Out of the very heart and life of the writer come these tales of the immigrant's hunger of spirit and desperate struggle to achieve not only food and shelter, but spiritual betterment in America. Very intense, with a touch of sadness or bitterness here and there, but vivid and appealing.
The Lost "Beautifulness"
The Free Vacation House
Where Lovers Dream
Soap and Water
"The Fat of the Land"
My Own People
How I Found America
ive away everything in the world only to have something pretty to wear for him. My whole life hangs on how I'll look in his eyes. I got to have a hat and a new dress. I can't no more wear my 'greenhorn' shawl going out with an American.
"But from where can I get the money for new clothes? Oi weh! How bitter it is not to have the dollar! Woe is me! No mother, no friend, nobody to help me lift myself out of my greenhorn rags."
"Why not pawn the feather bed your mother left you?" She jumped at the thought.
"What? Have you no heart? No feelings? Pawn the only one thing left from your dead mother?
"Why not? Nothing is too dear for him. If your mother could stand up from her grave, she'd cut herself in pieces, she'd tear the sun and stars out from the sky to make you beautiful for him."
Late one evening Zaretsky sat in his pawnshop, absorbed in counting the money of his day's sales, when Shenah Pessah, with a shawl over her head and a huge bundle over her shoulder, edged her way h
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