
 
234 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 boarded, and sat down in silence. But on the selfsame 
 day the workingwoman and her child moved away. 
 Nobody knew where she had moved, and the old man 
 never appeared again. . . . 
 
 Before the entrance to a tenement house on a noisy 
 street in the Bronx lingered an aged man. The neigh- 
 bors had noticed him a long time. And when they 
 asked him whom he was looking for, he smiled and re- 
 plied : 
 
 “It is all right.” 
 
 He smiled and resumed his pacing to and fro, until 
 he caught sight of a woman, or a girl, approaching 
 from afar. At once he disappeared from the sidevpalk. 
 A little while later he hastened up the stairs and 
 knocked at a door. 
 
 The door opened and he was asked what he wished. 
 
 “Do a young woman and a child live here?” he 
 asked. “The woman’s name is Masha.” 
 
 “Mrs. Melnick! Does this gentleman mean you?” 
 called the woman to her boarder. 
 
 Masha entered the room. In the darkness she did 
 not recognize Uncle Moses. 
 
 “Who is that?” 
 
 “Masha,” cried an old man’s voice. 
 
 Masha was astounded. 
 
 “What are you looking for here?” 
 
 “I want to tell you something.” 
 
 Masha was ashamed to create a scene before the old 
 woman and was at a loss. Without a word she went 
 back to her room and the old man followed her. He 
 closed the door behind him and looked around, as if in 
 quest of something. 
 
ALONE 
 
 235 
 
 In a corner of the room, on a bed, lay a child, whom 
 Masha now approached and began to tend, as if nobody 
 but them were present. 
 
 After a long while had passed, during which the old 
 stranger stood motionless near the door and IMaslia did 
 not even turn around toward him, — there was sud- 
 denly heard the sound of weeping, — the moaning of an 
 old, sick beast, in cracked bass tones, 
 
 Masha was frightened. She walked over to him and 
 said, sympathetically: 
 
 “Hush. People will be scared. It’s not nice.” 
 
 The old man did his best to restrain his weeping. 
 He wiped the tears from his cheeks, which were hot 
 with the drops, and sobbed softly. 
 
 “Calm yourself. Go home. It’s not nice.” 
 
 “Yes, yes, Masha. Soon. Right away.” And the 
 old man composed himself, like a weeping child who has 
 promised to be good. 
 
 “I know it’s all my fault. I am an old fool. No- 
 body’s fault but my own, — my own. But why did God 
 punish me? Why? What did I wish? — What every 
 common laborer has, — a wife and a child.” And the 
 old man burst into tears anew. 
 
 “Uncle, please. Don’t torture me, and go home.” 
 “Yes, yes, right away. All right.” He made as if 
 to go, but paused near the door and gazed at Masha 
 through sick, entreating eyes, 
 
 “Masha, — a single word. Please. Just one word. — 
 It is my child. Say it is. I know. I know it is.” He 
 stepped toward the bed on which the child lay. 
 
 Masha, frightened, barred the way, 
 
 “Don’t be afraid. Don’t be — I’ll do him no harm. I 
 
23G 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 just want to take a look at him. Just look at him and 
 then leave. Please let me see him. That’s all.” 
 
 Uncle Moses stepped over to the bed, where the child 
 lay playing with its little hands; he drank in the sight- 
 All at once he fell across the bed, and clutching it with 
 both hands he wept afresh. 
 
 “It is my child, Masha. I know. — The only thing 
 that life holds for me. I know, Masha. Please, Masha, 
 say, — that it is my child, — my own, my own.” 
 
 It was a long time before Masha, by gentle means 
 and harsh, was able to get Uncle Moses out of the room. 
 She soothed him, promising to return to him, to permit 
 him to live with her and the child. Uncle Moses left 
 in peace and joy. 
 
 The next day, however, when he returned to the tene- 
 ment, he found neither Masha nor the child. Nor could 
 anybody inform him whither they had gone. 
 
 For many a day Uncle Moses wandered about in- 
 quiring of everybody after Masha and the child. He 
 told everybody, — whether he knew the people or not, — 
 that the child was his, that Masha had promised to 
 come back and live with him. He even went to the 
 police station and asked the police to hunt for his 
 wife, and he was forever in search of a skilled detec- 
 tive whom he desired to put on her trail. 
 
 Folk took pity upon him and gave ear to his tale. 
 They all assured him that the child was certainly his, 
 and that his wife would return and live with him 
 again. 
 
 Once in the down-town Galician quarter, he entered a 
 saloon which was frequented by bakers and butchers. 
 
ALONE 
 
 237 
 
 Here he was received as an old boon companion. But 
 no sooner had he become a bit tipsy than he began to 
 use most scandalous language, prattling about children 
 that he had had by the wife of the saloon-keeper and 
 demanding the return of his children. The husband 
 administered a severe rebuke: it was hardly fitting for 
 such an old man to babble such indecent things. Such 
 an old duffer ought to be in the synagogue chanting the 
 Psalms, not wallowing about in a saloon. Whereupon 
 the saloon-keeper opened the door and ordered him 
 out. . . . 
 
 And once it happened that Uncle Moses, attending 
 the funeral of one of his townsfolk, found himself in a 
 cemetery. The name of the cemetery sounded familiar 
 to him, and he recalled that somebody he knew reposed 
 here, — somebody very close to him. He went to the of- 
 fice and asked for the location of his first wife, who had 
 been buried there some twenty years before. The sec- 
 retary looked the name up in the books and sent a 
 sexton along with Uncle Moses. Amid neatly kept 
 graves surrounded by carefully trimmed shrubbery rose 
 a crumbling stone above an abandoned, forgotten grave 
 that was almost hidden by the wild vegetation which had 
 sprung up. Uncle Moses looked at the tombstone — 
 and memories of his early years came back to him. 
 Close by was fenced in another plot for another grave, 
 which was as yet unoccupied. This was his own lot, 
 which he had purchased for himself beside his departed 
 wife. 
 
 And all at once the whole matter became clear to 
 him: in his wife’s grave reposed his life, his youth. — 
 
238 
 
 UNCLE MOSES 
 
 He saw it all. And close beside it lay his own grave, 
 waiting for him. 
 
 He had striven, had done business, had bought love, 
 — ^had subjected other lives to his will, — and here, all 
 the time lay a grave, quietly waiting for him. And 
 now, it seemed to him that he could understand why 
 the life he had sought to rear had crumbled. He had 
 been building upon an open grave, — And it was not 
 long before he occupied his place in the grave that had 
 been waiting all this time beside his forgotten life. . . . 
 
 
 THE END