The Life Stories 
 
 of X-AUfo^r 
 
 Undistinguished Americans 
 
 As Told by Themselves 
 
 Edited by Hamilton Holt 
 
 With an Introduction by Edwin E. Slosson 
 
 NEW YORK 
 JAMES POTT & COMPANY 
 
 1906 
 
REESE 
 
 - SE 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 INTRODUCTION . 
 
 CHAPTER I, > .,; 
 THE LIFE STORY OF A LITHUANIAN 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 THE LIFE STORY OF A POLISH SWEATSHOP GIRL . . 34 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 THE LIFE STORY OF AN ITALIAN BOOTBLACK . . 47 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 THE LIFE STORY OF A GREEK PEDDLER . 63 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 THE LIFE STORY OF A SWEDISH FARMER 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 THE LIFE STORY OF A FRENCH DRESSMAKER . . 99 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 THE LIFE STORY OF A GERMAN NURSE GIRL . . 125 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 THE LIFE STORY OF AN IRISH COOK . . . 143 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 THE LIFE STORY OF A FARMER S WIFE .... 150 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 TWTT T.TTTTT ST^ V OF AN ITINERANT MINISTER . . 167 
 
 [V] 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 i 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 THE LIFE STORY OF A NEGRO PEON .... 183 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 THE LIFE STORY OF AN INDIAN . . . . 200 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 THE LIFE STORY OF AN IQORROTE CHIEF . . . 225 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 THE LIFE STORY OF A SYRIAN ...... 238 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 THE LIFE STORY OF A JAPANESE SERVANT . . . 257 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 THE LIFE STORY OF A CHINAMAN . .281 
 
 [vi] 
 
NOTE 
 
 The INDEPENDENT has published during the 
 last four years about seventy-five autobiogra 
 phies of undistinguished American men and 
 women. The aim of each autobiography was 
 to typify the life of the average worker in 
 some particular vocation, and to make each 
 story the genuine experience of a real person. 
 From this list have been selected the following 
 sixteen lives as most representative of the hum 
 bler classes in the nation, and of individuals 
 whose training and work have been the most 
 diverse. Thus we have the story of the 
 butcher, the sweat-shop worker, the boot 
 black, the push-cart peddler, the lumber man, 
 the dressmaker, the nurse girl, the cook, the 
 cotton-picker, the head-hunter, the trained 
 nurse, the editor, the minister, the butler 
 and the laundryman. They also represent 
 the five great races of mankind, the white, yel 
 low, red, brown and black, and include immi 
 grants from Lithuania, Poland, Sweden, Ire 
 land, France, Germany, Italy, Greece, Syria, 
 China and Japan. I am aware that some of 
 these autobiographies, or "lifelets," are crude 
 from a literary point of view, but they all have 
 a deep human interest and perhaps some socio 
 logical importance. 
 
 HAMILTON HOLT. 
 [vii] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED 
 AMERICANS 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 THE late Jules Verne about a year before 
 his death created something of a sensa 
 tion by saying that the novel had reached its 
 height and would soon be displaced from its 
 present position of influence and popularity 
 by new forms of literature. Whether the 
 fact that his later romances had not sold as 
 well as his earlier had anything to do with this 
 pessimistic view of the outlook for his trade, 
 there is much to indicate that he was right. 
 It is true that there are more novels written 
 and read than ever before, and there is no 
 decline in quality, whether we consider the 
 average or the exceptional. But the habitual 
 readers of fiction, notwithstanding their con- 
 spicuousness and vocality, form only a small 
 and continually smaller proportion of the 
 total number of readers. Most men and 
 many women prefer to come into closer touch 
 with reality and seek it, often in vain, in the 
 newspapers. Consequently fiction is under- 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 going a process of fission ; the cleft between the 
 realistic and romantic novels is widening. 
 The former are becoming more nearly a tran 
 script of life, and the latter, no longer tethered 
 to earth, are soaring into the ether of the 
 imaginary and impossible. In the same way 
 the old-fashioned melodrama is differenti 
 ating into the drawing-room comedy and the 
 burlesque opera. 
 
 When you propose to tell a story to children 
 they interrupt at the first sentence with the 
 question, " Is it a true story? " As we evade 
 or ignore this natural and pertinent inquiry 
 they finally cease to ask it, and we blur for 
 them the edges of reality until it fades off into 
 the mists. The hardest part of the training 
 of the scientist is to get back the clear sight of 
 his childhood. But nowadays our educators 
 do not do quite so much as formerly to en 
 courage the mythopeic faculty of children. 
 It has been found that their imagination can 
 be exercised by other objects than the imag 
 inary. Consequently the number of readers 
 who are impatient of any detectable deviation 
 from truth is increasing. 
 
 Besides this, most people perhaps all- 
 are more impressed by the concrete than the 
 abstract. The generalized types of humanity 
 as expressed by the artist in painting and 
 sculpture, romances and poems do not interest 
 them so much as do individuals. A composite 
 photograph of a score of girls is very beauti- 
 
 [2] 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 ful, but one is not apt to fall in love with it, 
 notwithstanding the stories for which this has 
 served as the theme. The scientist has a very 
 clear and definite conception of kinetic energy 
 when it is expressed by the formula mv 2 , but 
 he is more forcibly struck by it when he is hit 
 on the head with a club. Formerly botanists 
 used to talk a great deal about species and 
 types ; later they turned their attention to vari 
 eties, and now the men who are making the 
 most progress are experimenting with one 
 plant and a single flower of that one. The 
 candidate for a Ph.D. watches a single amoeba 
 under a microscope and writes his thesis on 
 one day s doings of its somewhat monotonous 
 life. The man who can describe the antics of 
 a squirrel in a tree has all the publishers after 
 him, while the zoologist has to pay for the 
 publication of his monograph on the Sciuri- 
 dce. The type of the naturalist, the ideal 
 statue of the sculptor, the algebraic formula 
 of the physicist and the hero and heroine of 
 the romancer have a symmetry, universality 
 and beauty above that of any individual and 
 in a sense they are truer, but their chief value 
 is not in themselves but in their use as guides 
 to the better understanding of the individual, 
 from which they originate and to which they 
 return. 
 
 To these two forces tending to develop new 
 forms of literature, the love of truth and the 
 interest in the concrete, we must add one 
 [3] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 other, the spirit of democracy, the discovery of 
 the importance of the average man. This, 
 after all, is the most profitable branch of nature 
 study, the study of Homo sapiens, and of his 
 wife, who, in this country at least, usually also 
 belongs to the species sapiens. Wild adven 
 tures, erratic characters, strange scenes and 
 impossible emotions are no longer required 
 even in fiction. The ordinary man under 
 ordinary circumstances interests us most be 
 cause he is most akin to us. In politics he has 
 gained his rights and in history and literature 
 he is coming to be recognized. We realize 
 now that a very good history of France could 
 be written, better than most of the old-fash 
 ioned kind, without mentioning the name of 
 Louis XIV or Napoleon. 
 
 The resultant of these three forces gives us 
 the general direction of the literature of the 
 future. It will be more realistic, more per 
 sonal and less exceptional. The combination 
 of these qualities is found in the autobiog 
 raphy, which, as Longfellow said years ago, "is 
 what all biography ought to be." It has al 
 ways been a favorite form in fiction, from 
 "Apuleius," "Arabian Nights" and "Rob 
 inson Crusoe " to the present. Now when we 
 publish a " Life and Letters " we lay the em 
 phasis on the latter part. A great deal of fun 
 has been made of those who preferred to read 
 the love letters of the Brownings rather than 
 the " Sonnets from the Portuguese " and 
 
 m 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 " One Word More," but who will say that the 
 verdict of the future will not vindicate these 
 readers rather than their critics? 
 
 One other characteristic of the modern 
 reader must be taken into consideration, his 
 love of brevity. The short story is more pop 
 ular than the novel, the vaudeville sketch than 
 the drama. We have, then, a demand for the 
 brief autobiography, the life story in a few 
 pages. Since this form of literature seems 
 likely to become a distinct type we might ven 
 ture to give it the provisional name of the 
 " lifelet." Its relation to other literary forms 
 is shown most succinctly by this equation : 
 
 lifelet : autobiography : : short story : novel 
 
 The short story is older than the art of 
 writing, but it is only recently that it has at 
 tained a perfection and definiteness of form 
 which has caused it to be recognized and stud 
 ied by rhetoricians. The lifelets now being 
 written are like the average short stories of 
 fifty years ago in crudity and indefiniteness 
 of aim, but already we can see something of 
 the laws and limitations of this new literary 
 type. In its construction the same general 
 rules apply as to the short story, and conden 
 sation, elimination, subordination and selec 
 tion are necessary in order to make it readable 
 and truthful. It really demands as much lit 
 erary skill as any form of fiction, but when 
 
 [5] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 it is strictly autobiographical this is likely to 
 be lacking. However, the number of per 
 sons who can write fairly well when they have 
 the material is great and increasing with the 
 spread of education. It has been said that 
 every one s life contains the material for one 
 good novel. It would evidently be more 
 plausible to say this of the lifelet. 
 
 Short autobiographies of undistinguished 
 people occasionally appear in most of our 
 magazines, but The Independent has pub 
 lished more than any other, for its Managing 
 Editor, Mr. Hamilton Holt, has for several 
 years devoted himself to procuring such nar 
 ratives with the object of ultimately presenting 
 in this way a complete picture of American 
 life in all its strata. These life stories found 
 favor with the readers of The Independent, 
 so a few of them have been selected for publi 
 cation in this volume. In the selection the 
 aim has been to include a representative of 
 each of the races which go to make up our 
 composite nationality, and of as many differ 
 ent industries as possible. The book has, 
 therefore, a unity of theme and purpose that 
 may compensate for its diversity of topic and 
 style. It is a mosaic picture composed of 
 living tesserae. 
 
 In procuring these stories two methods were 
 used; first and preferably, to have the life 
 written upon his own initiative by the person 
 who lived it; second, in the case of one too 
 
 [6] 
 
f 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 ignorant or too impatient to write, to have 
 the story written from interviews, and then 
 read to and approved by the person telling 
 it. Since the author s name is often omitted 
 or is unknown to the reader, he will have to 
 be content with the Editor s assurance that 
 great pains have been taken in all cases to see 
 that the account is truthful, both as to facts 
 and mode of thought, and that it is a represen 
 tative, and not exceptional experience of its 
 class. These sketches, therefore, are very dif 
 ferent in character from those of professional 
 writers of the wealthy or w r ell-to-do class, who 
 temporarily become tramps, factory girls, or 
 nursery governesses, or who join the crowd 
 of the unemployed for the purpose of later 
 securing employment as professors or editors. 
 This book is, then, intended not merely to 
 satisfy our common curiosity as to "how the 
 other half lives," but to have both a present 
 and a future value as a study in sociology. If 
 Plutarch had given us the life stories of a 
 slave and a hoplite, a peasant and a potter, w r e 
 would willingly have dispensed with an 
 equivalent number of kings and philosophers. 
 Carlyle gave to his volume of biographies the 
 title " Heroes and Hero Worship." Emer 
 son gave to his the title " Representative Men." 
 Both were right. We can understand the 
 significance of the great man only when we 
 view him both as a product of his times and as 
 an innovator. So, also, to understand a social 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 class, we must study it both statistically and 
 individually. Biography and demography 
 are equally useful, the former more vivid, the 
 latter more comprehensive. One who studies 
 Charles Booth s nine large volumes on the 
 " Life and Labor of the Poor in London " 
 will know as exactly as possible how many 
 men in that city are hungry and cold, but he 
 will be more likely to gain a definite realiza 
 tion of their condition and a stronger impulse 
 to remedy it, by reading Jack London s "The 
 People of the Abyss." 
 
 Lincoln said that "God must love the com 
 mon people because he made so many of 
 them." In all countries the question of na 
 tional destiny is always ultimately settled by 
 the will of majority, whether the people vote 
 or not. It is the undistinguished people who 
 move the world, or who prevent it from mov 
 ing. And the wise statesman is he who can 
 best read the minds of the non-vocal part of 
 the population, the silent partners who have 
 the controlling vote in the governmental firm. 
 
 EDWIN E. SLOSSON. 
 
 [8] 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 THE LIFE STORY OF A LITHUANIAN 
 
 The Lithuanian, who told the following story of his life to Mr. 
 Ernest Poole, is a workman in the Chicago Stockyards and gave 
 his name as Antanas Kaztauskis. 
 
 THIS is not my real name, because if this 
 story is printed it may be read back in 
 Lithuania, and I do not want to get my father 
 and the ugly shoemaker into trouble with the 
 Russian Government. 
 
 It was the shoemaker who made me want to 
 come to America. He was a traveling shoe 
 maker, for on our farms we tan our own 
 cowhides, and the shoemaker came to make 
 them into boots for us. By traveling he 
 learned all the news and he smuggled in news 
 papers across the frontier from Germany. 
 We were always glad to hear him talk. 
 
 I can never forget that evening four years 
 ago. It was a cold December. We were in 
 a big room in our log house in Lithuania. 
 My good, kind, thin old mother sat near the 
 wide fireplace, working her brown spinning 
 wheel, with which she made cloth for our shirts 
 and coats and pants. I sat on the floor in 
 front of her with my knee-boots off and my 
 
 [9] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 feet stretched out to the fire. My feet were 
 cold, for I had been out with my young brother 
 in the freezing sheds milking the cows and 
 feeding the sheep and geese. I leaned my 
 head on her dress and kept yawning and think 
 ing about my big goose-feather bed. My 
 father sat and smoked his pipe across the fire 
 place. Between was a kerosene lamp on a 
 table, and under it sat the ugly shoemaker on 
 a stool finishing a big yellow boot. His 
 sleeves were rolled up ; his arms were thin and 
 bony, but you could see how strong the fingers 
 and wrist were, for when he grabbed the 
 needle he jerked it through and the whole 
 arm s length up. This arm kept going up and 
 down. Every time it went up he jerked back 
 his long mixed-up red hair and grunted. And 
 you could just see his face bony and shut to 
 gether tight, and his narrow sharp eyes look 
 ing down. Then his head would go down 
 again, and his hair would get all mixed up. I 
 kept watching him. My fat, older brother, 
 who sat behind with his fat wife, grinned and 
 said : " Look out or your eyes will make holes 
 in the leather." My brother s eyes were al 
 ways dull and sleepy. Men like him stay in 
 Lithuania. 
 
 At last the boot was finished. The little 
 shoemaker held it up and looked at it. My 
 father stopped smoking and looked at it. 
 " That s a good boot," said my father. The 
 shoemaker grunted. That s a damn poor 
 [10] 
 
STORY OF A LITHUANIAN 
 
 boot," he replied (instead of " damn " he said 
 " skatina ") , " a rough boot like all your boots, 
 and so when you grow old you are lame. You 
 have only poor things, for rich Russians get 
 your good things, and yet you will not kick up 
 against them. Bah!" 
 
 " I don t like your talk," said my father, 
 and he spit into the fire, as he always did when 
 he began to think. " I am honest. I work 
 hard. We get along. That s all. So what 
 good will such talk do me? " 
 
 4 You!" cried the shoemaker, and he now 
 threw the boot on the floor so that our big 
 dog lifted up his head and looked around. 
 " It s not you at all. It s the boy that boy 
 there!" and he pointed to me. "That boy 
 must go to America! " 
 
 Now I quickly stopped yawning and I 
 looked at him all the time after this. My 
 mother looked frightened and she put her 
 hand on my head. "No, no; he is only a 
 boy," she said. " Bah! " cried the shoemaker, 
 pushing back his hair, and then I felt he was 
 looking right through me. "He is eighteen 
 and a man. You know where he must go in 
 three years more." We all knew he meant 
 my five years in the army. Where is your 
 oldest son? Dead. Oh, I know the Russians 
 the man- wolves ! I served my term, I know 
 how it is. Your son served in Turkey in the 
 mountains. Why not here? Because they 
 want foreign soldiers here to beat us. He 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 had four roubles ($2.08) pay for three months, 
 and with that he had to pay men like me to 
 make his shoes and clothes. Oh, the wolves! 
 They let him soak in rain; standing guard all 
 night in the snow and ice he froze, the food 
 was God s food, the vodka was cheap and rot 
 ten! Then he died. The wolves the man 
 wolves! Look at this book." He jerked a 
 Roman Catholic prayer book from his bag on 
 the floor. Where would I go if they found 
 this on me? Where is Wilhelm Birbell? " 
 
 At this my father spit hard again into the 
 fire and puffed his pipe fast. 
 
 Where is Wilhelm Birbell? " cried the 
 shoemaker, and we all kept quiet. We all 
 knew. Birbell was a rich farmer who smug 
 gled in prayer books from Germany so that 
 we all could pray as we liked, instead of the 
 Russian Church way. He was caught one 
 night and they kept him two years in the St. 
 Petersburg jail, in a cell so narrow and short 
 that he could not stretch out his legs, for they 
 were very long. This made him lame for life. 
 Then they sent him to Irkutsk, down in 
 Siberia. There he sawed logs to get food. 
 He escaped and now he is here in Chicago. 
 But at that time he was in jail. 
 
 "Where is Wilhelm Birbell?" cried the 
 shoemaker. " Oh, the wolves ! And what is 
 this? " He pulled out an old American news 
 paper, printed in the Lithuanian language, 
 and I remember he tore it he was so angry. 
 
 
 
STORY OF A LITHUANIAN 
 
 " The world s good news is all kept away. 
 We can only read what Russian officials print 
 in their papers. Read? No, you can t read 
 or write your own language, because there is 
 no Lithuanian school only the Russian school 
 you can only read and write Russian. Can 
 you? No, you can t! Because even those 
 Russian schools make you pay to learn, and 
 you have no money to pay. Will you never 
 be ashamed all you? Listen to me." 
 
 Now I looked at my mother and her face 
 looked frightened, but the shoemaker cried 
 still louder. " Why can t you have your own 
 Lithuanian school? Because you are like 
 dogs you have nothing to say you have no 
 town meetings or province meetings, no elec 
 tions. You are slaves! And why can t you 
 even pay to go to their Russian school? Be 
 cause they get all your money. Only twelve 
 acres you own, but you pay eighty roubles 
 ($40) taxes. You must work twelve days 
 on your Russian roads. Your kind old wife 
 must plow behind the oxen, for I saw her last 
 summer, and she looked tired. You must all 
 slave, but still your rye and wheat brings little 
 money, because they cheat you bad. Oh, the 
 wolves how fat they are! And so your boy 
 must never read or write, or think like a man 
 should think." 
 
 But now my mother cried out, and her voice 
 was shaking. Leave us alone you leave 
 us ! We need no money we trade our things 
 [13] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 for the things we need at the store we have 
 all we need leave us alone! " 
 
 Then my fat brother grinned and said to 
 the shoemaker, " You always stir up young 
 men to go to America. Why don t you go 
 yourself? " 
 
 I remember that the little shoemaker had 
 pulled a big crooked pipe out of his bag. 
 Now he took a splinter from the basket of 
 splinters which hung on the wall and he lit his 
 pipe and puffed it. His face showed me that 
 he felt bad. " I am too old," he said, " to learn 
 a new trade. These boots are no good in 
 America. America is no place for us old ras 
 cals. My son is in Chicago in the stockyards, 
 and he writes to me. They have hard knocks. 
 If you are sick or old there and have no money 
 you must die. That Chicago place has 
 trouble, too. Do you see that light? That is 
 kerosene. Do you remember the price went 
 up last year? That is Rockefeller. My son 
 writes me about him. He is another man- 
 wolf. A few men like him are grabbing all 
 the good things the oil and coal and meat 
 and everything. But against these men you 
 can strike if you are young. You can read 
 free papers and prayer books. In Chicago 
 there are prayer books for every man and 
 woman. You can have free meetings and talk 
 out what you think. And so if you are young 
 you can change all these troubles. But I am 
 old. I can feel it now, this winter. So I 
 [14] 
 
STORY OF A LITHUANIAN 
 
 only tell young men to go." He looked hard 
 at me and I looked at him. He kept talking. 
 " I tell them to go where they can choose their 
 own kind of God where they can learn to 
 read and write, and talk, and think like men 
 and have good things! " 
 
 He kept looking at me, but he opened the 
 newspaper and held it up. " Some day," he 
 said, " I will be caught and sent to jail, but I 
 don t care. I got this from my son, who reads 
 all he can find at night. It had to be smug 
 gled in. I lend it many times to many young 
 men. My son got it from the night school 
 and he put it in Lithuanian for me to see." 
 Then he bent over the paper a long time and 
 his lips moved. At last he looked into the fire 
 and fixed his hair, and then his voice was shak 
 ing and very low: 
 
 " We know these are true things that all men are 
 born free and equal that God gives them rights 
 which no man can take away that among these 
 rights are life, liberty and the getting of happiness. 
 
 He stopped, I remember, and looked at me, 
 and I was not breathing. He said it again. 
 
 Life, liberty and the getting of happiness. 
 Oh, that is what you want." 
 
 My mother began to cry. " He cannot go 
 if his father commands him to stay," she kept 
 saying. I knew this was true, for in Lith 
 uania a father can command his son till he 
 dies. 
 
 [15] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 " No, he must not go," said the shoemaker, 
 " if his father commands him to stay." He 
 turned and looked hard at my father. My 
 father was looking into the fire. " If he 
 goes," said my father, " those Russians will 
 never let him come back." My mother cried 
 harder. We all waited for him to say some 
 thing else. In about five minutes the shoe 
 maker got up and asked, " Well, what do you 
 say, the army or America? " But my father 
 shook his head and would not say anything. 
 Soon my brother began yawning and took his 
 fat wife and went to bed. The little shoe 
 maker gathered his tools into his big bag and 
 threw it over his shoulder. His shoulder was 
 crooked. Then he came close to me and 
 looked at me hard. 
 
 I am old," he said, " I wish I was young. 
 And you must be old soon and that will be too 
 late. The army the man wolves! Bah! it is 
 terrible." 
 
 After he was gone my father and I kept 
 looking at the fire. My mother stopped cry 
 ing and went out. Our house was in two parts 
 of two rooms each. Between the parts was 
 an open shed and in this shed was a big oven, 
 where she was baking bread that night. I 
 could hear her pull it out to look at it and then 
 push it back. Then she came in and sat down 
 beside me and began spinning again. I 
 leaned against her dress and watched the fire 
 and thought about America. Sometimes I 
 [16] 
 
STORY OF A LITHUANIAN 
 
 looked at my father, and she kept looking at 
 him, too, but he would not say anything. At 
 last my old mother stopped spinning and put 
 her hand on my forehead. 
 
 " Alexandria is a fine girl," she whispered. 
 This gave me a quick, bad feeling. Alexandria 
 was the girl I wanted to marry. She lived 
 about ten miles away. Her father liked my 
 father and they seemed to be glad that I loved 
 her. I had often been thinking at night how 
 in a few years I would go with my uncle to her 
 house and ask her father and mother to give 
 her to me. I could see the wedding all ahead 
 how we would go to her house on Saturday 
 night and they would have music there and 
 many people and we would have a sociable 
 time. Then in the morning we would go to 
 the church and be married and come back to 
 my father s house and live with him. I saw it 
 all ahead, and I was sure we would be very 
 happy. Now I began thinking of this. I 
 could see her fine soft eyes and I hated to go 
 away. My old mother kept her hands mov 
 ing on my forehead. Yes, she is a nice girl ; 
 a kind, beautiful girl," she kept whispering. 
 We sat there till the lamp went out. Then 
 the fire got low and the room was cold and 
 we went to bed. But I could not sleep and 
 kept thinking. 
 
 The next day my father told me that I 
 could not go until the time came for the army, 
 three years ahead. " Stay until then and then 
 [17] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 we will see," he said. My mother was very 
 glad and so was I, because of Alexandria. 
 But in the coldest part of that winter my dear 
 old mother got sick and died. The neighbors 
 all came in and sang holy songs for two days 
 and nights. The priest was there and my 
 father bought fine candles. Two of the 
 neighbors made a coffin. At last it was all 
 over. For a long time our log house was al 
 ways quiet. 
 
 That summer the shoemaker came again 
 and talked with me. This time I was very 
 eager to go to America, and my father told 
 me I could go. 
 
 One morning I walked over to say good-by 
 to Alexandria. It was ten miles and the road 
 was dusty, so I carried my boots over my 
 shoulder, as we always did, and I put them 
 on when I came near her house. When I saw 
 her I felt very bad, and so did she. I had the 
 strongest wish I ever had to take hold of her 
 and keep her all my life. We stayed together 
 till it was dark and night fogs came up out of 
 the field grass, and we could hardly see the 
 house. Then she said good-by. For many 
 nights I kept remembering the way she looked 
 up at me. 
 
 The next night after supper I started. It 
 is against the law to sell tickets to America, but 
 my father saw the secret agent in the village 
 and he got a ticket from Germany and found 
 us a guide. I had bread and cheese and honey 
 [18] 
 
STORY OF A LITHUANIAN 
 
 and vodka and clothes in my bag. Some of 
 the neighbors walked a few miles and said 
 good-by and then went back. My father and 
 my younger brother walked on all night with 
 the guide and me. At daylight we came to 
 the house of a man the guide knew. We 
 slept there and that night I left my father 
 and young brother. My father gave me $50 
 besides my ticket. The next morning before 
 light we were going through the woods and 
 we came to the frontier. Three roads run 
 along the frontier. On the first road there is 
 a soldier every mile, who stands there all night. 
 On the second road is a soldier every half 
 mile, and on the third road is a soldier every 
 quarter of a mile. The guide went ahead 
 through the woods. I hid with my big bag 
 behind a bush and whenever he raised his hand 
 I sneaked along. I felt cold all over and 
 sometimes hot. He told me that sometimes 
 he took twenty immigrants together, all with 
 out passports, and then he could not pass the 
 soldiers and so he paid a soldier he knew one 
 dollar a head to let them by. He said the 
 soldier was very strict and counted them to see 
 that he was not being cheated. 
 
 So I was in Germany. Two days after 
 that we reached Tilsit and the guide took me 
 to the railroad man. This man had a crowd 
 of immigrants in a room, and we started that 
 night on the railroad fourth class. It was 
 bad riding sometimes. I used to think of 
 [19] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 Alexandria. We were all green and slow. 
 The railroad man used to say to me, " You 
 will have to be quicker than this in Chicago," 
 and he was right. We were very slow in the 
 stations where we changed trains, and he used 
 to shout at us then, and one old German man 
 who spoke Lithuanian told me what the man 
 was calling us. When he told me this I hur 
 ried, and so did the others, and we began to 
 learn to be quicker. It took three days to get 
 to Hamburg. There we were put in a big 
 house called a barracks, and we waited a week. 
 The old German man told me that the bar 
 racks men were cheating us. He had been 
 once to Cincinnati in America to visit his 
 son, who kept a saloon. His old, long pipe 
 was stolen there. He kept saying, " Dem 
 grafters, dem grafters," in a low voice when 
 ever they brought food to sell, for our bags 
 were now empty. They kept us there till our 
 money was half spent on food. I asked the 
 old man what kind of American men were 
 grafters, and he said, " All kinds in Cincin 
 nati, but more in Chicago!" I knew I was 
 going to Chicago, and I began to think 
 quicker. I thought quicker yet on the boat. 
 I saw men playing cards. I played and lost 
 $1.86 in my new money, till the old man came 
 behind me and said, " Dem grafters." When 
 I heard this I got scared and threw down my 
 cards. That old man used to point up at the 
 rich people looking down at us and say, 
 [20] 
 
STORY OF A LITHUANIAN 
 
 " Dem grafters." They were the richest peo 
 ple I had ever seen the boat was the biggest 
 boat I had ever seen the machine that made 
 it go was very big, and so was the horn that 
 blew in a fog. I felt everything get bigger 
 and go quicker every day. 
 
 It was the most when we came to New 
 York. We were driven in a thick crowd to 
 the railroad station. The old man kept point 
 ing and saying, " Grafters, grafters," till the 
 guide punched him and said, " Be quick, damn 
 you, be quick." . . . "I will be quick 
 pretty soon," said the old man to me, " and den 
 I will get back dot pipe in Cincinnati. And 
 when I will be quicker still, alreddy, I will 
 steal some odder man s pipe. Every quick 
 American man is a grafter.** I began to be 
 lieve that this was true, but I was mixed up 
 and could not think long at one time. Every 
 thing got quicker worse and worse till then 
 at last I was in a boarding house by the stock 
 yards in Chicago with three Lithuanians, who 
 knew my father s sisters at home. 
 
 That first night we sat around in the house 
 and they asked me, " Well, why did you 
 come? " I told them about that first night 
 and what the ugly shoemaker said about " life, 
 liberty and the getting of happiness." They 
 all leaned back and laughed. " What you 
 need is money," they said. " It was all right 
 at home. You wanted nothing. You ate 
 your own meat and your own things on the 
 [21] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 farm. You made your own clothes and had 
 your own leather. The other things you got 
 at the Jew man s store and paid him with sacks 
 of rye. But here you want a hundred things. 
 Whenever you walk out you see new things 
 you want, and you must have money to buy 
 everything." 
 
 Then one man asked me, " How much have 
 you? " and I told him $30. " You must buy 
 clothes to look rich, even if you are not rich," 
 he said. With good clothes you will have 
 friends." 
 
 The next morning three of these men took 
 me to a store near the stockyards to buy a coat 
 and pants. " Look out," said one of them. 
 "Is he a grafter?" I asked. They all 
 laughed. You stand still. That is all you 
 have to do," they said. So the Jew man kept 
 putting on coats and I moved my arms and 
 back and sides when they told me. We stayed 
 there till it was time for dinner. Then we 
 bought a suit. I paid $5 and then I was to 
 pay $1 a week for five weeks. 
 
 In the afternoon I went to a big store. 
 There was a man named Elias. " He is not 
 a grafter," said my friends. He was nice to 
 me and gave me good advice how to get a job. 
 I bought two shirts, a hat, a collar, a necktie, 
 two pairs of socks and some shoes. We kept 
 going upstairs and downstairs. I saw one 
 Lithuanian man buying everything for his 
 wife and three children, who would come here 
 
STORY OF A LITHUANIAN 
 
 the next week from Lithuania. My things 
 cost me $8. I put these on right away and 
 then I began to feel better. 
 
 The next night they took me for a walk 
 down town. We would not pay to ride, so 
 we walked so long that I wanted to take my 
 shoes off, but I did not tell them this. When 
 we came there I forgot my feet. We stood 
 by one theater and watched for half an hour. 
 Then we walked all around a store that filled 
 one whole block and had walls of glass. 
 Then we had a drink of whiskey, and this is 
 better than vodka. We felt happier and 
 looked into cafes. We saw shiny carriages and 
 automobiles. I saw men with dress suits, I 
 saw women with such clothes that I could not 
 think at all. Then my friends punched me 
 and I turned around and saw one of these 
 women, and with her was a gentleman in a 
 fine dress suit. I began looking harder. It 
 was the Jew man that sold me my suit. " He 
 is a grafter," said my friends. " See what 
 money can do." Then we walked home and 
 I felt poor and my shoes got very bad. 
 
 That night I felt worse. We were tired 
 out when we reached the stockyards, so we 
 stopped on the bridge and looked into the river 
 out there. It was so full of grease and dirt 
 and sticks and boxes that it looked like a big, 
 wide, dirty street, except in some places, where 
 it boiled up. It made me sick to look at it. 
 When I looked away I could see on one side 
 [23] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 some big fields full of holes, and these were the 
 city dumps. On the other side were the stock 
 yards, with twenty tall slaughter house chim 
 neys. The wind blew a big smell from them 
 to us. Then we walked on between the yards 
 and the dumps and all the houses looked bad 
 and poor. In our house my room was in the 
 basement. I lay down on the floor with three 
 other men and the air was rotten. I did not 
 go to sleep for a long time. I knew then that 
 money was everything I needed. My money 
 was almost gone and I thought that I would 
 soon die unless I got a job, for this was not 
 like home. Here money was everything and 
 a man without money must die. 
 
 The next morning my friends woke me up 
 at five o clock and said, " Now, if you want 
 life, liberty and happiness," they laughed, 
 " you must push for yourself. You must get 
 a job. Come with us." And we went to the 
 yards. Men and women were walking in by 
 thousands as far as we could see. We went 
 to the doors of one big slaughter house. 
 There was a crowd of about 200 men waiting 
 there for a job. They looked hungry and kept 
 watching the door. At last a special police 
 man came out and began pointing to men, one 
 by one. Each one jumped forward. Twenty- 
 three were taken. Then they all went inside, 
 and all the others turned their faces away and 
 looked tired. I remember one boy sat down 
 and cried, just next to me, on a pile of boards. 
 [24] 
 
STORY OF A LITHUANIAN 
 
 Some policemen waved their clubs and we all 
 walked on. I found some Lithuanians to talk 
 with, who told me they had come every morn 
 ing for three weeks. Soon we met other 
 crowds coming away from other slaughter 
 houses, and we all walked around and felt bad 
 and tired and hungry. 
 
 That night I told my friends that I would 
 not do this many days, but would go some 
 place else. Where? " they asked me, and I 
 began to see then that I was in bad trouble, 
 because I spoke no English. Then one man 
 told me to give him $5 to give the special 
 policeman. I did this and the next morning 
 the policeman pointed me out, so I had a job. 
 I have heard some big talk since then about my 
 American freedom of contract, but I do not 
 think I had much freedom in bargaining for 
 this job with the Meat Trust. My job was in 
 the cattle killing room. I pushed the blood 
 along the gutter. Some people think these 
 jobs make men bad. I do not think so. The 
 men who do the killing are not as bad as the 
 ladies with fine clothes who come every day to 
 look at it, because they have to do it. The 
 cattle do not suffer. They are knocked sense 
 less with a big hammer and are dead before 
 they wake up. This is done not to spare them 
 pain, but because if they got hot and sweating 
 with fear and pain the meat would not be so 
 good. I soon saw that every job in the 
 room was done like this so as to save 
 [25] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 everything and make money. One Lithu 
 anian who worked with me, said, " They get 
 all the blood out of those cattle and all the 
 work out of us men." This was true, for we 
 worked that first day from six in the morning 
 till seven at night. The next day we worked 
 from six in the morning till eight at night. 
 The next day we had no work. So we had 
 no good, regular hours. It was hot in the 
 room that summer, and the hot blood made it 
 worse. 
 
 I held this job six weeks and then I was 
 turned off. I think some other man had paid 
 for my job, or perhaps I was too slow. The 
 foreman in that room wanted quick men to 
 make the work rush, because he was paid more 
 if the work was done cheaper and quicker. I 
 saw now that every man was helping himself, 
 always trying to get all the money he could. 
 At that time I believed that all men in Chicago 
 were grafters when they had to be. They 
 only wanted to push themselves. Now, when 
 I was idle I began to look about, and every 
 where I saw sharp men beating out slow men 
 like me. Even if we worked hard it did us 
 no good. I had saved $13 $5 a week for six 
 weeks makes $30, and take off $15 for six 
 weeks board and lodging and $2 for other 
 things. I showed this to a Lithuanian, who 
 had been here two years, and he laughed. 
 " It will be taken from you," he said. He had 
 saved a hundred dollars once and had begun to 
 [26] 
 
STORY OF A LITHUANIAN 
 
 buy a house on the installment plan, but some 
 thing had happened that he did not know 
 about and his landlord put him out and kept 
 the hundred dollars. I found that many 
 Lithuanians had been beaten this way. At 
 home we never made a man sign contract 
 papers. We only had him make the sign of 
 a cross and promise he would do what he said. 
 But this was no good in Chicago. So these 
 sharp men were beating us. 
 
 I saw this, too, in the newspaper. I was be 
 ginning to learn English, and at night in the 
 boarding house the men who did not play cards 
 used to read the paper to us. The biggest 
 word was " Graft " in red letters on the front 
 page. Another word was Trust." This 
 paper kept putting these two words together. 
 Then I began to see how every American man 
 was trying to get money for himself. I won 
 dered if the old German man in Cincinnati 
 had found his pipe yet. I felt very bad and 
 sorrowful in that month. I kept walking 
 around with many other Lithuanians who had 
 no job. Our money was going and we could 
 find nothing to do. At night we got home 
 sick for our fine green mountains. We read 
 all the news about home in our Lithuanian 
 Chicago newspaper, The Katalikas. It is a 
 good paper and gives all the news. In the 
 same office we bought this song, which was 
 written in Brooklyn by P. Brandukas. He, 
 too, was homesick. It is sung all over Chi 
 li 27 ] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 cago and you can hear it in the summer even 
 ings through the open windows. In English 
 it is something like this: 
 
 "Oh, Lithuania, so dear to me, 
 Good-by to you, my Fatherland. 
 Sorrowful in my heart I leave you. 
 I know not who will stay to guard you. 
 
 Is it enough for me to live and enjoy between my 
 
 neighbors, 
 
 In the woods with the flowers and birds? 
 Is it enough for me to live peaceful between my 
 
 friends ? 
 No, I must go away from my old father and mother. 
 
 The sun shines bright, 
 The flowers smell sweet, 
 The birds are singing, 
 They make the country glad : 
 But I cannot sing because I must leave you." 
 
 Those were bad days and nights. At last 
 I had a chance to help myself. Summer was 
 over and Election Day was coming. The Re 
 publican boss in our district, Jonidas, was a 
 saloon keeper. A friend took me there. Jon 
 idas shook hands and treated me fine. He 
 taught me to sign my name, and the next week 
 I went with him to an office and signed some 
 paper, and then I could vote. I voted as I 
 was told, and then they got me back into the 
 yards to work, because one big politician owns 
 stock in one of those houses. Then I felt that 
 I was getting in beside the game. I was in a 
 [28] 
 
STORY OF A LITHUANIAN 
 
 combine like other sharp men. Even when 
 work was slack I was all right, because they 
 got me a job in the street cleaning department. 
 I felt proud, and I went to the back room in 
 Jonidas s saloon and got him to write a letter 
 to Alexandria to tell her she must come soon 
 and be my wife. 
 
 But this was just the trouble. All of us 
 were telling our friends to come soon. Soon 
 they came even thousands. The employers 
 in the yard liked this, because those sharp fore 
 men are inventing new machines and the work 
 is easier to learn, and so these slow Lithuanians 
 and even green girls can learn to do it, and 
 then the Americans and Germans and Irish are 
 put out and the employer saves money, be 
 cause the Lithuanians work cheaper. This 
 was why the American labor unions began to 
 organize us all just the same as they had or 
 ganized the Bohemians and Poles before us. 
 
 Well, we were glad to be organized. We 
 had learned that in Chicago every man must 
 push himself always, and Jonidas had taught 
 us how much better we could push ourselves 
 by getting into a combine. Now, we saw that 
 this union was the best combine for us, because 
 it was the only combine that could say, " It 
 is our business to raise your wages." 
 
 But that Jonidas he spoilt our first union. 
 
 He was sharp. First he got us to hire the 
 
 room over his saloon. He used to come in at 
 
 our meetings and sit in the back seat and grin. 
 
 [29] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 There was an Irishman there from the union 
 headquarters, and he was trying to teach us 
 to run ourselves. He talked to a Lithuanian, 
 and the Lithuanian said it to us, but we were 
 slow to do things, and we were jealous and 
 were always jumping up to shout and fight. 
 So the Irishman used to wipe his hot, red face 
 and call us bad names. He told the Lithuanian 
 not to say these names to us, but Jonidas heard 
 them, and in his saloon, where we all went 
 down after the meeting when the Irishman was 
 gone, Jonidas gave us free drinks and then 
 told us the names. I will not write them here. 
 
 One night that Irishman did not come and 
 Jonidas saw his chance and took the chair. 
 He talked very fine and we elected him Pres 
 ident. We made him Treasurer, too. Down 
 in the saloon he gave us free drinks and told 
 us we must break away from the Irish graft 
 ers. The next week he made us strike, all by 
 himself. We met twice a day in his saloon 
 and spent all of our money on drinks, and then 
 the strike was over. I got out of this union 
 after that. I had been working hard in the 
 cattle killing room and I had a better job. I 
 was called a cattle butcher now and I joined 
 the Cattle Butchers Union. This union is 
 honest and it has done me a great deal of 
 good. 
 
 It has raised my wages. The man who 
 worked at my job before the union came was 
 getting through the year an average of $9 a 
 [80] 
 
STORY OF A LITHUANIAN 
 
 week. I am getting $11. In my first job I 
 got $5 a week. The man who works there 
 now gets $5.75. 
 
 It has given me more time to learn to read 
 and speak and enjoy life like an American. I 
 never work now from 6 A. M to 9 p. M. and 
 then be idle the next day. I work now from 
 7 A. M to 5.30 p. M., and there are not so many 
 idle days. The work is evened up. 
 
 With more time and more money I live 
 much better and I am very happy. So is Alex 
 andria. She came a year ago and has learned 
 to speak English already. Some of the 
 women go to the big store the day they get 
 here, when they have not enough sense to pick 
 out the clothes that look right, but Alexandria 
 waited three weeks till she knew, and so now 
 she looks the finest of any woman in the dis 
 trict. We have four nice rooms, which she 
 keeps very clean, and she has flowers growing 
 in boxes in the two front windows. We do not 
 go much to church, because the church seems to 
 be too slow. But we belong to a Lithuanian 
 society that gives two picnics in summer and 
 two big balls in winter, where we have a fine 
 time. I go one night a week to the Lithu 
 anian Concertina Club. On Sundays we go 
 on the trolley out into the country. 
 
 But we like to stay at home more now be 
 cause we have a baby. When he grows up I 
 will not send him to the Lithuanian Catholic 
 school. They have only two bad rooms and 
 [31] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 two priests who teach only in Lithuanian 
 from prayer books. I will send him to the 
 American school, which is very big and good. 
 The teachers there are Americans and they 
 belong to the Teachers Labor Union, which 
 has three thousand teachers and belongs to 
 our Chicago Federation of Labor. I am sure 
 that such teachers will give him a good chance. 
 
 Qur union sent a committee to Springfield 
 last year and they passed a law which prevents 
 boys and girls below sixteen from working 
 in the stockyards. 
 
 We are trying to make the employers pay 
 on Saturday night in cash. Now they pay in 
 checks and the men have to get money the 
 same night to buy things for Sunday, and the 
 saloons cash checks by thousands. You have 
 to take one drink to have the check cashed. 
 It is hard to take one drink. 
 
 The union is doing another good thing. It 
 is combining all the nationalities. The night 
 I joined the Cattle Butchers Union I was 
 led into the room by a negro member. With 
 me were Bohemians, Germans and Poles, and 
 Mike Donnelly, the President, is an Irishman. 
 He spoke to us in English and then three in 
 terpreters told us what he said. We swore 
 to be loyal to our union above everything else 
 except the country, the city and the State to 
 be faithful to each other to protect the 
 women- workers to do our best to understand 
 the history of the labor movement, and to do 
 [32] 
 
STORY OF A LITHUANIAN 
 
 all we could to help it on. Since then I have 
 gone there every two weeks and I help the 
 movement by being an interpreter for the 
 other Lithuanians who come in. That is why 
 I have learned to speak and write good Eng 
 lish. The others do not need me long. They 
 soon learn English, too, and when they have 
 done that they are quickly becoming Amer 
 icans. 
 
 But the best thing the union does is to make 
 me feel more independent. I do not have to 
 pay to get a job and I cannot be discharged 
 unless I am no good. For almost the whole 
 30,000 men and women are organized now in 
 some one of our unions and they all are 
 directed by our central council. No man 
 knows what it means to be sure of his job un 
 less he has been fired like I was once without 
 any reason being given. 
 
 So this is why I joined the labor union. 
 There are many better stories than mine, for 
 my story is very common. There are thou 
 sands of immigrants like me. Over 300,000 
 immigrants have been organized in the last 
 three years by the American Federation of 
 Labor. The immigrants are glad to be or 
 ganized if the leaders are as honest as Mike 
 Donnelly is. You must get money to live 
 well, and to get money you must combine. I 
 cannot bargain alone with the Meat Trust. 
 I tried it and it does not work. 
 
 [33] 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 THE LIFE STORY OF A POLISH 
 SWEATSHOP GIRL 
 
 Sadie Frowne is the real name of the sixteen-year-old girl 
 whose story follows. It was dictated by her to Mr. Sydney Reid, 
 who has also procured many of the other life stories for this vol 
 ume, and was afterward read over to herself and relatives and 
 pronounced accurate in all respects. Brownsville is the Jewish 
 sweatshop district of Brooklyn, N. Y. 
 
 MY mother was a tall, handsome, dark com- 
 plexioned woman with red cheeks, 
 large brown eyes and a great quantity of 
 jet black, wavy hair. She was well educated, 
 being able to talk in Russian, German, Polish 
 and French, and even to read English print, 
 though of course she did not know what 
 it meant. She kept a little grocer s shop in 
 the little village where we lived at first. That 
 was in Poland, somewhere on the frontier, and 
 mother had charge of a gate between the 
 countries, so that everybody who came through 
 the gate had to show her a pass. She was 
 much looked up to by the people, who used to 
 come and ask her for advice. Her word was 
 like law among them. 
 
 She had a wagon in which she used to drive 
 about the country, selling her groceries, and 
 [34] 
 
STORY OF A POLISH GIRL 
 
 sometimes she worked in the fields with my 
 father. 
 
 The grocer s shop was only one story high, 
 and had one window, with very small panes of 
 glass. We had two rooms behind it, and were 
 happy while my father lived, although we had 
 to work very hard. By the time I was six years 
 of age I was able to wash dishes and scrub 
 floors, and by the time I was eight I attended 
 to the shop while my mother was away driving 
 her wagon or working in the fields with my 
 father. She was strong and could work like 
 a man. 
 
 When I was a little more than ten years of 
 age my father died. He was a good man and 
 a steady worker, and we never knew what it 
 was to be hungry while he lived. After he 
 died troubles began, for the rent of our shop 
 was about $6 a month and then there \vere food 
 and clothes to provide. We needed little, it 
 is true, but even soup, black bread and onions 
 we could not always get. 
 
 We struggled along till I was nearly thir 
 teen years of age and quite handy at house 
 work and shop-keeping, so far as I could learn 
 them there. But we fell behind in the rent 
 and mother kept thinking more and more that 
 we should have to leave Poland and go across 
 the sea to America where we heard it was 
 much easier to make money. Mother wrote 
 to Aunt Fanny, who lived in New York, and 
 told her how hard it was to live in Poland, 
 [85] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 and Aunt Fanny advised her to come and 
 bring me. I was out at service at this time 
 and mother thought she would leave me as I 
 had a good place and come to this country 
 alone, sending for me afterward. But Aunt 
 Fanny would not hear of this. She said we 
 should both come at once, and she went around 
 among our relatives in New York and took up 
 a subscription for our passage. 
 
 We came by steerage on a steamship in a 
 very dark place that smelt dreadfully. There 
 were hundreds of other people packed in with 
 us, men, women and children, and almost all 
 of them were sick. It took us twelve days to 
 cross the sea, and we thought we should die, 
 but at last the voyage was over, and we came 
 up and saw the beautiful bay and the big 
 woman with the spikes on her head and the 
 lamp that is lighted at night in her hand ( God 
 dess of Liberty) . 
 
 Aunt Fanny and her husband met us at the 
 gate of this country and were very good to 
 us, and soon I had a place to live out ( domestic 
 servant), while my mother got work in a fac 
 tory making white goods. 
 
 I was only a little over thirteen years of age 
 and a greenhorn, so I received $9 a month and 
 board and lodging, which I thought was doing 
 well. Mother, who, as I have said, was very 
 clever, made $9 a week on white goods, which 
 means all sorts of underclothing, and is high 
 class work. 
 
 [36] 
 
STORY OF A POLISH GIRL 
 
 But mother had a very gay disposition. 
 She liked to go around and see everything, 
 and friends took her about New York at night 
 and she caught a bad cold and coughed and 
 coughed. She really had hasty consumption, 
 but she didn t know it, and I didn t know it, 
 and she tried to keep on working, but it was no 
 use. She had not the strength. Two doctors 
 attended her, but they could do nothing, and 
 at last she died and I was left alone. I had 
 saved money while out at service, but mother s 
 sickness and funeral swept it all away and now 
 I had to begin all over again. 
 
 Aunt Fanny had always been anxious for 
 me to get an education, as I did not know how 
 to read or write, and she thought that was 
 wrong. Schools are different in Poland 
 from what they are in this country, and I was 
 always too busy to learn to read and write. So 
 when mother died I thought I would try to 
 learn a trade and then I could go to school at 
 night and learn to speak the English language 
 well. 
 
 So I went to work in Allen street (Man 
 hattan) in what they call a sweatshop, making 
 skirts by machine. I was new at the work and 
 the foreman scolded me a great deal. 
 
 " Now, then," he would say, " this place is 
 not for you to be looking around in. At 
 tend to your work. That is what you have 
 to do. 
 
 I did not know at first that you must not 
 [37] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 look around and talk, and I made many mis 
 takes with the sewing, so that I was often 
 called a " stupid animal." But I made $4 a 
 week by working six days in the week. For 
 there are two Sabbaths here our own Sab 
 bath, that comes on a Saturday, and the Chris 
 tian Sabbath that comes on Sunday. It is 
 against our law to work on our own Sabbath, 
 so we work on their Sabbath. 
 
 In Poland I and my father and mother used 
 to go to the synagogue on the Sabbath, but 
 here the women don t go to the synagogue 
 much, though the men do. They are shut up 
 working hard all the week long and when the 
 Sabbath comes they like to sleep long in bed 
 and afterward they must go out where they 
 can breathe the air. The rabbis are strict here, 
 but not so strict as in the old country. 
 
 I lived at this time with a girl named Ella, 
 who worked in the same factory and made $5 
 a week. We had the room all to ourselves, 
 paying $1.50 a week for it, and doing light 
 housekeeping. It was in Allen street, and the 
 window looked out of the back, which was 
 good, because there was an elevated railroad in 
 front, and in summer time a great deal of dust 
 and dirt came in at the front windows. We 
 were on the fourth story and could see all that 
 was going on in the back rooms of the houses 
 behind us, and early in the morning the sun 
 used to come in our window. 
 
 We did our cooking on an oil stove, and 
 [88] 
 
STORY OF A POLISH GIRL 
 
 lived well, as this list of our expenses for one 
 week will show: 
 
 ELLA AND SADIE FOR FOOD (ONE WEEK) 
 
 Tea $0.06 
 
 Cocoa 10 
 
 Bread and rolls 40 
 
 Canned vegetables 20 
 
 Potatoes 10 
 
 Milk 21 
 
 Fruit 20 
 
 Butter 15 
 
 Meat 60 
 
 Fish 15 
 
 Laundry 25 
 
 Total $2.42 
 
 Add rent . 1.50 
 
 Grand total $3.92 
 
 Of course, we could have lived cheaper, but 
 we are both fond of good things and ^ felt that 
 we could afford them. w- *t*~*f~* 
 
 We paid 18 cents for a half pound of tea 
 so as to get it good, and it lasted us three 
 weeks, because we had cocoa for breakfast. 
 We paid 5 cents for six rolls and 5 cents a loaf 
 for bread, which was the best quality. Oat 
 meal cost us 10 cents for three and one-half 
 pounds, and we often had it in the morning, 
 or Indian meal porridge in the place of it, 
 costing about the same. Half a dozen eggs 
 cost about 13 cents on an average, and we 
 [89] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 could get all the meat we wanted for a good 
 hearty meal for 20 cents two pounds of 
 chops, or a steak, or a bit of veal, or a neck of 
 lamb something like that. Fish included 
 butter fish, porgies, codfish and smelts, aver 
 aging about 8 cents a pound. 
 
 Some people who buy at the last of the mar 
 ket, when the men with the carts want to go 
 home, can get things very cheap, but they are 
 likely to be stale, and we did not often do that 
 with fish, fresh vegetables, fruit, milk or meat. 
 Things that kept well we did buy that way and 
 got good bargains. I got thirty potatoes for 
 10 cents one time, though generally I could 
 not get more than fifteen of them for that 
 amount. Tomatoes, onions and cabbages, too, 
 we bought that way and did well, and we found 
 a factory where we could buy the finest broken 
 crackers for 3 cents a pound, and another 
 place where we got broken candy for 10 cents 
 a pound. Our cooking was done on an oil 
 stove, and the oil for the stove and the lamp 
 cost us 10 cents a week. 
 
 It cost me $2 a week to live, and I had a 
 dollar a week to spend on clothing and pleas 
 ure, and saved the other dollar. I went to 
 night school, but it was hard work learning 
 at first as I did not know much English. 
 
 Two years ago I came to Brownsville, 
 
 where so many of my people are, and where I 
 
 have friends. I got work in a factory making 
 
 underskirts all sorts of cheap underskirts, 
 
 [40] 
 
STORY OF A POLISH GIRL 
 
 like cotton and calico for the summer and 
 woolen for the winter, but never the silk, satin 
 or velvet underskirts. I earned $4.50 a week 
 and lived on $2 a week, the same as before. 
 
 I got a room in the house of some friends 
 who lived near the factory. I pay $1 a week 
 for the room and am allowed to do light house 
 keeping that is, cook my meals in it. I get 
 my own breakfast in the morning, just a cup 
 of coffee and a roll, and at noon time I come 
 home to dinner and take a plate of soup and a 
 slice of bread with the lady of the house. My 
 food for a week costs a dollar, just as it did 
 in Allen street, and I have the rest of my 
 money to do as I like with. I am earning 
 $5.50 a week now, and will probably get 
 another increase soon. 
 
 It isn t piecework in our factory, but one is 
 paid by the amount of work done just the 
 same. So it is like piecework. All the hands 
 get different amounts, some as low as $3.50 
 and some of the men as high as $16 a week. 
 The factory is in the third story of a brick 
 building. It is in a room twenty feet long 
 and fourteen broad. There are fourteen 
 machines in it. I and the daughter of the 
 people with whom I live work two of these 
 machines. The other operators are all men, 
 some young and some old. 
 
 At first a few of the young men were rude. 
 When they passed me they would touch my 
 hair and talk about my eyes and my red 
 [41] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 cheeks, and make jokes. I cried and said that 
 if they did not stop I would leave the place. 
 The boss said that that should not be, that no 
 one must annoy me. Some of the other men 
 stood up for me, too, especially Henry, who 
 said two or three times that he wanted to fight. 
 Now the men all treat me very nicely. It was 
 just that some of them did not know better, 
 not being educated. 
 
 Henry is tall and dark, and he has a small 
 mustache. His eyes are brown and large. 
 He is pale and much educated, having been to 
 school. He knows a great many things and 
 has some money saved. I think nearly $400. 
 He is not going to be in a sweatshop all the 
 time, but will soon be in the real estate busi 
 ness, for a lawyer that knows him well has 
 promised to open an office and pay him to 
 manage it. 
 
 Henry has seen me home every night for a 
 long time and makes love to me. He wants 
 me to marry him, but I am not seventeen yet, 
 and I think that is too young. He is only 
 nineteen, so we can wait. 
 
 I have been to the fortune teller s three or 
 four times, and she always tells me that though 
 I have had such a lot of trouble I am to be very 
 rich and happy. I believe her because she has 
 told me so many things that have come true. 
 So I will keep on working in the factory for a 
 time. Of course it is hard, but I would have 
 to work hard even if I was married. 
 [421 
 
STORY OF A POLISH GIRL 
 
 I get up at half-past five o clock every 
 morning and make myself a cup of coffee on 
 the oil stove. I eat a bit of bread and perhaps 
 some fruit and then go to work. Often I get 
 there soon after six o clock so as to be in good 
 time, though the factory does not open till 
 seven. I have heard that there is a sort of 
 clock that calls you at the very time you want 
 to get up, but I can t believe that because I 
 don t see how the clock would know. 
 
 At seven o clock we all sit down to our 
 machines and the boss brings to each one the 
 pile of work that he or she is to finish during 
 the day, what they call in English their " stint." 
 This pile is put down beside the machine and 
 as soon as a skirt is done it is laid on the other 
 side of the machine. Sometimes the work is 
 not all finished by six o clock and then the one 
 who is behind must work overtime. Some 
 times one is finished ahead of time and gets 
 away at four or five o clock, but generally we 
 are not done till six o clock. 
 
 The machines go like mad all day, because 
 the faster you work the more money you get. 
 Sometimes in my haste I get my finger caught 
 and the needle goes right through it. It goes 
 so quick, though, that it does not hurt much. I 
 bind the finger up with a piece of cotton and 
 go on working. We all have accidents like 
 that. Where the needle goes through the nail 
 it makes a sore finger, or where it splinters a 
 bone it does much harm. Sometimes a finger 
 [43] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 has to come off. Generally, though, one can be 
 cured by a salve. 
 
 All the time we are working the boss walks 
 about examining the finished garments and 
 making us do them over again if they are not 
 just right. So we have to be careful as well as 
 swift. But I am getting so good at the work 
 that within a year I will be making $7 a week, 
 and then I can save at least $3.50 a week. I 
 have over $200 saved now. 
 
 The machines are all run by foot-power, 
 and at the end of the day one feels so weak 
 that there is a great temptation to lie right 
 down and sleep. But you must go out and 
 get air, and have some pleasure. So instead 
 of lying down I go out, generally with Henry. 
 Sometimes we go to Coney Island, where 
 there are good dancing places, and sometimes 
 we go to Ulmer Park to picnics. I am very 
 fond of dancing, and, in fact, all sorts of 
 pleasure. I go to the theater quite often, and 
 like those plays that make you cry a great deal. 
 " The Two Orphans " is good. Last time I 
 saw it I cried all night because of the hard 
 times that the children had in the play. I am 
 going to see it again when it comes here. 
 
 For the last two winters I have been going 
 to night school. I have learned reading, writ 
 ing and arithmetic. I can read quite well in 
 English now and I look at the newspapers 
 every day. I read English books, too, some- 
 [44] 
 
STORY OF A POLISH GIRL 
 
 times. The last one that I read was " A Mad 
 Marriage," by Charlotte Braeme. She s a 
 grand writer and makes things just like real 
 to you. You feel as if you were the poor girl 
 yourself going to get married to a rich duke. 
 
 I am going back to night school again this 
 winter. Plenty of my friends go there. 
 Some of the women in my class are more than 
 forty years of age. Like me, they did not 
 have a chance to learn anything in the old 
 country. It is good to have an education; it 
 makes you feel higher. Ignorant people are 
 all low. People say now that I am clever and 
 fine in conversation. 
 
 We recently finished a strike in our business. 
 It spread all over and the United Brotherhood 
 of Garment Workers was in it. That takes 
 in the cloakmakers, coatmakers, and all the 
 others. We struck for shorter hours, and 
 after being out four weeks won the fight. 
 We only have to work nine and a half hours 
 a day and we get the same pay as before. So 
 the union does good after all in spite of w T hat 
 some people say against it that it just takes 
 our money and does nothing. 
 
 I pay 25 cents a month to the union, but I 
 do not begrudge that because it is for our ben 
 efit. The next strike is going to be for a raise 
 of wages, which we all ought to have. But 
 though I belong to the Union I am not a So 
 cialist or an Anarchist. I don t know exactly 
 [45] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 what those things mean. There is a little ex 
 pense for charity, too. If any worker is in 
 jured or sick we all give money to help. 
 
 Some of the women blame me very much 
 because I spend so much money on clothes. 
 They say that instead of a dollar a week I 
 ought not to spend more than twenty-five 
 cents a week on clothes, and that I should save 
 the rest. But a girl must have clothes if she 
 is to go into good society at Ulmer Park or 
 Coney Island or the theater. Those who 
 blame me are the old country people who have 
 old-fashioned notions, but the people who 
 have been here a long time know better. A 
 girl who does not dress well is stuck in a cor 
 ner, even if she is pretty, and Aunt Fanny 
 says that I do just right to put on plenty of 
 style. 
 
 I have many friends and we often have 
 jolly parties. Many of the young men like 
 to talk to me, but I don t go out with any ex 
 cept Henry. 
 
 Lately he has been urging me more and 
 more to get married but I think I ll wait. 
 
 [46] 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 THE LIFE STORY OF AN ITALIAN 
 BOOTBLACK 
 
 Rocco Corresca is the official name of the young bootblack 
 who is the hero of this chapter, although he is known to most 
 of his friends and patrons as "Joe." He claims that he has 
 always been called Rocco but that the name Corresca was given 
 him when he went aboard the ship that brought him to America. 
 It was thus entered on the steerage list and he has since kept it. 
 
 WHEN I was a very small boy I lived in 
 Italy in a large house with many other 
 small boys, who were all dressed alike and were 
 taken care of by some nuns. It was a good 
 place, situated on the side of the mountain, 
 where grapes were growing and melons and 
 oranges and plums. 
 
 They taught us our letters and how to pray 
 and say the catechism, and we worked in the 
 fields during the middle of the day. We 
 always had enough to eat and good beds to 
 sleep in at night, and sometimes there were 
 feast days, when we marched about wearing 
 flowers. 
 
 Those were good times and they lasted till 
 I was nearly eight years of age. Then an 
 old man came and said he was my grand 
 father. He showed some papers and cried 
 [47] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 over me and said that the money had come 
 at last and now he could take me to his 
 beautiful home. He seemed very glad to 
 see me and after they looked at his papers 
 he took me away and we went to the big 
 city Naples He kept talking about his 
 beautiful house, but when we got there it was 
 a dark cellar that he lived in and I did not 
 like it at all. Very rich people were on the 
 first floor. They had carriages and servants 
 and music and plenty of good things to eat, 
 but we were down below in the cellar and had 
 nothing. There were four other boys in the 
 cellar and the old man said they were all my 
 brothers. All were larger than I and they 
 beat me at first till one day Francesco said that 
 they should not beat me any more, and then 
 Paolo, who was the largest of all, fought him 
 till Francesco drew a knife and gave him a cut. 
 Then Paolo, too, got a knife and said that 
 he would kill Francesco, but the old man 
 knocked them both down with a stick and took 
 their knives away and gave them beatings. 
 
 Each morning we boys all went out to beg 
 and we begged all day near the churches and 
 at night near the theaters, running to the car 
 riages and opening the doors and then getting 
 in the way of the people so that they had to 
 give us money or walk over us. The old man 
 often watched us and at night he took all the 
 money, except when we could hide something. 
 
 We played tricks on the people, for when 
 [48] 
 
STORY OF AN ITALIAN BOOTBLACK 
 
 we saw some coming that we thought were 
 rich I began to cry and covered my face and 
 stood on one foot, and the others gathered 
 around me and said : 
 
 "Don t cry! Don t cry!" 
 
 Then the ladies would stop and ask: " What 
 is he crying about? What is the matter, little 
 boy? " 
 
 Francesco or Paolo would answer: "He is 
 very sad because his mother is dead and they 
 have laid her in the grave." 
 
 Then the ladies would give me money and 
 the others would take most of it from me. 
 
 The old man told us to follow the Ameri 
 cans and the English people, as they were all 
 rich, and if we annoyed them enough they 
 would give us plenty of money. He taught 
 us that if a young man was walking with a 
 young woman he would always give us silver 
 because he would be ashamed to let the young 
 woman see him give us less. There w r as also 
 a great church where sick people were cured 
 by the saints, and when they came out they 
 were so glad that they gave us money. 
 
 Begging was not bad in the summer time 
 because we went all over the streets and there 
 was plenty to see, and if we got much money 
 we could spend some buying things to eat. 
 The old man knew we did that. He used to 
 feel us and smell us to see if we had eaten any 
 thing, and he often beat us for eating when we 
 had not eaten. 
 
 [49] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 Early in the morning we had breakfast of 
 black bread rubbed over with garlic or with a 
 herring to give it a flavor. The old man 
 would eat the garlic or the herring himself, 
 but he would rub our bread with it, which he 
 said was as good. He told us that boys should 
 not be greedy and that it was good to fast and 
 that all the saints had fasted. He had a fig 
 ure of a saint in one corner of the cellar and 
 prayed night and morning that the saint would 
 help him to get money. He made us pray, 
 too, for he said that it was good luck to be 
 religious. 
 
 We used to sleep on the floor, but often we 
 could not sleep much because men came in 
 very late at night and played cards with the 
 old man. He sold them wine from a barrel 
 that stood on one end of the table that was 
 there, and if they drank much he won their 
 money. One night he won so much that he 
 was glad and promised the saint some candles 
 for his altar in the church. But that was to 
 get more money. Two nights after that the 
 same men who had lost the money came back 
 and said that they wanted to play again. 
 They were very friendly and laughing, but 
 they won all the money and the old man said 
 they were cheating. So they beat him and 
 went away. When he got up again he took 
 a stick and knocked down the saint s figure 
 and said that he would give no more candles. 
 
 I was with the old man for three years. I 
 [50] 
 
STORY OF AN ITALIAN BOOTBLACK 
 
 don t believe that he was my grandfather, 
 though he must have known something about 
 me because he had those papers. 
 
 It was very hard in the winter time for we 
 had no shoes and we shivered a great deal. 
 The old man said that we were no good, that 
 we were ruining him, that we did not bring in 
 enough money. He told me that I was fat 
 and that people would not give money to fat 
 beggars. He beat me, too, because I didn t 
 like to steal, as I had heard it was wrong. 
 
 " Ah! " said he, " that is what they taught 
 you at that place, is it? To disobey your 
 grandfather that fought with Garibaldi! 
 That is a fine religion! " 
 
 The others all stole as well as begged, but 
 I didn t like it and Francesco didn t like it 
 either. 
 
 Then the old man said to me : " If you don t 
 want to be a thief you can be a cripple. That 
 is an easy life and they make a great deal of 
 money." 
 
 I was frightened then, and that night I 
 heard him talking to one of the men that came 
 to see him. He asked how much he would 
 charge to make me a good cripple like those 
 that crawl about the church. They had a dis 
 pute, but at last they agreed and the man said 
 that I should be made so that people would 
 shudder and give me plenty of money. 
 
 I was much frightened, but I did not make 
 a sound and in the morning I went out to beg 
 [51] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 with Francesco. I said to him: "I am going 
 to run away. I don t believe Tony is my 
 grandfather. I don t believe that he fought 
 for Garibaldi, and I don t want to be a cripple, 
 no matter how much money the people may 
 give." 
 
 Where will you go? " Francesco asked me. 
 
 "I don t know," I said; "somewhere." 
 
 He thought awhile and then he said: " I will 
 go, too." 
 
 So we ran away out of the city and begged 
 from the country people as we went along. 
 We came to a village down by the sea and a 
 long way from Naples and there we found 
 some fishermen and they took us aboard their 
 boat. We were with them five years, and 
 though it was a very hard life we liked it well 
 because there was always plenty to eat. Fish 
 do not keep long and those that we did not 
 sell we ate. 
 
 The chief fisherman, whose name was Cigu- 
 ciano, had a daughter, Teresa, who was very 
 beautiful, and though she was two years 
 younger than I, she could cook and keep 
 house quite well. She was a kind, good girl 
 and he was a good man. When we told him 
 about the old man who told us he was our 
 grandfather, the fisherman said he was an old 
 rascal who should be in prison for life. 
 Teresa cried much when she heard that he was 
 going to make me a cripple. Ciguciano said 
 that all the old man had taught us was wrong 
 [52] 
 
STORY OF AN ITALIAN BOOTBLACK 
 
 that it was bad to beg, to steal and to tell lies. 
 He called in the priest and the priest said the 
 same thing and was very angry at the old man 
 in Naples, and he taught us to read and write 
 in the evenings. He also taught us our duties 
 to the church and said that the saints were 
 good and would only help men to do good 
 things, and that it was a wonder that lightning 
 from heaven had not struck the old man dead 
 when he knocked down the saint s figure. 
 
 We grew large and strong with the fisher 
 man and he told us that we were getting too 
 big for him, that he could not afford to pay us 
 the money that we were worth. He was a 
 fine, honest man one in a thousand. 
 
 Now and then I had heard things about 
 America that it was a far-off country where 
 everybody was rich and that Italians went 
 there and made plenty of money, so that they 
 could return to Italy and live in pleasure ever 
 after. One day I met a young man who 
 pulled out a handful of gold and told me he 
 had made that in America in a few days. 
 
 I said I should like to go there, and he told 
 me that if I went he would take care of me. 
 and see that I was safe. I told Francesco and 
 he wanted to go, too. So we said good-bye to 
 our good friends. Teresa cried and kissed us 
 both and the priest came and shook our hands 
 and told us to be good men, and that no matter 
 where we went God and his saints were always 
 near us and that if we lived well we should all 
 [53] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 meet again in heaven. We cried, too, for it 
 was our home, that place. Ciguciano gave us 
 money and slapped us on the back and said 
 that we should be great. But he felt bad, 
 too, at seeing us go away after all that time. 
 
 The young man took us to a big ship and 
 got us work away down where the fires are. 
 We had to carry coal to the place where it 
 could be thrown on the fires. Francesco and 
 I were very sick from the great heat at first 
 and lay on the coal for a long time, but they 
 threw water on us and made us get up. We 
 could not stand on our feet well, for every 
 thing was going around and we had no 
 strength. We said that we wished we had 
 stayed in Italy no matter how much gold there 
 was in America. We could not eat for three 
 days and could not do much w r ork. Then we 
 got better and sometimes we went up above 
 and looked about. There was no land any 
 where and we were much surprised. How 
 could the people tell where to go when there 
 was no land to steer by? 
 
 We were so long on the water that we be 
 gan to think we should never get to America 
 or that, perhaps, there was not any such place, 
 but at last we saw land and came up to New 
 York. 
 
 We were glad to get over without giving 
 
 money, but I have heard since that we should 
 
 have been paid for our work among the coal 
 
 and that the young man who had sent us got 
 
 [54] 
 
STORY OF AN ITALIAN BOOTBLACK 
 
 money for it. We were all landed on an island 
 and the bosses there said that Francesco and I 
 must go back because we had not enough 
 money, but a man named Bartolo came up 
 and told them that we were brothers and he 
 was our uncle and would take care of us. He 
 brought two other men who swore that they 
 knew us in Italy and that Bartolo was our 
 uncle. I had never seen any of them before, 
 but even then Bartolo might be my uncle, so 
 I did not say anything. The bosses of the 
 island let us go out with Bartolo after he had 
 made the oath. 
 
 We came to Brooklyn, New York, to a 
 wooden house in Adams street that was full 
 of Italians from Naples. Bartolo had a room 
 on the third floor and there were fifteen men in 
 the room, all boarding with Bartolo. He did 
 the cooking on a stove in the middle of the 
 room and there were beds all around the sides, 
 one bed above another. It was very hot in the 
 room, but we were soon asleep, for we were 
 very tired. 
 
 The next morning, early, Bartolo told us 
 to go out and pick rags and get bottles. He 
 gave us bags and hooks and showed us the ash 
 barrels. On the streets where the fine houses 
 are the people are very careless and put out 
 good things, like mattresses and umbrellas, 
 clothes, hats and boots. We brought all these 
 to Bartolo and he made them new again and 
 sold them on the sidewalk; but mostly we 
 [55] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 brought rags and bones. The rags we had to 
 wash in the back yard and then we hung them 
 to dry on lines under the ceiling in our room. 
 The bones we kept under the beds till Bartolo 
 could find a man to buy them. 
 
 Most of the men in our room worked at dig 
 ging the sewer. Bartolo got them the work 
 and they paid him about one-quarter of their 
 wages. Then he charged them for board and 
 he bought the clothes for them, too. So they 
 got little money after all. 
 
 Bartolo was always saying that the rent of 
 the room was so high that he could not make 
 anything, but he was really making plenty. 
 He was what they call a padrone and is now a 
 very rich man. The men that were living 
 with him had just come to the country and 
 could not speak English. They had all been 
 sent by the young man we met in Italy. Bar 
 tolo told us all that we must work for him 
 and that if we did not the police would come 
 and put us in prison. 
 
 He gave us very little money, and our 
 clothes were some of those that were found on 
 the street. Still we had enough to eat and we 
 had meat quite often, which we never had in 
 Italy. Bartolo got it from the butcher the 
 meat that he could not sell to the other people 
 but it was quite good meat. Bartolo cooked 
 it in the pan while we all sat on our beds in the 
 evening. Then he cut it into small bits and 
 passed the pan around, saying : 
 [56] 
 
STORY OF AN ITALIAN BOOTBLACK 
 
 "See what I do for you and yet you are 
 not glad. I am too kind a man, that is why I 
 am so poor." 
 
 We were with Bartolo nearly a year, but 
 some of our countrymen who had been in the 
 place a long time said that Bartolo had no 
 right to us and we could get work for a dollar 
 and a half a day, which, when you make it 
 lire (reckoned in the Italian currency) is very 
 much. So we went away one day to Newark 
 and got work on the street. Bartolo came 
 after us and make a great noise, but the boss 
 said that if he did not go away soon the police 
 would have him. Then he went, saying that 
 there was no justice in this country. 
 
 We paid a man five dollars each for getting 
 us the work and we were with that boss for six 
 months. He was Irish, but a good man and 
 he gave us our money every Saturday night. 
 We lived much better than with Bartolo, and 
 when the work was done we each had nearly 
 $200 saved. Plenty of the men spoke Eng 
 lish and they taught us, and we taught them 
 to read and write. That was at night, for we 
 had a lamp in our room, and there were only 
 five other men who lived in that room with us. 
 
 We got up at half -past five o clock every 
 morning and made coffee on the stove and had 
 a breakfast of bread and cheese, onions, garlic 
 and red herrings. We went to work at seven 
 o clock and in the middle of the day we had 
 soup and bread in a place where we got it for 
 [57] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 two cents a plate. In the evenings we had a 
 good dinner with meat of some kind and pota 
 toes. We got from the butcher the meat that 
 other people would not buy because they said 
 it was old, but they don t know what is good. 
 We paid four or five cents a pound for it and 
 it was the best, though I have heard of people 
 paying sixteen cents a pound. 
 
 When the Newark boss told us that there 
 was no more work Francesco and I talked 
 about what we would do and we went back 
 to Brooklyn to a saloon near Hamilton Ferry 
 where we got a job cleaning it out and slept in 
 a little room upstairs. There was a boot 
 black named Michael on the corner and when 
 I had time I helped him and learned the busi 
 ness. Francesco cooked the lunch in the saloon 
 and he, too, worked for the bootblack and we 
 were soon able to make the best polish. 
 
 Then we thought we would go into business 
 and we got a basement on Hamilton avenue, 
 near the Ferry, and put four chairs in it. We 
 paid $75 for the chairs and all the other things. 
 We had tables and looking glasses there and 
 curtains. We took the papers that have the 
 pictures in and made the place high toned, 
 Outside we had a big sign that said: 
 
 THE BEST SHINE FOR TEN CENTS 
 
 [68] 
 
STORY OF AN ITALIAN BOOTBLACK 
 
 Men that did not want to pay ten cents 
 could get a good shine for five cents, but it was 
 not an oil shine. We had two boys helping us 
 and paid each of them fifty cents a day. The 
 rent of the place was $20 a month, so the ex 
 penses were very great, but we made money 
 from the beginning. We slept in the base 
 ment, but got our meals in the saloon till we 
 could put a stove in our place, and then Fran 
 cesco cooked for us all. That would not do, 
 though, because some of our customers said 
 that they did not like to smell garlic and onions 
 and red herrings. I thought that was strange, 
 but we had to do what the customers said. So 
 we got the woman who lived upstairs to give us 
 our meals and paid her $1.50 a week each. 
 She gave the boys soup in the middle of the 
 day five cents for two plates. 
 
 We remembered the priest, the friend of 
 Ciguciano, and what he had said to us about 
 religion, and as soon as we came to the country 
 we began to go to the Italian church. The 
 priest we found here was a good man, but he 
 asked the people for money for the church. 
 The Italians did not like to give because they 
 said it looked like buying religion. The priest 
 says it is different here from Italy because all 
 the churches there are what they call endowed, 
 while here all they have is what the people 
 give. Of course I and Francisco understand 
 that, but the Italians who cannot read and 
 [59] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 write shake their heads and say that it is wrong 
 for a priest to want money. 
 
 We had said that when we saved $1,000 each 
 we would go back to Italy and buy a farm, 
 but now that the time is coming we are so busy 
 and making so much money that we think we 
 will stay. We have opened another parlor 
 near South Ferry, in New York. We have 
 to pay $30 a month rent, but the business is 
 very good. The boys in this place charge 
 sixty cents a day because there is so much 
 work. 
 
 At first we did not know much of this coun 
 try, but by and by we learned. There are 
 here plenty of Protestants who are heretics, 
 but they have a religion, too. Many of the 
 finest churches are Protestant, but they have 
 no saints and no altars, which seems strange. 
 
 These people are without a king such as 
 ours in Italy. It is what they call a Republic, 
 as Garibaldi wanted, and every year in the fall 
 the people vote. They wanted us to vote last 
 fall, but we did not. A man came and said 
 that he would get us made Americans for fifty 
 cents and then we could get two dollars for 
 our votes. I talked to some of our people and 
 they told me that we should have to put a 
 paper in a box telling who we wanted to gov 
 ern us. 
 
 I went with five men to the court and when 
 they asked me how long I had been in the 
 country I told them two years. Afterward 
 [60] 
 
STORY OF AN ITALIAN BOOTBLACK 
 
 my countrymen said I was a fool and would 
 never learn politics. 
 
 You should have said you were five years 
 here and then we would swear to it," was what 
 they told me. 
 
 I and Francesco are to be Americans in 
 three years. The court gave us papers and 
 said we must wait and we must be able to read 
 some things and tell who the ruler of the coun 
 try is. 
 
 There are plenty of rich Italians here, men 
 who a few years ago had nothing and now 
 have so much money that they could not count 
 all their dollars in a week. The richest ones 
 go away from the other Italians and live with 
 the Americans. 
 
 We have joined a club and have much pleas 
 ure in the evenings. The club has rooms 
 down in Sackett street and we meet many 
 people and are learning new things all the 
 time. We were very ignorant when we came 
 here, but now we have learned much. 
 
 On Sundays we get a horse and carriage 
 from the grocer and go down to Coney Island. 
 We go to the theaters often, and other even 
 ings we go to the houses of our friends and 
 play cards. 
 
 I am now nineteen years of age and have 
 $700 saved. Francesco is twenty-one and has 
 about $900. We shall open some more par 
 lors soon. I know an Italian who was a boot 
 black ten years ago and now bosses bootblacks 
 [61] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 all over the city, who has so much money that 
 if it was turned into gold it would weigh more 
 than himself. 
 
 Francesco and I have a room to ourselves 
 and some people call us " swells." Ciguciano 
 said that we should be great men. Francesco 
 bought a gold watch with a gold chain as thick 
 as his thumb. He is a very handsome fellow 
 and I think he likes a young lady that he met 
 at a picnic out at Ridgewood. 
 
 I often think of Ciguciano and Teresa. He 
 is a good man, one in a thousand, and she was 
 very beautiful. Maybe I shall write to them 
 about coming to this country. 
 
 [62] 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE LIFE STORY OF A GREEK PEDDLER 
 
 This chapter is contributed by a Spartan now living in a 
 suburb near New York City. 
 
 I WAS born about forty years ago in a 
 little hamlet among the mountains of 
 Laconia in Greece. There were only about 
 200 people in this place, and they lived in 
 stone huts or cottages, some of which were 
 two stories high, but most of them only one 
 story. The people were shepherds or small 
 farmers, with the exception of the priest and 
 schoolmaster. 
 
 Two of tha houses pretended to the char 
 acter of village stores, but they kept only the 
 simplest, cheapest things, and as a general 
 rule, when we wanted to buy anything we had 
 to go down to Sparta, the chief town of our 
 State, which was two hours walk away from 
 our village. There was not even a blacksmith 
 shop in our town. 
 
 But the people did very well without shops. 
 They made almost everything for themselves. 
 The inside of the cottage consisted of one 
 large room with a board floor. Sometimes 
 there were partitions inside the cottage, mak 
 ing several rooms, but everything was very 
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UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 simple. The fireplace at one end of the room 
 was large and open; beds were made of boards 
 covered with hay, and stools and tables com 
 prised about all the remainder of the furniture. 
 Cooking was done on an iron tripod with the 
 fire underneath. 
 
 Cotton goods we bought in Sparta, but we 
 seldom bought anything else. We made ail 
 our own clothing, shearing the sheep, washing 
 the wool, carding, spinning and weaving by 
 hand as they did in the time of Homer. We 
 made our own butter and our own wine, 
 ground our own wheat and oats into flour and 
 meal and did our own baking. 
 
 Our farms varied in size from ten to forty 
 acres, and we raised on them such things as are 
 raised here in America all the grains and most 
 of the fruits and vegetables. We plowed 
 with oxen, thrashed with flails, winnowed by 
 hand, and ground our grain in a mortar. 
 
 We had very little money, and so little use 
 for money that the currency might almost as 
 well have been the iron sort of our remote 
 forefathers. 
 
 There was a little school in the town there 
 are schools all over Greece now and most of 
 the people could read and write, so they were 
 not entirely ignorant; yet they had small 
 knowledge of the world, and there were many, 
 especially among the women, who knew almost 
 nothing of what lay beyond the boundaries of 
 their farms. 
 
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STORY OF A GREEK PEDDLER 
 
 True, by climbing Mount Taygetos, where 
 the Spartans used to expose their children not 
 physically perfect, one could get a wide view 
 of the surrounding sea with its ships and the 
 shore with its cities, but the top of Taygetos 
 was a day s journey from our village, and few 
 of us had time or inclination to make the trip. 
 
 All people who were able worked from sun 
 rise to sunset, the men on their farms or with 
 the sheep, the women in the houses, spinning, 
 weaving, making clothes or baking. If they 
 did not know much about the great world, they 
 also cared less. Now and then some one went 
 down to Sparta and came home filled with its 
 wonders, for Sparta has 15,000 inhabitants 
 and is quite a bright little modern city, with 
 horse cars, street gas lamps and a mayor. 
 
 Narrow as our lives might be considered by 
 Americans, there was plenty to interest us in 
 the success or failure of our crops and our 
 little plans, and, considering matters from the 
 standpoint of our wants and our needs, we 
 were certainly prosperous and happy. Most 
 of us eat only one meal a day, but it was a 
 hearty, healthy meal, and though we knew 
 that some of the richer people ate two, the 
 fashion did not commend itself to us. Like 
 all Greeks, we were naturally inclined to tem 
 perance. There was no gluttony and no 
 drunkenness, although we had plenty of good 
 strong wine. 
 
 Forty days of the year were saints days, 
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UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 and on those we feasted and did no work. 
 We dressed in our best clothes and, gathering 
 in one of the best houses, we danced to the 
 music of the violin and guitar. 
 
 Sometimes there came an election, and then 
 the men always carried rifles with them to the 
 polling places, and around their waists were 
 sashes stuck full of daggers and pistols, mak 
 ing them look wild and dangerous. But really 
 there was seldom any fighting. In the first 
 place, there were soldiers around the polling 
 places and the elections were honest; in the 
 second place, the armed peasants stayed sober, 
 and in the third place, there was no stump 
 speaking such as here, and no newspaper at 
 tacks, where the candidate of the opposite 
 party is called a robber and accused of all 
 manner of crimes. Feeling ran high at our 
 elections and partisanship was bitter, but did 
 not often lead to fights, because there was no 
 speaking, no incitement. 
 
 The people are naturally very peaceful. 
 They carry arms because it is their custom, 
 coming down from the times when the Turks 
 were in the country and the Greeks had to 
 retire into the mountains and maintain con 
 stant watch in order to save themselves and 
 their families from Turkish outrage and 
 brutality. 
 
 I don t know on what lines the parties were 
 drawn, or what principles they advocated. I 
 
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STORY OF A GREEK PEDDLER 
 
 think that the difference was just that some 
 were in power and some were out, and that 
 those who were out wanted to get in. 
 
 All loved our king and the royal family. 
 Next to God we revered the king, and his 
 whole family shared our love for him. Greeks 
 are very democratic, but the members of this 
 royal family are fit to be the first citizens in a 
 pure democracy they have done so much for 
 the country and for all the people. 
 
 As I said, the people, in spite of their arms, 
 are very peaceful. There is no brigandage, 
 and murder in our locality occurred not more 
 than once in ten years. There used to be a 
 great deal of what was called brigandage in 
 Turkish times, but it has all passed away. 
 When the Turks retired, two-thirds of the 
 land which had belonged to Turks came into 
 the hands of the nation, and since that time 
 the class of people who were formerly robbed 
 and harried and oppressed until they were 
 driven into brigandage has been encouraged 
 to take to agriculture. Now there is no more 
 Government land. The people have bought 
 it all up, and although they have little money 
 they are tolerably happy and prosperous. 
 
 On Sundays in our little village we dressed 
 in our best clothes, and went to the church, 
 where we heard the old priest, whom we all 
 respected. There was only one church there, 
 the Greek Orthodox, and though religion was 
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UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 free and a man could worship as he pleased, or 
 not worship at all, there were no dissenters 
 among us. 
 
 At the same time there was little supersti 
 tion, to the best of my knowledge. Few be 
 lieved in ghosts or fairies, or any sort of super 
 natural appearances; nor did they believe in 
 modern miracles, and our respect for the saints 
 was for men who had laid down their lives for 
 Christianity. We had no sacred relics that 
 miraculously restored health, and knew of 
 none. 
 
 The only encounter with the supernatural 
 that I ever had occurred when I was about ten 
 years of age. 
 
 My grandmother needed a pound of wool to 
 finish some sort of blanket she was weaving, 
 and she sent me to the house of a neighbor, 
 who lived far away. I set out riding a jackass 
 and followed by a dog. I had not gone far 
 when I met a little girl carrying a cat. 
 
 At the sight of my dog, down jumped the 
 cat and ran for her life ; the dog dashed after 
 her, I dashed after dog, the little girl after 
 me. The only one who maintained his dignity 
 was the jackass. Cat, dog and myself all fell 
 into a stream, and when I emerged and pre 
 sented the cat to the little girl I was dripping. 
 She invited me to her house to dry, and there 
 her mother fitted me out with the clothes of her 
 little son, who had died a short time before. 
 She said I looked just like him, and tearfully 
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STORY OF A GREEK PEDDLER 
 
 begged me to stay over night. I finally con 
 sented as my grandmother would not expect 
 me back the next day. 
 
 She put me in the little boy s bed, and went 
 away, after bidding me good night. I went 
 to sleep immediately, but woke up later and 
 was horrified to see a large, round eye glaring 
 at me. It was very large, about ten inches in 
 diameter. I tried to scream, but I could not, 
 and my fear was increased by the sound of 
 footsteps coming toward me. I was sure it 
 was the dead boy coming to avenge my taking 
 his clothes and bed. Finally I was able to 
 speak, and I said : 
 
 " Don t hurt me; I am going away, and I 
 will not take the clothes with me." 
 
 But the footsteps continued to come directly 
 toward me. 
 
 Then I jumped from my bed and desper 
 ately grabbed at the approaching thing. I 
 seized a hairy head and pair of horns, and was 
 more frightened than ever, feeling sure that I 
 had caught the devil. But when the woman 
 and the little girl came in laughing, with a 
 light, the devil turned into the pet goat, which 
 used to play with the little boy. The round 
 eye also turned into a mirror. 
 
 Of the past of our country we knew little. 
 We only knew that once Greece had been 
 great, the light of the world, and we hoped 
 that the time was coming when she would 
 again resume her leadership of men. There 
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UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 were no ruins and no legends and traditions 
 among us. 
 
 The school in my little village had only four 
 grades, and when I had gone through those I 
 was sent to Sparta to the High School. There 
 I continued my education much as an Amer 
 ican boy would do. Greece has a fine system 
 of schools, established by the Government. 
 
 We had play in plenty. We played with 
 marbles and tops and kites, and we practiced 
 many of the classic sports, like running, and 
 pitching flat stones at a mark, like quoits, or 
 throwing the discus. We were great hands 
 at wrestling, and in certain seasons of the year 
 we hunted and shot partridges, rabbits and 
 ducks. 
 
 When I had finished in the High School, I 
 went to Athens, to an uncle who was in the 
 drug business. I worked for him for a few 
 years, and then had to enter the army, where I 
 spent two years in which there was nothing of 
 particular interest. 
 
 All these later years I had been hearing 
 from America. An elder brother was there 
 who had found it a fine country and was urg 
 ing me to join him. Fortunes could easily 
 be made, he said. I got a great desire to see 
 it, and in one way and another I raised the 
 money for fare 250 francs and set sail 
 from the Piraeus, the old port of Athens, situ 
 ated five miles from that city. The ship was a 
 French liner of 6,000 tons, and I was a deck 
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STORY OF A GREEK PEDDLER 
 
 passenger, carrying my own food and sleeping 
 on the boards as long as we were in the Medi 
 terranean Sea, which was four days. 
 
 As soon as we entered the ocean matters 
 changed for the better. I got a berth and the 
 ship supplied my food. Nothing extraordi 
 nary occurred on the voyage and when I 
 reached New York I got ashore without any 
 trouble. 
 
 New York astonished me by its size and 
 magnificence, the buildings shooting up like 
 mountain peaks, the bridge hanging in the 
 sky, the crowds of ships and the elevated rail 
 ways. I think that the elevated railways as 
 tonished me more than anything else. 
 
 I got work immediately as a push cart man. 
 There was six of us in a company. We all 
 lived together in two rooms down on Wash 
 ington street and kept the push carts in the 
 cellar. Five of us took out carts every day 
 and one was buyer, whom we called boss. He 
 had no authority over us; we were all free. 
 At the end of our day s work we all divided 
 up our money even, each man getting the 
 same amount out of the common fund the 
 boss no more than any other. 
 
 That system prevails among all the push 
 cart men in the City of New York practical 
 communism, all sharing alike. The buyer is 
 chosen by vote. 
 
 The buyer goes to the markets and gets the 
 stock for the next day, which is carried to the 
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UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 cellar in a wagon. Sometimes buying takes 
 a long time, if the price of fruit is up, for the 
 buyer has to get things as cheaply as possible. 
 Sometimes when prices are down he buys 
 enough for a week. He gets the fruit home 
 before evening, and then it is ready for the 
 next day. 
 
 I found the push cart work not unpleasant, 
 so far as the work itself was concerned. I 
 began at nine o clock in the morning and quit 
 about six o clock at night. I could not speak 
 English and did not know enough to pay the 
 police, so I was hunted when I tried to get 
 the good place like Nassau Street, or near the 
 Bridge entrance. Once a policeman struck 
 me on the leg with his club so hard that I could 
 not work for two weeks. That is wrong to 
 strike like that a man who could not speak 
 English. 
 
 Push cart peddlers who pay the police, 
 make $500 to $1,000 a year clear of board and 
 all expenses, and actually save that amount in 
 the bank; but those who don t pay the police 
 make from $200 to $300 a year. All the men 
 in the good places pay the police. Some pay 
 $2 a day each and some $1 a day, and from 
 that down to 25 cents. A policeman collects 
 regularly, and we don t know what he does 
 with the money, but, of course, we suspect. 
 The captain passes by and he must know; the 
 sergeant comes along and he must know. 
 
 We don t care. It is better to pay and have 
 
STORY OF A GREEK PEDDLER 
 
 the good place; we can afford to pay. One 
 day I made free and clear $10.25 on eighteen 
 boxes of cherries. That was the most I ever 
 made in a day. That was after I paid $1 a 
 day for a good place. 
 
 There have been many attempts to organize 
 us for political purposes, but all these have 
 failed. We vote as we please, for the best 
 man. No party owns us. 
 
 I soon went on to Chicago and got work 
 there from a countryman who kept a fruit 
 store. He gave me $12 a month and my 
 board, but he wouldn t teach me English. I 
 got so I could say such words as " Cent each," 
 " Five cents for three," " Ten cents a quart," 
 but if I asked the boss the names of things he 
 would say never mind, it was not good for me 
 to learn English. 
 
 I wrote home to my uncle in Athens to send 
 me a Greek-English dictionary, and w r hen it 
 came I studied it all the time and in three 
 months I could speak English quite well. I 
 did not spend a cent and soon found a better 
 job, getting $17 a month and my board. In 
 a little while I had $106 saved, and I opened a 
 little fruit store of my own near the Academy 
 of Music. 
 
 One night after ten o clock my lamp went 
 down very low and I wanted to fill it again. I 
 had a five gallon can of kerosene and a five 
 gallon can of gasolene standing together under 
 the stall, and in the darkness I got out the can 
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UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 of gasolene. I filled the lamp while it was still 
 burning. It exploded over- me and I ran out 
 of the place all in flames. The people were 
 just coming out of the Academy of Music 
 when I rushed among them shouting. Men 
 threw their overcoats about me and put out 
 the flames, but I nearly lost my life. I was 
 taken to a hospital, where I lay for four 
 months. All my hair was burned off, my eye 
 brows and the skin of my neck and head, and 
 I was in great pain. 
 
 Finally I was able to get out, and my land 
 lord took charge of me and started me in busi 
 ness again. 
 
 He was a German; I think his name was 
 Hackenbush. At any rate he was very kind, 
 I had not had sense enough to get my store 
 insured, and so had no money when I walked 
 out of the hospital. My landlord stocked it 
 for me with fruits, cigars and candies, and did 
 all he could to put me on my feet, but I had 
 bad luck and gave up. 
 
 Then I left Chicago and went roaming, rid 
 ing about on freight cars looking for work. 
 I had twenty dollars in my pocket when I set 
 out, but it was soon gone. I could get no 
 work. I fell in with a gang of tramps, mostly 
 Irish fellows; we rode generally in the ca 
 booses of freight cars. They used to beg, 
 but I said " No, I ll starve first." 
 
 I slept at nights in cemeteries for fear of 
 being arrested as a hobo if I slept in the parks, 
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STORY OF A GREEK PEDDLER 
 
 and for seven days I lived on eleven cents. 
 On the eighth day I got a job carrying lumber 
 on my shoulder. I worked two days at this 
 and earned three dollars, but was so weak that 
 I had to give it up. 
 
 So I went on, riding on top of a freight 
 car. There were three of us on top of that car, 
 two lying down and one sitting up reading a 
 paper. We came to a tunnel, and when we 
 had passed through the man who was reading 
 the paper was gone. -When the train made its 
 next stop I and my companion went back and 
 found the missing man lying dead on the track. 
 That ended my riding on top of freight cars. 
 I never tried it again. 
 
 I got a job in a bicycle factory soon after 
 this. It paid me nine dollars a week and I 
 could save seven, so I soon had money again ; 
 but when the war with Turkey broke out I 
 thought I would go back and fight for Greece 
 and I did, but the war was a disappointment. 
 I was in several battles, such as they were, but 
 no sooner were we soldiers ready to fight than 
 we would all be ordered to go back. 
 
 When the war was over I returned to this 
 good country and became a citizen. I got down 
 to business, worked hard and am worth about 
 $50,000 to-day. I have fruit stores and con 
 fectionery stores. 
 
 There are about 10,000 Greeks in New 
 York now, living in and about Roosevelt, Mad 
 ison and Washington streets; about 200 of 
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UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 them are women. They all think this is a fine 
 country. Most of them are citizens. Only 
 about ten per cent, go home again, and of 
 these many return to America, finding that 
 they like their new home better than their old 
 one. 
 
 The Greeks here are almost all doing well, 
 there are no beggars and no drunkards among 
 them, and the worst vice they have is gam 
 bling. 
 
 From Christmas till January 5 of each year 
 there is great gambling in the Greek quarter, 
 especially in the back rooms of the four res 
 taurants. The police know all about it and it 
 is allowed. Each of these restaurants takes in 
 from $50 to $200 a night from gambling dur 
 ing the Christmas celebration. I suppose the 
 police . get their share. Poker is a favorite 
 game, and other card games are played, thou 
 sands of dollars changing hands among the 
 players. 
 
 That is our big spree, taking place once a 
 year. Aside from that, we are very quiet and 
 law abiding. 
 
 The Greek push cart men are the Greek 
 newcomers. They all save and they all get 
 up. When they have a little money they open 
 stores of their own, confectionery, flowers and 
 fruit. 
 
 We think that the push cart business is good 
 for the citjfT^The fruit is fresh every day, 
 and people get what they want as they pass 
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STORY OF A GREEK PEDDLER 
 
 along the street. When the push cart men 
 finish selling dear to the people with plenty of 
 money they go and sell cheap to the poor in 
 the evenings. Plenty of fruit is a fine thing 
 for health. 
 
 The fruit here, though, is not as good to 
 eat as it is in Greece. The reason is that here 
 it is picked before it is ripe and lies in an ice 
 house for weeks. That takes all the flavor, 
 and so, though the fruit looks so fine, it has 
 no good taste. The icebox is a bad thing. 
 There is no ice to the fruit in Greece. 
 
 We Greeks are doing well here, we are tak 
 ing citizenship and we like this country; but 
 the condition of the country we have left dis 
 turbs us, and we would give all we possess, 
 every cent, all our money and goods, to see 
 Greece free. 
 
 Greece, the country as it is to-day, has only 
 2,500,000 inhabitants, but there are 18,000,000 
 Greeks living in Turkey under virtual slavery. 
 In the city of Constantinople three out of four 
 inhabitants are Greeks. We want to see them 
 all free. 
 
 They are ready for freedom, they are edu 
 cated. There are ten Greek schools, for every 
 Turkish school in Turkey, and the people are 
 intelligent. The American schools there have 
 done great things, so it would be easy to set up 
 free Greece again in all the country formerly 
 ruled over from Constantinople before the 
 coming of the Turks. 
 
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UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 That would have been done long ago were it 
 not for the jealousy of European powers. 
 Even as it is it must soon come the Turk in 
 Europe is dying fast. 
 
 In addition to the schools set up and main 
 tained by the Greek Government and the 
 Americans, there is another source of light in 
 Greece. That is the returned emigrants. 
 Everywhere in Greece now one meets men 
 who have been in America and understand 
 how happy a country may be. They have 
 carried back American ways and ideas, and are 
 Americanizing the whole country. In all the 
 little towns and villages now English is 
 spoken. 
 
 Greeks are perhaps better fitted than any 
 others in South Europe to enjoy freedom. 
 They take politics seriously, and believe in vot 
 ing for the best man. 
 
 Free Greece must come soon, but in precisely 
 what shape no one knows. There are so many 
 things to be considered. Constantinople 
 ought to be the capital, but Russia wants Con 
 stantinople. Russia is jealous of Greece, as 
 matters are now, because the patriarch head of 
 her church is Greek and resides in Constanti 
 nople. She would resist an extension of our 
 power. 
 
 Germany and Austria, also, look upon 
 those parts of old Greece which are under 
 Turkish sway with covetous eyes. When 
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STORY OF A GREEK PEDDLER 
 
 Turkey dies they will present themselves as 
 the natural heirs. 
 
 And yet, in spite of all, we Greeks feel that 
 our country will rise again, happy and pros 
 perous, free and glorious, standing once more 
 as leader of the nations. 
 
 How this will come we know not; but it 
 will be so, and that within a generation. 
 
 [79] 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 THE LIFE STORY OF A SWEDISH 
 FARMER 
 
 Axel Jarlson, the author of the following biography, is twenty- 
 two years of age and a fine specimen of the large, strong, ener 
 getic, blonde Norseman. He speaks good English and his story, 
 written from an interview given on his way through New York 
 to spend the Christmas holidays with his parents in the old coun 
 try, is practically given in his own words. His family s experi 
 ence resembles that of great numbers of his countrymen, who 
 come here intending to return finally to the old country, but 
 find themselves unconsciously Americanized. 
 
 I CAN remember perfectly well the day 
 when my elder brother, Gustaf, started 
 for America. It was in April, 1891, and there 
 was snow on the ground about our cottage, 
 while the forest that covered the hills near by 
 was still deep with snow. The roads were 
 very bad, but my uncle Olaf , who had been to 
 America often on the ships, said that this was 
 the time to start, because work on the farms 
 there would just be beginning. 
 
 We were ten in the family, father and 
 mother and eight children, and we had lived 
 very happily in our cottage until the last year, 
 when father and mother were both sick and 
 we got into debt. Father had a little piece of 
 land about two acres which he rented, and 
 besides, he worked in the summer time for a 
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STORY OF A SWEDISH FARMER 
 
 farmer. Two of my sisters and three of my 
 brothers also worked in the fields, but the pay 
 was so very small that it was hard for us to get 
 enough to eat. A good farm hand in our 
 part of Sweden, which is 200 miles north of 
 Stockholm and near the Baltic Sea, can earn 
 about 100 kroner a season, and a krone^ is 27 
 cents. But the winter is six months long, and 
 most of that time the days are dark, except 
 from ten o clock in the morning to four o clock 
 in the afternoon. The only way our family 
 could get money during the winter was by 
 making something that could be sold in the 
 market town, ten miles away. So my father 
 and brothers did wood carving and cabinet 
 making, and my mother and sisters knitted 
 stockings, caps and mufflers and made home 
 spun cloth, and also butter and cheese, for we 
 owned two cows. 
 
 But the Swedish people who have money 
 hold on to it very tight, and often we took 
 things to market and then had to bring them 
 home again, for no one would buy. 
 
 My uncle Olaf used to come to us between 
 voyages, and he was all the time talking about 
 America; what a fine place it was to make 
 money in. He said that he would long ago 
 have settled down on shore there, but that he 
 had a mate s place on a ship and hoped some 
 day to be captain. In America they gave you 
 good land for nothing, and in two years you 
 could be a rich man; and no one had to go in 
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UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 the army unless he wanted to. That was what 
 my uncle told us. 
 
 There was a school house to which I and 
 two of my sisters went all the winter for edu 
 cation is compulsory in Sweden and the 
 schoolmaster told us one day about the great 
 things that poor Swedes had done in America. 
 They grew rich and powerful like noblemen 
 and they even held Government offices. It 
 was true, also, that no one had to go in the 
 army unless he wanted to be a soldier. With 
 us all the young men who are strong have to 
 go in the army, because Sweden expects to 
 have to fight Russia some day. The army 
 takes the young men away from their work 
 and makes hard times in the family. 
 
 A man who had been living in America once 
 came to visit the little village that was near 
 our cottage. He wore gold rings set with 
 jewels and had a fine watch. He said that 
 food was cheap in America and that a man 
 could earn nearly ten times as much there as 
 in Sweden. He treated all the men to brand- 
 vin, or brandy wine, as some call it, and there 
 seemed to be no end to his money. 
 
 It was after this that father and mother 
 were both sick during all of one winter, and we 
 had nothing to eat, except black bread and a 
 sort of potato soup or gruel, with now and 
 then a herring. We had to sell our cows and 
 we missed the milk and cheese. 
 
 So at last it was decided that my brother 
 
STORY OF A SWEDISH FARMER 
 
 was to go to America, and we spent the last 
 day bidding him good-bye, as if we should 
 never see him again. My mother and sisters 
 cried a great deal, and begged him to write; 
 my father told him not to forget us in that far 
 off country, but to do right and all would be 
 well, and my uncle said that he would become 
 a leader of the people. 
 
 Next morning before daylight my brother 
 and my uncle went away. They had twenty 
 miles to walk to reach the railroad, which 
 would take them to Gothenburg. My uncle 
 had paid the money for the ticket which was 
 to carry Gustaf to Minnesota. It cost a great 
 deal about $90, I believe. 
 
 In the following August we got our first 
 letter from America. I can remember some 
 parts of it, in which my brother said : 
 
 I have work with a farmer who pays me 64 kroner a 
 month, and my board. I send you 20 kroner, and 
 will try to send that every month. This is a good 
 country. It is like Sweden in some ways. The win 
 ter is long, and there are some cold days, but every 
 thing grows that we can grow in our country, and 
 there is plenty. All about me are Swedes, who have 
 taken farms and are getting rich. They eat white 
 bread and plenty of meat. The people here do not 
 work such long hours as in Sweden, but they work 
 much harder, and they have a great deal of machin 
 ery, so that the crop one farmer gathers will fill two 
 big barns. One farmer, a Swede, made more than 
 25,000 kroner on his crop last year. 
 [83] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 After that we got a letter every month 
 from my brother. He kept doing better and 
 better, and at last he wrote that a farm had 
 been given to him by the Government. It 
 was sixty acres of land, good soil, with plenty 
 of timber on it and a river running alongside. 
 He had two fine horses and a wagon and 
 sleigh, and he was busy clearing the land. He 
 wanted his brother, Eric, to go to him, but we 
 could not spare Eric, and so Knut, the third 
 brother, was sent. He helped Gustaf for two 
 years, and then he took a sixty-acre farm. 
 Both sent money home to us, and soon they 
 sent tickets for Hilda and Christine, two of 
 my sisters. 
 
 People said that Hilda was very beautiful. 
 She was eighteen years of age, and had long 
 shining golden hair, red cheeks and blue eyes. 
 She was merry and a fine dancer ; far the best 
 among the girls in all the country round, and 
 she could spin and knit grandly. 
 
 She and Christine got work in families of 
 Minneapolis, and soon were earning almost 
 as much as my brothers had earned at first, 
 and sending money to us. Hilda married a 
 man who belonged to the Government of Min 
 neapolis before she had lived there six months. 
 He is a Swede, but has been away from home 
 a long time. Hilda now went to live in a fine 
 house, and she said in her letter that the only 
 trouble she had was with shoes. In the coun 
 try parts of Sweden they wear no shoes in the 
 [84] 
 
STORY OF A SWEDISH FARMER 
 
 summer time, but in Minneapolis they wear 
 them all the year round. 
 
 Father and mother kept writing to the 
 children in America that now they had made 
 their fortunes they should come home and live, 
 but they put it off. Once Gustaf did return to 
 see us, but he hurried back again, because the 
 people thought so much of him that they had 
 made him sheriff of a county. So it would not 
 do to be long away. 
 
 I and my sister Helene came to this country 
 together in 1899, Hilda having sent us the 
 money, 600 kroner. We came over in the 
 steerage from Gothenburg, on the west coast. 
 The voyage wasn t so bad. They give people 
 beds in the steerage now, and all their food, 
 and it is very good food and well cooked. It 
 took us twelve days to cross the sea, but we did 
 not feel it long, as when people got over the 
 sea sickness there was plenty of dancing, for 
 most of those people in the steerage were 
 Swedes and very pleasant and friendly. On 
 fine days we could walk outside on the deck. 
 Two men had concertinas and one had a violin. 
 
 When we got to Minneapolis we found 
 Hilda living in a large brick house, and she 
 had two servants and a carriage. She cried 
 with joy when she saw us, and bought us new 
 clothes, because we were in homespun and no 
 one wears that in Minneapolis. But she laid 
 the homespun away in a chest and said that 
 she would always keep it to remind her. 
 [85] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 I stayed with Hilda two weeks, and then 
 went out to my brother Knut s farm, which is 
 fifty miles northwest of Minneapolis. It was 
 in August when I reached him, and I helped 
 with the harvest and the threshing. He had 
 built a log house, with six windows in it. It 
 looked very much like the log house where my 
 parents live in Sweden, only it was not painted 
 red like theirs. 
 
 I worked for my brother from August 1899, 
 to March, 1901, at $16 a month, making $304, 
 of which I spent only $12 in that time, as I 
 had clothes. 
 
 On the first day of March I went to a farm 
 that I had bought for $150, paying $50 down. 
 It was a bush farm, ten miles from my 
 brother s place and seven miles from the near 
 est cross roads store. A man had owned it 
 and cleared two acres, and then fallen sick and 
 the storekeeper got it for a debt and sold it to 
 me. My brother heard of it and advised- me 
 to buy it. 
 
 I went on this land in company with a 
 French Canadian named Joachim. He was 
 part Indian, and yet was laughing all the time, 
 very gay, very full of fun, and yet the best 
 axman I ever saw. He wore the red trimmed 
 white blanket overcoat of the Hudson Bay 
 Company, with white blanket trousers and 
 fancy moccasins, and a red sash around his 
 waist and a capote that went over his head. 
 
 We took two toboggans loaded with our 
 [86] 
 
STORY OF A SWEDISH FARMER 
 
 goods and provisions, and made the ten-mile 
 journey from my brother s house in three 
 hours. The snow was eighteen inches deep on 
 the level, but there was a good hard crust that 
 bore us perfectly most of the way. The cold 
 was about 10 below zero, but we were steaming 
 when we got to the end of our journey. I 
 wore two pairs of thick woolen stockings, with 
 shoe-packs outside them the shoe-pack is a 
 moccasin made of red sole leather, its top is of 
 strong blanket; it is very warm and keeps out 
 wet. I wore heavy underclothes, two woolen 
 shirts, two vests, a pilot jacket and an over 
 coat, a woolen cap and a fur cap. Each of us 
 had about 300 pounds weight on his toboggan. 
 
 Before this I had looked over my farm and 
 decided where to build my house, so now I 
 went straight to that place. It was the side of 
 a hill that sloped southward to a creek that 
 emptied into a river a mile away. 
 
 We went into a pine grove about half way 
 up the hill and picked out a fallen tree, with a 
 trunk nearly five feet thick, to make one side 
 of our first house. This tree lay from east to 
 west. So we made a platform near the root 
 on the south side by stamping the snow down 
 hard. On top of this platform we laid spruce 
 boughs a foot deep and covered the spruce 
 boughs over with a rubber blanket. We cut 
 poles, about twenty of them, and laid them 
 sloping from the snow up to the top of the tree 
 trunk. Over these we spread canvas, and over 
 [87] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 that again large pieces of oilcloth. Then we 
 banked up the snow on back and side, built a 
 fire in front in the angle made by the tree root, 
 and, as we each had two pairs of blankets, 
 we were ready for anything from a flood to a 
 hurricane. We made the fire place of flat 
 stones that we got near the top of the hill and 
 kindled the fire with loose birch bark. We had 
 a box of matches, and good fuel was all about 
 us. Soon we had a roaring, fire going and a 
 big heap of fuel standing by. We slung our 
 pot by means of a chain to a pole that rested 
 one end on the fallen tree trunk and the other 
 on the crotch of a small tree six feet away ; we 
 put the pan on top of the fire and used the cof 
 fee or tea pot the same way we made tea 
 and coffee in the same pot. We had brought 
 to camp : 
 
 FIRST OUTFIT 
 
 Cornmeal, 25 pounds $0.47 
 
 Flour, 100 pounds 2.00 
 
 Lard, 10 pounds 1.00 
 
 Butter, 10 pounds 1.80 
 
 Codfish, 25 pounds 2.25 
 
 Ham, 12 pounds 1.20 
 
 Potatoes, 120 pounds 1.40 
 
 Rice, 25 pounds 2.15 
 
 Coffee, 10 pounds 2.75 
 
 Bacon, 30 pounds 1.50 
 
 Herrings, 200 1.75 
 
 Molasses, 2 gallons 60 
 
 Axes, 3 3.55 
 
 Toboggans, 2 3.25 
 
 F88] 
 
STORY OF A SWEDISH FARMER 
 
 Pair blankets $5.00 
 
 Pot, coffee pot, frying pan 1.60 
 
 Knives, 2 75 
 
 Salt, pepper, mustard 15 
 
 Tea, 9 pounds 2.70 
 
 Matches 10 
 
 Pickax 1.25 
 
 Spades, 2 3.00 
 
 Hoes, 2 2.00 
 
 Sugar, 30 pounds 1.80 
 
 Snow shoes, 1 pair 1.75 
 
 Gun 9.00 
 
 Powder and shot 65 
 
 Total $55.42 
 
 " Jake," as we all called the Frenchman, was 
 a fine cook. He made damper in the pan, 
 and we ate it swimming with butter along with 
 slices of bacon and some roast potatoes and 
 tea. " Jake," like all the lumbermen, made 
 tea very strong. So did I, but I didn t like 
 the same kind of tea. The backwoodsmen 
 have got used to a sort of tea that bites like 
 acid; it is very bad, but they won t take any 
 other. I liked a different sort. So as we 
 couldn t have both, we mixed the two together. 
 
 The sun went down soon after four o clock, 
 but the moon rose, the stars were very big and 
 bright and the air quite still and so dry that no 
 one could tell it was cold. "Jake" had 
 brought a fiddle with him and he sat in the 
 doorway of our house and played and sang 
 [89] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 silly French Canadian songs, and told stories 
 in his own language. I could not understand 
 a word he said, but he didn t care ; he was talk 
 ing to the fire and the woods as much as to me. 
 He got up and acted some of the stories and 
 made me laugh, though I didn t understand. 
 We went to bed soon after eight o clock^ and 
 slept finely. I never had a better bed than 
 those spruce boughs. 
 
 Next morning, after a breakfast of corn- 
 meal mush, herrings, coffee and bacon, we 
 took our axes and went to work, and by work 
 ing steadily for six hours we chopped an acre 
 of ground and cut four cords of wood, which 
 we stacked up ready for hauling. It was 
 birch, beech, oak, maple, hickory, ironwood and 
 elm, for we left the pine alone and set out to 
 clear the land on the side of the creek first. 
 The small stuff that was not good for cord 
 wood we piled up for our own fire or for fence 
 rails. 
 
 We found, the fire out when we returned to 
 our camp, but it was easy to light it again, and 
 we had damper and butter, boiled rice and 
 molasses, tea with sugar and slices of ham for 
 supper. A workingman living out of doors 
 in that air can eat as much as three men who 
 live in the city. A light snow fell, but it made 
 no difference, as our fire was protected by the 
 tree root, and we could draw a strip of can 
 vas down over the doorway of our house. 
 
 So we lived till near the first of April when 
 [90] 
 
STORY OF A SWEDISH FARMER 
 
 the sun began to grow warm and the ice and 
 snow to melt. In that time we chopped about 
 nine acres and made forty-five cords of wood, 
 which we dragged to the bank of the river and 
 left there for the boats to take, the storekeeper 
 giving me credit for it on his books at $1.25 a 
 cord. We also cut two roads through the 
 bush. In order to haul the wood and break the 
 roads I had to buy an ox team and bob 
 sleigh which I got with harness, a ton of hay 
 and four bushels of turnips for $63. I made 
 the oxen a shelter of poles and boughs and 
 birch bark sloping up to the top of an old tree 
 root. 
 
 By April 15th the ground which we had 
 chopped over was ready for planting, for all 
 the snow and ice was gone and the sun was 
 warm. I bought a lot of seed of several 
 kinds, and went to w T ork with spade and hoe, 
 among the stumps of the clearing, putting in 
 potatoes, corn, wheat, turnips, carrots, and a 
 few onions, melons and pumpkins. We used 
 spade and hoe in planting. 
 
 The soil was black loam on top of fine red 
 sand, and the corn seemed to spring up the 
 day after it was planted. 
 
 We planted nearly twelve acres of the land 
 in a scattering way, and then set to work to 
 build a log house of pine logs. " Jake " was 
 a master hand at this, and in two weeks we had 
 the house up. It was made of logs about 12 
 by 8 inches on the sides. It was 18 feet long 
 [91] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 and 12 feet deep, and had three small windows 
 in the sides and back and a door. The ends 
 of the logs were chopped so that those of the 
 sides fitted into those of the front and back. 
 The only nails were in the door. I had to buy 
 the windows. The only furniture was two 
 trunks, a table, a stool and a bench, all made 
 with the axe. The roof was of birch bark. 
 
 About the first of June my sister Helene 
 came with a preserving kettle, a lot of glass 
 jars and a big scheme. We got a cook stove 
 and a barrel of sugar, and put a sign on the 
 river bank announcing that we would pay fifty 
 cents cash for 12 quarts of strawberries, rasp 
 berries or blackberries. All through June, 
 July and August Indians kept bringing us the 
 berries, and my sister kept preserving, can 
 ning arid labeling them. Meanwhile we dug 
 a roothouse into the side of the hill and sided 
 it up and roofed it over with logs, and we built 
 a log stable for cattle. A load of lumber that 
 we got for $2 had some planed boards in it, 
 of which we made doors. The rest we used for 
 roofs, which we finally shingled before win 
 ter came on again. The result of my first sea 
 son s work was as follows : 
 
 EXPENSES 
 
 (From March 1st to December 31st, 1901) 
 
 Farm, paid on account $50.00 
 
 Axes, 4, with handles 5.00 
 
 Spades, 2 3.00 
 
 [93] 
 
STORY OF A SWEDISH FARMER 
 
 Hoes, 2 $2.00 
 
 Oil lantern 1.25 
 
 Lamp with bracket 1.50 
 
 Oil, 4 gallons 40 
 
 Cow with calf 25.00 
 
 Yoke of oxen, with harness, sleigh, 
 
 etc 63.00 
 
 Seed 12.50 
 
 "Jake s" wages, 6 months 120.00 
 
 Helen e s wages, 7 months 112.00 
 
 Windows for house 6.50 
 
 Lumber 2.00 
 
 Kitchen utensils, dishes 5.40 
 
 Toboggans, 2 2.75 
 
 Blankets, 2 pairs 10.00 
 
 Pickaxe 1.25 
 
 Mutton, 35 pounds 2.10 
 
 Beef, 86 pounds 6.02 
 
 Corned beef, 70 pounds 3.50 
 
 Bacon, 82 pounds 4.10 
 
 Flour, 3 barrels 10.50 
 
 Cornmeal, 80 pounds 2.40 
 
 Codfish, 40 pounds 3.60 
 
 Sugar, 400 pounds 20.00 
 
 Oatmeal, 75 pounds 2.25 
 
 Molasses, 9 gallons 2.70 
 
 Tobacco, 10 pounds .90 
 
 Candles 10 
 
 Tea, 18 pounds 5.40 
 
 Coffee, 10 pounds 5.40 
 
 Plough 6.50 
 
 Rice, 25 pounds 2.15 
 
 Preserve jars, 400 7.50 
 
 Stump extracting 17.00 
 
 Stove 3.00 
 
 [93] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 Preserve jar labels, 500 $2.50 
 
 All other expenses 21.00 
 
 Total $552.17 
 
 INCOME AND CASH IN HAND 
 
 (March 1st to December 31st, 1901). 
 
 Cash in hand $292.00 
 
 Wood, 45 cords at $1.25 56.25 
 
 Preserves, 400 quarts 66.50 
 
 Wheat, 67 bushels 46.50 
 
 Corn, 350 bushels 163.30 
 
 Carrots, 185 bushels 90.45 
 
 Turnips, 80 bushels 32.00 
 
 Potatoes, 150 bushels 75.00 
 
 Total $822.00 
 
 Total expenses 552.17 
 
 Balance on hand $269.83 
 
 That comparison of income and expenses 
 looks more unfavorable than it really was be 
 cause we had five months provisions on hand 
 on December 31st. We raised almost all our 
 own provisions after the first three months. 
 In 1902 my income was above $1,200, and my 
 expenses after paying $50 on the farm and 
 $62 for road making and stump extracting 
 and labor, less than $600. 
 
 I have no trouble selling my produce, as the 
 storekeeper takes it all and sells it down the 
 river. He also owns a threshing machine and 
 stump extractor. 
 
 [94] 
 
STORY OF A SWEDISH FARMER 
 
 The Frenchman went away in August, 1901. 
 I don t know where he is. I have had other 
 good workmen since but none like him. 
 
 I studied English coming out on the vessel, 
 but I was here six months before I could speak 
 it well. I like this country very much, and 
 will become a citizen. 
 
 One thing I like about this country is that 
 you do not have to be always taking off your 
 hat to people. In Sweden you take off your 
 hat to everybody you meet, and if you enter a 
 store you take off your hat to the clerk. 
 Another thing that makes me like this country 
 is that I can share in the government. In 
 Sweden my father never had a vote, and my 
 brothers never could have voted because there 
 is a property qualification that keeps out the 
 poor people, and they had no chance to make 
 money. Here any man of good character can 
 have a vote after he has been a short time in the 
 country, and people can elect him to any office. 
 There are no aristocrats to push him down, 
 and say that he is not worthy because his father 
 was poor. Some Swedes have become Gov 
 ernors of States, and many who landed here 
 poor boys are now very rich. 
 
 I am going over to Sweden soon to keep 
 Christmas there. Six hundred other Swedes 
 will sail on our ship. Many are from Minne 
 sota. They have done their fall planting, and 
 the snow is on the ground up there, and they 
 can easily get away for two months or more. 
 [95] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 So we are all going to our old home, but will 
 come back again, and may be bring other peo 
 ple with us. Some Swedes go to the old coun 
 try every Christmas. 
 
 We re going in the steerage and pay a low 
 special rate because the ships need passengers 
 at this time of the year. We ll have the steer 
 age all to ourselves, and it ought to be very 
 comfortable and jolly. We will dance and 
 play cards all the way over. 
 
 Christmas is Sweden s great day; in fact, 
 it is wrong to speak of it as a day because it 
 keeps up for two weeks. The people have 
 been preparing for it since November last. 
 Near our place there are twelve farm houses 
 and about ten people living in each house. In 
 the last letter that I got from my mother two 
 weeks ago she told me about the preparations 
 for Christmas. I know who the maskers are, 
 w r ho will go around on Christmas Eve knock 
 ing at the doors of the houses and giving the 
 presents. That s supposed to be a secret, but 
 mother has found out. 
 
 I expect to return to America in February, 
 and will try to bring my elder brother, Eric, 
 and my youngest sister, Minna, with me. Eric 
 has never seen a city, neither has Minna, and 
 they don t think that they would like America 
 much because the ways of the people are so 
 different and they work so much harder while 
 they are working. 
 
 My father says that Sweden is the finest 
 [96] 
 
STORY OF A SWEDISH FARMER 
 
 country in the world, and he will never leave, 
 but he is only sixty years of age, and so he 
 could move very well. Mother is younger, 
 and they are both strong, so I think they will 
 come to us in Minnesota next year, and then 
 our whole family will be in America, for Uncle 
 Olaf is now in New York in a shipping office. 
 
 Gustaf is married and has three children, 
 and Knut is to be married shortly, but either of 
 them would be glad to have the father and 
 mother. I think, though, that they will come 
 to my house. 
 
 I am carrying with me two trunks, and one 
 of them is full of Christmas presents from 
 Knut and Gustaf, Hilda and Christine to 
 father, mother, Eric and Minna. When I re 
 turn to America my trunk will be filled with 
 presents from those in the old home to those 
 in the new. 
 
 Among these presents are books of pictures 
 showing Minneapolis, Duluth and New York, 
 and photographs of our houses. My father 
 and the other old men will not believe that 
 there are any great cities in America. They 
 say that it is a wild country, and that it is quite 
 impossible that New York can be as large as 
 Stockholm. When they hear about the tall 
 buildings they laugh, and say that travelers 
 always tell such wild tales. Maybe they will 
 believe the photographs. 
 
 Some of the pictures that I am carrying to 
 Sweden are of women in America. They have 
 [97] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 a better time than in Sweden. At least, they 
 do not have to do such heavy work, and they 
 dress much more expensively. Minna will be 
 greatly surprised when she sees how Hilda 
 dresses now, and I feel sure that she, too, will 
 want to come here and try her fortune, where 
 there are so many rich husbands to be had. 
 
 The Swedes who live in America like the old 
 country girls, because they know how to save 
 money. 
 
 [98] 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE LIFE STORY OF A FRENCH DRESSMAKER 
 
 Amelia des Moulins is a French girl who, as her story shows, 
 is making her fortune in America, but is going back to France 
 to live. 
 
 I WAS born in a country district of France, 
 on the edge of a great forest, about 150 
 miles southwest of Paris. When I first came 
 to identify myself, I was a little red-cheeked, 
 roly-poly, black-haired, black-eyed baby of 
 four years or so, tumbling about under the 
 trees trying to gather fagots. 
 
 My father had been one of the men in 
 charge of the forest, and when he was killed 
 by the caving in of an earthbank the great man 
 who owned the estate on which we lived al 
 lowed my mother to continue gathering fire 
 wood as before, which was to us quite a valu 
 able privilege, as fuel is scarce and dear in 
 France. 
 
 Our cottage was of stone. It was about 
 200 years old and had tiled roof, though most 
 of the cottages of the neighborhood were 
 thatched. The walls were nearly two feet 
 thick and all the front and sides were covered 
 with ivy. There were only two rooms on the 
 [99] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 ground floor, but overhead was a large loft, 
 with the floor boards loose on the beams. My 
 brothers Jean and Fra^ois slept in the loft, 
 which they reached by a ladder, and sometimes 
 the straw from their bed would come sifting 
 down through the cracks above. 
 
 The large room on the ground floor was 
 kitchen, dining room, sitting room and parlor. 
 It had a great hearth, where a big iron pot 
 hung on a thick chain, and both chain and pot 
 were relics that had long been in my father s 
 family. The only furniture here was a bench, 
 four wooden stools and an old table, and the 
 only picture on the plastered walls was a print 
 of the Madonna. The other room was 
 mother s bedroom, and I and my sister Mad 
 eline had a cot in the corner. 
 
 In comparison with some of our neighbors 
 we were looked upon as wealthy, seeing that 
 mother owned the house and field of two acres, 
 and that she had about $400 saved up and bur 
 ied in an old iron pot in the earthern floor of 
 the little cellar, which was under the middle of 
 the big room and reached through a trap door. 
 
 Mother was a large, stout, full blooded 
 woman of great strength. She could not read 
 or write and yet she was well thought of. 
 There are all sorts of educations, and though 
 readirig and writing are very well in their way, 
 they would not have done mother any good. 
 She had the sort of education that was needed 
 for her work. Nobody knew more about rais- 
 [100] 
 
STORY OF A FRENCH 
 
 ing vegetables, ducks, chickens and pigeons 
 than she did. There were some among the 
 neighbors who could read and write and so 
 thought themselves above mother, but when 
 they went to market they found their mistake. 
 Her peas, beans, cauliflower, cabbages, pump 
 kins, melons, potatoes, beets and onions sold 
 for the highest price of any, and that ought 
 to show whose education was the best, because 
 it is the highest education that produces the 
 finest work. 
 
 Mother used to take me frequently to the 
 market. We had a big dog and a little cart 
 (mother and the dog pulled the cart) one can 
 see hundreds of them in any French market 
 town to-day. The cart was filled high with 
 fowls and vegetables, and when I was very 
 small I sat on the top holding our lunch, 
 which was wrapped in a napkin. It was al 
 ways the same, a half loaf of black bread to be 
 eaten with an onion. I was inclined to be par 
 ticular, and sometimes I would not eat the 
 black bread, which was hard and sour, but 
 mother would just lay it aside and say that I 
 would go to it before it would go to me, and I 
 always did go to it, except one day when 
 mother got impatient with me for being sulky 
 and gave my bread to the dog, Hero, who ate 
 it like the greedy thing that he was. I boxed 
 his ears for that, but he only smiled at me. He 
 was a big, black Newfoundland fellow, very 
 good-natured. 
 
 [101] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 We used to reach the market place about 
 half -past five o clock in the morning, and when 
 we got there mother would back the cart up 
 against the sidewalk and begin to shout about 
 the chickens, eggs and vegetables. All the 
 women with the carts were shouting and all 
 the dogs barking, and there was great business. 
 
 The market women were a big, rough, fat, 
 jolly set, who did not know what sickness was, 
 and it might have been well for me if I had 
 stayed among them and grown to be like 
 mother. They had so much hard, healthy 
 work that it gave them no time to worry. 
 
 One time in the market place I saw a totally 
 different set of women. It was about eight 
 o clock in the morning, when some people be 
 gan to shout : 
 
 " Here come the rich Americans! Now we 
 will sell things! " 
 
 We saw a large party of travelers coming 
 through the crowd. They looked very queer. 
 Their clothes seemed queer, as they were so 
 different from ours. They wore leather boots 
 instead of wooden shoes, and they all looked 
 weak and pale. The women were tall and 
 thin, like bean-poles, and their shoulders were 
 stooped and narrow ; most of them wore glasses 
 or spectacles, showing that their eyes were 
 weak. The corners of their mouths were all 
 pulled down and their faces were crossed and 
 crisscrossed with lines and wrinkles, as though 
 they were carrying all the care in the world. 
 [102] 
 
STORY OF A FRENCH DRESSMAKER 
 
 Our women all began to laugh and dance 
 and shout at the strangers. It was not very 
 polite on our part, but the travelers certainly 
 did look funny. 
 
 I was about six years old when that hap 
 pened, and the sight of those people gave me 
 my first idea of America. 1 heard that the 
 women there never worked, laced themselves 
 too tightly, and were always ill. 
 
 I would have grown up like mother and her 
 friends but that I did not seem to be good at 
 their work. 1 took to reading, writing, sew 
 ing and embroidering, and I did not take to 
 gardening and selling things, while I cried 
 when they killed pigeons or chickens. So I 
 was sent to Paris to live with my Aunt Celes- 
 tina, a dressmaker, employed by one of the 
 great establishments. 
 
 My aunt, though mother s sister, was not at 
 all like her. She was small, thin and pale, 
 with quick, black eyes and a snappy sort of 
 way, though she was quite good hearted. 
 
 It was not very long before I found out 
 just how the fashions are made. There are 
 three great establishments in Paris that lead 
 all others. These have very clever men work 
 ing for them as designers of cloaks, hats and 
 dresses. These designers not only know all 
 the recent fashions, but also all the fashions 
 that there were in the world hundreds of years 
 ago. They have books full of pictures to help 
 them, and what they try to do is to make the 
 [103] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 women change their dresses just as often as 
 possible. That s the reason they keep chang 
 ing the fashions. 
 
 Each time they make a new fashion they 
 make it just as unlike the one that went before 
 as can be, so that things that are six months old 
 look ridiculous, and the women all over the 
 world who are trying to follow the fashions 
 put the old dresses away, even though they 
 have only been worn once or twice. One time 
 the sleeves are big at the shoulders and narrow 
 at the wrists and at another time narrow at the 
 shoulders and big at the wrists. One time the 
 dress is tight at the waist and another time 
 loose, and there are all sorts of changes in the 
 size, shape and hang of the skirt ; and in addi 
 tion all the changes of fashion in colors and 
 materials. 
 
 The keynote of fashion making is change, 
 for the women all over the world are watching 
 Paris, and they say, " You might as well be 
 out of the world, as out of the fashion." 
 The greater the changes the more dresses 
 sold. 
 
 When these great milliners have decided on 
 the new fashions they get some of the best 
 known women in the city to lead off with them. 
 These women are given magnificent costumes 
 of the newest design to wear, and, in some 
 cases, are even paid for wearing them. Of 
 course these women are great beauties, and 
 when they appear in the parks, or at the opera, 
 [104] 
 
STORY OF A FRENCH DRESSMAKER 
 
 all the other women envy them, and all those 
 who can, run away and get something of the 
 same kind. 
 
 My aunt and I lived in a room on the fifth 
 floor of an old brick house in one of the back 
 streets. They were all poor people in the 
 house, and I found the children very different 
 from those in the country. They were not re 
 ligious. The boys swore and smoked even 
 little ones of my own age and the girls knew 
 all sorts of bad things. There was no place 
 to play but in the streets, and, for a time, I 
 was very homesick. The other children 
 laughed at me, but they were not altogether 
 bad. They were good natured in their way. 
 Most of them had never been in the country 
 and they thought I was telling stories when I 
 described the forest where you could walk for 
 miles and see nothing but the trees. 
 
 Some of these children belonged to people 
 who beat them, and a few had hardly any 
 clothes. My aunt used to pity them so much, 
 and in the evening she taught me dressmaking 
 by making things for those children. She 
 taught me measuring, cutting out, basting and 
 stitching. In the day time I went to school. 
 Mother sent aunt some money to help keep me, 
 and as I had a natural love for dressmaking I 
 got along. In the afternoons when school 
 was over and before my aunt returned from 
 her work I used to go and see all the beautiful 
 things in the museums and art galleries. 
 [105] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 I was with my aunt, learning all she could 
 teach, till I was fourteen years of age, which 
 was in 1895. I was quite a well grown girl 
 then, and my aunt was going to get me em 
 ployment in the place where she worked, when 
 she died of a heavy cold, pneumonia, I suppose. 
 After she caught the cold she went to work, 
 and grew worse, but she wouldn t stop for 
 two days. On the third day she was in a high 
 fever and so dizzy that she could not stand 
 when she rose from bed. I got her some med 
 icine, but I did not know what to ask for and 
 the druggist did not exactly know what to 
 give. It did no good. So at last I called in a 
 doctor, but she grew worse very fast and 
 seemed choking. Some of the neighbors sat 
 up with her in the early part of the night, but 
 at three o clock in the morning I was the only 
 watcher. My aunt, who had been breathing 
 very heavily and seemed unconscious, suddenly 
 sat up in bed, with her eyes staring. She was 
 frightened and began to cry. 
 
 "I m dying," she said, " and I m not fit to 
 die; I have been so wicked." 
 
 I spoke to her and held her hands, but I 
 could not comfort her. 
 
 You are not dying, and you have not been 
 wicked," I said. 
 
 " Oh! Oh! I have been so wicked! " she cried, 
 again and again. 
 
 I declared that she had not done anything 
 wrong, but she answered: 
 [106] 
 
STORY OF A FRENCH DRESSMAKER 
 
 " Those clothes that I made for the poor 
 children, I stole all the goods from our cus 
 tomers, because I could not bear to see the lit 
 tle ones in such a state. Oh, it was very bad. 
 If I wanted to give the children something it 
 should have been my own." 
 
 I was so frightened that I called up the 
 people who lived in the next room and one of 
 them went for the priest, and after he had 
 talked with my aunt for a few minutes she 
 seemed comforted, but she died the next 
 morning. 
 
 I went back to my mother s house for two 
 weeks, but I could not stay there, so I returned 
 to Paris, where I went to work in the shop that 
 had employed my aunt. 
 
 -Many of our best customers were Ameri 
 cans. They were all very rich, and we heard 
 that everybody in America was rich. They 
 drove up to our shop in carriages and auto 
 mobiles, and they wanted dresses like those of 
 the queens and princesses. Some of them 
 spent whole weeks in our shop. 
 
 Part of the time I had to help try on and 
 heard a great deal of the conversation of these 
 ladies. It was all about dress and money. 
 They said that Paris was just like their idea 
 of heaven, though the ones who said that had 
 seen very little except our shop. They were 
 mostly daughters of working people, common 
 laborers, butchers and shopkeepers who had 
 grown rich some way, yet they were more 
 [107] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 haughty and proud than our own aristocrats. 
 In fact, they were pretending to be aristo 
 crats. I remember one of this sort who de 
 clared that she hated America because it was 
 a republic and contained so many common peo 
 ple. She was sorry that France was a repub 
 lic and hoped it would again soon have a king. 
 Our forewoman always agreed with all the 
 customers, and she agreed with this one till her 
 back was turned. Then she said : 
 
 " What a fool that woman is! She is coarse 
 enough for the fish market, yet she thinks she 
 can make people believe she is an aristocrat. 
 I wonder what she is proud of ? " 
 
 Most of the Americans I disliked, but there 
 were a few of a different sort. One very 
 beautiful, tall girl, whose father owned 10,000 
 miles of telegraph wires and something like 
 $40,000,000, was as gentle, simple and pleas 
 ant as if she had been poor. She smiled at me 
 when I was helping her to try on a new dress, 
 and said : 
 
 What good taste you have. If one as 
 clever as you came to America she could do 
 very well." 
 
 I had been for a long time thinking that 
 same thing. If the Americans whom I had 
 seen could have so much money, why not I? 
 I said that to Annette, my room mate, and 
 she also wanted to go to America. 
 
 Of course, it was all on account of the 
 money, as there is no country like France and 
 [108] 
 
STORY OF A FRENCH DRESSMAKER 
 
 no city like Paris. We heard that some dress 
 makers in America received as much as 100 
 francs for a week s work. That seemed to me 
 a great fortune. 
 
 By working at night Annette and I saved 
 300 francs, but it was stolen from our room 
 and we had to begin all over again. 
 
 That was the reason why we did not reach 
 America till 1899. We saved and saved, and 
 we pinched ourselves hard, but it takes a long 
 time for two sewing girls in Paris to scrape 
 together 500 francs, and we could not start 
 with less, because we wanted to have some 
 money in our pockets when we landed. 
 
 It was in September when we started. I 
 had never seen the ocean before and the voy 
 age was all strange. When we approached 
 America a man came to us and asked how 
 much money we had. We showed him 40 
 francs. 
 
 That is not enough," he said; " you will be 
 sent back. No one is allowed to land in Amer 
 ica unless he has 100 francs." 
 
 We were dreadfully frightened, but the 
 man said that if we gave him 20 francs he 
 would lend each of us $50 till we passed 
 through the immigrants gate and got into the 
 city of New York. We gave him 20 francs 
 and he gave each of us a $50 bill. 
 
 " But will they not think it strange that I 
 and Annette have each a $50 bill in American 
 money? " I asked. 
 
 [109] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 "Not at all," said he. "American money 
 is now good all over the world." 
 
 When we reached the immigrants gate, 
 however, the men there told us that the $50 
 bills were no good. They were what is called 
 Confederate. The man who had given them 
 to us had slipped away. We would have been 
 sent back to France if some other immi 
 grants had not taken pity on us and lent us 
 some money. 
 
 Oh, how glad we were to get away from that 
 place and into the city. We landed in a sort 
 of park, and a good woman, who was one of 
 those that helped us, treated us to peaches and 
 popcorn. The peaches were the largest and 
 ripest I ever ate. They fairly melted in our 
 mouths. 
 
 A car took us to a place in South Fifth Ave 
 nue where there are many French people. We 
 were horrified when we found that we must 
 pay $2 a week for a miserable room, but we 
 could do no better. We had only 10 francs 
 left, and all the first week after our landing we 
 lived on potatoes that we roasted over the 
 gas flame and stale bread. The woman who 
 kept the house walked about in the passage 
 smelling the air and saying that some one was 
 cooking in one of the bedrooms, but she did 
 not find us out. 
 
 That was a horrible place. Most of the peo 
 ple in it seemed to be mad; they made such 
 [110] 
 
STORY OF A FRENCH DRESSMAKER 
 
 awful noises in the night singing, shouting, 
 banging pianos, dancing and quarreling. 
 
 The partition that separated our room from 
 the one next door to it was thin and there was a 
 hole in it, through which a man once peeped. 
 He talked at us, but we nailed a piece of tin 
 over the hole; and as for his talk, we never 
 answered it. 
 
 I don t think that that house had been 
 dusted or swept in six months; the servants 
 looked most untidy. Most of the women 
 lodgers slept till noon each day and then 
 walked about the passages wearing old wrap 
 pers. Their hair was done up in curl papers 
 and their faces were covered with a white paste 
 to improve their complexions. They looked 
 hideous till they washed themselves later in the 
 day. These were all married women who had 
 no children and nothing to do but gad about. 
 
 Each day after our arrival in New York we 
 wandered about the streets looking for work, 
 but we did not know where to look and had no 
 luck. We could not speak English and that 
 made it very hard. We might have starved 
 but that Annette made $2 posing for an artist, 
 whom she met quite by chance. He had been 
 in Paris and he knew immediately that she 
 was French. He saw by the way she looked at 
 the shop signs that she was strange to the city 
 and he spoke to her in French. Of course she 
 answered, and they became acquainted. 
 [Ill] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 " How did you know I was French? " she 
 asked, and he answered: 
 
 " A French girl! Ah, how could I mistake 
 you for one of another nation? " 
 
 That is the truth, too, though I say it my 
 self. All the world knows that we French 
 have the true artistic taste, and we show it most 
 in our dress. The Germans or the English 
 cannot make dresses or hats, and even when we 
 make for them they cannot wear the clothes 
 properly. There is something wrong some 
 where, probably with the color scheme. Those 
 other people do not understand, they cannot 
 comprehend, it is impossible to convey to them 
 the conception of true harmony. It is like 
 trying to teach the blind about light. They 
 lack the soul of the artist, and so their dresses 
 are shocking, hideous discords of form and 
 color. When I see them I simply want to 
 scream. 
 
 Berlin has lately been trying to make fash 
 ions of her own. Pah! Pooh! What pre 
 sumption! 
 
 Annette is tall and fair, while I am dark 
 and not more than medium height. The artist 
 posed her as a Venetian flower girl with bare 
 feet. I saw the picture lately hanging in a 
 great gallery. It is very beautiful and ex 
 actly like Annette though she always says 
 that I am the beauty. Of course that is not 
 true. 
 
 After we had been for eight days looking 
 
STORY OF A FRENCH DRESSMAKER 
 
 for work without finding any we spoke to the 
 woman who kept the house where we lived. 
 She knew a little French. 
 
 " I think that I can get you situations," she 
 said, " but they will cost you $10 for each." 
 
 I told her that we had no money. 
 
 "No matter," said she; "you can pay me 
 after you are paid, and I will then pay the 
 forewoman. But you must not say anything 
 to her about paying, because the proprietor 
 does not know about it." The next day we 
 went with the woman to a Sixth Avenue dress 
 maker, where we were engaged at $7 a week 
 each, which seemed to us good pay. We had 
 to give the woman of our house $5 a week each 
 for two weeks, and as we paid $1 a week each 
 for our room, we nearly starved trying to live 
 on the remainder. At the end of two weeks 
 we were discharged by the forewoman, though 
 there was plenty of work. I learned afterward 
 that the forewoman made a great deal of 
 money that way, by receiving pay for hiring 
 girls whom she afterward discharged. 
 
 We seemed to be in a worse state than ever 
 and cried all the night after we were sent away 
 from the Sixth Avenue place. But at six 
 o clock in the next morning we rose and said 
 long prayers, and I wrote a sort of letter to 
 be shown. It said like this : 
 
 "MADAME: Please to behold us as two girls who 
 have of Paris the art dressmaker from the best models 
 [113] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 taken to make the dress for the American, we will 
 comprehend so well if you but try. If you please. 
 
 ANNETTE, 
 AMELIA." 
 
 I wrote that because I could take time and 
 use the correct language, as I had found when 
 I spoke the English, Americans did not under 
 stand. 
 
 We hurried into the street, having no break 
 fast, but full of hope, for it was the season of 
 dressmaking and we surely must get some 
 thing. 
 
 We entered a fine place on Twenty-third 
 Street and a man behind a counter sent us 
 upstairs, where we found twenty women en 
 gaged. The proprietress read my letter and 
 asked us questions. She did not seem to un 
 derstand well and called a German girl who 
 spoke French. 
 
 I had all my life hated Germans, but I could 
 not hate this girl as she spoke to us so kindly. 
 
 I told her where we had had experience, and 
 what we could do, and she said to the proprie 
 tress : 
 
 " We must have these, Miss G . They 
 
 come from the best place in Paris and look 
 clever." 
 
 "Nonsense!" said the proprietress; "we 
 don t want them. They are mere appren 
 tices." 
 
 [114] 
 
STORY OF A FRENCH DRESSMAKER 
 
 I understood what she meant and said in 
 French that we were not apprentices, but of 
 long experience, and Annette, too, joined in. 
 
 But the proprietress was only pretending. 
 She wanted us all the time. So at last she 
 said: 
 
 " But how much money would you want? " 
 
 " Seven dollars a week," said I, because I 
 thought that I might as well ask for plenty. 
 
 The proprietress almost screamed: 
 
 " Seven dollars a week, and you have just 
 landed!" 
 
 " Oh, no," I said; " we have been here nearly 
 a month." 
 
 At last we were engaged at $6 a week each 
 and they put us at work immediately. Our 
 hours were from eight o clock in the morning 
 till six o clock in the evening. When we went 
 home that night we were very happy and 
 treated ourselves to a little feast in our room. 
 On six dollars a week we knew that we could 
 live finely and we felt sure that we could keep 
 this place, as they had put us on good work at 
 once and we knew that we had done well." 
 
 Our proprietress was full of tricks. In ap 
 pearance she was a tall, thin, sharp faced 
 woman with fair hair. She was very quick in 
 speech and action, and a great driver among 
 the girls. She did all the measuring and cut 
 ting out and her perquisites included all the 
 materials that were left over from the dresses, 
 [115] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 A tall woman would need seventeen yards 
 of silk or other narrow goods, while one who 
 was shorter might get along very well with 
 fourteen yards. Our proprietress would 
 always exaggerate the amount of material 
 needed and then, in cutting out, would be able 
 to reserve some for herself. Often she got as 
 much as two yards. These pieces she slipped 
 into a private drawer, of which she had the 
 key. It did not take her long, therefore, to get 
 enough to make herself a new skirt or a waist, 
 and odd pieces could be used as piping or as 
 trimming for hats. 
 
 Accordingly she was always very well 
 dressed, and though sometimes customers rec 
 ognized parts of their own materials in her 
 costume, they seldom said anything. 
 
 Once, though, I thought there was going to 
 be a scene. A stout lady who was one of our 
 best customers came in one day and saw our 
 proprietress just going out to lunch. The 
 stout lady immediately stood still and glared 
 at the proprietress s new hat, which was on her 
 head. It was a very stylish hat and the silk 
 trimming was precisely the same as the piping 
 of the lady s dress that had recently been made 
 at our place. 
 
 Why, you ve got my piping! " she cried. 
 
 The proprietress flushed and smiled, but she 
 was equal to the occasion. 
 
 " Yes, Mrs. Miller," she said, " it s the very 
 same as yours. The truth is I admired the 
 [116] 
 
STORY OF A FRENCH DRESSMAKER 
 
 material so much that I sent out and bought 
 some. Don t you like my hat? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," said the stout lady. " Where did 
 you get that material? " 
 
 This was a catch, because there was only one 
 store in town where it could have been bought, 
 but our proprietress was not to be trapped. 
 
 " One of my girls got it for me. I don t 
 know where she got it," she said. 
 
 " Humph! " exclaimed the stout lady, and 
 wandered away without another word. 
 
 She came back later on and gave us more 
 custom. She knew that she was being robbed, 
 but she knew, also, that it was the dressmakers 
 rule to help themselves from their customers 
 material. 
 
 On another occasion a lady who had given 
 five yards of wide ribbon for trimming came 
 back after she had received the dress. 
 
 " I don t understand how it is, Miss - ," 
 she said. " I gave you five yards of this rib 
 bon. There s only four yards on the dress. 
 I measured it with the tape measure." 
 
 The proprietress produced tape measure and 
 gravely measured the trimming. 
 
 "Dear me! you re right," she exclaimed. 
 " Now, what can have happened to that other 
 yard? Where can it be? Girls, did you see it 
 any place? " 
 
 The customer just sniffed. 
 
 We all buzzed about, but it was the propri 
 etress herself who found the missing ribbon 
 [117] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 under a pile of goods. She appeared to be 
 greatly surprised, and the customer sniffed 
 again. 
 
 Our proprietress, I think, never told the 
 truth while she was at business. She would 
 promise most solemnly to have a dress made 
 up in three days when she knew quite well that 
 it could not be done in two weeks. 
 
 Sometimes when the bell rang she would 
 look out and say : 
 
 " Oh, girls! There s that Mrs. K- - come 
 again. I promised for sure that her dress 
 would be ready to try on this afternoon and I 
 haven t put the scissors in it yet. Run down, 
 Katie, and keep her in the parlor." 
 
 Then she would rush at the goods and the 
 pattern, cut out with lightning speed and toss 
 the various parts to different girls to baste. 
 In half an hour there was the dress, basted, 
 ready to try on, and the customer none the 
 wiser as to how it was done. 
 
 Some of our customers suffered greatly in 
 their efforts to be fashionable, for fashion takes 
 no account of the natural shape of the human 
 body. It did not matter so much to the thin 
 women, because all they had to do was to stuff 
 their figures, but some of the stout women 
 were martyrs. 
 
 One very beautiful woman was fat and 
 would not acknowledge it, as she had been 
 quite slim. 
 
 [118] 
 
STORY OF A FRENCH DRESSMAKER 
 
 " My waist measure," she said, " is 24 
 inches." 
 
 She insisted on this and made two of us girls 
 pull her corset strings till we secured the right 
 girth. 
 
 My! that was a job! The squeezing must 
 have hurt her awfully. She was gasping for 
 breath and perspiring rivers, but she would 
 not give up. 
 
 When we sent the dress home she brought 
 
 It doesn t fit," she said. 
 
 Where? " asked the proprietress. 
 
 " The waist is too small." 
 
 "The waist is 24 inches. You gave that 
 yourself as your measurement. All you have 
 to do is to have your corsets tightened as they 
 were on the day when you were measured." 
 
 The poor lady looked at us and we all nod 
 ded assent. We had heard her insist that 24 
 was her measurement. Soon she was again in 
 the hands of the tighteners, gasping and per 
 spiring. 
 
 When the corsets were well pulled in the 
 dress fitted like a glove, but the poor lady s 
 face was the color of blood and she could 
 hardly speak. 
 
 "I m m must have been mistaken!" 
 she gasped. 
 
 "Certainly!" said our proprietress. "I 
 never saw a better fit." 
 
 [119] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 The poor lady staggered away trying to 
 look comfortable. I don t believe she could 
 wear that dress, though, as she was growing 
 stouter. 
 
 The only thing to be done for stout people 
 is to make everything plain, avoid bright colors 
 and have all lines running up and down. That 
 gives the appearance of greater height and 
 less girth. 
 
 Lines running up and down make short 
 women look taller. As to tall women, they 
 don t want to look shorter now. It s the fash 
 ion to be tall. The plump, cosy, little women 
 is out of date. 
 
 The first thing that I and Annette did when 
 we began to have a little money was to move 
 away from the horrible place in South Fifth 
 Avenue. We never could understand those 
 people. Most of them were connected with 
 theaters, .and they kept hours that seemed 
 crazy. We got a room in West Twenty- 
 fourth Street for $3 a week a very good 
 room, too and made arrangement with a res 
 taurant to give us breakfast and supper for 
 $2.50 per week each. 
 
 So our starvation was at an end, and we had 
 $2 a week to do with as we pleased. In a few 
 weeks we had good clothing, and after that we 
 were able to save a little. 
 
 Annette came to me one day with her eyes 
 as big as saucers. 
 
 "What do you think!" she said. "That 
 [120] 
 
STORY OF A FRENCH DRESSMAKER 
 
 girl Rosa gets $12 a week and she is not as 
 clever as us." 
 
 We were both very angry at Rosa, though 
 I suppose it was not her fault. Still she had 
 no right to get more. It was ridiculous; we 
 were the better workwomen. 
 
 " Wait," said I; "we are learning the En 
 glish." 
 
 We waited six months and then asked the 
 proprietress to give us $12 a week. She 
 screamed at us with rage. 
 
 " What impudence! " she said. 
 
 But we only smiled; we knew enough of 
 the English now and were not afraid. 
 
 She gave us $9 a week each and we stayed 
 there six months more. Then, when the holi 
 day season was coming on, we went to a great 
 dressmaking place in Fifth Avenue and told 
 the proprietress about our Paris experience and 
 where we were now working. She asked how 
 much we were getting and we said $18 a week. 
 
 That was true, too, because each of us got 
 $9. We would not tell what was not true. 
 
 The proprietress said: "Well, if they give 
 you $18 a week in Twenty-third Street we will 
 give you $20 a week here." 
 
 When we told the proprietress of the 
 Twenty- third Street shop she screamed again, 
 and said that we could not go, that she would 
 give us a bad character. We said it was no 
 matter, we would not ask the character from 
 her. Then she cried, and said that we had in- 
 [121] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 gratitude and she would give us $12 a week 
 each. 
 
 We cried, too. Because after all she was 
 not such a bad one to work for. But we 
 had to go, as it was too much money that we 
 wanted for staying. 
 
 So we began in Fifth Avenue, and now it 
 was quite new the sort of trade. We have been 
 in that place ever since. We have been in the 
 very finest houses of New York, talking with 
 all the beauties and trying on their dresses 
 for them. 
 
 The girls here are very beautiful, but I can 
 not like them. They have not the heart of 
 French women. All that is given to them they 
 take as their due and they are not grateful. 
 They love, but it is only themselves. They do 
 not care for men, except to have them as slaves 
 bringing them the money that they so much 
 need. For fine dress they will do anything. 
 
 I have told of the tricks that dressmakers 
 play on ladies, but they are no worse than 
 those that ladies play on dressmakers and on 
 other people. In the first place, many of them 
 won t pay their bills. In the second place 
 they get costumes made and delivered that 
 they wear one night and then return, saying 
 that they have changed their minds, or that the 
 costume doesn t fit they deny that they have 
 worn it except to try on : they get $50 or $100 
 cash and have it charged as a dress or hats in 
 the bill, so as to deceive their husbands. They 
 [122] 
 
STORY OF A FRENCH DRESSMAKER 
 
 are finicky and want things changed because 
 their minds have changed. They expect us to 
 remake them in spite of nature. All the fat 
 women insist that we shall make them look 
 thin. 
 
 Then if they quarrel with us they use 
 slander. 
 
 One of our customers, a very sweet little 
 lady, who is quite wealthy, said the other day 
 to our proprietress : 
 
 " How have you offended Mrs. L ? " 
 
 " Have I offended her? " the proprietress 
 asked. 
 
 " It seems so. I was walking with her on 
 the street the other day when you passed. You 
 bowed to me and I responded, when Mrs. 
 L - said: Oh, do you know that person? 
 Why, yes, said I, that s my dressmaker/ 
 Indeed! said she; how can you stand her? 
 She fits so badly. I ve always found her a 
 true artist, said I." 
 
 Our proprietress was very angry when she 
 heard this story. 
 
 " Now I will tell the whole truth," she said. 
 
 * That woman owes me $850, and it would be 
 
 more than $1,000, but the last costume I sent 
 
 C. O. D. My husband is not home and I 
 
 have no money, said she to the girl. The girl 
 
 in spite of her protests brought the costume 
 
 away. She came to me and said, * I have to 
 
 wear that costume this evening. I am going 
 
 to the ball ! * Then you must pay for it/ said 
 
 [128] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 I. But I have not the money and my hus 
 band is away. Get the money, said I. She 
 did get it and I gave her the costume, but she 
 has slandered me ever since." 
 
 Ah! it is a good country to work in, no 
 doubt. Annette is now getting $40 a week 
 and I almost as much, and we have plenty 
 saved; but I am not to live here. 
 
 To one born in England, Germany, Austria, 
 Holland or Scandinavia this may appear fine, 
 but not so to the French. 
 
 There is but one France and only one Paris 
 in all the world, and soon, very soon, Annette 
 and I will be aboard some great ship that will 
 bear us back there. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE LIFE STORY OF A GERMAN NURSE GIRL 
 
 The first name of the pretty nurse girl who writes this chapter 
 is Agnes, but it s not worth while giving her last name because, 
 as the last paragraph implies, it is liable soon to be changed. 
 
 I WAS born just twenty years ago in the 
 old, old city of Treves, in what was once 
 France, but is now Germany. There were 
 eight children in our family, five girls and three 
 boys, and we were comfortably off until my 
 father died, which happened when I was only 
 three years old. 
 
 My father was a truckman, carrying goods 
 from the railway stations to the shops; he 
 had a number of wagons going and had built 
 up a good business, though he was always ill 
 from some disease that he contracted when a 
 soldier in the war with France. It was con 
 sumption, I believe, and it finally carried him 
 off. We were living at the time in a fine new 
 house that he had built near the Moselle, but 
 we were soon obliged to move, because though 
 my mother was a good business woman, every 
 one robbed her, and even my uncle made the 
 mortgage come down on our house without 
 telling her which she said was very mean. 
 [125] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 By the time I was five years old my mother 
 had lost everything except the money she got 
 from the Government, which was enough to 
 keep her, but the family had to hreak up, and 
 I went away to a school kept by Sisters of 
 Christian Liebe, in another city. The Govern 
 ment paid for me there on account of my 
 being a soldier s orphan all of us children 
 had allowances like that. 
 
 From the time I went away to that school 
 till I was fifteen years of age I did not once 
 see my mother, but stayed in school during all 
 the holidays. But in spite of that I was not 
 sad. It was the pleasantest time of my life, 
 and I often wonder if I shall ever be as happy 
 again. 
 
 The school was for Catholics, and I was 
 glad I was a Catholic it was so good to be 
 there ; and I heard that at the school to which 
 the Lutheran children went the teachers were 
 very severe. However that might be, our 
 Sisters were among the kindest women that 
 ever lived and they loved us all dearly. 
 
 Every one at the school made much of me 
 because I was so little a gay little thing with 
 fuzzy, light hair and blue eyes, and plenty to 
 say for myself and a good voice for singing. 
 I learned quickly, too, and when play time 
 came I played hard. 
 
 We got up at half -past six o clock each 
 morning, and had mass three times a week and 
 morning prayer when there was no mass. At 
 [126] 
 
STORY OF A GERMAN NURSE GIRL 
 
 eight o clock school began and lasted to ten, 
 when there was half an hour for play, then an 
 hour more school, then more play and then 
 lunch, after which we worked in the garden 
 or sewed or sang or played till six o clock, 
 when we had dinner, and we all went to bed at 
 eight. We did not always go to sleep though, 
 but sometimes lit candles after the Sisters had 
 gone away and had feasts of apples and cakes 
 and candies. 
 
 There were about eighty boys in this school 
 and fifty-five girls none of them older than 
 fifteen years. We had a very large play 
 ground, and though the boys and girls were 
 kept separate they yet found means of con 
 versing, and when I was eleven years of age I 
 fell in love with a tall, slim, thoughtful, dark- 
 haired boy named Fritz, whose parents lived 
 in Frankfort. We used to talk to each other 
 through the bars of the fence which divided 
 our playground. He was a year and a half 
 older than I, and I thought him a man. The 
 only time I was ever beaten at that school was 
 on his account. We had been talking together 
 on the playground; I did not heed the bell and 
 was late getting in, and when the Sister asked 
 what kept me I did not answer. She insisted 
 on knowing, and Fritz and I looked at each 
 other. The Sister caught us laughing. 
 
 Whipping on the hands with a rod was 
 the punishment that they had there for very 
 naughty children, and that is what I got. It 
 [127] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 did not hurt much, and that night at half past 
 nine o clock, when all the house was still, there 
 came a tapping at our dormitory window, and 
 when it was opened we found Fritz there cry 
 ing about the way I had been whipped. He 
 had climbed up one of the veranda posts and 
 had an orange for me. The other girls never 
 told. They said it was so fine and romantic. 
 
 Fritz and I kept up our friendship till he 
 had to leave the place, which was when I had 
 grown to be nearly thirteen years of age. He 
 climbed to our dormitory again to bid me 
 good-bye, and tell me that when I was free 
 from the school he would seek me out and 
 marry me. We cried together as he told me 
 his plans for being a great man, and all that 
 night and the next night, too, I cried alone; 
 but I never saw him again, and I m afraid that 
 his plans must have miscarried. 
 
 When I was fifteen years of age I left 
 school and returned to my mother, who was 
 then living in a flat with some of my brothers 
 and sisters. Two of my brothers were in 
 the army and one of my sisters was in 
 America, while another sister was married in 
 Germany. 
 
 I did not like it much at home. My mother 
 was almost a stranger to me, and after the 
 kindness of the Sisters and the pleasantness 
 of their school she seemed very stern. 
 
 I went to work for a milliner. The hours 
 were from eight o clock in the morning till six 
 [128] 
 
STORY OF A GERMAN NURSE GIRL 
 
 in the evening, but when there was much bus 
 iness the milliner would keep us till nine 
 o clock at night. I got no money, and was to 
 serve for two years for nothing as an appren 
 tice. 
 
 But the milliner found that I was already so 
 clever with the needle that she set me to work 
 making hats and dresses after the first two 
 weeks that I was working for her, and when I 
 had been there six months I could see that I 
 had nothing more to learn in her place and 
 that staying there was just throwing away my 
 time. 
 
 Needlework seemed to come naturally to 
 me, while I disliked cooking and was not much 
 good at it. My two elder sisters, on the other 
 hand, were stupid at sewing and embroidery, 
 but master hands at cooking. My eldest sis 
 ter was such a good cook that her husband 
 started a restaurant so that she might have a 
 chance to use her talents ; and as for my second 
 eldest sister, within two months after she 
 landed in America where she was sent by my 
 eldest sister she was earning $35 a month as 
 a cook for one of the rich families. 
 
 My sister in America sent money for my 
 eldest brother to go to her when his time in the 
 army was done. We were all glad to see him 
 go, because he had been a sergeant and was so 
 used to commanding that he tried to command 
 everybody he met. He even tried to command 
 me! 
 
 [129] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 Such ways won t do outside of the army. 
 Another thing that we disliked was that, hav 
 ing been a sergeant, he was too proud to work, 
 so we were glad to see him go to America. He 
 lived for awhile by borrowing money from my 
 sister till she got married to a mechanical engi 
 neer, who would not have him about the house 
 when he heard of his actions. 
 
 So he had to do something, and became a 
 butler, and a very good one, too, making plenty 
 of money but spending it all on himself. He 
 is employed by a family on the east side of 
 Central Park now, getting $60 a month. 
 When I went to see him a year ago he pre 
 tended that he did not know me. He has also 
 forgotten my sister who helped him to come 
 out here, and he has never sent a dollar to 
 mother. 
 
 I heard about how easy it was to make 
 money in America and became very anxious to 
 go there, and very tired of making hats and 
 dresses for nothing for a woman who was sell 
 ing them at high prices. I was restless in my 
 home also; mother seemed so stern and could 
 not understand that I wanted amusement. 
 
 I was not giddy and not at all inclined to 
 flirt, but I had been used to plenty of play at 
 the school, and this all work and no play and 
 no money to spend was hard. 
 
 If I had been inclined to flirt there was 
 plenty to do in Treves, for the city was full of 
 soldiers, young fellows who, when they wore 
 [130] 
 
STORY OF A GERMAN NURSE GIRL 
 
 their uniforms, thought that a girl could not 
 fail to be in love with them; but they made a 
 mistake when they met me. They used to 
 chirrup after me, just like birds, but I would 
 turn and make faces to show what I thought 
 of them I was not quite sixteen then. 
 
 There were officers there, too, but they never 
 noticed me. They belong to the high families, 
 and go about the streets with their noses up in 
 the air and their mustaches waxed up, trying to 
 look like the Emperor. I thought they were 
 horrid. 
 
 I grew more and more tired of all work and 
 no play, and more and more anxious to go to 
 America; and at last mother, too, grew anx 
 ious to see me go. She met me one night walk 
 ing in the street with a young man, and said to 
 me afterward: 
 
 It is better that you go." 
 
 There was nothing at all in my walking 
 with that young man, but she thought there 
 was and asked my eldest sister to lend me the 
 money to go to America to my second eldest 
 sister, and a month later I sailed from Ant 
 werp, the fare costing $55. 
 
 My second eldest sister with her husband 
 met me at Ellis Island and they were very glad 
 to see me, and I went to live with them in their 
 flat in West Thirty-fourth Street. A week 
 later I was an apprentice in a Sixth Avenue 
 millinery store earning four dollars a week. 
 I only paid three dollars a week for board, 
 [131] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 and was soon earning extra money by making 
 dresses and hats at home for customers of my 
 own, so that it was a great change from Ger 
 many. But the hours in the millinery store 
 were the same as in Germany, and there was 
 overtime, too, occasionally; and though I was 
 now paid for it I felt that I wanted something 
 different more time to myself and a differ 
 ent way of living. I wanted more pleasure. 
 Our house was dull, and though I went to 
 Coney Island or to a Harlem picnic park with 
 the other girls now and then, I thought I d 
 like a change. 
 
 So I went out to service, getting twenty- 
 two dollars a month as a nursery governess in 
 a family where there were three servants be 
 sides the cook. 
 
 I had three children to attend to, one four, 
 one six and one seven years of age. The one 
 who was six years of age was a boy ; the other 
 two were girls. I had to look after them, to 
 play with them, to take them about and amuse 
 them, and to teach them German which was 
 easy to me, because I knew so little English. 
 They were the children of a German mother, 
 who talked to them in their own language, so 
 they already knew something of it. I got 
 along with these children very well and stayed 
 with them for two years, teaching them what I 
 knew and going out to a picnic or a ball or 
 something of that sort about once a week, for 
 I am very fond of dancing. 
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STORY OF A GERMAN NURSE GIRL 
 
 We went to Newport and took a cottage 
 there in the summer time, and our house was 
 full of company. A certain gentleman there 
 once told me that I was the prettiest girl in the 
 place, with a great deal more of the same sort 
 of talk. I was dressed in gray, with white in 
 sertion, and was wearing roses at the time he 
 said that. He caught me passing through the 
 parlor when the others were away. Of course 
 I paid no attention to him, but it was early in 
 the day. It was generally late in the evening 
 when gentlemen paid such compliments. 
 
 I enjoyed life with this family and they 
 seemed to like me, for they kept me till the 
 children were ready to go to school. After I 
 left them I went into another family, where 
 there were a very old man and his son and 
 granddaughter who was married and had two 
 children. They had a house up on Riverside 
 Drive, and the old man was very rich. The 
 house was splendid and they had five carriages 
 and ten horses, and a pair of Shetland ponies 
 for the children. There were twelve servants, 
 and I dined with the housekeeper and butler, of 
 course because we had to draw the line. I 
 got $25 a month here and two afternoons a 
 week, and if I wanted to go any place in par 
 ticular they let me off for it. 
 
 These people had a fine place down on Long 
 
 Island to which we all went in the summer, 
 
 and there I had to ramble around with the 
 
 children, boating, bathing, crabbing, fishing 
 
 [133] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 and playing all their games. It was good fun, 
 and I grew healthy and strong. 
 
 The children were a boy of ten and girl of 
 eight years. They were restless and full of 
 life but good natured, and as they liked me I 
 would have stayed there till they grew too old 
 to need me any more, but that something awful 
 happened during the second summer that we 
 were spending on Long Island. 
 
 It was one night in June, when the moon 
 was very large and some big stars were shin 
 ing. I had been to the village with the house 
 keeper to get the mail, and at the post office 
 we met the butler and a young man who sailed 
 the boats for us. Our way home lay across 
 the fields and the young man with me kept 
 stopping to admire things, so that the others 
 got away ahead of us. 
 
 He admired the moon and the stars and the 
 sky, and the shine of the water on the waves 
 and the way that the trees cast their shadows, 
 and he didn t seem to be thinking about me at 
 all, just talking to me as he might to any 
 friend. But when we walked into a shadowy 
 place he said : 
 
 " Aren t you afraid of catching cold? " and 
 touched my wrap. 
 
 " Oh, no," I said. 
 
 " You had better draw that together," said 
 he, and put his arm about it to make it tight. 
 He made it very tight, and the first thing I 
 knew he kissed me. 
 
 [134] 
 
STORY OF A GERMAN NURSE GIRL 
 
 It was done so quickly that I had no idea 
 I never saw a man kiss any one so quickly. 
 
 I gave such a scream that one could hear it 
 a mile and boxed his ears, and as soon as I 
 could tear myself away I ran as fast as I 
 could to the house, and he ran as fast as 
 he could to the village. 
 
 I was very angry and crying. He had given 
 me no warning at all, and besides I did not like 
 him enough. Such impudence! But I prob 
 ably would not have said anything about the 
 matter at the house, but that the next day all 
 the people in the village were talking about it. 
 My mistress heard of it and called me in, and I 
 told her the truth ; but she seemed to think that 
 I could help being kissed, and I grew stubborn 
 then and said I would not stay any more. 
 
 I am of a very yielding disposition when 
 coaxed, and anything that I possess I will give 
 away to any one who persists in asking me for 
 it. That s one of my faults; my friends all 
 tell me that I am too generous. But at the 
 same time, when treated unjustly, I grow 
 stubborn and won t give way. 
 
 And it was unjust to blame me for what 
 that young man did. Who would have 
 thought he would dare to do such a thing as 
 kiss me? Why, he was only the young man 
 who sailed the boat ! And as to my screaming 
 so loudly I could not help it; any girl would 
 have screamed as loudly if she had been kissed 
 as suddenly. 
 
 [135] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 I went back to my sister s house in New 
 York after I left this place, and stayed there 
 a month resting. I had been nearly four 
 years in the country, and in spite of sending $6 
 a month to mother during all that time and 
 sending money to bring my second eldest 
 brother here I had $485 in the savings bank. 
 
 A girl working as I was working does not 
 need to spend much. I seldom had to buy 
 a thing, there was so much that came to me 
 just the least bit worn. 
 
 After I had rested and enjoyed a holiday I 
 secured another situation, this time to mind the 
 baby of a very rich young couple. It was the 
 first and only baby of the mistress, and so 
 it had been spoiled till I came to take charge. 
 It had red hair and green eyes, and a fearful 
 temper really vicious. 
 
 I had thought that the place would be an 
 easy one, but I soon found out that this was a 
 great mistake. The baby was .eighteen 
 months old, and it had some settled bad habits. 
 The maid and its mother used to give it its own 
 way in everything. 
 
 " It won t go in the carriage," said the maid 
 to me when I first took charge. 
 
 It will with me," said I. 
 
 " It sleeps all day and cries all night," said 
 the maid. 
 
 " It s been spoiled by getting its own way, 
 that s the trouble," said I. 
 [136] 
 
STORY OF A GERMAN NURSE GIRL 
 
 So I put it in the carriage and took it out to 
 Central Park, in a shady place down by the 
 lake. It fought and struggled and howled as 
 if it would like to kill me, but I had brought a 
 good book and I paid no attention to it. 
 
 It had an orange, a bottle of milk and some 
 cakes, and threw them all away. I didn t even 
 look at it. It cried for nearly four hours 
 steadily, but we had the place to ourselves and 
 I didn t mind. 
 
 When I was good and ready I took it to 
 the restaurant and gave it a little ice cream, 
 for I knew that it was sure to be hot and 
 thirsty. I was sorry for doing that, however, 
 because it cried and fought me again when I 
 put it back in the carriage. It wanted me to 
 carry it all the way in my arms, which I was 
 determined not to do. 
 
 So the first day that I had it in charge the 
 baby did not get any sleep, and was good and 
 tired when its proper bedtime came. The 
 maid told me that it would not go to sleep 
 without being rocked; but I said that I was in 
 charge of that baby now and it would have to 
 give up its crankiness. I put it to bed and it 
 did not wait for any rocking ; it went right off 
 to sleep. 
 
 The mistress came in and said that I was a 
 
 clever, good girl, and she was sure that I would 
 
 get along finely with the baby that all it 
 
 needed was some one who understood and sym- 
 
 [137] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 pathized with it. She also said that it looked 
 like a little angel. I wondered at her taste in 
 angels. 
 
 Next day I carried the baby out to the park 
 again for another lesson. It was in a dread 
 ful temper, and when it was being dressed it 
 beat the maid. It used to slap its mother and 
 the maid in the face, but it never treated me in 
 that manner. I would not allow it. I would 
 hold up my finger and say, " B-a-a-a-a-a-by! " 
 and it would understand and stop. It saw 
 something in my eye that made it keep quiet. 
 I have great influence over children. 
 
 We went down by the lake again that sec 
 ond day, and I read a good German book and 
 let the baby rage. When it was crying it could 
 not be sleeping, and it was far better to have it 
 cry in the daytime than at night, when it dis 
 turbed the whole house. 
 
 The baby threw everything out of its car 
 riage, even its coverlets and pillows, and tried 
 to fall out itself, but it was tied in. It cried 
 till it exhausted itself inventing new ways of 
 screaming. I sat at a distance from it, so 
 that its screaming would not annoy me too 
 much, and read my book till it had finished. 
 Then I went and got some ice cream for my 
 self, and gave the baby very little. I wanted 
 to teach it to do without things. It had been 
 in the habit of getting everything it cried for, 
 and that had made it hard to live with. That 
 night, again, the baby went to sleep without 
 [138] 
 
STORY OF A GERMAN NURSE GIRL 
 
 rocking, and the young mother was much 
 pleased with my management and gave me a 
 nice silk waist. 
 
 Day after day we went on like that. I took 
 the baby some place where it could have its 
 cry out without disturbing anybody, and I 
 didn t allow it to sleep in the daytime, and so 
 had it good and tired when night came on and 
 other people wanted to sleep. It never failed 
 to cry and struggle and throw its toys and 
 food away, to show its rage, but I would have 
 made a good baby of it had it not been for the 
 mother and the maid. When I wasn t on hand 
 they spoiled it by giving it all its own way. 
 Even when I was on hand the mother was 
 constantly running into the room and petting 
 the baby. At its slightest cry she would come 
 to see what it wanted, and hold things up for 
 it to choose. 
 
 This made discipline impossible, and in the 
 end the baby was too much for me. I was 
 made to carry it about, and to get up and walk 
 with it in the night, and at last my health broke 
 down and I actually had to go to a hospital. 
 
 When I got out I stayed at my sister s for 
 a month, and then went as a nursery governess 
 in a family where there are three children, 
 none of them over eight years of age. I have 
 to teach them their lessons, including German, 
 and to take them out driving and playing. I 
 have recovered my health, but I will never 
 again undertake to manage a strange baby. 
 [189] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 The duties are light; I have two afternoons 
 a week to myself and practically all the cloth 
 ing I need to wear. My salary is $25 a 
 month. 
 
 Wherever I have been employed here the 
 food has always been excellent; in fact, pre 
 cisely the same as that furnished to the em 
 ployer s families. In Germany it is not so. 
 Servants are all put on an allowance, and 
 their food is very different from that given to 
 their masters. 
 
 I like this country. I have a great many 
 friends in New York and I enjoy my outings 
 with them. We go to South Beach or North 
 Beach or Glen Island or Rockaway or Coney 
 Island. If we go on a boat we dance all the 
 way there and all the way back, and we dance 
 nearly all the time we are there. 
 
 I like Coney Island best of all. It is a won- 
 derfuLand beautiful place. I took a German 
 friend, a girl who had just come out, down 
 there last week, and when we had been on the 
 razzle-dazzle, the chute and the loop-the-loop, 
 and down in the coal mine and all over the 
 Bowery, and up in the tower and everywhere 
 else, I asked her how she liked it. She said : 
 
 " Ach, it is just like what I see when I dream 
 of heaven." 
 
 Yet I have heard some of the high people 
 
 with whom I have been living say that Coney 
 
 Island is not tony. The trouble is that these 
 
 high people don t know how to dance. I have 
 
 [140] 
 
STORY OF A GERMAN NURSE GIRL 
 
 to laugh when I see them at their balls and 
 parties. If only I could get out on the floor 
 and show them how they would be aston 
 ished. 
 
 Two years ago, when I was with a friend at 
 Rockaway Beach, I was introduced to a young 
 man who has since asked me to marry him. 
 He is a German from the Rhine country, and 
 has been ten years in this country. Of course 
 he is a tall, dark man, because I am so small 
 and fair. It is always that way. Some 
 of our friends laugh at us and say that we look 
 like a milestone walking with a mile, but I 
 don t think that it is any of their business and 
 tell them so. Such things are started by girls 
 who are jealous because they have no steady 
 company. 
 
 I don t want to get married yet, because 
 when a girl marries she can t have so much 
 fun or rather, she can t go about with more 
 than one young man. But being engaged is 
 almost as bad. I went to the theater with 
 another young man one night, and Herman 
 was very angry. We had a good quarrel, and 
 he did not come to see me for a week. 
 
 A good-looking girl can have a fine time 
 when she is single, but if she stays single too 
 long she loses her good looks, and then no 
 one will marry her. 
 
 Of course I am young yet, but still, as my 
 mother used to say, " It s better to be sure 
 than sorry," and I think that I won t wait any 
 [141] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 longer. Some married women enjoy life 
 almost as much as the young girls. 
 
 Herman is the assistant in a large grocery 
 store. He has been there nine years, and 
 knows all the customers. He has money 
 saved, too, and soon will go into business for 
 himself. 
 
 And then, again, I like him, because I think 
 he s the best dancer I ever saw. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE LIFE STORY OF AN IRISH COOK 
 
 The cook whose story follows, lived for many years in the 
 home of one of America s best known literary women, who 
 has taken down her conversation in this form. 
 
 I DON T know why anybody wants to hear 
 my history. Nothing ever happened to 
 me worth the tellin except when my mother 
 died. Now she was an extraordinary person. 
 The neighbors all respected her, an the min 
 ister. " Go ask Mrs. McNabb," he d say to 
 the women in the neighborhood here when they 
 come wantin advice. 
 
 But about me I was born nigh to Lima- 
 vaddy ; it s a pretty town close to Londonderry. 
 We lived in a peat cabin, but it had a good 
 thatched roof. Mother put on that roof. It 
 isn t a woman s work, but she was able for it. 
 
 There were sivin childher of us. John an 
 
 Matthew they went to Australia. Mother was 
 
 layin by for five year to get their passage 
 
 money. They went into the bush. We heard 
 
 twice from thim and then no more. Not 
 
 another word and that is forty year gone now 
 
 on account of them not reading and writing. 
 
 Learning isn t cheap in them old countries as 
 
 it is here, you see. I suppose they re dead 
 
 [143] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 now John would be ninety now and in 
 heaven. They were honest men. My mother 
 sent Joseph to Londonderry to larn the weav 
 er s trade. My father he never was a steddy 
 worker. He took to the drink early in life, 
 My mother an me an Tilly we worked in the 
 field for Squire Varney. Yes, plowin an 
 seedin and diggin any farm work he d give 
 us. We did men s work, but we didn t get 
 men s pay. No, of course not. In winter 
 we did lace work for a merchant in London 
 derry. (Ann still can embroider beautifully.) 
 It was pleasanter nor diggin after my hands 
 was fit for it. But it took two weeks every 
 year to clean and soften my hands for the 
 needle. 
 
 Pay was very small and the twins that was 
 Maria and Philip they were too young to 
 work at all. What did we eat? Well, just 
 potatoes. On Sundays, once a month, we d 
 maybe have a bit of flitch. When the pota 
 toes rotted that was the hard times! Oh, 
 yes, I mind the famine years. An the corn- 
 meal that the Mericans sent. The folks said 
 they d rather starve nor eat it. We didn t 
 know how to cook it. Here I eat corn dodgers 
 and fried mush fast enough. 
 
 Maria she was one of the twins she died 
 the famine year of the typhus and well, she 
 sickened of the herbs and roots we eat we 
 had no potatoes. 
 
 Mother said when Maria died, " There s a 
 [144] 
 
STORY OF AN IRISH COOK 
 
 curse on ould green Ireland and we ll get out 
 of it." So we worked an saved for four 
 year an then Squire Varney helped a bit an 
 we sent Tilly to America. She had always 
 more head than me. She came to Philadel 
 phia and got a place for general housework 
 at Mrs. Bent s. Tilly got but two dollars 
 a week, bein a greenhorn. But she larned 
 hand over hand, and Mrs. Bent kept no other 
 help and laid out to teach her. She larned her 
 to cook and bake and to wash and do up shirts 
 all American fashion. Then Tilly axed 
 three dollars a week. Mother always said, 
 " Don t ax a penny more than you re worth. 
 But know your own vally and ax that." 
 
 She had no expenses and laid by money 
 enough to bring me out before the year was 
 gone. I sailed from Londonderry. The ship 
 was a sailin vessel, the " Mary Jane." The 
 passage was $12. You brought your own eat 
 ing, your tea an meal, an most had flitch. 
 There was two big stoves that we cooked on. 
 The steerage was a dirty place and we were 
 eight weeks on the voyage over time three 
 weeks. The food ran scarce, I tell you, but 
 the captain gave some to us, and them that had 
 plenty was kind to the others. I ve heard bad 
 stories of things that went on in the steerage 
 in them old times smallpox and fevers and 
 starvation and worse. But I saw nothing of 
 them in my ship. The folks were decent and 
 the captain was kind. 
 
 [145] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 When I got here Mrs. Bent let Tilly keep 
 me for two months to teach me me bein such 
 a greenhorn. Of course I worked for her. 
 Mr. Bent was foreman then in Spangler s big 
 mills. After two months I got a place. 
 They were nice appearing people enough, but 
 the second day I found out they were Jews. 
 I never had seen a Jew before, so I packed my 
 bag and said to the lady, " I beg your pardon, 
 ma am, but I can t eat the bread of them as 
 crucified the Saviour." " But," she said. " he 
 was a Jew." So at that I put out. I couldn t 
 hear such talk. Then I got a place for gen 
 eral housework with Mrs. Carr. I got $2 till 
 I learned to cook good, and then $3 and then 
 $4. I was in that house as cook and nurse 
 for twenty-two years. Tilly lived with the 
 Bents till she died, eighteen years. Mr. Bent 
 come to be partner in the mills and got rich, 
 and they moved into a big house in German- 
 town and kept a lot of help and Tilly was 
 housekeeper. How did we keep our places 
 so long? Well, I think me and Tilly was 
 clean in our work and we was decent, and, of 
 course, we was honest. Nobody living can 
 say that one of the McNabbs ever wronged 
 him of a cent. Mrs. Carr s interests was my 
 interests. I took better care of her things 
 than she did herself, and I loved the childher 
 as if they was my own. She used to tell me 
 my sin was I was stingy. I don t know. The 
 McNabbs are no wasteful folk. I ve worn 
 [146] 
 
STORY OF AN IRISH COOK 
 
 one dress nine year and it looked decent then. 
 Me and Tilly saved till we brought Joseph 
 and Phil over, and they went into Mr. Bent s 
 mills as weaver and spool boy and then they 
 saved, and we all brought out my mother and 
 father. We rented a little house in Kensing 
 ton for them. There was a parlor in it and 
 kitchen and two bedrooms and bathroom and 
 marble door step, and a bell. That was in 66, 
 and we paid nine dollars a month rent. You d 
 pay double that now. It took all our savings 
 to furnish it, but Mrs. Bent and Mrs. Carr 
 gave us lots of things to go in. To think of 
 mother having a parlor and marble steps 
 and a bell! They came on the old steamer 
 " Indiana " and got here at night, and we had 
 supper for them and the house all lighted 
 up. Well, you ought to have seen mother s 
 old face! I ll never forget that night if I live 
 to be a hundred. After that mother took in 
 boarders and Joseph and Phil was there. We 
 all put every cent we earned into building asso 
 ciations. So Tilly owned a house when she 
 died and I own this one now. Our ladies told 
 us how to put the money so as to breed more, 
 and we never spent a cent we could save. 
 Joseph pushed on and got big wages and 
 started a flour store, and Phil went to night- 
 school and got a place as clerk. He married 
 a teacher in the Kensington public school. She 
 was a showy miss ! Silk dress and feathers in 
 her hat! 
 
 [147] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 Father died soon after he come. The drink 
 here wasn t as wholesome for him as it was in 
 Ireland. Poor father! He was a good- 
 hearted man, but he wasn t worth a penny 
 when he died. 
 
 Mother lived to be eighty. She was re 
 spected by all Kensington. The night she 
 died she said: " I have much to praise God for. 
 I haven t a child that is dependent on the day s 
 work for the day s victuals. Every one of 
 them owns a roof to cover him." 
 
 Joseph did well in his flour store. He has 
 a big one on Market Street now and lives in a 
 pretty house out in West Philadelphia. He s 
 one of the wardens in his church out there and 
 his girls gives teas and goes to reading clubs. 
 
 But Phil is the one to go ahead! His 
 daughter Ann she was named for me, but 
 she calls herself Antoinette is engaged to a 
 young lawyer in New York. He gave her a 
 diamond engagement ring the other day. 
 And his son, young Phil, is in politics and a 
 member of councils. He makes money hand 
 over hand. He has an automobile and a fur 
 coat, and you see his name at big dinners and 
 him making speeches. No saving of pennies 
 or building associations for Phil. 
 
 It was Phil that coaxed me to give up work 
 at Mrs. Carr s and to open my house for 
 boarders here in Kensington. His wife didn t 
 like to hear it said I was working in some 
 body s kitchen. I ve done well with the 
 [148] 
 
STORY OF AN IRISH COOK 
 
 boarders. I know just how to feed them so 
 as to lay by a little sum every year. I heard 
 that young Phil told some of his friends that 
 he had a queer old aunt up in Kensington who 
 played poor, but had a great store of money 
 hoarded away. He shouldn t have told a 
 story like that. But young folks will be 
 young! I like the boy. He is certainly 
 bringing the family into notice in the world. 
 Last Sunday s paper had his picture and one 
 of the young lady he is going to marry in New 
 York. It called him the young millionaire 
 McNabb. But I judge he s not that. He 
 wanted to borrow the money I have laid by in 
 the old bank at Walnut and Seventh the other 
 day and said he d double it in a week. No 
 such work as that for me! But the boy cer 
 tainly is a credit to the family! 
 
 [149] 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE LIFE STORY OF A FARMER S WIFE 
 
 This story of an Illinois farmer s wife is printed exactly as 
 she penned it. 
 
 I HAVE been a farmer s wife in one of 
 the States of the Middle West for thir 
 teen years, and everybody knows that the 
 farmer s wife must of a necessity be a very 
 practical woman, if she would be a successful 
 one. 
 
 I am not a practical woman and conse 
 quently have been accounted a failure by prac 
 tical friends and especially by my husband, 
 who is wholly practical. 
 
 We are told that the mating of people of 
 opposite natures promotes intellectuality in 
 the offspring; but I think that happy homes 
 are of more consequence than extreme pre 
 cocity of children. However, I believe that 
 people who are thinking of mating do not 
 even consider whether it is to be the one or the 
 other. 
 
 We do know that when people of opposite 
 tastes get married there s a discordant note 
 runs through their entire married life. It s 
 [150] 
 
STORY OF A FARMER S WIFE 
 
 only a question of which one has the stronger 
 will in determining which tastes shall predom 
 inate. 
 
 In our case my husband has the stronger 
 will; he is innocent of book learning, is a nat 
 ural hustler who believes that the only way to 
 make an honest living lies in digging it out of 
 the ground, so to speak, and being a farmer, 
 he finds plenty of digging to do; he has an 
 inherited tendency to be miserly, loves money 
 for its own sake rather than for its purchasing- 
 power, and when he has it in his possession he 
 is loath to part with it, even for the most nec 
 essary articles, and prefers to eschew hired 
 help in every possible instance that what he 
 does make may be his very own. 
 
 No man can run a farm without some one to 
 help him, and in this case I have always been 
 called upon and expected to help do anything 
 that a man would be expected to do; I began 
 this when we were first married, when there 
 were few household duties and no reasonable 
 excuse for refusing to help. 
 
 I was reared on a farm, was healthy and 
 strong, was ambitious, and the work was not 
 disagreeable, and having no children for the 
 first six years of married life, the habit of 
 going whenever asked to became firmly fixed, 
 and he had no thought of hiring a man to 
 help him, since I could do anything for which 
 he needed help. 
 
 I was always religiously inclined; brought 
 [151] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 up to attend Sunday school, not in a haphaz 
 ard way, but to attend every Sunday all the 
 year round, and when I was twelve years old 
 I was appointed teacher to a Sunday school 
 class, a position I proudly held until I married 
 at eighteen years of age. 
 
 I was an apt student at school and before I 
 was eighteen I had earned a teacher s certifi 
 cate of the second grade and would gladly have 
 remained in school a few more years, but I 
 had, unwittingly, agreed to marry the man who 
 is now my husband, and though I begged to 
 be released, his will was so much stronger that 
 I was unable to free myself without wound 
 ing a loving heart, and could hot find it in my 
 nature to do so. 
 
 All through life I have found my dislike 
 for giving offense to be my undoing. When 
 we were married and moved away from my 
 home church, I fain would have adopted the 
 church of my new residence, but my husband 
 did not like to go to church; had rather go vis 
 iting on Sundays, and rather than have my 
 right hand give offense, I cut it off. 
 
 I always had a passion for reading; during 
 girlhood it was along educational lines; in 
 young womanhood it was for love stories, 
 which remained ungratified because my father 
 thought it sinful to read stories of any kind, 
 and especially love stories. 
 
 Later, when I was married, I borrowed 
 everything I could find in the line of novels 
 [152] 
 
STORY OF A FARMER S WIFE 
 
 and stories, and read them by stealth still, for 
 my husband thought it a willful waste of time 
 to read anything and that it showed a lack of 
 love for him if I would rather read than to 
 talk to him when I had a few moments of 
 leisure, and, in order to avoid giving offense 
 and still gratify my desire, I would only 
 read when he was not at the house, thereby 
 greatly curtailing my already too limited read - 
 ing hours. 
 
 In reading miscellaneously I got glimpses 
 now and then of the great poets and authors, 
 which aroused a great desire for a thorough 
 perusal of them all ; but up till the present time 
 I have not been permitted to satisfy this desire. 
 As the years have rolled on there has been more 
 work and less leisure until is only by the great 
 est effort that I may read current news. 
 
 It is only during the last three years that I 
 have had the news to read, for my husband is 
 so very penurious that he would never consent 
 to subscribing for papers of any kind and that 
 old habit of avoiding that which would give 
 offense was so fixed that I did not dare to 
 break it. 
 
 The addition of two children to our family 
 never altered or interfered with the established 
 order of things to any appreciable extent. 
 My strenuous outdoor life agreed with me, and 
 even when my children were born, I was 
 splendidly prepared for the ordeal and made 
 rapid recovery. I still hoed and tended the 
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UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 truck patches and garden, still watered the 
 stock and put out feed for them, still went to 
 the hay field and helped harvest and house the 
 bounteous crops ; still helped harvest the golden 
 grain later on when the cereals ripened; often 
 took one team and dragged ground to prepare 
 the seed-bed for wheat for weeks at the time, 
 while my husband was using the other team on 
 another farm which he owns several miles 
 away. 
 
 W hile the children were babies they were left 
 at the house, and when they were larger they 
 would go with me to my work; now they are 
 large enough to help a little during the sum 
 mer and to go to school in winter; they help a 
 great deal during the fruit canning season- 
 in fact, can and do work at almost everything, 
 pretty much as I do. 
 
 All the season, from the coming in of the 
 first fruits until the making of mince-meat at 
 Christmas time, I put up canned goods for 
 future use; gather in many bushels of field 
 beans and the other crops usually raised on 
 the farm; make sour-kraut, ketchup, pickles, 
 etc. 
 
 This is a vague, general idea of how I spend 
 my time ; my work is so varied that it would be 
 difficult, indeed, to describe a typical day s 
 work. 
 
 Any bright morning in the latter part of 
 May I am out of bed at four o clock; next, 
 after I have dressed and combed my hair, I 
 [154] 
 
STORY OF A FARMER S WIFE 
 
 start a fire in the kitchen stove, and while the 
 stove is getting hot I go to my flower garden 
 and gather a choice, half -blown rose and a 
 spray of bride s wreath, and arrange them in 
 my hair, and sweep the floors and then cook 
 breakfast. 
 
 While the other members of the family are 
 eating breakfast I strain away the morning s 
 milk (for my husband milks the cows while I 
 get breakfast), and fill my husband s dinner- 
 pail, for he will go to work on our other farm 
 for the day. 
 
 By this time it is half -past five o clock, my 
 husband is gone to his work, and the stock 
 loudly pleading to be turned into the pas 
 tures. The younger cattle, a half-dozen 
 steers, are left in the pasture at night, and I 
 now drive the two cows, a half-quarter mile 
 and turn them in with the others, come back, 
 and then there s a horse in the barn that be 
 longs in a field where there is no water, which 
 I take to a spring quite a distance from the 
 barn; bring it back and turn it into a field 
 with the sheep, a dozen in number, which are 
 housed at night. 
 
 The young calves are then turned out into 
 the warm sunshine, and the stock hogs, w T hich 
 are kept in a pen, are clamoring for feed, and 
 I carry a pailful of swill to them, and hasten 
 to the house and turn out the chickens and put 
 out feed and water for them, and it is, per 
 haps, 6.30 A. M. 
 
 [155] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 I have not eaten breakfast yet, but that can 
 wait; I make the beds next and straighten 
 things up in the living room, for I dislike to 
 have the early morning caller find my house 
 topsy-turvy. When this is done I go to the 
 kitchen, which also serves as a dining-room, 
 and uncover the table, and take a mouthful of 
 food occasionally as I pass to and fro at my 
 work until my appetite is appeased. 
 
 By the time the work is done in the kitchen 
 it is about 7.15 A. M., and the cool morning 
 hours have flown, and no hoeing done in the 
 garden yet, and the children s toilet has to be 
 attended to and churning has to be done. 
 
 Finally the children are washed and churn 
 ing done, and it is eight o clock, and the sun 
 getting hot, but no matter, weeds die quickly 
 when cut down in the heat of the day, and I 
 use the hoe to a good advantage until the din 
 ner hour, which is 11.30 A. M. We come in, 
 and I comb my hair, and put fresh flowers in 
 it, and eat a cold dinner, put out feed and 
 water for the chickens; set a hen, perhaps, 
 sweep the floors again; sit down and rest, and 
 read a few moments, and it is nearly one 
 o clock, and I sweep the door yard while I am 
 waiting for the clock to strike the hour. 
 
 I make and sow a flower bed, dig around 
 some shrubbery, and go back to the garden to 
 hoe until time to do the chores at night, but 
 ere long some hogs come up to the back gate, 
 through the wheat field, and when I go to see 
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STORY OF A FARMER S WIFE 
 
 what is wrong I find that the cows have torn 
 the fence down, and they, too, are in the wheat 
 field. 
 
 With much difficulty I get them back into 
 their own domain and repair the fence. I hoe 
 in the garden till four o clock; then I go into 
 the house and get supper, and prepare some 
 thing for the dinner pail to-morrow; when 
 supper is all ready it is set aside, and I pull 
 a few hundred plants of tomato, sweet potato 
 or cabbage for transplanting, set them in a 
 cool, moist place where they will not wilt, and 
 I then go after the horse, water him, and put 
 him in the barn ; call the sheep and house them, 
 and go after the cows and milk them, feed the 
 hogs, put down hay for three horses, and put 
 oats and corn in their troughs, and set those 
 plants and come in and fasten up the chickens, 
 and it is dark. By this time it is 8 o clock 
 p. M. ; my husband has come home, and we are 
 eating supper; when we are through eating I 
 make the beds ready, and the children and 
 their father go to bed, and I wash the dishes 
 and get things in shape to get breakfast 
 quickly next morning. 
 
 It is now about 9 o clock p. M V and after a 
 short prayer I retire for the night. 
 
 As a matter of course, there s hardly two 
 days together which require the same routine, 
 yet every day is as fully occupied in some way 
 or other as this one, with varying tasks as the 
 seasons change. In early spring we are plant- 
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UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 ing potatoes, making plant beds, planting gar 
 den, early corn patches, setting strawberries, 
 planting corn, melons, cow peas, sugar cane, 
 beans, popcorn, peanuts, etc. 
 
 Oats are sown in March and April, but I do 
 not help do that, because the ground is too 
 cold. 
 
 Later in June we harvest clover hay, in July 
 timothy hay, and in August pea hay. 
 
 Winter wheat is ready to harvest the latter 
 part of June, and oats the middle of July. 
 
 These are the main crops, supplemented by 
 cabbages, melons, potatoes, tomatoes, etc. 
 
 Fully half of my time is devoted to helping 
 my husband, more than half during the active 
 work season, and not that much during the 
 winter months ; only a very small portion of my 
 time is devoted to reading. My reading mat 
 ter accumulates during the week, and I think 
 I will stay at home on Sunday and read, but as 
 we have many visitors on Sunday I am gener 
 ally disappointed. 
 
 I sometimes visit my friends on Sunday 
 because they are so insistent that I should, 
 though I would prefer spending the day read 
 ing quietly at home. I have never had a vaca 
 tion, but if I should be allowed one I should 
 certainly be pleased to spend it in an art gal 
 lery. 
 
 As winter draws nigh I make snug all the 
 vegetables and apples, pumpkins, and such 
 things as would damage by being frozen, and 
 
 [ 158 ] 
 
STORY OF A FARMER S WIFE 
 
 gather in the various kinds of nuts which grow 
 in our woods to eat during the long, cold 
 winter. 
 
 My husband s work keeps him away from 
 home during the day all the winter, except in 
 extremely inclement weather, and I feed and 
 water the stock, which have been brought in off 
 the pastures; milk the cows and do all the 
 chores which are to be done about a farm in 
 winter. 
 
 By getting up early and hustling around 
 pretty lively I do all this and countless other 
 things; keep house in a crude, simple manner; 
 wash, make and mend our clothes; make rag 
 carpets, cultivate and keep more flowers than 
 anybody in the neighborhood, raise some 
 chickens to sell and some to keep, and even 
 teach instrumental music sometimes. 
 
 I have always had an itching to write, and, 
 with all my multitudinous cares, I have writ 
 ten, in a fitful way, for several papers, which 
 do not pay for such matter, just because I was 
 pleased to see my articles in print. 
 
 I have a long list of correspondents, who 
 write regularly and often to me, and, by hook 
 and crook, I keep up with my letter-writing, 
 for, next to reading, I love to write and re 
 ceive letters, though my husband says I will 
 break him up buying so much writing material ; 
 when, as a matter of course, I pay for it out of 
 my own scanty income. 
 
 I am proud of my children, and have, from 
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UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 the time they were young babies, tried to make 
 model children of them. They were not 
 spoiled as some babies are, and their education 
 was begun when I first began to speak to them, 
 with the idea of not having the work to do over 
 later on. True, they did not learn to spell 
 until they were old enough to start to school, 
 because I did not have time to teach them 
 that ; but, in going about my work, I told them 
 stories of all kinds, in plain, simple language 
 which they could understand, and after once 
 hearing a story they could repeat it in their 
 own way, which did not differ greatly from 
 mine, to any one who cared to listen, for they 
 were not timid or afraid of anybody. 
 
 I have watched them closely, and never have 
 missed an opportunity to correct their errors 
 until their language is as correct as that of the 
 average adult, as far as their vocabulary goes, 
 and I have tried to make it as exhaustive as my 
 time would permit. 
 
 I must admit that there is very little time 
 for the higher life for myself, but my soul 
 cries out for it, and my heart is not in my 
 homely duties; they are done in a mechanical 
 abstracted way, not worthy of a woman of high 
 ambitions; but my ambitions are along other 
 lines. 
 
 I do not mean to say that I have no ambition 
 to do my work well, and to be a model house 
 keeper, for I would scorn to slight my work in- 
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STORY OF A FARMER S WIFE 
 
 tentionally; it is just this way: There are so 
 many outdoor duties that the time left for 
 household duties is so limited that I must rush 
 through them, with a view to getting each 
 one done in the shortest possible time, in order 
 to get as many things accomplished as pos 
 sible, for there is never time to do half as 
 much as needs to be done. 
 
 All the time that I have been going about 
 this work I have been thinking of things I 
 have read; of things I have on hand to read 
 when I can get time, and of other things 
 which I have a desire to read, but cannot hope 
 to while the present condition exists. 
 
 As a natural consequence, there are, daily, 
 numerous instances of absentmindedness on 
 my part ; many things left undone that I really 
 could have done by leaving off something else 
 of less importance, if I had not forgotten the 
 thing of the more importance. My husband 
 never fails to remind me that it is caused by 
 my reading so much; that I would get along 
 much better if I should never see a book or 
 paper, while really I would be distracted if all 
 reading matter was taken from me. 
 
 I use an old fashioned churn, and the proc 
 ess of churning occupies from thirty minutes 
 to three hours, according to the condition of 
 the cream, and I always read something while 
 churning, and though that may look like a poor 
 way to attain self -culture, yet if your reading 
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UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 is of the nature to bring about that desirable 
 result, one will surely be greatly benefited by 
 these daily exercises. 
 
 But if one is just reading for amusement, 
 they might read a great deal more than that 
 and not derive any great benefit ; but my read 
 ing has always been for the purpose of becom 
 ing well informed; and when knitting stock 
 ings for the family I always have a book or 
 paper in reading distance; or, if I have a 
 moment to rest or to wait on something, I pick 
 up something and read during the time. I 
 even take a paper with me to the fields and read 
 while I stop for rest. 
 
 I often hear ladies remark that they do not 
 have time to read. I happen to know that 
 they have a great deal more time than I do, 
 but not having any burning desire to read, the 
 time is spent in some other way ; often spent at 
 a neighbor s house gossiping about the other 
 neighbors. 
 
 I suppose it is impossible for a woman to 
 do her best at everything which she would like 
 to do, but I really would like to. I almost cut 
 sleep out of my routine in trying to keep up 
 all the rows which I have started in on; in the 
 short winter days I just get the cooking and 
 house straightening done in addition to looking 
 after the stock and poultry, and make a gar 
 ment occasionally, and wash and iron the 
 clothes; all the other work is done after night 
 by lamp light, and when the work for the day 
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STORY OF A FARMER S WIFE 
 
 is over, or at least the most pressing part of it, 
 and the family are all asleep and no one to 
 forbid it, I spend a few hours writing or 
 reading. 
 
 The minister who performed the marriage 
 ceremony for us has always taken a kindly 
 interest in our fortunes and, knowing of my 
 literary bent, has urged me to turn it to ac 
 count ; but there seemed to be so little time and 
 opportunity that I could not think seriously of 
 it, although I longed for a literary career ; but 
 my education had been dropped for a dozen 
 years or more, and I knew that I was not prop 
 erly equipped for that kind of a venture. 
 
 This friend was so insistent that I was in 
 duced to compete for a prize in a short story 
 contest in a popular magazine not long since, 
 though I entered it fully prepared for a 
 failure. 
 
 About that time there came in my way the 
 literature of a correspondence school which 
 would teach, among other things, short story 
 writing by mail; it set forth all the advantages 
 of a literary career and proposed properly to 
 equip its students in that course for a consid 
 eration. 
 
 This literature I greedily devoured, and felt 
 that I could not let the opportunity slip, 
 though I despaired of getting my husband s 
 consent. 
 
 I presented the remunerative side of it to 
 him, but he could only see the expense of tak- 
 [163] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 ing the course, and wondered how I could find 
 time to spend in the preparation, even if it 
 should be profitable in the end; but he believed 
 it was all a humbug; that they would get my 
 money and I would hear from them no more. 
 
 When I had exhausted my arguments to no 
 avail, I sent my literary friend to him, to try 
 his persuasive powers. The two of us, finally, 
 gained his consent, but it was on condition that 
 the venture was to be kept profoundly secret, 
 for he felt sure that there would be nothing 
 but failure, and he desired that no one should 
 know of it and have cause for ridicule. 
 
 Contrary to his expectations the school has 
 proven very trustworthy, and I am in the 
 midst of a course of instruction which is very 
 pleasing to me ; and I find time for study and 
 exercise between the hours of eight and eleven 
 at night, when the family are asleep and quiet. 
 I am instructed to read a great deal, with a 
 certain purpose in view, but that is impossible, 
 sincel had to promise my husband that I would 
 drop all my papers, periodicals, etc., on which 
 I was paying out money for subscription be 
 fore he would consent to my taking the course. 
 This I felt willing to do, that I might prepare 
 myself for more congenial tasks; I hope to 
 accomplish something worthy of note in a lit 
 erary way since I have been a failure in all 
 other pursuits. One cannot be anything in 
 particular as Ion 3* as they try to be everything, 
 and my motto has always been: " Strive to 
 [164] 
 
STORY OF A FARMER S WIFE 
 
 Excel," and it has caused worry wrinkles to 
 mar my countenance, because I could not, un 
 der the circumstances, excel in any particular 
 thing. 
 
 I have a few friends who are so anxious for 
 my success that they are having certain publi 
 cations of reading matter sent to me at their 
 own expense ; however, there s only a very lim 
 ited number who know of my ambitions. 
 
 My friends have always been so kind as not 
 to hint that I had not come up to their expec 
 tations in various lines, but I inwardly knew 
 that they regarded me as a financial failure; 
 they knew that my husband would not allow 
 the money that was made off the farm to be 
 spent on the family, but still they knew of 
 other men who did the same, yet the wives 
 managed some way to have money of their 
 own and to keep up the family expenses and 
 clothe themselves and children nicely anyhow, 
 but they did not seem to take into account that 
 these thrifty wives had the time all for their 
 own in which to earn a livelihood while my 
 time was demanded by my husband, to be 
 spent in doing things for him which would 
 contribute to the general proceeds of the farm, 
 yet would add nothing to my income, since I 
 was supposed to look to my own resources for 
 my spending money. 
 
 When critical housewives spend the day with 
 me I always feel that my surroundings appear 
 to a disadvantage. They cannot possibly 
 [165] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 know the inside workings of our home, and 
 knowing myself to be capable of the proper 
 management of a home if I had the chance 
 of others, I feel like I am receiving a mental 
 criticism from them which is unmerited, and 
 when these smart neighbors tell me proudly 
 how many young chicks they have, and how 
 many eggs and old hens they have sold during 
 the year, I am made to feel that they are crow 
 ing over their shrewdness, which they regard 
 as lacking in me, because they will persist in 
 measuring my opportunities by their own. 
 
 I might add that the neighbors among whom 
 I live are illiterate and unmusical, and that my 
 redeeming qualities, in their eyes, are my 
 superior education and musical abilities; they 
 are kind enough to give me more than justice 
 on these qualities because they are poor judges 
 of such matters. 
 
 But money is king, and if I might turn my 
 literary bent to account, and surround my 
 self with the evidences of prosperity, I may 
 yet hope fully to redeem myself in their eyes, 
 and I know that I will have attained my 
 ambition in that line. 
 
 [166] 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 THE LIFE STORY OF AN ITINERANT MINISTER 
 
 This is the story of a handicapped life. Its author is a preacher 
 in the Southern Methodist Church. 
 
 I WAS born in a fine old county of one of 
 the Southern States. My father was a 
 German, and came to this country when a 
 young man. He was a steady, industrious, 
 frugal man, and made many friends in his 
 new home. He worked on one of the first 
 railroads built in the South, serving in the 
 capacity of a " track-raiser," or section fore 
 man, for more than a dozen years. He then 
 bought a farm and moved to it when I was 
 about five years old, and it was on this farm 
 that my childhood was spent. My mother be 
 longed to one of the oldest families of the 
 county, and was a woman of good sense and de 
 cided character. There were eight children of 
 us, three sons and five daughters. My mother 
 had two brothers who were afflicted with cat 
 aract. And this same infirmity showed it 
 self in our family in one of those strange 
 freaks of heredity. My oldest brother devel 
 oped cataract on his eyes several years after 
 [167] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 birth, while in my younger brother and myself 
 it was congenital. And my case was the 
 worst of the three, and worse than either of 
 my maternal uncles. One of my earliest and 
 most vivid recollections is the first of four op 
 erations on my eyes for this trouble. It was 
 before I was five years old and long before 
 the days of local anesthesias. I was placed 
 full length on a bench, tied hand and foot, 
 my head was grasped firmly, and my eyes, 
 first one and then the other, were held open, 
 while the doctor inserted a sharp needle, and 
 attempted to cut up the cataract, hoping that 
 the particles would be taken up by absorption. 
 It was only after the third of these operations 
 that I experienced any great benefit. I was 
 then thirteen years old, and large enough to 
 submit quietly to the operation. I remember 
 it all so well. It was a day in May. I sat 
 down before a window, and the doctor inserted 
 his needle in the right eye. A moment later 
 he had pressed the cataract from over the 
 sight. And then, as if a dense fog had sud 
 denly rolled away, there burst upon my view 
 such a vision of field and sky and sunlight as 
 I had never looked upon before. I forgot the 
 pain of the operation, and broke out into rap 
 turous exclamations of delight. That was 
 over forty years ago, but that day in May and 
 that afternoon hour marked an epoch in my 
 life. Afterwards I could see to read ordinary 
 print. 
 
 [168] 
 
STORY OF AN ITINERANT MINISTER 
 
 But the sight these successive operations left 
 with me was far from perfect vision. The 
 reading I was enabled to do, and that which I 
 have done all my life, was with the right eye 
 there is still some cataract on the left eye 
 and by the aid of the strongest glasses that 
 could be had. These glasses were double con 
 vex, and looked like the lenses of a microscope. 
 
 I entered school at thirteen. The teachers 
 were very kind to me, and took much interest 
 in putting me forward in my studies. These 
 were war times in the South, and spectacles, 
 like many other things, w r ere not easily ob 
 tained, so my younger brother and myself 
 were forced to use the same pair of glasses in 
 school. But I learned many of my lessons 
 through the eye of others, especially two girl 
 cousins of mine, and got on pretty well. By 
 the end of the first year I could read readily, 
 and had taken some lessons in geography and 
 history, as well as arithmetic. 
 
 I attended school a part of every year after 
 this until I was twenty-one years old, during 
 which period I read some, or all, of the works 
 of Hume, Sir Walter Scott, Charles Dickens, 
 Washington Irving, and many books by 
 authors of less note and ability, and acquired 
 a fair knowledge of Latin, a little knowl 
 edge of Greek, went into geometry in 
 mathematics, and gained a pretty thorough 
 acquaintance with the English branches. It 
 was my hope that when I should be ready to 
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UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 go, I could enter the old college, whose bell 
 we could almost hear from our home. But 
 my father died very suddenly in June, when I 
 was in my twentieth year, and while he left an 
 estate of several thousand dollars, our affairs 
 were not well managed, and I did not have the 
 opportunity of completing my education in 
 this way. 
 
 When I reached twenty-one I was con 
 fronted by a serious question: What should 
 my life work be? Farm work was out of the 
 question, the printer s trade, which I should 
 have preferred to everything else, was equally 
 so! no merchant wanted a clerk who was too 
 blind to wait on his customers, and school- 
 teaching seemed as impracticable as any of the 
 rest. Through the help of an uncle, I got a 
 little school, which was taught in one end of an 
 abandoned log cabin. This lasted only a few 
 months, and was the beginning and end of my 
 experience in the work of a teacher. 
 
 Ours was a religious home. Family prayers 
 was one of the institutions of the home, and 
 my part in this after I was ten years old- 
 was to set the hymns, which my father lined 
 out in the good old way of our ancestors. And 
 I was a religious child. I often prayed that 
 I might see well, and it would have been no 
 surprise to my childish faith if the Heavenly 
 Father had taken me at my word, and allowed 
 me to open my eyes on the world with the sight 
 that others had. I was consciously and satis- 
 [170] 
 
STORY OF AN ITINERANT MINISTER 
 
 factorily converted when I was in my six 
 teenth year, and some time afterwards con 
 nected myself with the Methodist Church. 
 Because I showed a religious bent, perhaps, 
 and possibly because they could see nothing 
 for me but the work of the ministry, my 
 friends and family used to tell me that they 
 thought I ought to preach. But what they 
 said rather hindered than helped me. I be 
 lieved then, as I do now, that every true 
 preacher is called of God, as was Aaron, and to 
 preach because I could do nothing else, seemed 
 little less than sacrilege. But after a hard 
 and very honest struggle over the question, I 
 decided to give my life to the ministry, and 
 was licensed to preach at twenty-two. A year 
 later I was recommended for admission on 
 trial in the itinerancy, but the presiding elder 
 under whom I was licensed to preach, told me 
 very plainly that he did not think I could see 
 well enough to be a traveling Methodist 
 preacher. He was a brother of one of the 
 bishops, and a man of much influence, and 
 there seemed no appeal from his decision. 
 
 This decision quite upset me. My mother s 
 affairs were in such a condition that I could 
 no longer depend upon her for my living. 
 But what should rather, what could I do? 
 There was still left to me my license as a local 
 preacher; but there was nothing in this work 
 in the way of an occupation, and no compensa 
 tion whatever. And while I was willing 
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UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 enough to preach the Gospel " without money 
 and without price," I must live the while. For 
 some months this year I had the very uncom 
 fortable consciousness of living a useless life. 
 In the spring, however, a distant kinsman, 
 whom my father, several years before, had set 
 up in business, offered me a position in the 
 railroad station and post office in the village, 
 two miles away, saying as he did so: "I will 
 give you your board at first, and if everything 
 works well will give you some clothes later." 
 I accepted the place at once, and went to work 
 in five minutes after the offer was made. I 
 worked here nearly six months before I re 
 ceived more than my board. I remained here 
 three years and a half, the highest salary I re 
 ceived at any time being only twelve dollars a 
 month, out of which I paid seven dollars a 
 month board. My duties were miscellaneous. 
 I helped to load and unload freight, handled 
 many a bale of cotton during the season from 
 September till April, lifted numberless bags 
 of highly scented commercial fertilizers, 
 looked after the post office, and did just any 
 thing my employer could find for me to do. 
 I had much leisure in the summer, which, with 
 odd times at other seasons, I spent in reading 
 and writing. I went over the Bible every 
 year, took up the course of study for young 
 preachers, and did what preaching I could, 
 often walking five or six miles to an appoint 
 ment. All the time I was longing and hoping 
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STORY OF AN ITINERANT MINISTER 
 
 against hope that one day I might be admitted 
 to the Conference, and give my whole time to 
 the ministry. At last this longed-for oppor 
 tunity came. Some of my friends took it into 
 their heads that I could see sufficiently well to 
 do the work of an itinerant preacher, used 
 their influence with the presiding elder, the 
 same one who had kept me waiting over three 
 years, and just as I was nearing my twenty- 
 seventh birthday I found myself enrolled as a 
 member of one of the Conferences of my 
 Church and about the happiest man in it. 
 
 My experiences at the first annual Con 
 ference I ever attended were of the superla 
 tive degree. I alternated between hope and 
 fear at first as to whether I should be received, 
 and after this suspense was over, I wondered 
 with fear and trembling what my appointment 
 would be. And when, on the last day of the 
 session appointments are always read out 
 just before the Conference adjourns sine die 
 I sat with two hundred men, who, like myself, 
 were waiting for the Bishop to announce our 
 fields of labor for another year, I think I must 
 have had some of the feelings of a soldier 
 just on the eve of battle. The Bishop read 
 slowly, allowing the secretary to copy his an 
 nouncements first the name of the charge and 
 then the name of the preacher. I was sitting 
 with a neighbor-boy who, like myself, had just 
 been accepted by the Conference. The Bishop 
 came to his name first, giving him a place as 
 [173] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 junior preacher on the hardest work, perhaps, 
 in the whole territory embraced in the Confer 
 ence. And then, after some time, which 
 really seemed very long, he came to me. 
 ," he read, and then, after the sec 
 retary had written the name, he read out my 
 name. And I was delighted. The town was 
 only twenty-five miles from my home, the cir 
 cuit seemed very desirable for many reasons, 
 and I really felt flattered by the appointment. 
 But my rejoicing was not for long. I discov 
 ered in a little while that the course of the 
 itinerant is like the course of true love, in that 
 it doesn t always run smoothly. 
 
 I left home about the 1st of January with 
 a small trunk that held a few clothes and a 
 small number of books, and about three dollars 
 in money, which some of my friends were 
 kind enough to give me. The welcome I re 
 ceived was about as cold as the day s ride in an 
 open buggy had been. Things were in con 
 fusion. The town church had been cut off 
 from a strong circuit, and associated with it 
 were three weak churches. The people of the 
 town church had held a meeting and passed 
 resolutions to the effect that, " if they w r ere not 
 restored to their original circuit, they would 
 withdraw from the connection." There was 
 nothing for me to do but to wait until the 
 proper authorities decided the question at 
 issue, and to go on with my work with as little 
 friction as might be. On Saturday before the 
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STORY OF AN ITINERANT MINISTER 
 
 first Sunday I walked four miles through the 
 snow, facing a bitter northwest wind, to one 
 of the country churches, and found two breth 
 ren awaiting me. To these I talked on some 
 verses of the Thirty-fourth Psalm. The next 
 day more came, and I preached on Philip- 
 pians 3: 13, 14. That first week I visited and 
 prayed with fifteen families, walking five and 
 six miles a day through the mud and melting 
 snow. 
 
 I remained on this circuit about three weeks, 
 when I was ordered by my presiding elder to 
 go to the - - mission. Here I had some 
 
 new towns on a new line of railroad, with two 
 country churches, to which I walked over roads 
 that were little better than bridle paths. The 
 country was hilly and much broken ; the people 
 outside of the towns lived in very plain houses, 
 often with only one room; my fare for days to 
 gether, when away from home, was only coarse 
 corn bread, fat bacon, and coffee without 
 cream or sugar and not a church on the work 
 had a stove, or was ceiled. One of them was 
 even without a door shutter. But the people 
 were kind, open-hearted folk, my boarding 
 place was very agreeable and I was quite con 
 tented. I remained there two years, receiving 
 an average salary of about $165 a year. I paid 
 my landlady ten dollars a month, from which 
 she deducted the time that I was away from 
 home. I bought as many books as my salary 
 would warrant, but it was years after this be- 
 [175] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 fore I had a full set of commentaries on the 
 Bible, or anything in the way of an encyclo 
 pedia. This lack forced me to be my own com 
 mentator, which I have continued to be most of 
 my life since. I have found that it is better to 
 read the Bible than to read about it. 
 
 The next year I had a circuit with two towns 
 and four country churches, and which paid me 
 less than $150. The fourth year, however, I 
 got on better. I had a charge that embraced 
 six churches, all in a rough country, and 
 twenty-five miles from one extreme to another. 
 I rode this circuit on a mule, which, together 
 with board, washing and the kindest attention, 
 was furnished me by Brother H , for eight 
 dollars a month. My home was in the coun 
 try, three miles from the post office, and I did 
 the most satisfactory year s reading of my 
 whole life. Brother H s wife was the hardest 
 worked woman I have ever known, I think. 
 She cooked, did her washing and house-clean 
 ing, milked a cow or two, looked after three 
 small children, and found time to help her 
 husband in the field. I received about $300 
 this year, and saved enough out of it to buy a 
 beautiful pony the next year. 
 
 I spent the next three years in the county 
 of - . Here I had much success in my 
 work. A great revival swept over the county, 
 in which others were more useful than myself, 
 and I received about 175 into the Church. 
 Five young men, who are now preachers, took 
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STORY OF AN ITINERANT MINISTER 
 
 their start in religious work during these years, 
 and I call them " my boys." 
 
 After being in the itinerancy nine years, I 
 decided to marry. I had received an average 
 salary of $200 a year, but I was assured by my 
 presiding elder that if I would marry, better 
 provision would be made for me. I found a 
 sensible, religious country girl, who, after 
 some persuasion, consented to share my itiner 
 ant lot, and so, just before Conference met, 
 we were married, and went to the session a 
 very happy bridal couple. And we got a 
 good appointment. 
 
 Our first parsonage was a three-room cot 
 tage, unpainted, with only one room ceiled, 
 and a little veranda, on which morning glories 
 were trained to grow in great luxuriance that 
 summer. We remained here two years, dur 
 ing which the church prospered greatly. 
 About a hundred members were taken in, and 
 the finances of the charge improved consider 
 ably ; and our salary of some $450 a year gave 
 us a comfortable support. Our first child 
 was born this year, a boy, who is nearly eigh 
 teen now. 
 
 The most trying period of my life came some 
 years later. We spent some time in a malarial 
 section of the State, and my nervous system 
 was so much affected by this poison that I was 
 unable to preach for several months. And be 
 fore I had fully recovered from this attack 
 the mother of my children sickened and died 
 [177] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 of rapid consumption. She left me with three 
 children, six, nine and twelve years of age 
 respectively, with no settled home, and health 
 much broken. But I was among my kindred 
 at the time, my old mother came to my house, 
 and after a year and a half, I found another 
 good woman as my w r ife, and the mother of 
 my children. 
 
 I have now been an itinerant Methodist 
 preacher almost twenty-eight years. My sal 
 ary, since I was married, has averaged $380 a 
 year, exclusive of house rent. I have only 
 once or twice left a circuit in debt to any one 
 in it, and am to-day free from financial em 
 barrassment. I am now serving my twentieth 
 pastoral charge, and these frequent changes 
 from one pastorate to another, which have in 
 one or two instances involved moves of two 
 hundred miles or more, have greatly added to 
 the expenses of the work. I have paid out 
 three or four hundred dollars in railroad and 
 hack fares, and in freight charges, besides the 
 loss incident to breaking up and moving from 
 one place to another. I have kept a horse 
 fifteen years, and a buggy about a dozen, have 
 had one horse to die and another to go blind, 
 and the buggy I now have is almost like the 
 wonderful one-horse chaise, just before that 
 classic vehicle w r ent to pieces. My sight is suf 
 ficient to enable me to drive over plain and 
 familiar roads. 
 
 We find it necessary to be economical. Our 
 [178] 
 
STORY OF AN ITINERANT MINISTER 
 
 living is simple. In the morning we have bis 
 cuit and butter and bacon gravy, with a little 
 ham now and then, and chicken in the sum 
 mer, and fresh pork when our neighbors fur 
 nish it in winter. We also have coffee for 
 my wife and myself, and " kettle tea " for the 
 children. At dinner, we have vegetables, such 
 as beans, potatoes and corn, during the sum 
 mer, with good bread, home-made, and some 
 times a simple dessert. At supper, which we 
 generally have about night-fall, we have 
 bread and butter, with fruit, when we can get 
 it, and milk or tea. We have occupied nine 
 different parsonages, and attached to these 
 have generally been lots large enough for a 
 good garden and sundry patches. On our 
 present lot we hope to make a light bale of 
 cotton this year. I usually buy one good suit 
 of clothes every two or three years, which I 
 save for marriages, funerals and strictly Sun 
 day wear, making less costly clothes answer 
 for everyday wear. These best suits usually 
 cost about fifteen dollars, and I get them 
 ready-made out of the stores. My wife usu 
 ally makes her own dresses, and does most of 
 the sewing for the family. We keep no ser 
 vants, but put out the washing and ironing, 
 which costs -about fifty cents a week. We gen 
 erally rise about six, have breakfast an hour 
 later, the little girls go to school, after wash 
 ing the dishes my son has been away from 
 home most of the time for a year, attend- 
 [179] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 ing school and my wife and I put things to 
 rights in our room, and then sit down for a 
 quiet morning s work. I find the hours be 
 fore twelve o clock in the day much the best 
 time in the whole twenty-four for study. I 
 find it hard to be regular in my habits of study. 
 A trip of six to twelve miles in the country 
 must be made every other week to preach at 
 the churches away from my home, and the de 
 mand for visiting is a constant draft on my 
 time. My preaching has been plain, and ex 
 temporaneous, after careful general prepara 
 tion. I have tried to take the great themes of 
 the Bible and present them in such ways and 
 words as would bring them within the com 
 prehension of the common people. I have 
 had pastoral connection with about one hun 
 dred different congregations, in twenty-four 
 different counties of my native State, and I 
 am sure I have preached to at least fifty thou 
 sand different people. I have received about 
 one thousand members into the Church, and 
 have seen a number of gracious revivals. I 
 have reason to know that I have done some 
 good and reason to believe that I have done 
 some of which I have had no knowledge. A 
 few years ago, at a Conference session, I was 
 introduced to a young preacher, who said, 
 " Why, I know you already. At - - camp 
 ground, some ten or twelve years ago, I heard 
 you preach on Sunday night. Under that 
 sermon I was convicted and converted, and 
 [180] 
 
STORY OF AN ITINERANT MINISTER 
 
 so were fifteen others." And this man had 
 been preaching several years, though I had 
 never met him before. 
 
 I have gathered a collection of good books, 
 but have not been able to buy many new works 
 as they have come from the press. I have not 
 yet gotten over my penchant for literary work, 
 and recently have written a novel, which seems 
 not good enough, or mayhap, bad enough, to 
 meet the demands of publishers. It deals 
 with a living question, though it is not a 
 " problem " novel. The scene is laid in the 
 South, but there is not a " Colonel," nor a 
 " Judge " in it, a fact which ought to com 
 mend it to the favor of intelligent people. 
 
 I suppose I have been hindered in my work 
 by my defective sight. At any rate, I have 
 been told a number of times that nothing but 
 this stood in the way of my promotion. But 
 it has not hindered me from traveling some of 
 the largest and hardest circuits in my Confer 
 ence. But it has saved me from the envy and 
 jealousy of other preachers, and that is some 
 thing to be thankful for. This same defective 
 sight has had its compensations in many ways. 
 The world in which I have lived has had more 
 mysteries in it than the world of those who see 
 well, and larger room for imagination, and 
 for those poetic fancies which give the earth 
 and sky and sun and stars a beauty that is not 
 otherwise their own. And there have been 
 other compensations. The very effort neces- 
 [181] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 sary to acquire the knowledge that I have 
 gathered has made me husband it all the more 
 carefully. I could not lightly throw away 
 that which cost me so much. 
 
 I have been a conservative in thought and 
 faith. Two great facts in my experience, my 
 conversion and my call to the ministry, has 
 served as mordants to my faith. I have be 
 lieved that it was my business to find out the 
 truths, and not the errors of the -Bible. My 
 observation of men, and my reading of history, 
 have taught me that the men who have had 
 largest influence with God and their fellows, 
 have been the men who have adhered most 
 steadfastly to the standards of faith. Upon 
 the whole, as Horace Bushnell says, it has been 
 a great thing to me to have lived. 
 
 [182] 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE LIFE STORY OF A NEGRO PEON 
 
 The following chapter was obtained from an interview with 
 a Georgia negro who is a victim of the new slavery of the South. 
 
 I AM a negro and was born some time dur 
 ing the war in Elbert County, Ga., and 
 I reckon by this time I must be a little over 
 forty years old. My mother was not married 
 when I was born, and I never knew who my 
 father was or anything about him. Shortly 
 after the war my mother died, and I was left 
 to the care of my uncle. All this happened 
 before I was eight years old, and so I can t 
 remember very much about it. When I was 
 about ten years old my uncle hired me out to 
 Captain - . I had already learned how 
 to plow, and was also a good hand at picking 
 cotton. I was told that the Captain wanted 
 me for his house-boy, and that later on he was 
 going to train me to be his coachman. To 
 be a coachman in those days was considered a 
 post of honor, and young as I was, I was glad 
 of the chance. But I had not been at the 
 Captain s a month before I was put to work 
 on the farm, with some twenty or thirty other 
 negroes men, women and children. From 
 [183] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 the beginning the boys had the same tasks as 
 the men and women. There was no differ 
 ence. We all worked hard during the week, 
 and would frolic on Saturday nights and often 
 on Sundays. And everybody was happy. 
 The men got $3 a week and the women $2. 
 I don t know what the children got. Every 
 week my uncle collected my money for me, 
 but it was very little of it that I ever saw. My 
 uncle fed and clothed me, gave me a place to 
 sleep, and allowed me ten or fifteen cents a 
 week for " spending change," as he called it. 
 I must have been seventeen or eighteen years 
 old before I got tired of that arrangement, 
 and felt that I was man enough to be working 
 for myself and handling my own wages. 
 The other boys about my age and size were 
 " drawing " their own pay, and they used to 
 laugh at me and call me " Baby " because my 
 old uncle was always on hand to " draw " my 
 pay. Worked up by these things, I made a 
 break for liberty. Unknown to my uncle or 
 the Captain I went off to a neighboring plan 
 tation and hired myself out to another man. 
 The new landlord agreed to give me forty 
 cents a day and furnish me one meal. I 
 thought that was doing fine. Bright and 
 early one Monday morning I started for 
 work, still not letting the others know any 
 thing about it. But they found it out before 
 sundown. The Captain came over to the 
 new place and brought some kind of officer of 
 [184] 
 
STORY OF A NEGRO PEON 
 
 the law. The officer pulled out a long piece 
 of paper from his pocket and read it to my 
 new employer. When this was done I heard 
 my new boss say: 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Captain. I didn t 
 know this nigger was bound out to you, or I 
 wouldn t have hired him." 
 
 "He certainly is bound out to me," said the 
 Captain. " He belongs to me until he is 
 twenty-one, and I m going to make him know 
 his place." 
 
 So I was carried back to the Captain s. 
 That night he made me strip off my clothing 
 down to my waist, had me tied to a tree in his 
 backyard, ordered his foreman to give me 
 thirty lashes with a buggy whip across my bare 
 back, and stood by until it was done. After 
 that experience the Captain made me stay on 
 his place night and day, but my uncle still 
 continued to " draw " my money. 
 
 I was a man nearly grown before I knew 
 how to count from one to one hundred. I wns 
 a man nearly grown before I ever saw a col 
 ored school teacher. I never went to school a 
 day in my life. To-day I can t write my own 
 name, though I can read a little. I was a man 
 nearly grown before I ever rode on a railroad 
 train, and then I went on an excursion from 
 Elberton to Athens. What was true of me 
 was true of hundreds of other negroes around 
 me way off there in the country, fifteen or 
 twenty miles from the nearest town. 
 [185] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 When I reached twenty-one the Captain 
 told me I was a free man, but he urged me to 
 stay with him. He said he would treat me 
 right, and pay me as much as anybody else 
 would. The Captain s son and I were about 
 the same age, and the Captain said that, as he 
 had owned my mother and uncle during slav 
 ery, and as his son didn t want me to leave 
 them (since I had been with them so long) , he 
 wanted me to stay with the old family. And 
 I stayed. I signed a contract that is, I made 
 my mark for one year. The Captain was to 
 give me $3.50 a week, and furnish me a little 
 house on the plantation a one-room log cabin 
 similar to those used by his other laborers. 
 
 During that year 1 married Mandy. For 
 several years Mandy had been the house-ser 
 vant for the Captain, his w r ife, his son and his 
 three daughters, and they all seemed to think 
 a good deal of her. As an evidence of their 
 regard they gave us a suit of furniture, which 
 cost about $25, and we set up housekeeping in 
 one of the Captain s two-room shanties. I 
 thought I was the biggest man in Georgia. 
 Mandy still kept her place in the Big 
 House " after our niarriage. We did so 
 well for the first year that I renewed my con 
 tract for the second year, and for the third, 
 fourth and fifth year I did the same thing. 
 Before the end of the fifth year the Captain 
 had died, and his son, who had married some 
 two or three years before, took charge of the 
 [186] 
 
STORY OF A NEGRO PEON 
 
 plantation. Also, for two or three years, this 
 son had been serving at Atlanta in some big 
 office to which he had been elected. I think it 
 was in the Legislature or something of that 
 sort anyhow, all the people called him Sen 
 ator. At the end of the fifth year the Senator 
 suggested that I sign up a contract for ten 
 years; then, he said, we wouldn t have to fix 
 up papers every year. I asked my wife about 
 it; she consented; and so I made a ten-year 
 contract. 
 
 Not long afterward the Senator had a long, 
 low shanty built on his place. A great big 
 chimney, with a wide, open fireplace, was built 
 at one end of it, and on each side of the house, 
 running lengthwise, there was a row of frames 
 or stalls just large enough to hold a single 
 mattress. The places for these mattresses 
 were fixed one above the other; so that there 
 was a double row of these stalls or pens on each 
 side. They looked for all the world like stalls 
 for horses. Since then I have seen cabooses 
 similarly arranged as sleeping quarters for 
 railroad laborers. Nobody seemed to know 
 what the Senator was fixing for. All doubts 
 were put aside one bright day in April when 
 about forty able-bodied negroes, bound in iron 
 chains, and some of them handcuffed, were 
 brought out to the Senator s farm in three big 
 wagons. They were quartered in the long, 
 low shanty, and it was afterward called the 
 stockade. This was the beginning of the Sen- 
 [187] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 ator s convict camp. These men were pris 
 oners who had been leased by the Senator from 
 the State of Georgia at about $200 each per 
 year, the State agreeing to pay for guards and 
 physicians, for necessary inspection, for in 
 quests, all rewards for escaped convicts, the 
 cost of litigation and all other incidental camp 
 expenses. When I saw these men in shackles, 
 and the guards with their guns, I was scared 
 nearly to death. I felt like running away, but 
 I didn t know where to go. And if there had 
 been any place to go to, I would have had to 
 leave my wife and child behind. We free 
 laborers held a meeting. We all wanted to 
 quit. We sent a man to tell the Senator about 
 it. Word came back that we were all under 
 contract for ten years and that the Senator 
 would hold us to the letter of the contract, or 
 put us in chains and lock us up the same as 
 the other prisoners. It was made plain to us 
 by some white people we talked to that in the 
 contracts we had signed we had all agreed to 
 be locked up in a stockade at night or at any 
 other time that our employer saw fit; further, 
 we learned that we could not lawfully break 
 our contract for any reason and go and hire 
 ourselves to somebody else without the con 
 sent of our employer; and, more than that, if 
 we got mad and ran away, we could be run 
 down by bloodhounds, arrested without process 
 of law, and be returned to our employer, who, 
 according to the contract, might beat us bru- 
 [188] 
 
STORY OF A NEGRO PEON 
 
 tally or administer any other kind of punish 
 ment that he thought proper. In other words, 
 we had sold ourselves into slavery and what 
 could we do about it? The white folks had 
 all the courts, all the guns, all the hounds, all 
 the railroads, all the telegraph wires, all the 
 newspapers, all the money, and nearly all the 
 land and we had only our ignorance, our 
 poverty and our empty hands. We decided 
 that the best thing to do was to shut our 
 mouths, say nothing, and go back to work. 
 And most of us worked side by side with those 
 convicts during the remainder of the ten years. 
 But this first batch of convicts was only the 
 beginning. Within six months another stock 
 ade was built, and twenty or thirty other con 
 victs were brought to the plantation, among 
 them six or eight women! The Senator had 
 bought an additional thousand acres of land, 
 and to his already large cotton plantation he 
 added two great big saw-mills and went into 
 the lumber business. Within two years the 
 Senator had in all nearly 200 negroes working 
 on his plantation about half of them free 
 laborers, so called, and about half of them con 
 victs. The only difference between the free 
 laborers and the others was that the free la 
 borers could come and go as they pleased, at 
 night that is, they were not locked up at 
 night, and were not, as a general thing, 
 whipped for slight offenses. The troubles of 
 the free laborers began at the close of the ten- 
 [189] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 year period. To a man, they all wanted to 
 quit when the time was up. To a man, they 
 all refused to sign new contracts even for 
 one year, not to say anything of ten years. 
 And just when we thought that our bondage 
 was at an end we found that it had really just 
 begun. Two or three years before, or about 
 a year and a half after the Senator had started 
 his camp, he had established a large store, 
 which was called the commissary. All of us 
 free laborers were compelled to buy our sup 
 plies food, clothing, etc. from that store. 
 We never used any money in our dealings with 
 the commissary, only tickets or orders, and we 
 had a general settlement once each year, in 
 October. In this store we were charged all 
 sorts of high prices for goods, because every 
 year we would come out in debt to our em 
 ployer. If not that, we seldom had more than 
 $5 or $10 coming to us and that for a whole 
 year s work. Well, at the close of the tenth 
 year, when we kicked and meant to leave the 
 Senator, he said to some of us with a smile (and 
 I never will forget that smile I can see it 
 now) : 
 
 "Boys, I m sorry you re going to leave me. 
 I hope you will do well in your new places 
 so well that you will be able to pay me the lit 
 tle balances which most of you owe me." 
 
 Word was sent out for all of us to meet him 
 at the commissary at 2 o clock. There he told 
 us that, after we had signed what he called a 
 [190] 
 
STORY OF A NEGRO PEON 
 
 written acknowledgment of our debts, we 
 might go and look for new places. The store 
 keeper took us one by one and read to us state 
 ments of our accounts. According to the books 
 there was no man of us who owed the Senator 
 less than $100; some of us were put down for 
 as much as $200. I owed $165, according to 
 the bookkeeper. These debts were not accumu 
 lated during one year, but ran back for three 
 and four years, so we were told in spite of 
 the fact that we understood that we had had a 
 full settlement at the end of each year. But 
 no one of us would have dared to dispute a 
 white man s word oh, no; not in those days. 
 Besides, we fellows didn t care anything about 
 the amounts we were after getting away; 
 and we had been told that we might go, if we 
 signed the acknowledgments. We would 
 have signed anything, just to get away. So 
 we stepped up, we did, and made our marks. 
 That same night we were rounde d up by a con 
 stable and ten or twelve white men, who aided 
 him, and we were locked up, every one of us, 
 in one of the Senator s stockades. The next 
 morning it was explained to us by the two 
 guards appointed to watch us that, in the 
 papers, we had signed the day before, we had 
 not only made acknowledgment of our indebt 
 edness, but that we had also agreed to work for 
 the Senator until the debts were paid by hard 
 labor. And from that day forward we were 
 treated just like convicts. Really we had 
 [191] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 made ourselves lifetime slaves, or peons, as the 
 laws called us. But, call it slavery, peonage, 
 or what not, the truth is we lived in a hell on 
 earth what time we spent in the Senator s peon 
 camp. ,| 
 
 I lived in that camp, as a peon, for nearly 
 three years. My wife fared better than I did, 
 as did the wives of some of the other negroes, 
 because the white men about the camp used 
 these unfortunate creatures as their mistresses. 
 When I was first put in the stockade my wife 
 was still kept for a while in the " Big House," 
 but my little boy, who was only nine years old, 
 was given away to a negro family across the 
 river in South Carolina, and I never saw or 
 heard of him after that. When I left the 
 camp my wife had had two children by some 
 one of the white bosses, and she was living in 
 fairly good shape in a little house off to herself. 
 But the poor negro women who were not in 
 the class with my wife fared about as bad as 
 the helpless negro men. Most of the time the 
 women who were peons or convicts were com 
 pelled to wear men s clothes. Sometimes, 
 when I have seen them dressed like men, and 
 plowing or hoeing or hauling logs or working 
 at the blacksmith s trade, just the same as men, 
 my heart would bleed and my blood would 
 boil, but I was powerless to raise a hand. It 
 would have meant death on the spot to have 
 said a word. Of the first six women brought 
 to the camp, two of them gave birth to children 
 [192] 
 
STORY OF A NEGRO PEON 
 
 after they had been there more than twelve 
 months and the babies had white men for 
 their fathers! 
 
 The stockades in which we slept were, I 
 believe, the filthiest places in the world. They 
 were cesspools of nastiness. During the thir 
 teen years that I was there I am willing to 
 swear that a mattress was never moved after 
 it had been brought there, except to turn it over 
 once or twice a month. No sheets were used, 
 only dark-colored blankets. Most of the men 
 slept every night in the clothing that they had 
 worked in all day. Some of the worst char 
 acters were made to sleep in chains. The doors 
 were locked and barred each night, and tallow 
 candles were the only lights allowed. Really 
 the stockades were but little more than cow 
 sheds, horse stables or hog pens. Strange to 
 say, not a great number of these people died 
 while I was there, though a great many came 
 away maimed and bruised and, in some cases, 
 disabled for life. As far as I remember only 
 about ten died during the last ten years that 
 I was there, two of these being killed outright 
 by the guards for trivial offenses. 
 
 It was a hard school that peon camp was, 
 but I learned more there in a few short months 
 by contact with those poor fellows from the 
 outside world than ever I had known before. 
 Most o"f what I learned was evil, and I now 
 know that I should have been better off with 
 out the knowledge, but much of what I learned 
 [193] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 was helpful to me. Barring two or three 
 severe and brutal whippings which I received, 
 I got along very well, all things considered; 
 but the system is damnable. A favorite way 
 of whipping a man was to strap him down to 
 a log, flat on his back, and spank him fifty or 
 sixty times on his bare feet with a shingle or a 
 huge piece of plank. When the man would 
 get up with sore and blistered feet and an ach 
 ing body, if he could not then keep up with the 
 other men at work he would be strapped to the 
 log again, this time face downward, and would 
 be lashed with a buggy trace on his bare back. 
 When a woman had to be whipped it was usu 
 ally done in private, though they would be 
 compelled to fall down across a barrel or some 
 thing of the kind and receive the licks on their 
 backsides. 
 
 The working day on a peon farm begins 
 with sunrise and ends when the sun goes down ; 
 or, in other words, the average peon works 
 from ten to twelve hours each day, with one 
 hour (from 12 o clock to 1 o clock) for dinner. 
 Hot or cold, sun or rain, this is the rule. As 
 to their meals, the laborers are divided up into 
 squads or companies, just the same as soldiers 
 in a great military camp would be. Two or 
 three men in each stockade are appointed as 
 cooks. From thirty to forty men report to 
 each cook. In the warm months (or eight or 
 nine months out of the year) the cooking is 
 done on the outside, }ust behind the stock- 
 [194] 
 
STORY OF A NEGRO PEON 
 
 ades; in the cold months the cooking is done 
 inside the stockades. Each peon is pro 
 vided with a great big tin cup, a flat tin pan and 
 two big tin spoons. No knives or forks are 
 ever seen, except those used by the cooks. At 
 meal time the peons pass in single file before 
 the cooks, and hold out their pans and cups 
 to receive their allowances. Cow peas (red or 
 white, which when boiled turn black), fat 
 bacon and old-fashioned Georgia corn bread, 
 baked in pones from one to two and three 
 inches thick, make up the chief articles of food. 
 Black coffee, black molasses and brown sugar 
 are also used abundantly. Once in a great 
 while, on Sundays, biscuits would be made, but 
 they would always be made from tjie kind of 
 flour called " shorts." As a rule, breakfast 
 consisted of coffee, fried bacon, corn bread, 
 and sometimes molasses and one " helping " 
 of each was all that was allowed. Peas, boiled 
 with huge hunks of fat bacon, and a hoe-cake, 
 as big as a man s hand, usually answered for 
 dinner. Soinetimes this dinner bill of fare 
 gave place to bacon and greens (collard or tur 
 nip) and pot liquor. Though we raised corn, 
 potatoes and other vegetables, we never got 
 a chance at such things unless we could steal 
 them and cook them secretly. Supper con 
 sisted of coffee, fried bacon .and molasses. 
 But, although the food was limited to certain 
 things, I am sure we all got a plenty of the 
 things allowed. As coarse as these things 
 [195] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 were, we kept, as a rule, fat and sleek and as 
 strong as mules. And that, too, in spite of 
 the fact that we had no special arrangements 
 for taking regular baths, and no very great 
 effort was made to keep us regularly in clean 
 clothes. No tables were used or allowed. In 
 summer we would sit down on the ground and 
 eat our meals, and in winter we would sit 
 around inside the filthy stockades. Each man 
 was his own dish washer that is to say, each 
 man was responsible for the care of his pan 
 and cup and spoons. My dishes got washed 
 about once a week ! 
 
 To-day, I am told, there are six or seven 
 of these private camps in Georgia that is to 
 say, camps where most of the convicts are 
 leased from the State of Georgia. But there 
 are hundreds and hundreds of farms all over 
 the State w r here negroes, and in some cases 
 poor white folks, are held in bondage on the 
 ground that they are working out debts, or 
 where the contracts which they have made hold 
 them in a kind of perpetual bondage, because, 
 under those contracts, they may not quit one 
 employer and hire out to another except by and 
 with the knowledge and consent of the former 
 employer. One of the usual ways to secure 
 laborers for a large peonage camp is for the 
 proprietor to send out an agent to the little 
 courts in the towns and villages, and where a 
 man charged with some petty offense has no 
 friends or money the agent will urge him to 
 [196] 
 
STORY OF A NEGRO PEON 
 
 plead guilty, with the understanding that the 
 agent will pay his fine, and in that way save 
 him from the disgrace of being sent to jail or 
 the chain-gang! For this high favor the man 
 must sign beforehand a paper signifying his 
 willingness to go to the farm and work out the 
 amount of the fine imposed. When he reaches 
 the farm he has to be fed and clothed, to be 
 sure, and these things are charged up to his 
 account. By the time he has worked out his 
 first debt another is hanging over his head, and 
 so on and so on, by a sort of endless chain, for 
 an indefinite period, as in every case the in 
 debtedness is arbitrarily arranged by the em 
 ployer. In many cases it is very evident that 
 the court officials are in collusion with the pro 
 prietors or agents, and that they divide the 
 " graft " among themselves. As an example 
 of this dickering among the whites, every year 
 many convicts were brought to the Senator s 
 camp from a certain county in South Georgia, 
 way down in the turpentine district. The 
 majority of these men were charged with 
 adultery, which is an offense against the laws 
 of the great and sovereign State of Georgia! 
 Upon inquiry I learned that down in that 
 county a number of negro lewd women were 
 employed by certain white men to entice negro 
 men into their houses; and then, on a certain 
 night, at a given signal, when all was in readi 
 ness, raids would be made by the officers upon 
 these houses, and the men would be arrested 
 [197] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 and charged with living in adultery. Nine 
 out of ten of these men, so arrested and so 
 charged, would find their way ultimately to 
 some convict camp, and, as I said, many of 
 them found their way every year to the Sen 
 ator s camp while I was there. The low-down 
 women were never punished in any way. On 
 the contrary, I was told that they always 
 seemed to stand in high favor with the sheriffs, 
 constables and other officers. There can be no 
 room to doubt that they assisted very materi 
 ally in furnishing laborers for the prison pens 
 of Georgia, and the belief was general among 
 the men that they were regularly paid for their 
 work. I could tell more, but I ve said 
 enough to make anybody s heart sick. This 
 great and terrible iniquity is, I know, wide 
 spread throughout Georgia and many other 
 Southern States. 
 
 But I didn t tell you how I got out. I 
 didn t get out they put me out. When I 
 had served as a peon for nearly three years 
 and you remember that they claimed that I 
 owed them only $165 when I had served for 
 nearly three years, one of the bosses came to 
 me and said that my time was up. He hap 
 pened to be the one who was said to be living 
 with my wife. He gave me a new suit of 
 overalls, which cost about seventy-five cents, 
 took me in a buggy and carried me across the 
 Broad River into South Carolina, set me down 
 and told me to " git." I didn t have a cent 
 [198] 
 
STORY OF A NEGRO PEON 
 
 of money, and I wasn t feeling well, but some 
 how I managed to get a move on me. I 
 begged my way to Columbia. In two or three 
 days I ran across a man looking for laborers to 
 carry to Birmingham, and I joined his gang. 
 I have been here in the Birmingham district 
 since they released me, and I reckon I ll die 
 either in a coal mine or an iron furnace. It 
 don t make much difference which. Either is 
 better than a Georgia peon camp. And a 
 Georgia peon camp is hell itself ! 
 
 199] 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE LIFE STORY OF AN INDIAN 
 
 Ah-nen-la-de-ni, whose American name is Daniel La France 
 told his own story in neat typewritten form, and has been aided 
 only to the extent of some very slight rewriting and rearrange 
 ment. 
 
 I WAS born in Gouverneur Village, N. Y., 
 in April, 1879, during one of the periodi 
 cal wanderings of my family, and my first 
 recollection is concerning a house in Toronto, 
 Canada, in which I was living with my father 
 and mother, brother and grandmother. I 
 could not have been much more than three 
 years old at the time. 
 
 My father was a pure-blooded Indian of 
 the Mohawk tribe of the Six Nations, and our 
 home was in the St. Regis reservation in 
 Franklin County, N. Y., but we were fre 
 quently away from that place because my 
 father was an Indian medicine man, who made 
 frequent journeys, taking his family with him 
 and selling his pills and physics in various 
 towns along the border line between Canada 
 and the United States. 
 
 This house in Toronto was winter quarters 
 for us. In the summer time we lived in a tent. 
 [200] 
 
STORY OF AN INDIAN 
 
 We had the upper part of the house, while 
 some gypsies lived in the lower part. 
 
 All sorts of people came to consult the 
 " Indian doctor," and the gypsies sent them 
 upstairs to us, and mother received them, and 
 then retired into another room with my brother 
 and myself. She did not know anything about 
 my father s medicines, and seemed to hate to 
 touch them. When my father was out mother 
 was frequently asked to sell the medicines, but 
 she would not, telling the patients that they 
 must wait until the doctor came home. She 
 was not pure-blooded Indian, her father being 
 a French Canadian, while her mother, my 
 grandmother, was a pure-blooded Indian, who 
 lived with us. 
 
 What made it all the more strange that 
 mother would have nothing to do with the 
 medicines was the fact that grandmother was, 
 herself, a doctor of a different sort than my 
 father. Her remedies were probably the 
 same but in cruder form. I could have 
 learned much if I had paid attention to her, 
 because as I grew older she took me about in 
 the woods when she went there to gather herbs, 
 and she told me what roots and leaves to col 
 lect, and how to dry and prepare them and how 
 to make the extracts and what sicknesses they 
 were good for. But I was soon tired of such 
 matters, and would stray off by myself pick 
 ing the berries raspberry and blackberry, 
 strawberry and blueberry in their seasons, 
 [201 ] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 and hunting the birds and little animals with 
 my bow and arrows. So I learned very little 
 from all this lore. 
 
 My father was rather a striking figure. His 
 hair was long and black, and he wore a long 
 Prince Albert coat while in the winter quar 
 ters, and Indian costume, fringed and beaded, 
 while in the tent. His medicines were put up 
 in pill boxes and labeled bottles, and were the 
 results of knowledge that had been handed 
 down through many generations in our tribe. 
 
 My brother and I also wore long hair, and 
 were strange enough in appearance to attract 
 attention from the white people about us, but 
 mother kept us away from them as much as 
 possible. 
 
 My father was not only a doctor, but 
 also a trapper, fisherman, farmer and basket 
 maker. 
 
 The reservation in Franklin County is a 
 very beautiful place, fronting on the main St. 
 Lawrence River. Tributaries of the St. Law 
 rence wander through it, and its woods still 
 preserve their wild beauty. On this reserva 
 tion we had our permanent home in a log house 
 surrounded by land, on which we planted corn, 
 potatoes and such other vegetables as suited 
 our fancies. The house was more than fifty 
 years old. 
 
 The woods provided my father and grand 
 mother with their herbs and roots, and they 
 
STORY OF AN INDIAN 
 
 gathered there the materials for basket mak 
 ing. There were also as late as 1880 some 
 beavers, muskrats and minks to be trapped 
 and pickerel, salmon and white perch to be 
 caught in the streams. These last sources of 
 revenue for the Indians no longer exist; the 
 beavers, minks and muskrats are extinct, while 
 the mills of the ever encroaching white man 
 have filled the streams with sawdust and ban 
 ished the fish. 
 
 We were generally on the reservation in 
 early spring, planting, fishing, basket making, 
 gathering herbs and making medicine, and 
 then in the fall, when our little crop was 
 brought in, we would depart on our tour of the 
 white man s towns and cities, camping in a 
 tent on the outskirts of some place, selling our 
 wares, which included bead work that mother 
 and grandmother were clever at making, and 
 moving on as the fancy took us until cold 
 weather came, when my father would gener 
 ally build a little log house in some wood, plas 
 tering the chinks with moss and clay, and there 
 we would abide, warm amid ice and snow, till 
 it was time to go to the reservation again. 
 
 One might imagine that with such a great 
 variety of occupations we would soon become 
 rich especially as we raised much of our own 
 food and seldom had any rent to pay but this 
 was not the case. I do not know how much 
 my father charged for his treatment of sick 
 [203] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 people, but his prices were probably moderate, 
 and as to our trade in baskets, furs and bead 
 work, we were not any better business people 
 than Indians generally. 
 
 Nevertheless, it was a happy life that we 
 led, and lack of money troubled us little. We 
 were healthy and our wants were f ew r . 
 
 Father did not always take his family with 
 him on his expeditions, and as I grew older I 
 passed a good deal of time on the reservation. 
 Here, though the people farmed and dressed 
 somewhat after the fashion of the white man, 
 they still kept up their ancient tribal cere 
 monies, laws and customs, and preserved their 
 language. The general government was in 
 the hands of twelve chiefs, elected for life on 
 account of supposed merit and ability. 
 
 There were four Indian day schools on the 
 reservation, all taught by young white women. 
 I sometimes went to one of these, but learned 
 practically nothing. The teachers did not un 
 derstand our language, and we knew nothing 
 of theirs, so much progress was not possible. 
 
 Our lessons consisted of learning to repeat 
 all the English words in the books that were 
 given us. Thus, after a time, some of us, my 
 self included, became able to pronounce all 
 the words in the Fifth and Sixth readers, and 
 took great pride in the exercise. But we did 
 not know what any of the words meant. 
 
 Our arithmetic stopped at simple numera 
 tion, and the only other exercise we had was 
 [204] 
 
STORY OF AN INDIAN 
 
 in writing, which, with us, resolved itself into 
 a contest of speed without regard to the form 
 of letters. 
 
 The Indian parents were disgusted with the 
 schools, and did not urge their children to at 
 tend, and when the boys and girls did go of 
 their own free will it was more for sociability 
 and curiosity than from a desire to learn. 
 Many of the boys and girls were so large that 
 the teachers could not preserve discipline, and 
 we spent much of our time in the school in 
 drawing pictures of each other and the teacher, 
 and in exchanging in our own language such 
 remarks as led to a great deal of fighting when 
 we regained the open air. Often boys went 
 home with their clothing torn off them in 
 these fights. 
 
 Under the circumstances, it is not strange 
 that the attendance at these schools was poor 
 and irregular, and that on many days the 
 teachers sat alone in the schoolhouses because 
 there were no scholars. Since that time a 
 great change has taken place, and there are 
 now good schools on the reservation. 
 
 I was an official of one of the schools, to the 
 extent that I chopped wood for it, but I did 
 not often attend its sessions, and when I was 
 thirteen years of age, and had been nominally 
 a pupil of the school for six years, I was still 
 so ignorant of English that I only knew one 
 sentence, which was common property among 
 us alleged pupils: 
 
 [205] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 " Please, ma am, can I go out? " pro 
 nounced: " Peezumgannigowout I " 
 
 When I was thirteen a great change oc 
 curred, for the honey-tongued agent of a new 
 Government contract Indian school appeared 
 on the reservation, drumming up boys and 
 girls for his institution. He made a great im 
 pression by going from house to house and 
 describing, through an interpreter, all the 
 glories and luxuries of the new place, the good 
 food and teaching, the fine uniforms, the 
 playground and its sports and toys. 
 
 All that a wild Indian boy had to do, ac 
 cording to the agent, was to attend this school 
 for a year or two, and he was sure to emerge 
 therefrom with all the knowledge and skill of 
 the white man. 
 
 My father was away from the reservation at 
 the time of the agent s arrival, but mother and 
 grandmother heard him with growing wonder 
 and interest, as I did myself, and we all finally 
 decided that I ought to go to this wonderful 
 school and become a great man perhaps at 
 last a chief of our tribe. Mother said that it 
 was good for Indians to be educated, as white 
 men were " so tricky with papers." 
 
 I had, up to this time, been leading a very 
 happy life, helping with the planting, trap 
 ping, fishing, basket making and playing all 
 the games of my tribe which is famous at 
 lacrosse but the desire to travel and see new 
 things and the hope of finding an easy way to 
 [206] 
 
STORY OF AN INDIAN 
 
 much knowledge in the wonderful school out 
 weighed my regard for my home and its joys, 
 and so I was one of the twelve boys who in 
 1892 left our reservation to go to the Govern 
 ment contract school for Indians, situated in a 
 large Pennsylvania city and known as the 
 - Institute. 
 
 Till I arrived at the school I had never 
 heard that there were any other Indians in the 
 country other than those of our reservation, 
 and I did not know that our tribe was called 
 Mohawk. My people called themselves " Ga- 
 nien-ge-ha-ga," meaning " People of the 
 Beacon Stone," and Indians generally they 
 termed " On-give-hon-we," meaning " Real- 
 men " or " Primitive People." 
 
 My surprise, therefore, was great when I 
 found myself surrounded in the school yard 
 by strange Indian boys belonging to tribes of 
 which I had never heard, and when it was said 
 that my people were only the " civilized Mo 
 hawks," I at first thought that " Mohawk " 
 was a nickname and fought any boy who called 
 me by it. 
 
 I had left home for the school with a great 
 deal of hope, having said to my mother: " Do 
 not worry. I shall soon return to you a bet 
 ter boy and with a good education! " Little 
 did I dre am that that was the last time I would 
 ever see her kind face. She died two years 
 later, and I was not allowed to go to her 
 funeral. 
 
 [207] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 The journey to Philadelphia had been very 
 enjoyable and interesting. It was my first 
 ride on the " great steel horse," as the Indians 
 called the railway train, but my frame of mind 
 changed as soon as my new home was reached. 
 
 The first thing that happened to me and to 
 all other freshly caught young redskins when 
 we arrived at the institution was a bath of a 
 particularly disconcerting sort. We were 
 used to baths of the swimming variety, for on 
 the reservation we boys spent a good deal of 
 our time in the water, but this first bath at the 
 institution was different. For one thing, it 
 was accompanied by plenty of soap, and for 
 another thing, it was preceded by a haircut 
 that is better described as a crop. 
 
 The little newcomer, thus cropped and de 
 livered over to the untender mercies of larger 
 Indian boys of tribes different from his own, 
 who laughingly attacked his bare skin with 
 very hot water and very hard scrubbing 
 brushes, was likely to emerge from the en 
 counter with a clean skin but perturbed mind. 
 When, in addition, he was prevented from 
 expressing his feelings in the only language he 
 knew, what wonder if some rules of the school 
 were broken. 
 
 After the astonishing bath the newcomer 
 was freshly clothed from head to foot, while 
 the raiment in which he came from the reser 
 vation was burned or buried. Thereafter he 
 was released by the torturers, and could be 
 [208] 
 
STORY OF AN INDIAN 
 
 seen sidling about the corridors like a lonely 
 crab, silent, sulky, immaculately clean and 
 most disconsolate. 
 
 After my bath and reclothing and after hav 
 ing had my name taken down in the records I 
 was assigned to a dormitory, and began my 
 regular school life, much to my dissatisfaction. 
 The recording of my name was accompanied 
 by a change which, though it might seem 
 trifling to the teachers, was very important to 
 me. My name among my own people was 
 " Ah-nen-la-de-ni," which in English means 
 " Turning crowd " or " Turns the crowd," but 
 my family had had the name " La France " 
 bestowed on them by the French some genera 
 tions before my birth, and at the institution 
 my Indian name was discarded, and I was 
 informed that I was henceforth to be know 
 as Daniel La France. 
 
 It made me feel as if I had lost myself. I 
 had been proud of myself and my possibilities 
 as " Turns the crowd," for in spite of their civ 
 ilized surroundings the Indians of our reser 
 vation in my time still looked back to the old 
 warlike days when the Mohawks were great 
 people, but Daniel La France was to me a 
 stranger and a nobody with no possibilities. 
 It seemed as if my prospect of a chief ship had 
 vanished. I was very homesick for a long 
 time. 
 
 The dormitory to which I was assigned had 
 twenty beds in it, and was under a captain, 
 [209] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 who was one of the advanced scholars. It 
 was his duty to teach and enforce the rules of 
 the place in this room, and to report to the 
 white authorities all breaches of discipline. 
 
 Out in the school yard there was the same 
 sort of supervision. Whether at work or play, 
 we were constantly watched, and there were 
 those in authority over us. This displeased us 
 Mohawks, who were warriors at fourteen years 
 of age. 
 
 After the almost complete freedom of res 
 ervation life the cramped quarters and the dull 
 routine of the school were maddening to all us 
 strangers. There were endless rules for us to 
 study and abide by, and hardest of all was the 
 rule against speaking to each other in our own 
 language. We must speak English or re 
 main silent, and those who knew no English 
 were forced to be dumb or else break the rules 
 in secret. This last we did quite frequently, 
 and were punished, when detected, by being 
 made to stand in the " public hall " for a long 
 time or to march about the yard while the 
 other boys were at play. 
 
 There were about 115 boys at this school, and 
 three miles from us was a similar Government 
 school for Indian girls, which had nearly as 
 many inmates. 
 
 The system when I first went to this school 
 contemplated every Indian boy learning a 
 trade as well as getting a grammar school edu 
 cation. Accordingly we went to school in the 
 [210] 
 
STORY OF AN INDIAN 
 
 morning and to work in the afternoon, or the 
 other way about. 
 
 There were shoemakers, blacksmiths, tin 
 smiths, farmers, printers, all sorts of mechan 
 ics among us. I was set to learn the tailoring 
 trade, and stuck at it for two and a half years, 
 making such progress that I was about to be 
 taught cutting when I began to cough, and it 
 was said that outdoor work would be better for 
 me. Accordingly I went, during the vacation 
 of 1895, up into Bucks County, Pa., and 
 worked on a farm with benefit to my health, 
 though I was not a very successful farmer 
 the methods of the people who employed me 
 were quite different from those of our reser 
 vation. 
 
 Though I was homesick soon after coming 
 to the Institute I afterward recovered so com 
 pletely that I did not care to go back to the 
 reservation at vacation time, though at first 
 I was offered the opportunity. I spent my 
 vacations working for Quaker farmers. All 
 the money I earned at this and other occupa 
 tions was turned into the Institute bank cred 
 ited to my account, and I drew from thence 
 money for my expenses and for special oc 
 casions like Christmas and the Fourth of 
 July. 
 
 When I returned from Bucks County in 
 1895 I found that some of the boys of my 
 class were attending the public school outside 
 the institution, and on application I was al- 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 lowed to join them, and finally graduated there 
 from the grammar department, though held 
 back by the fact that I was spending half my 
 .time in some workshop. I never went back to 
 tailoring, except to finish a few suits that 
 were left when the Institute shop closed, but I 
 worked for a time at printing and afterward 
 at making cooking apparatuses. 
 
 After I had finished with the grammar 
 school I got a situation in the office of a lawyer 
 while still residing in the institution. I also 
 took a course of stenography and typewriting 
 at the Philadelphia Young Men s Christian 
 Association. So practically I was only a 
 boarder at the Institute during the latter part 
 of my eight years stay there. 
 
 Nevertheless, I was valuable to the authori 
 ties there for certain purposes, and when I 
 wanted to leave and go to Carlisle school, 
 which I had heard was very good, I could not 
 obtain permission. 
 
 This Institute, as I have said, was a con 
 tract Government school for teaching Indians. 
 The great exertions made by the agent, who 
 visited our reservation in the first place, were 
 caused by the fact that a certain number of 
 Indian children had to be obtained before the 
 school could be opened. I do not think that 
 the Indian parents signed any papers, but we 
 boys and girls were supposed to remain at 
 the school for five years. After that, as I 
 
STORY OF AN INDIAN 
 
 understand it, we were free from any obli 
 gation. 
 
 The reason why I and others like me were 
 kept at the school was that we served as show 
 scholars as results of the system and evi 
 dences of the good work the Institute was 
 doing. 
 
 When I first went to the school the superin 
 tendent was a clergyman, honest and well 
 meaning, and during the first five years there 
 after while he remained in charge the general 
 administration was honest, but when he went 
 away the school entered upon a period of 
 changing administrations and general demor 
 alization. New superintendents succeeded 
 each other at short intervals, and some of them 
 were violent and cruel, while all seemed to us 
 boys more or less dishonest. Boys who had 
 been inmates of the school for eight years were 
 shown to visitors as results of two years tui 
 tion, and shoes and other articles bought in 
 Philadelphia stores were hung up on the walls 
 at public exhibition or concert and exhibited 
 as the work of us boys. I was good for var 
 ious show purposes. I could sing and play 
 a musical instrument, and I wrote essays which 
 were thought to be very good. The authori 
 ties also were fond of displaying me as one 
 who had come to the school a few years before 
 unable to speak a word of English. 
 
 Some of my verses that visitors admired 
 were as follows : 
 
 [213] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 THE INDIAN S CONCEPTION 
 When first the white man s ship appeared 
 
 To Redmen of this wooded strand, 
 The Redmen gazed, and vastly feared, 
 
 That they could not those "birds" withstand: 
 As they mistook the ships for birds. 
 
 And this ill omen came quite true 
 For later came more ; hungrier birds. 
 
 SLEEP SONG FOR THE PAPOOSE 
 
 Look, little papoose, your cradle s unbound, 
 Its strappings let loose for you to be bound. 
 
 Refrain : Oh little papoose ! 
 
 On cradle-board bound ; 
 My swinging papoose, 
 Your slumber be sound. 
 
 Tawn little papoose, your mother is in : 
 
 She s roasting the goose on the sharp wooden pin. 
 
 Ref. 
 
 Bound little papoose, your father is out ; 
 He s hunting the moose that makes you grow stout. 
 
 Ref. 
 
 Brawn little papoose, great hunter shall be ; 
 And trap the great moose behind the pine tree. 
 
 Ref. 
 
 My little papoose, swing, swing from the bough. 
 Grow; then you ll get loose put plumes on your 
 brow ! Ref. 
 
 So little papoose, dream, dream as you sleep ; 
 While friendly old spruce shall watch o er you keep. 
 
 Ref. 
 
 Now, little papoose, swing on to your rest. 
 My red browed papoose, swing east and swing west. 
 
 Ref. 
 
STORY OF AN INDIAN 
 
 Over the superintendent of the Institute 
 there was a Board of Lady Managers with a 
 Lady Directress, and these visited us occa 
 sionally, but there was no use laying any com 
 plaint before them. They were arbitrary 
 and almost unapproachable. Matters went 
 from bad to worse, and when the Spanish- 
 American War broke out, and my employer, 
 the lawyer, resolved to go to it in the Red 
 Cross service, and offered to take me with him 
 I greatly desired to go, but was not allowed. 
 I suppose that the lawyer could easily have 
 obtained my liberty, but did not wish to antag 
 onize the Lady Managers, who considered any 
 criticism of the institution as an attack on 
 their own infallibility. 
 
 While waiting for a new situation after the 
 young lawyer had gone away, I heard of the 
 opportunities there were, for young men who 
 could become good nurses, and of the place 
 where such training could be secured. I de 
 sired to go there, and presented this ambition 
 to the superintendent, who at first encouraged 
 me to the extent of giving a fair recommenda 
 tion. But when the matter was laid before 
 the Head Directress in the shape of an appli 
 cation for admission ready to be sent by me to 
 the authorities of the Nurses Training School, 
 she flatly refused it consideration without giv 
 ing any good reason for so doing. 
 
 She, however, made the mistake of return 
 ing the application to me, and it was amended 
 [215] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 later and sent to the Training School in Man 
 hattan. It went out through a secret channel, 
 as all the regular mail of the institution s in 
 mates, whether outgoing or incoming, was 
 opened and examined in the office of the su 
 perintendent. 
 
 A few days before the 4th of July, 1899, 
 the answer to my application arrived in the 
 form of notice to report at the school for the 
 entrance examination. This communication 
 found me in the school jail, where I had been 
 placed for the first time in all my life at the 
 institution. 
 
 I had been charged with throwing a night 
 gown out of the dormitory window, and truly 
 it was my nightgown that was found in the 
 school yard, for it had my number upon it. 
 But I never threw it out of the window. I 
 believe that one of the official underlings did 
 that in order to found upon it a charge against 
 me, for the school authorities had discovered 
 that I and other boys of the institution had 
 gone to members of the Indian Rights Asso 
 ciation and had made complaint of conditions 
 in the school, and that an investigation was 
 coming. They, therefore, desired to disgrace 
 and punish me as one of the leaders of those 
 who were exposing them. 
 
 I heard about the letter from the Training 
 
 School, and was very anxious to get away, but 
 
 my liberation in time to attend that entrance 
 
 examination seemed impossible. The days 
 
 [216] 
 
STORY OF AN INDIAN 
 
 passed, and when the 4th of July arrived I was 
 still in the school jail, which was the rear part 
 of a stable. 
 
 At one o clock my meal of bread and water 
 was brought to me by the guard detailed to 
 look after my safe keeping. After he had 
 delivered this to me he went outside, leaving 
 the door open, but standing there. The only 
 window of that stable was very small, very 
 high on the wall and was protected by iron 
 bars but here w r as the door left open. 
 
 I fled, and singularly enough the guard had 
 his back turned and was contemplating nature 
 with great assiduity. As soon as I got out of 
 the inclosure I dashed after and caught a 
 trolley car, and a few hours later I was in New 
 York. 
 
 That was the last I saw of the Institute and 
 it soon afterward went out of existence, but I 
 heard that as a result of the demand for an 
 investigation the Superintendent of Indian 
 Schools had descended on it upon a given day 
 and found everything beautiful for her visit 
 had been announced. But she returned again 
 the next day, when it was supposed that she 
 had left the city, and then things were not 
 beautiful at all, and much that we had told 
 about was proven. 
 
 I had $15 in the Lincoln Institute bank when 
 I ran away, but I knew that was past crying 
 for and I depended on $3 that I had in my 
 [217] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 pocket and with which I got a railroad ticket 
 to New York. 
 
 I was assisted in my escape and afterward 
 by a steadfast friend and had comparatively 
 plain sailing, as I passed the entrance exam 
 ination easily and was admitted to the Train 
 ing School on probation. 
 
 The Institute people wrote and wrote after 
 me, but could not get me back or cause the 
 Training School to turn me out, and they soon 
 had their own troubles to attend to. The 
 school was closed in 1900 as the Government 
 cut off all appropriations. 
 
 When I first entered the Training School on 
 probation I was assigned to the general surgi 
 cal ward and there took my first lessons in the 
 duties of a nurse, being taught how to receive 
 a patient whether walking or carried how to 
 undress him and put him in bed, to make a 
 list of his property, to make a neat bundle of 
 his clothes, to enter his name and particulars 
 about him in the records, and how properly to 
 discharge patients, returning their property 
 and clothes, and all about bed making, straight 
 ening out the ward, making bandages and 
 scores of other details. I studied all books on 
 nursing and attended all the lectures. Bed 
 making, as I soon found, was an art in itself 
 and a most important art, and so in re 
 gard to other details, all of which may look 
 trivial to an outsider, but which count in san 
 itation. 
 
 [218] 
 
STORY OF AN INDIAN 
 
 This new life was very much to my liking. 
 I was free, for one thing, and was working 
 for myself with good hope of accomplishing 
 something. 
 
 Our evenings were our own after our work 
 was done, and though we had to return to the 
 nurses quarters at 10.30 o clock at the latest, 
 that was not a hardship and we could enjoy 
 some of the pleasures of the city. While in 
 the Training School I received my board and 
 $10 a month pay, a very decided gain over the 
 Institute. Besides, the food and quarters 
 were far better. 
 
 After I had been for twelve months in the 
 Training School I was allowed to go to our 
 reservation for a ten days vacation. It was 
 the first time in nine years that I had seen my 
 old home and I found things much changed. 
 My mother and grandmother were dead, and 
 there had died also a little sister whom I had 
 never seen. My father was alive and still 
 wandering as of old. Many of my playmates 
 had scattered and I felt like a stranger. But 
 it was very pleasant to renew acquaintance 
 with the places and objects that had been 
 familiar in my childhood the woods, the 
 streams, the bridge that used to look so big 
 and was now so small to me the swimming 
 hole, and with the friends who remained. 
 
 I found that our people had progressed. 
 The past and its traditions were losing their 
 
 [219] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 hold on them and white man s ways were 
 gaining. 
 
 During the visit I lived at the house of my 
 brother, who is ten years older than I and is 
 a farmer and manufacturer of snow shoes and 
 lacrosse sticks. The ten days passed all too 
 quickly. 
 
 Since that time I have paid one other and 
 much longer visit to the reservation and have 
 quite renewed touch with my own people, who 
 are always glad to see me and who express 
 much astonishment at the proficiency I show in 
 my native tongue. Most of the boys who are 
 away from the reservation for three or four 
 years forget our language, but, as I have said, 
 there were some of us at the Institute who 
 practiced in secret. 
 
 What I saw in the reservation convinced me 
 that our people are not yet ready for citizen 
 ship and that they desire and should be allowed 
 to retain their reservation. They are greatly 
 obliged to those who have aided them in defeat 
 ing the Vreeland bill. The whole community 
 is changing and when the change advances a 
 little further it will be time to open the reser 
 vation gates and let in all the world. 
 
 Of course, so far as the old Indians are con 
 cerned, they will not and cannot change. They 
 have given up the idea that the Mohawks will 
 ever again be a great people, but they can 
 not alter their habits and it only remains for 
 
STORY OF AN INDIAN 
 
 them to pass away. They want to end their 
 days in comfort and peace, like the cat by the 
 fireside that is all. 
 
 To the white man these old people may not 
 seem important, but to us young Indians they 
 are very important. The family tie is strong 
 among Indians. White people are aggra 
 vated because so many young Indians, after 
 their schooling, go back to their reservations 
 and are soon seen dressed and living just like 
 the others. But they must do that if they 
 desire to keep in touch with the others. 
 
 Supposing the young Indian who has been 
 to school did not return to his father s house, 
 but stayed out among the white men. The 
 old folks would say "He won t look at us now. 
 He thinks himself above us." And all par 
 ents who observed this would add: "We 
 won t send our children to school. They 
 would never come back to us." 
 
 The young Indians are right to go back to 
 the reservation and right to dress and act like 
 the others, to cherish the old folks and make 
 their way easy, and not to forget their tribe. 
 It is a mistake to think that they soon lose all 
 that they have learned in the school. Com 
 pare the school Indians with those who have 
 not been at school and a very marked differ 
 ence is found. You find on their farms im 
 proved methods and in their houses pianos, 
 which their wives, who have also been at school, 
 can play. All these boys and girls who have 
 
 ] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 been to school are as missionaries to the res 
 ervation. 
 
 The schools are doing a great deal of good 
 to the Indians and are changing them fast, 
 and there is another force at work occupied 
 with another change. On all the reservations 
 the pure blooded Indians are becoming rarer 
 and rarer, and the half and quarter breeds 
 more and more common technically they are 
 Indians. Thus though the tribe is increasing, 
 the real Indians are decreasing. They arp 
 becoming more and more white. On our 
 reserve now you can see boys and girls with 
 light hair and blue eyes, children of white 
 fathers and Indian mothers. They have the 
 rosy cheeks of English children, but they can 
 not speak a word of English. 
 
 After returning to the Training School I 
 completed the two years course and after 
 ward took a special course in massage treat 
 ment for paralysis. 
 
 I have since been employed principally in 
 private practice. I like the work and the 
 pay, though the former is very exacting. 
 The nurse must be very clean and very regular 
 in his habits; he must be firm and yet good- 
 tempered able to command the patient when 
 necessary. He must maintain a cheerful atti 
 tude of mind and demeanor toward a patient, 
 who is often most abusive and ill-tempered. 
 He must please the doctor, the patient s 
 family, and to as great an extent as pos- 
 
STORY OF AN INDIAN 
 
 sible the patient himself. He must be watch 
 ful without appearing to watch. He must 
 be strong and healthy. Nursing is tiresome 
 and confining. Nevertheless I console myself 
 with the remunerations financial and educa 
 tional, and with the thought that my present 
 occupation, assisting in saving lives, is an 
 advance beyond that of my scalp-taking an 
 cestors. 
 
 I have been asked as to prejudice against 
 Indians among white people. There is some, 
 but I don t think it amounts to much. Per 
 haps there were some in my Training School 
 class who objected to being associated with an 
 Indian. I never perceived it, and I don t 
 think I have suffered anywhere from preju 
 dice. 
 
 I have suffered many times from being 
 mistaken for a Japanese. 
 
 Some people when they find I am an Indian 
 seek me out and have much to say to me, but 
 it is generally merely for curiosity and I do 
 not encourage them. On the other hand I 
 have good, steadfast, old-time friends among 
 white people. 
 
 When I first began to learn I thought that 
 when I knew English and could read and write 
 it would be enough. But the further I have 
 climbed the higher the hills in front of me have 
 grown. A few years ago the point I have 
 reached would have seemed very high. Now 
 it seems low, and I am studying much in my 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 spare time. I don t know what the result 
 will be. 
 
 Some ask me whether or not I will ever 
 return to my tribe. How can I tell? The 
 call from the woods and fields is very clear and 
 moving, especially in the pleasant summer 
 days. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE LIFE STORY OF AN IGORROTE CHIEF 
 
 The genial exponent of the simple life who furnished the 
 following article by talking through an interpreter, was a large, 
 plump Filipino, whose age was probably forty-eight. He was 
 clad in two necklaces, two bracelets, some tattoo marks and a 
 loin cloth. He speaks no English and therefore only his ideas 
 and statements of fact are given. In regard to figures he is 
 quite impressionistic, "a thousand" representing any very- 
 large number. He was the leader of the band of Igorrotes at 
 Coney Island when he told this story of his life. 
 
 I AM Chief Fomoaley, of the Bontoc Igor- 
 rotes, and I have come to the United 
 States with my people in order to show 
 the white people our civilization. The white 
 man that lives in our town asked me to come, 
 and said that Americans were anxious to see 
 us. Since we have been here great crowds of 
 white people have come and watched us, and 
 they seemed pleased. 
 
 We are the oldest people in the world. All 
 others come from us. The first man and 
 woman there were two women lived on our 
 mountains and their children lived there after 
 them, till they grew bad and God sent a great 
 flood that drowned them, all except seven, who 
 escaped in a canoe and landed, after the flood 
 went down, on a high mountain. 
 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 Three times a year our old men call the 
 people together and tell them the old stories 
 of how God made the world and then the 
 animals, and lastly men. These stories have 
 been handed down in that way from the very 
 beginning, so that we know they are true. 
 The white men have some stories, too, like 
 that. Perhaps they may have heard them 
 from one of us. At any rate, they are wrong 
 about some things. There was a white man 
 who told us that the place where the canoe 
 landed after the flood was a high mountain on 
 the other side of the world, but we know bet 
 ter, because we can see the mountain from our 
 town. It is close by us and always has been 
 there, and our old men point it out when they 
 tell the story. 
 
 I was born in a hut in that town. I don t 
 remember my father. He was killed in bat 
 tle when I was very small. I had four broth 
 ers and three sisters. We did no work except 
 a little in the fields, where the rice and sweet 
 potatoes grow, or getting fruit in the woods. 
 I swam and ran and played with the other 
 boys. We had small hatchets and spears ancf 
 bolos made of wood, and we hunted animals 
 and birds and fought each _ other. 
 
 When I grew up to be a man I went out 
 and took a head, and then I got married. 
 
 Among our people a young man must have 
 taken a head before he is made a warrior. Our 
 young women will not marry a man unless he 
 
STORY OF AN IGORROTE CHIEF 
 
 has taken a head. We take the heads of our 
 enemies. Sometimes these are the people of 
 some other Igorrote town, sometimes they are 
 the little black people who shoot with poisoned 
 arrows, sometimes it may be some family that 
 lives close by and has taken a head from our 
 family. We used to get heads from the 
 Spaniards when they were in our island, but 
 now they have gone away. The Americans 
 don t like us to take heads, but what can we 
 do? Other people take heads from us. We 
 have always done it. The women won t marry 
 our men if they do not take heads. 
 
 I got my head among the black people by 
 waiting near a spring until a man came to 
 drink. I shouted, and he shot at me with 
 arrows, but I caught them on my shield. 
 Then I speared him and cut off his head with 
 rny bolo. 
 
 When I returned to my town I went straight 
 to the house where the girl lived, but she would 
 not look at me till I showed her my head. 
 That pleased her very much, because it showed 
 that I was a warrior and could kill enemies. 
 So we were married. 
 
 Soon after this there came a white man to 
 Bontoc, who said that we must go and work 
 for his people and give them things our buf 
 faloes, our rice and sugar cane and sweet pota 
 toes. They were not going to do anything 
 for us. 
 
 This white man was a Spaniard. Our 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 chiefs laughed at him and said that they owed 
 us things instead of us owing them. We were 
 there for a thousand lives before the Span 
 iards came, and they were in our island yet. 
 We never tried to make them pay. 
 
 The Spaniards went away angry, but came 
 back soon with a thousand others to fight. 
 And all the men of Bontoc went out to meet 
 them. 
 
 Our town is far up in the mountains and 
 there are no roads, only paths through the 
 woods, and the Spaniards could only come a 
 few at a time. We waited for them in the 
 narrow places and rolled stones down on them 
 and killed plenty. Some others we killed with 
 spears and some with bolos. They burned 
 some of our houses and spoiled some of our 
 fields, but they had to go away and we paid 
 them nothing. We got nearly a hundred 
 heads. 
 
 The Spaniards came again and burned more 
 houses and spoiled more fields, but we killed 
 more of them and they stopped coming. 
 
 We did not owe them anything ; why should 
 we pay what they call taxes? We were the 
 owners of the island. We let the Spaniards 
 come because there is plenty of room for 
 everybody. 
 
 They caught a few Igorrotes and were very 
 bad to them, whipping them to make them 
 work. Some they whipped to death because 
 our people will not work. They do not like 
 
STORY OF AN IGORROTE CHIEF 
 
 it. God never meant us to work. That is 
 why he makes our food and clothing grow all 
 about us on the trees and bushes. 
 
 Our God is the great God who lives in the 
 sky and shines through the sun. He makes 
 our rice and sugar cane grow and looks out 
 for us he gives us the heads of our enemies. 
 We have heard of the white man s God, but 
 ours is better. 
 
 A long time ago, a white man all dressed in 
 black came to our town and told us about the 
 white man s God. He was small and fat. He 
 could not run or jump, he could hardly walk 
 and there was no hair on the top of his head. 
 He had a book with him and he told us many 
 things that were in that book. 
 
 Our Chief asked if his God looked like him. 
 He said "yes "; we did not think he could be 
 a good looking God. We never saw our God, 
 but he must be much better looking than that 
 man was. 
 
 That man told us that God had a son who 
 
 died for us, and that we ought to leave our 
 
 God and go to him. But our Chief said: 
 
 We did not want him to die for us. We 
 
 can die for ourselves." 
 
 No, we will be true to our own God, who 
 has always been good to us. We never give 
 him anything. How could a man give any 
 thing to God? 
 
 The fat white man told us that if we were 
 very good and did what he said, we would go 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 to the white man s heaven, up in the sky. He 
 said that people there could fly like birds, and 
 that they spent all their time singing praises 
 of the white man s God. 
 
 We did not think we should care to go there. 
 Our own heaven, where the fruit is always 
 ripe arid the game is plenty, suits us far better. 
 
 The fat white man who told us about God 
 and heaven was a Spaniard. He said that 
 God had sent him to us but we didn t believe 
 it. A man from our town had been among 
 the Spaniards and he said that they told 
 lies. 
 
 If the Spaniard s God is good, why did he 
 not keep them out of our country. They can 
 not be good men or else they would not want 
 to make us work for them and they would not 
 try to kill us. When the Spaniards came to 
 fight us they had guns that only went off in 
 long times. They had to put something in 
 at the top of the gun and poke it down with 
 a stick before they could shoot. 
 
 We laughed at them; our spears were so 
 much quicker. 
 
 The Americans came and drove the Span 
 iards away. They have guns that go bang- 
 bang-bang-bang, as fast as a man can talk. 
 They are our friends, for they do not burn our 
 houses or kill our people or whip them to make 
 them work. That is the reason why we are 
 over here, because the American people are 
 our friends and want to learn our civilization, 
 
STORY OF AN IGORROTE CHIEF 
 
 so that they, too, will not have to work. Our 
 civilization is so much older than theirs that it 
 is no wonder if they do not know some things. 
 
 The first American that came to our town 
 made us laugh, though we liked him. He 
 was very kind and gave us many presents, and 
 all he wanted in return was beetles and bugs 
 and birds and bats and snakes. We watched 
 to see if he would eat them, but he did not. He 
 put them in boxes and bottles, and when he 
 went away he had enough to load two buffa 
 loes. He spent days watching the ants and 
 bees. 
 
 The children of the place followed him, and 
 he made us all laugh many times because he 
 chased butterflies with a net on a long stick. 
 He could run fast and caught many. 
 
 Some of our men who had been in the big 
 city where the Americans live, said that the 
 Americans often make themselves mad by 
 things that they drank. They ran about the 
 place shouting or fighting till they fell down 
 asleep. 
 
 This man who came among us must have 
 been mad, but he did no harm, so we liked to 
 have him among us. When he could get any 
 one to interpret for him he was always asking 
 questions. He wanted to know all about our 
 religion and about the animals in the forest. 
 He had a book and a little stick that made a 
 black mark, and when we told him anything 
 he made black marks in the book, and he said 
 f 231 1 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 that these marks would always tell him what 
 we had said. That was part of his madness. 
 
 One day he went to the chief with a paper 
 on which he had been making a picture of the 
 country, showing our town and the moun 
 tains. He wanted to know where the river 
 went to after it left the mountains. The chief 
 showed which way it went for a day s journey, 
 but he wanted to know where it went after 
 that. But the chief said : 
 
 What does it matter where the river 
 goes?" 
 
 He was very mad, for he said that the 
 world is round and that the sun does not go 
 round it. We know better than that, because 
 we can see the sun moving, and besides our old 
 men have told us the story of those things that 
 has come down to us from the very beginning. 
 
 If he was not mad, why should he, a 
 stranger, be troubled about where the river 
 ran? It was not his river. It was our river, 
 and if we did not care, what did it matter to 
 him. 
 
 An American came to us about two years 
 ago. He was a very good and kind man. He 
 gave us plenty of beads and looking-glasses 
 and brass wire, and he wanted some men and 
 women to go with him to America. He 
 wanted enough to go with him to a place 
 where all the American people were gathered,* 
 that they might build a village and show our 
 
 * The St. Louis Exposition, 
 f 939 1 
 
STORY OF AN IGORROTE CHIEF 
 
 ways of living. He got plenty of Bontoc 
 men and women to go, and when they came 
 back they had so many wonders to tell us that 
 it took six of them three days and three nights, 
 standing up before our people talking all the 
 time, and then they said that they had forgot 
 ten or left out much. 
 
 They said that the Americans had small 
 suns, so many that they could not be counted, 
 and these made the whole country light on the 
 darkest night. They said that the people 
 traveled about in houses on wheels, and these 
 houses went of themselves like flying birds 
 with all the people in them. They told us that 
 many of the Americans houses were as tall 
 as the tallest trees. We didn t think that was 
 good, because who would want to climb a tree? 
 
 All the time that the travelers were telling 
 of the wonders that they had seen a great feast 
 was going on in our town. It was the great 
 est feast ever heard of among us. The people 
 of the other towns were all invited. One hun 
 dred and fifty buffaloes were killed for the 
 feast, and there were pigs, goats and all sorts 
 of fowls, as well as sweet potatoes, rice, fruit 
 and nuts, and the chiefs ate twenty-five of the 
 finest dogs. 
 
 The best dog is a male about four years of 
 age. If he is healthy and fat there is nothing 
 so good when roasted with sweet potatoes. 
 Short-haired dogs are the best. We eat dogs 
 when we are going to war because they make 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 us fierce and help us to hear, see and smell 
 well. 
 
 There was dancing every day while the big 
 feast was going on, and the people that came 
 from the other towns stayed for a week. 
 When it was all over I went away from Bon- 
 toe with a lot more men and women to come to 
 America to see all the wonders. It was the 
 first time I had ever been more than a day s 
 journey from Bontoc. We went through the 
 great forests, and it was very hot when we got 
 down from the mountains. Up in our moun 
 tains it is cool, but in the valleys so hot that 
 some of the people fall like dead. 
 
 There are no roads, but just thin paths 
 through the woods, and these are blocked with 
 creepers that have thorns on them. The w r hite 
 men went very slowly; the thorns caught them 
 and the creepers held them back as if they 
 were big snakes. It made us laugh many 
 times to see the way the white men tangled 
 themselves up in the creepers. We were 
 twenty days reaching the big water (130 
 miles), and then only half a day going the 
 same distance in a fire canoe of the white men. 
 We got to the big city of the white men where 
 the Spaniards used to be, but where our 
 friends, the Americans, now are. 
 
 We just had time to look at it and see that 
 it was very wonderful when we had to go on 
 a canoe that was as long as a man could run 
 while he held three breaths. It was so big that 
 
STORY OF AN IGORROTE CHIEF 
 
 it could have held all the people in our town. 
 There were many people in it, and they lived 
 all the time in different parts of that big canoe. 
 
 There was a place in the middle of it where 
 a great fire burned all the time ; a fire so great 
 that it looked to me like the fire that is inside 
 the burning mountain. I was afraid that it 
 would burn us all up, but the white men knew 
 how to shut it up. 
 
 It was this fire that made the canoe go. I 
 don t know how, but that was the way. We 
 went very fast all the time; just as fast at 
 night as in the daytime. We never stopped at 
 all. After the first day or two we saw no 
 land. I would never have believed there was 
 so much water. How could any man tell 
 where we were going, yet our canoe rushed 
 ahead all the time. There was a man up 
 above who told the canoe where to go. But 
 how did he know ? For many days we saw no 
 land, yet we kept on night and day. Even 
 in dark nights when there was no moon or star 
 we went on just as fast. We talked among 
 ourselves, but we could not understand how 
 the white men knew. 
 
 After a long time we came to America, and 
 then we saw city after city, all packed with 
 wonders. At every place the white people 
 crowded about us and stared as though we 
 looked very strange. We were carried for 
 many days in houses that went on wheels and 
 flew along like birds. And now it seemed as 
 [235] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 if the land would never end. We must have 
 come nearly a hundred days journey in a 
 week. But at last we reached another big 
 water again and then we stopped right on the 
 shore of this great city of Coney Island, where 
 there seems to be always feasting. 
 
 All about us there is always music, but it is 
 not good music, not so good as ours. 
 
 Great crowds of people came to see us every 
 day and we show them how we live. They are 
 good people, but they do not look well. They 
 all wear clothes, even the children. It is bad 
 that any one should wear clothes, but much 
 worse for the children. We pity them. They 
 cannot be well, unless they leave their clothes 
 off and let the wind and the sun get to their 
 skins. Perhaps they are ashamed because 
 they don t look well with their clothes off. 
 They are thin and stooping and pale. 
 
 That is because they work so much. It is 
 very foolish to work. Men who work hard 
 do not live long. 
 
 Everything we want grows in the forest; 
 we make our houses out of cane, rattan and 
 leaves, our women weave our loin cloths, and 
 we get our food from the trees and from the 
 fields of rice and sweet potatoes and sugar 
 cane. 
 
 Why cannot the Americans live like that? 
 I would tell them about our ways if I could, 
 because I feel sorry for them; they look sick 
 and they should never put clothes on the chil- 
 
STORY OF AN IGORROTE CHIEF 
 
 dren. If God had meant the children to wear 
 clothes he would have clothed them himself. 
 
 Maybe many of the people cover them 
 selves up because they know that they do not 
 look well without clothes ; they are too thin or 
 too fat, or they are crooked. That is why the 
 women hide their shapes, I suppose. But if 
 they lived as our women do they would soon 
 look as well as ours look. Our women by 
 climbing about the mountains have large 
 limbs and look handsome. 
 
 I have seen may wonders here, but we will 
 not bring any of them home to Bontoc. We 
 do not want them there. 
 
 We have the great sun and moon to light us ; 
 what do we want of your little suns? The 
 houses that fly like birds would be no good to 
 us, because we do not want to leave Bontoc. 
 
 The most wonderful thing that I have seen 
 in the United States is the stick that you talk in 
 and another man hears your voice a day s 
 journey away. I have walked all around and 
 looked at the back, but I can t see how it does 
 it. But we don t need that ; we can call as far 
 as we want to by pounding on a hollow tree 
 with a club. 
 
 This is a fine country and I like all the peo 
 ple, but I am going back to Bontoc to stay 
 there till I die. I don t know when I ll die; 
 some people with us live to be very old 
 maybe, 300 years. 
 
 [237] 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE LIFE STORY OF A SYRIAN 
 
 The following chapter is a composite. Three young Syrians 
 of Washington Street, New York, each lent a part of his life 
 to the making of it, in order that the story might be nearly repre 
 sentative of the average Syrian immigrant. 
 
 HHE house in which I was born was situ- 
 
 ^ ated in a little hamlet about half way up 
 
 one of the spurs of the southern part of the 
 
 Lebanon mountain range at an elevation of 
 
 something like 6,000 feet. 
 
 It was a house of two rooms, the largest of 
 which was nearly twenty feet square and had 
 a window of glass. It was a small window 
 with four small panes in it. This with the 
 door gave light by day, and at night a large 
 stone lamp blazed. 
 
 The walls of the house were of rough stones 
 and the floor of hard clay, covered over with 
 skins of sheep and goats. Our house sat on 
 a terrace and its front yard was the roof of a 
 neighbor s house, while its own roof was the 
 front yard of another neighbor s house on the 
 first terrace above. The roofs are of thick 
 clay carried on wooden beams and branches. 
 These Lebanon hamlets come down the moun 
 tains in steps and the streets are like ladders. 
 [238] 
 
STORY OF A SYRIAN 
 
 From our front yard, where some orange 
 and fig trees grew, we had a fine view of the 
 western end of the Mediterranean Sea, which 
 looked very close but really was twenty miles 
 away. We could see ships more than fifty 
 miles distant from us. 
 
 We were within ten miles of a fine grove of 
 the famous cedars of Lebanon and only a 
 day s journey from Baalbec, where are the 
 ruins that Americans think so wonderful, but 
 which did not interest us at all. Baalbec lies 
 over the mountains inland, w r hile at about 
 equal distance from us on the seacoast lies 
 Beirut, where the Governor of the Lebanon 
 district resides. 
 
 Lebanon district, which is only 87 miles 
 long, has a sort of independent government 
 protected by the great Powers of Europe. 
 The Pasha, though dependent on the Sultan, 
 is a Christian, and we never see Turkish sol 
 diers. If a small body of Turkish soldiers 
 went into Lebanon they would never get out 
 a^ain. There have been no outrages in the dis 
 trict since the Druses, helped by the Turks, be 
 gan a general massacre of Maronites in 1860. 
 They killed 35,000 before the Powers in 
 terfered and established the new form of 
 independent government, which many of us 
 believe is worse than the old Turkish domina 
 tion, as all power is in the hands of the Mar- 
 onite priests and monks, of whom there are 
 nearly 12,000 in a population of less than 
 [239] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 200,000, and they are very corrupt and grind 
 the people unmercifully. 
 
 Almost all the Syrians in New York, about 
 5,000 in number, have come here during the 
 past twenty years, attracted by what they have 
 heard of America and driven out by the Mar- 
 onite priests misrule. 
 
 The Maronites are Roman Catholics, and 
 the Patriarch, who is their ruler, obeys the 
 Pope of Rome. The Jesuits are very active 
 in the district, and within twenty years Amer 
 ican Protestant missionaries, with headquar 
 ters at Beirut, have established many schools 
 and missions and their influence has grown and 
 is growing. Where they devote themselves to 
 education they do a great deal of good, but 
 where they engraft the theological subtleties 
 of Protestant sects on the already sufficiently 
 complex religious growth of Lebanon they 
 produce as much harm and confusion as the 
 Jesuits. Van Dyke as an educator did fine 
 work and his name is sacred in Syria to-day. 
 Most of the people in Lebanon district now 
 are Maronites, but there is a large minority of 
 Greek Christians and Mohammedans. 
 
 The Maronite clergy own one-third of the 
 land in the Lebanon district. They are un- 
 taxed and have many monopolies. Nomi 
 nally their wealth is for the poor, but actually 
 the poor man is lucky if he makes a bare liv 
 ing. Everything works to keep him down, no 
 matter how clever and industrious he may be. 
 [ 240 ] 
 
STORY OF A SYRIAN 
 
 The rich men who own the land hire those 
 who can t get land, agreeing to pay them from 
 twenty to twenty-five per cent, of the value 
 of crop raised. At the end of the season by 
 various swindles this is reduced to about eight 
 per cent., the rich man swearing falsely con 
 cerning the amount received for the crop. 
 The poor men out of their small share have to 
 pay a government tax that amounts to a tenth 
 of all that they possess. They cannot get re 
 dress from the courts because these are cor 
 rupt, and the rich man can buy any decision 
 that he pleases. 
 
 The principal product is silk cocoons, as the 
 mulberry grows very well on Mount Lebanon. 
 
 There was a very beautiful view, as I have 
 said, from our front yard. The sea was in 
 front and the mountains behind and on both 
 sides. These tapered up to snowy peaks. 
 Much was bare red and brown rock and clay, 
 but there were also beautiful valleys. Six 
 other villages and hamlets were in sight in 
 easy walking distance, so that we did not lack 
 neighbors. There were no shops and mer 
 chandise was carried on the backs of camels 
 and asses. 
 
 When I was five years old I went to school 
 and studied the Arabic alphabet. I wore a 
 shirt with a girdle, in which was a horn ink 
 stand with a reed pen that had a big stub cut 
 slantwise. All education in Lebanon district 
 is in the hands of the Maronite monks and 
 [241] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 friars, and a friar was my teacher. Our class 
 repeated the Arabic alphabet in unison for two 
 hours at a time as one of the exercises. When 
 I advanced I was taught to speak Arabic and 
 also to repeat and sing the Psalms of David. 
 My aspiration, like that of all the other Mar- 
 onite boys, was to become a priest, to say 
 mass and sing in the church. We went to 
 mass every day, and our appeals to Mary, who 
 is the great saint of the country, were con 
 stant. However, we stole fruit and flowers, 
 killed chickens and ran away from school just 
 like other boys elsewhere, and the friar at 
 times used to bastinado us that is, beat us 
 with a cane on the soles of the feet, an atten 
 tion which made us howl till we could be heard 
 about as far away as Cyprus. 
 
 We played marbles and ball, and when I 
 was eight years old I used to go hunting with 
 an elder brother. High up on the mountains 
 there is still plenty of game deer, partridge, 
 rabbits, and occasionally a bear. We saw 
 leopards twice, but my brother could not get 
 a shot at them. 
 
 But the principal excitement of our lives 
 was caused by our wars with other boys. A 
 field lay half way between our village and the 
 next one. It was a desirable one from the 
 standpoint of boys, as we could run races and 
 jump and play ball in it. The other boys 
 wanted it, too, and so we fought with sticks 
 and stones many times, inflicting wounds until 
 
STORY OF A SYRIAN 
 
 the head men of our villages came out and 
 beat us with sticks. 
 
 One evening we worked very late in order 
 to make a sort of fort from which to fight the 
 other boys with stones, and the darkness over 
 took us when we were on the way home. We 
 had to pass a graveyard and there we saw a 
 ghoul at least my brother saw it, or said he 
 saw it. We ran all the way home and I nearly 
 died of fright. Ghouls devour the dead. 
 They are quite common in Syria. I never 
 heard of them hurting the living ; still the peo 
 ple are madly afraid of them. My grand 
 mother said that in her time there were two 
 ghouls that came every night to the graveyard, 
 but never before midnight, when no one could 
 see them. My father thought it might have 
 been a sheep or an ass in the graveyard, but my 
 brother, who was twelve years old, was quite 
 sure it was a ghoul. So we were careful to 
 stay in the house after dark. 
 
 All the people of our village and all the vil 
 lages about us were in mortal terror about 
 jinns, which kidnap living people and carry 
 them away, if they do not kill them on the spot. 
 My grandmother once knew a whole family 
 that was carried off by the jinns and never 
 heard of again. Sometimes a jinn catches a 
 man alone on the mountains and casts him 
 down from a precipice at least that is one of 
 the beliefs of our people. 
 
 As I advanced in school I was taught pen- 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 manship. This is a most important accom 
 plishment in Syria. When one says that a 
 certain person is a penman it means much; 
 it means that he is a scholar in the eyes of 
 the community. Good penmen are much 
 respected. 
 
 Grammar was far the hardest study. The 
 Syrian grammar is famous for its complica 
 tions and is, of course, a stumbling block on the 
 road to useful learning. No one masters it, 
 but all scholars spend years of their time 
 struggling to commit its rules to memory. 
 Books have been written about single letters 
 of the alphabet, and these, also, are stumbling 
 blocks. 
 
 I got a little arithmetic, some history and 
 geography at this first school and then I went 
 to an American mission school, where my edu 
 cation was continued. 
 
 It was about fifteen years ago when I first 
 began to attend the American mission school. 
 This was very different from that which was 
 taught by the friar. At the first school there 
 were few books and I got the impression that 
 there were only about 500 different books in 
 the world, the most important being the 
 Syrian Bible and some writings of our saints. 
 The friar told us that wicked men wrote other 
 books sometimes, but no one read them or 
 would be allowed to read them._ 
 
 I believed that Syria was the grandest coun 
 try in the world, the Mount Lebanon district 
 
STORY OF A SYRIAN 
 
 the finest part of Syria, the Maronite monks 
 and friars the most enlightened of men, and 
 the Sultan the most powerful and urbane 
 ruler. 
 
 Going to the American school broadened 
 my horizon. I found that the world was 
 larger than I had thought and that there were 
 other great countries beside Syria. Gradu 
 ally the idea of becoming a Maronite monk, 
 forever chanting the psalms and swinging a 
 censer, or domineering over the poor people, 
 lost its charm for me and I began to think that 
 there might be some other sort of life happier 
 and more useful. I found that only a few 
 priests really understood the Syriac service, 
 and that their wisdom and knowledge were 
 not nearly so great as I had believed. 
 
 There was an encyclopedia at the American 
 school which I learned how to use after a time 
 and this broadened my ideas. I read the arti 
 cles on Syria and the United States, and found 
 to my astonishment that the book made the 
 United States out to be a far larger and richer 
 country than Syria or even Turkey. When I 
 told my old teacher, the friar, about that he 
 was very angry and complained to the Patri 
 arch, who was scandalized to think that such a 
 book should come to Mount Lebanon. He 
 said that it told lies. 
 
 I asked the American teacher and he told 
 me that the encyclopedia was very carefully 
 prepared, each article on a country being writ- 
 [245] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 ten by the men who knew most about the vari 
 ous divisions of the subject. The teacher had 
 a great many pictures of American cities, 
 streets and scenes, and I could see that life 
 in that land was very different from ours. I 
 heard about the telephone, telegraph and rail 
 road, and as I already knew about fire ships on 
 account of seeing them go by on the water, 
 it began to dawn on me that there was a very 
 great and active world outside of Mount Leb 
 anon, and that it might be possible to find 
 something better to do than be a monk. 
 
 The American teacher never talked to me 
 about religion ; but I can see that those monks 
 and priests are the curse of our country, keep 
 ing the people in ignorance and grinding the 
 faces of the poor while pretending to be their 
 friends. 
 
 The Americans who had established the mis 
 sion schools on Mount Lebanon were greatly 
 hated by the Maronite monks, because they go 
 right into their field, but they have kindled a 
 great light and it may result in the uplifting 
 not only of Syria but also of all the surround 
 ing lands. 
 
 Great changes have come in the minds of 
 our people since I was a boy. They were like 
 cattle in the old days and took the blows of 
 their rulers as a matter of course, not knowing 
 that such a thing as freedom for the common 
 people existed. But at the time when I was 
 going to the mission school new knowledge 
 
STORY OF A SYRIAN 
 
 began to get about and there were whisperings 
 of discontent that became louder and louder. 
 
 Some of the boldest of our men began to 
 tell each other that, the poor should have their 
 own and that the courts should deal justice. 
 One time a boy of about my own age told me 
 that if I went up the mountain a mile and a 
 half and looked under the exposed roots of a 
 great tree to which he pointed I would find 
 something good. He was a bold, wild boy 
 and I did not know what he meant or whether 
 he was just joking. Nevertheless I went as 
 he directed and in a copper cylinder I found a 
 number of newspapers which were printed in 
 Arabic. They were from New York, written 
 by Syrians residing there, and they bitterly at 
 tacked the Government of Lebanon, the Mar- 
 onite priests and the Sultan of Turkey, saying 
 that Lebanon and Syria could never have free 
 dom till all these were overthrown. 
 
 I was much frightened at reading these 
 papers and quickly put them back where I 
 had found them and ran away from the place, 
 for I -thought that if any priest found me with 
 them I might lose my life. When I agaiw 
 met the boy who told me about those papers 
 I hung down my head and hurried past him. 
 I was afraid, and besides I still thought that 
 our Government was as good as any. 
 
 Little by little my mind began to change 
 and my eyes to open, till I could see that our 
 people really were suffering terrible wrongs 
 [247] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 which did not exist in some other countries, 
 and at last I had a personal experience of the 
 corruptness of the courts that made me feel 
 that a revolution was needed. 
 
 My father, who died when I was young, 
 left, in addition to our house, certain property 
 in land, cattle and sheep that was of about the 
 value of $6,000. This was in the hands of his 
 best friend. Another man made claim to it, 
 saying that my father had sold to him, arid 
 producing a forged bill of sale and receipt for 
 the money. My mother went to the court 
 with witnesses to prove the forgery and the 
 judge put her off from time to time. Her 
 witnesses were threatened and actually driven 
 away from court on the day of the trial, and 
 a decision was given in favor of the forger. 
 My mother went to the judge with her uncle, 
 who had the statements of our witnesses about 
 the forgery, but the judge flew in a passion, 
 insulted my uncle and drove him and my 
 mother away. Then they appealed and for 
 three years more were kept waiting. At the 
 end of that time the court again decided 
 against them, refusing to let our witnesses 
 tell their story and seizing their property and 
 the property of my uncle to pay the costs. 
 
 An appeal was then made to the Governor 
 at Beirut, and there was much more delay, but 
 we could never get him to listen to us, and 
 every time we went it cost us money. 
 
 My uncle, who had a high temper, was very 
 [248] 
 
STORY OF A SYRIAN 
 
 angry at this treatment and said one time in 
 the hearing of a monk that the judges were 
 rascals and the Governor not any better^ and 
 two days later he was put in prison and his 
 friends had to pay much money to get him 
 out. 
 
 When he came to our house again he told 
 us that we should all have to leave the country 
 now, for the officials would give us no rest. 
 He went to Beirut and asked about the steam 
 ships there, and we found that we could get 
 one that would take us direct to New York, 
 the place where the Arabic newspapers that 
 attacked our Government were printed. We 
 knew that that was in the United States, and 
 we had heard that poor people were not op 
 pressed there. 
 
 We sold all our remaining possessions and 
 found that we had about $60 left after we 
 had paid for our passage on the steamer. The 
 passage cost us $170 and we were three weeks 
 making it, for we stopped at Egypt and Italy 
 and some French and Spanish cities before we 
 stretched out on that run across the Atlantic 
 Ocean. I had never seen any city except 
 Beirut before, and the voyage up the Mediter 
 ranean was to me a series of the most astonish 
 ing pictures. But all these seemed small after 
 I came into New York bay and found myself 
 almost surrounded by cities, any one of which 
 was far larger and grander than any I had 
 seen in Europe. We passed close by the 
 [ 249 ] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 grand Statue of Liberty and saw in the dis 
 tance the beautiful white bridge away up in 
 the blue sky and the big buildings towering 
 up like our own mountain peaks. I was 
 almost prepared to see snow on their tops, 
 though it was the summer time nine years ago. 
 
 My uncle had a friend who met us at Ellis 
 Island and helped to get us quickly out of the 
 vessel, and ten hours after we had come into 
 the bay we were established in two rooms in 
 the third story of a brick house in Washing 
 ton Street, only three blocks away from Bat 
 tery Park. Two minutes walk from us was 
 roaring Broadw r ay, seven minutes walking 
 brought us to the Bridge entrance, and fifteen 
 minutes walk brought us to the center of the 
 bridge, where, high up above the city and in 
 air that rushed in from the ocean and was as 
 fresh as that in mid- Atlantic, we saw a part of 
 the wonderful picture of New York spread 
 out. It was stunning after the quiet of our 
 hamlet. I took in that picture day after day 
 during the first week after my landing here. 
 There was so much that was strange and new 
 and suggestive of life and power that I never 
 got tired of looking at the buildings on the 
 land and the vessels of all sorts that shot about 
 through the waters. 
 
 I went at night also and saw the city more 
 
 wonderful than ever, the buildings outlined in 
 
 the darkness, in chains and rows and circles 
 
 and ropes of various colored lights illumi- 
 
 [250] 
 
STORY OF A SYRIAN 
 
 nated diamonds and rubies, emeralds, pearls, 
 topazes and all other gems. Never was there 
 such an illumination. 
 
 I had learned English in the mission school 
 and as I was a good penman I had no difficulty 
 in securing work as a clerk in an Oriental 
 goods store, where some other Syrians were 
 employed. My uncle, who understands the 
 art of inlaying with silver, ivory and mother of 
 pearl, also got work, and my mother kept 
 house for us and added to our joint income by 
 embroidering slippers after the Lebanon fash 
 ion. Between us we earned $22 a week, and 
 as our rent was only $10 a month and food did 
 not cost any more than $6 a week, we saved 
 money. 
 
 I remained a clerk for three years and then 
 became a reporter for a Syrian newspaper, as 
 I thought that my education entitled me to 
 aspire. At first my paper was pro- Turkish, 
 but when the recent Armenian atrocities be 
 gan we found a state of aff airs that we could 
 not possibly defend and were impelled to assail 
 the Turkish Government and especially the 
 Sultan in fact, made a great many bitter 
 attacks on him. 
 
 Some of these papers by secret means we 
 managed to circulate in Turkey and espe 
 cially in Syria, and I soon found that I was a 
 marked man. 
 
 In 1897, desiring to revisit Syria, I resigned 
 from the newspaper and secured passage on a 
 [251] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 steamer; but I did not go, for I found that 
 the Turkish Consul here had telegraphed to 
 Beirut: 
 
 "A about to leave New York. Arrest him." 
 
 I went back to work on the newspaper, but 
 a year later started a printing office of my own 
 in Washington Street, which is the center of 
 our quarter. Soon I had a newspaper of my 
 own. This now comes out three times a week. 
 
 I attacked the Turkish Government, and es 
 pecially the Sultan, more strongly than ever, 
 and managed by secret contrivances to circu 
 late my newspaper quite widely in Syria, as 
 well as openly here. I spoke for the young 
 Syria Association, which was organized here 
 four years ago and now includes most of our 
 people. It wants freedom from Syria. Of 
 course we do not suppose that Syria could be 
 a nation standing alone, but, protected by the 
 Powers, it could enjoy real self-government, 
 and it is that and the banishment of the mis- 
 rulers that we demand. 
 
 An effort was made to win me over to the 
 pro-Turkish party. A priest walked into my 
 office one day nearly two years ago and, after 
 telling me that he represented the Patriarch, 
 began to remonstrate concerning my attacks 
 on the Sultan. He said: 
 
 " I have heard about you from the old coun 
 try and I advise you not to write against the 
 Sultan." 
 
STORY OF A SYRIAN 
 
 I said: " Father, what do you want? " 
 
 He answered: "My Patriarch has empow 
 ered me to tell you that, although you have 
 been condemned as a criminal, we can procure 
 your pardon and have you decorated and given 
 the title of Bey, provided you stop attacking 
 the Sultan and make your paper say that he 
 is a good man who deserves the support of all 
 loyal Syrians." 
 
 I replied: "Don t come here another time 
 and say such things to me. If you were not a 
 priest I would insult you." 
 
 He went away and I heard no more from 
 him, but I afterward received a copy of a 
 proclamation issued concerning me by Ra- 
 sheed Bey, Governor of Beirut. : It is dated 
 March 12th, 1902. I translate it as follows: 
 
 To THE PUBLIC : 
 
 Because L J A , who is medium in 
 
 height, dark complexioned, with chestnut eyes, light 
 hair and mustache, and whose age is 29 and who is 
 from the village of Rome, El Matten, Mount Leba 
 non, who has published many articles that make harm 
 for his Imperial Highness, the Sultan, and which are 
 full of treason and cursed, and who fled from this 
 country because his doings are criminal, we hereby 
 condemn him to death, according to Article 66 of the 
 Criminal Code. 
 
 And this will give notice to the officials of the Gov 
 ernment, military and civil, and the justices, that they 
 
 are to arrest this A if he conies within their 
 
 jurisdiction, and give him to the court. 
 [253] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 My assistant editor has also since been con 
 demned to death. 
 
 The authorities of the Syrian Church are 
 pro-Turkish, having been captured by the 
 Government. They wear the Sultan s deco 
 rations and receive his gifts and they are not 
 true to their own people. The Sultan rules by 
 means of such people and the huge army of 
 spies that he maintains all over the empire. 
 
 It is the Sultan of Turkey himself who is 
 responsible for the Armenian massacres. He 
 is a bloody minded tyrant, the very worst Sul 
 tan who ever sat on the Turkish throne. I 
 have said so many times in my newspaper. 
 
 We look upon England as having much 
 responsibility for the Armenian massacres. 
 If she had not held Russia back Turkey would 
 long ago have been wiped off the map, and the 
 Christians now under her Government would 
 be safe in the enjoyment of their property and 
 the practice of their religion. But lately it 
 has been Germany that has come to the front 
 as the champion of Turkey. When he was in 
 Palestine three years ago the Emperor of Ger 
 many met Zoab Pasha and publicly rebuked 
 him for having surrendered Crete to the 
 Powers. 
 
 The little Syrian city which we have estab 
 lished within the big city of New York has 
 its distinctive life and its distinctive institu 
 tions. It has six newspapers printed in 
 Arabic, one of them a daily ; it has six churches 
 [254] 
 
STORY OF A SYRIAN 
 
 conducted by Syrian priests, and many stores, 
 whose signs, wares and owners are all Syrian. 
 
 There are two Syrian drug stores and many 
 dry goods, notions, jewelry, antiques and 
 French novelties, and manufacturers of 
 brooches, kimonas, wrappers, suspenders, to 
 bacco, cigarettes, silk embroidery, silk shawls, 
 Oriental goods, rugs, arms, etc. A Syrian res 
 taurant recently established in Cortlandt 
 Street is the best in the city. Our people are 
 active and are doing well in business here, as 
 any one may know by looking at the number 
 of advertisements in the newspapers. 
 
 When we first came we expected to return 
 to Syria, but this country is very attractive and 
 we have stayed until we have put out roots. 
 Two- thirds of our men now are American cit 
 izens, and the others are fast progressing 
 along the same lines. Still we feel friendship 
 for the old country and a desire to secure her 
 welfare and especially her freedom. 
 
 When we say that 300,000 Christian people 
 have recently been butchered by the Turks in 
 Armenia it does not convey any clear idea to 
 the American mind because people here are so 
 used to peace and order and their imaginations 
 simply refuse to think out the details. 
 
 Let us, then, take a village of 300 Armeni 
 ans that has off ended the Pasha of the district 
 but has forgotten the incident. In the morn 
 ing all the people get up and go about their 
 work ; the whole place hums with life and mer- 
 [255] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 riment. Suddenly there is an alarm: "The 
 soldiers are coming!" Then the people re 
 member that the Pasha is offended and the 
 wildest confusion results. Then women and 
 children run shrieking through the streets, 
 calling to each, collecting their families, and 
 then trying to run to some place of conceal 
 ment. 
 
 But the laughing soldiers are upon them, 
 making sport of their fear and their suffer 
 ings. The guns soon quiet the fighting men 
 and the youths, and then the boys and old 
 women are slaughtered at leisure and with 
 true relish. The pretty women are left till the 
 last. 
 
 Soon after the site of that village is covered 
 with ashes and corpses. 
 
 If Americans repeat that picture a thousand 
 times they may have some conception of what 
 the Armenian massacres really are. 
 
 They express the Turk at his very worst as 
 we find him in the person of the Sultan. 
 
 Such things are not done in Syria, because 
 Syria is on the seacoast and the war ships of 
 the Christian Powers are very convenient. In 
 1860 the Druses began massacring Christians 
 in Syria, but the Christian Powers interfered 
 and since then the Christians there have been 
 under the protection of those Powers. 
 
 But Armenia is remote and the Turkish 
 Government can lie about the causes and re 
 sults of trouble there. 
 
 [ 256 ] 
 
UNI 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE LIFE STORY OF A JAPANESE 
 SERVANT 
 
 Those who have wondered what was behind the uniform 
 politeness and unreadable face of a Japanese servant will be 
 interested in this very frank confession of one, whose precon 
 ceived ideal of America as a land of opportunity and equality 
 has been disproved by his experience here. No alterations 
 whatever have been made in the manuscript, for his occasional 
 use of Japanese idioms and of bookish English makes his narra 
 tive all the more personal and naive. He requests his name 
 withheld, but possibly some of his employers will recognize 
 themselves as seen in a Japanese mirror. 
 
 THE desire to see America was burning at 
 my boyish heart. The land of freedom 
 and civilization of which I heard so much from 
 missionaries and the wonderful story of 
 America I heard of those of my race who re 
 turned from here made my longing ungov 
 ernable. Meantime I have been reading a 
 popular novel among the boys, " The Adven 
 turous Life of Tsurukichi Tanaka, Japanese 
 Robinson Crusoe." How he acquired new 
 knowledge from America and how he is hon 
 ored and favored by the capitalists in Japan. 
 How willingly he has endured the hardships 
 in order to achieve the success. The story 
 made a strong impression on my mind. 
 Finally I made up my mind to come to this 
 country to receive an American education. 
 [257] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 I was an orphan and the first great trouble 
 was who will help me the expense? I have 
 some property my father left for me. But a 
 minor has not legally inherited, hence no 
 power to dispossess them. There must be at 
 least 200 yen for the fare and equipment. 
 While 200 yen has only exchange value to 
 $100 of American gold, the sum is really a 
 considerable amount for a boy. Two hundred 
 yen will be a sufficient capital to start a small 
 grocery store in the country town or to start 
 a prospective fish market in the city. Of 
 course, my uncle shook his head and would not 
 allow me to go to America. After a great 
 deal of difficulty and delay I have prevailed 
 over his objection. My heart swelled joy 
 when I got a passport, Government permis 
 sion to leave the country, after waiting thirty 
 days investigated if really I am a student and 
 who are the guardians to pay money in case 
 of necessity. A few days later I found my 
 self on board the Empress of Japan, of the 
 Canadian Pacific Line. The moment steamer 
 commence to leave Yokohama I wished to 
 jump back to shore, but was too late and I 
 was too old and ashamed to cry. 
 
 After the thirteen days weary voyage we 
 reached Victoria, B. C. When I have landed 
 there I have disappointed as there not any 
 wonderful sight to be seen not much different 
 that of foreign settlement in Yokohama. My 
 destination was Portland, Ore., where my 
 [258] 
 
STORY OF A JAPANESE SERVANT 
 
 cousin is studying. Before I took a boat in 
 Puget Sound to Tacoma, Wash., we have to 
 be examined by the immigration officer. To 
 my surprise these officers looked to me like a 
 plain citizen no extravagant dignity, no au 
 thoritative air. I felt so envious, I said to 
 myself, " Ah! Indeed this is the characteristic 
 of democracy, equality of personal right so 
 well shown." I respect the officers more on 
 this account. They asked me several ques 
 tions. I answered with my broken English I 
 have learned at Yokohama Commercial 
 School. Finally they said: " So you are a 
 student? How much money have you at 
 hand?" I showed them $50. The law re 
 quires $30. The officers gave me a piece of 
 stamped paper certificate to permit me go 
 into the United States. I left Victoria 8 
 p. M. and arrived Tacoma, Wash,, 6 A. M. 
 Again I have surprised with the muddy streets 
 and the dirty wharf. I thought the wharf of 
 Yokohama is hundred times better. Next 
 morning I left for Portland, Ore. 
 
 Great disappointment and regret I have ex 
 perienced when I was told that I, the boy of 
 17 years old, smaller in stature indeed than an 
 ordinary 14 years old American boy, imper 
 fect in English knowledge, I can be any use 
 here, but become a domestic servant, as the 
 field for Japanese very narrow and limited. 
 Thus reluctantly I have submitted to be a re 
 cruit of the army of domestic servants of 
 [259] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 which I ever dreamed up to this time. The 
 place where I got to work in the first time was 
 a boarding house. My duties were to peel po 
 tatoes, wash the dishes, a few laundry work, 
 and also I was expected to do whatever mis 
 tress, waitress and cook has told me. 
 
 When I first entered the kitchen wearing a 
 white apron what an uncomfortable and mor 
 tifying feeling I experienced. I thought I 
 shall never be able to proceed the work. I 
 felt as if I am pressed down on my shoulder 
 with loaded tons of weight. My heart palpi 
 tates. I did not know what I am and what 
 to say. I stood by the door of kitchen motion 
 less like a stone, with a dumbfounded silence. 
 The cook gave me a scornful look and said 
 nothing. Perhaps at her first glance she per 
 ceived me entirely unfit to be her help. A 
 kindly looking waitress, slender, alert Swedish 
 girl, sympathetically put the question to me if 
 I am first time to work. She said, " Oh ! well, 
 you will get learn and soon be used to it! " as 
 if she has fully understand the situation. In 
 deed, this ordinary remarks were such a en 
 couragement. She and cook soon opened the 
 conference how to rescue me. In a moment I 
 was to the mercy of Diana of the kitchen like 
 Arethusa. Whistling up the courage I 
 started to work. The work being entirely 
 new and also such an unaccustomed one, I felt 
 exceedingly unpleasant and hard. Sonorous 
 voice from the cook of my slowness in peeling 
 [ 260 ] 
 
STORY OF A JAPANESE SERVANT 
 
 potatoes often vibrated into my tympanum. 
 The waitress occasionally called out for the 
 butter plates and saucers at the top of her 
 displeasing voice. Frequently the words 
 " Hurry up ! " were added. I always noticed 
 her lips at the motion rather than hands. The 
 proprietor, an old lady, painstakingly taught 
 me to work how. Almost always commenc 
 ing the phrase " I show you " and ending 
 k Did you understand? " The words were so 
 prominently sounded ; finally made me tired of 
 it and latter grew hated to hear of it. Taking 
 the advantage of my green hand Diana of 
 kitchen often unloaded hers to me. Thus I 
 have been working almost all the time from 
 5.30 A. M. to 9 p. M, When I got through the 
 day s work I was tired. 
 
 Things went on, however, fairly well for 
 the first six days, forgetting my state and try 
 ing to adapt my own into the environment. 
 But when Sunday come all my subsided emo 
 tions sprung up, recollecting how pleasantly I 
 used spend the holidays. This memory of 
 past pleasure vast contrast of the present one 
 made me feel ache. What would the boys in 
 Japan say if they found me out. I am thus 
 employed in the kitchen receiving the orders 
 from the maid-servant whom I have once 
 looked down and thought never to be equal 
 while I was dining at my uncle s house. I feel 
 the home-sick. I was so lonesome and so 
 sorry that I came to America. Ignoring the 
 [261] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 kind advice of my friends, rejecting the offer 
 of help from my uncle at home, quickened by 
 my youthful sentiment to be the independent, 
 and believing the work alone to be the noble, I 
 came to this country to educate myself worthy 
 to my father s name. How beautiful idea it 
 was while it existed in imagination, but how 
 hard it is when it came to practice. There was 
 no honor, no responsibility, no sense of duty, 
 but the pliancy of servitude was the cardinal 
 requirement. There is no personal liberty 
 while your manhood is completely ignored. 
 
 Subduing my vanity, overcoming from the 
 humiliation and swallowing down all the com 
 plaints, weariness and discouragement, I went 
 on one week until Sunday. In spite of my 
 determination to face into the world, manly 
 defending my own in what I have within, to 
 gether with my energy and ability, I could not 
 resist .the offspring from my broken-hearted 
 emotions. Carrying the heavy and sad heart 
 I . was simply dragged by the day s routine 
 work. The old lady inquired me if I am not 
 sick. I replied, " No." Thank enough for a 
 first time she gave me a chance to rest from 
 1 o clock to 4 afternoon. Sooner I retired 
 into my room, locked the door, throwing the 
 apron away. I cast myself down on the bed 
 and sobbed to my heart contention. Thus let 
 out all my suppressed emotion of grief from 
 the morning. You might laugh at me, yet 
 none the less it was a true state of my mind 
 
STORY OF A JAPANESE SERVANT 
 
 at that moment. After this free outburst of 
 my passion I felt better. I was keenly felt 
 the environment was altogether not congenial. 
 I noticed myself I am inclining considerably 
 sensitive. 
 
 After I stay thereabout ten days I asked 
 the old lady that I should be discharged. She 
 wanted me to state the reason. My real ob 
 jection was that the work was indeed too hard 
 and unpleasant for me to bear and also there 
 were no time even to read a book. But I 
 thought it rather impolite to say so and partly 
 my strange pride hated to confess my weak 
 ness, fearing the reflection as a lazy boy. 
 Really I could not think how smoothly I 
 should tell my reasons. So I kept silent 
 rather with a stupefied look. She suggested 
 me if the work were not too hard. It was just 
 the point, but how foolish I was; I did posi 
 tively denied. Then why can you not stay 
 here ? "~ she went on. I said, childishly, "I 
 have nothing to complain; simply I wants to 
 go back to New York. My passion wants to." 
 Then she smiled and said, " Poor boy; you bet 
 ter think over; I shall speak to you to-mor 
 row." Next day she told me how she shall 
 be sorry to lose me just when I have began to 
 be handy to her after the hard task to taught 
 me work how. Tactfully she persuaded me 
 to stay. At the end of second week I asked 
 my wages, but she refused on the ground that 
 if she does I might leave her. Day by day my 
 [263] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 sorrow and regret grew stronger. My heavy 
 heart made me feel so hard to work. At that 
 moment I felt as if I am in the prison assigned 
 to the hard labor. My coveted desire was to 
 he freed from the yoke of this old lady. Be 
 lieving the impossibility to obtain her sanction, 
 early in the next morning while everybody still 
 in the bed, I hide my satchel under the bush 
 in the back yard. When mistress went on 
 market afternoon, while everybody is busy, I 
 have jumped out from the window and climbed 
 up the fence to next door and slip away. 
 Leaving the note and wages behind me, I hur 
 ried back to Japanese Christian Home. 
 
 Since then I have tried a few other places 
 with a better success at each trial and in course 
 of time I have quite accustomed to it and 
 gradually become indifferent as the humilia 
 tion melted down. Though I never felt proud 
 of this vocation, in several cases I have com 
 menced to manifest the interest of my avoca 
 tion as a professor of Dust and Ashes. The 
 place where I worked nearly three years was 
 an ideal position for a servant as could be had. 
 The master was a manager of a local whole 
 sale concern. He was a man of sunny side 
 of age, cultured and careful, conservative gen 
 tleman, being a graduate of Princeton. His 
 wife, Mrs. B., was young and pretty, dignified 
 yet not boasted. She was wonderfully indus 
 trial lady. She attends woman s club, church 
 and social functions. Yet never neglect her 
 [264] 
 
STORY OF A JAPANESE SERVANT 
 
 home duty. Sometimes I found her before 
 the sewing machine. She was such a devoted 
 wife whenever she went out shopping, to club, 
 or afternoon tea, or what not, she was always 
 at home before her husband come back from 
 the office. Often she went out a block or two 
 to meet him and then both come home to 
 gether side by side. Their home life was in 
 deed an ideal one. Their differences were 
 easily made out. It was very seldom the mas 
 ter alone goes out the evening, except in busi 
 ness. Occasionally they went to the theater 
 and concert. Every Sunday both went to 
 gether to the morning service and afternoon 
 they drived to the cemetery, where the mis 
 tress s beloved mother resting eternally. 
 
 She was such a sympathetic young lady 
 whenever I was busy, being near examination. 
 She arranged for me not to have any company 
 and very often they have dined out. Indeed, 
 I adored her as much as Henry Esmond did 
 to Lady Castlemond. She was, however, not 
 angel or goddess. Sometimes she showed the 
 weakness of human nature. One day while 
 I was wiping the mirror of the hall stand the 
 mirror slipped down and broken to pieces. 
 Fortunately she was around and witnessed the 
 w r hole process. It was indeed a pure accident. 
 It is bad enough to break the mirror even in 
 Japan, as we write figuratively the broken 
 mirror, meaning the divorce. In old mytho 
 logical way we regard the mirror as a woman s 
 [265] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 heart. I felt very bad with the mingling emo 
 tion of guilt and remorse. She repeated 
 nearly rest of the day how it is a bad luck and 
 were I only been careful so on. Made me ex 
 ceedingly uncomfortable. 
 
 I was exceedingly hate to leave her place, 
 but I got through High School, and there was 
 no colleges around. Hence I was compelled 
 to bid farewell to my adored and respected 
 mistress, who was kind enough to take me as 
 her protege and treated me an equal. It 
 seems to me no language are too extravagant 
 to compliment her in order to express my grat 
 itude toward her. 
 
 Next position I had was in New York a 
 family of up-to-date fashionable mistress. I 
 was engaged as a butler. I have surprised 
 the formality she observe. The way to open 
 the door, salute the guest, language to be used 
 according to the rank of the guests and how 
 to handle the name card. Characteristic sim 
 plicity of democracy could not be seen in this 
 household. I am distinctly felt I am a ser 
 vant, as the mistress artificially created the 
 wide gap between her and me. Her tone of 
 speech were imperial dignity. I have only to 
 obey her mechanically and perform automati 
 cally the assigned duty. To me this state of 
 things were exceedingly dull. I know I am 
 servant full well, yet I wished to be treated as 
 a man. I thought she is so accustomed the 
 "sycophancy and servility of the servants she 
 [266] 
 
STORY OF A JAPANESE SERVANT 
 
 could not help but despise them. Perhaps the 
 experience forced her to think the servants 
 cannot he trusted and depended upon. I 
 thought I might be able to improve the situa 
 tion by convincing her my efficiency and also 
 I have no mercenary spirit. Though the posi 
 tion may be a disgraceful one, I consoled my 
 own, hoping to make it pure and exalt little 
 higher by the recognition of my personality 
 by my master and mistress. I was anxious to 
 find out of my mistress s strongest principle 
 of her self-regard. I have carefully listened 
 her conversation in the dining table with her 
 husband, of whom I regretfully observed the 
 traces of the hard-hearted and close-fitted sel 
 fishness, and at the afternoon tea with her 
 friends. But each occasion made me feel dis 
 appointed. One day she told me go out get 
 for her the cigarettes. Out of my surprise I 
 said to her, " Do you smoke? " I had not a 
 least bit of idea that the respectful American 
 lady would smoke. I was plainly told that 
 I am her servant. I got to obey whatever she 
 wants to. Same afternoon I have been told 
 to serve the afternoon tea. The mistress see 
 ing the tea cup, said to me, " No, no; put the 
 glass for the champagne, of course." I was 
 once more surprised. Meantime the luxuri 
 ously dressed, pretty looking creature whom, 
 when I met at the hallway, they were so digni 
 fied with the majestic air and impressed me as 
 if they were the living angels ; but, to my utter 
 [267] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 disgust, these fair, supposed innocent sex 
 drunk and smoke like men do. Next day I 
 tendered my resignation to my ladyship. 
 
 Another new impression I have obtained in 
 this household. One day I noticed a diagram 
 map of the lineage of the family hanging on 
 the wall of the reception room. The ancestor 
 was a knight of Crusade. This phenomena 
 has quite struck me. Before I came to this 
 country I have told my uncle the worship of 
 ancestor is a primitive idea and boast of ances 
 tor is a remnant notion of Feudalism. I shall 
 be my own ancestor. I remember how he rep 
 rimanded me with a red hot angry. Still at 
 the bottom of my heart I have contended I 
 am right. I thought I rather worship Frank 
 lin and Emerson. Now I must say that 
 human nature is everywhere just the same. 
 
 One summer I worked at steam yacht as a 
 cabin boy. Captain, Chief and sailors were 
 all good-natured human being. I do not see 
 why they have been called as sea dogs. When 
 you come contact with them they are really the 
 lovely fellow. Indeed, they are good for 
 nothing; too honest and too simple-minded to 
 succeed modern complicated business world. 
 Of course they use the unbecoming languages, 
 but they really does not mean so. They use 
 swearing even when they expose their joy and 
 appreciation. I am soon nicknamed as " Jap 
 Politician," as I have always fight against the 
 ship crew of their socialistic tendency, def end- 
 [268] 
 
STORY OF A JAPANESE SERVANT 
 
 ing the statesmen and wealthy people. It is 
 wonderful how the morbid socialistic senti 
 ment saturated among the unhealthy mind of 
 the sailors. 
 
 Although I has been advocated the gospel 
 of wealth and extolled the rich, I hate the rich 
 people who display their wealth and give me 
 a tip in a boastful manner. I felt I am in 
 sulted and I have protested. Sometime the 
 tip was handed down indirectly from the hands 
 of the captain. Each time when I have 
 obliged to take the tip I am distinctly felt 
 " the gift without giver is bare." I, however, 
 thankfully accepted the offer from a lady who 
 give me the money in such a kind and sympa 
 thetic manner. A gentleman gave one dollar, 
 saying, " I wish this were ten times as much; 
 still I want you keep it for me to help your 
 study." Indeed this one dollar how precious 
 1 felt. Once a fastidious lady was on the 
 board. She used to kick one thing to another. 
 Of course I did not pay any attention. 
 Whenever she scold me, I said at heart, " It s 
 your pleasure to blame me, lady. I, on my 
 part, simply to hear you. I am not almighty ; 
 I cannot be a perfect. If I made mistake I 
 shall correct. You might bully me as you 
 please and treat me like a dog, I shall not ob 
 ject. I have a soul within me. My vital 
 energy in self-denying struggle could not be 
 impaired by your despise. On the contrary, it 
 will be stimulated." That the way I used to 
 [269] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 swallowed down all the reprimand she gave 
 me. 1, however, getting tired to hear her 
 sharp tongue and hoping to be on the good 
 term with her. One morning I have exerted 
 an exceptionally good care to clean her cabin. 
 Right after I got through her compartment 
 she called me back and told me that I did not 
 take a care of. I replied emphatically with a 
 conviction, " I did my best under the circum 
 stance." But she insisted I must do better 
 next time. Then she took out dollar bill, gave 
 ; t to me. I refused to take it. She thrust 
 the money into my hand. I have thrown back 
 the paper money to her feet. " Madam, this 
 is the bribe and graft. I am amply paid from 
 the owner of the yacht to serve you," said I. 
 :t No, madam; no tip for me." Without wait 
 ing her answer, while she seemed taken en 
 tirely surprised, I quickly withdrew from her. 
 Since then she has entirely changed her atti 
 tude toward me. 
 
 While I was working on the boat I noticed 
 the cook making a soup from a spring chicken 
 and a good size of fine roast beef. I am 
 amazed of the extravagant use of the material. 
 I asked him why he do not use the soup meat 
 and a cheaper roaster for making the soup. I 
 was told it s none of my business and get out 
 from the place. Daily I witnessed the terri 
 ble scene of wasting the food. I often 
 thought something ought to be done. It s 
 just economic crime. The foodstuff cook 
 [270] 
 
STORY OF A JAPANESE SERVANT 
 
 thrown away overboard would be more than 
 enough to support five families in the East 
 Side. Yet the fellow honored as an excellent 
 cook and especially praised of his soup ! 
 
 The owner of the yacht and mistress were 
 very agreeable persons ; the children, too, were 
 also lovely and good-natured youngsters. I 
 shall never forget the kindness and considera 
 tion shown by them. While I am waiting on 
 the table I have often drawn into the conversa 
 tion. The mistress, unlike the wife who com 
 mands an enormous fortune, possessed a good 
 common sense and has a sensible judgment in 
 treating of her dependence, as she was cul 
 tured lady. The owner of the boat was the 
 man of affairs; a broad-minded man he was. 
 He has had struggling days in his early life. 
 He has shown me great deal of sympathy. I 
 did indeed " just love " to serve them, as one 
 of the sailors has said to me. 
 
 Next summer I have been told by Mr. C. to 
 work his yacht again. He said he would pay 
 me $40 per month and if I stayed whole sea 
 son he would add to it $100. " This $100 is 
 not charity; it my appreciation for your self- 
 denying struggle, to help your school ex 
 penses," said he. How hard it was to reject 
 for such a kind offer. I asked two days for 
 the answer. Finally I have decided to refuse, 
 as I had some reasons to believe there are pos 
 sibility to develop my ability in another direc 
 tion more congenial line. For days I did not 
 [271] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 hear from him. I thought I am sure he has 
 angered me. I was waiting the occasion to 
 explain to him fully and apologize. About 
 a month later I got the message to come to his 
 office. To my surprise Mr. C. told me he 
 would give me $50 at the fall to help me out 
 my school expenses. He said, " I am inter 
 ested with you. You will be a great man 
 some day. I wanted to express by apprecia 
 tion to the hard spot within you. How 
 gratefully I felt. I did not find the suitable 
 phrase to express my thanks, so I simply said, 
 ; Thank you." But inwardly I did almost 
 worshiped him. I felt I am not alone in this 
 world. What encouragement Mr. C. s words 
 to me; I felt as though I got the reinforce 
 ment of one regiment. 
 
 Shall I stop here with this happy memory? 
 Yet before I close this confession I cannot 
 pass on without disclosing a few incidence I 
 suffered from the hands of inconsiderate mil 
 lionaire. About three years ago I have 
 worked as a butler in a millionaire s mansion 
 at N. J. Mistress was the young lady about 
 twenty-three years old and the master was 
 forty-five years old. Every morning mis 
 tress would not get up till eleven o clock. 
 Master gets up at six. So we servants serve 
 twice breakfast. At the dinner often mistress 
 and master served the different sort of food. 
 One day I was sick and asked three days ab 
 sent to consult Japanese physician in New 
 [272] 
 
STORY OF A JAPANESE SERVANT 
 
 York. According the advice of doctor I 
 have written twice asking to be given two 
 more days to rest. I did not get answer. 
 After I stay out five days I took 1.30 p. M. 
 train from Jersey City; returned house 4 
 p. M. As soon as I entered the mansion the 
 master told me I am discharged. This was 
 the reward for my faithful service of eight 
 months. I wanted to know the reason for. 
 He simply said he wants to have waitress and 
 told me to hurry to pack up my belonging 
 and leave instantly. I asked, however, the 
 reference to be given. He said he would send 
 forward to New York by mail. I was every 
 thing ready in one hour; left his mansion at 
 5 P. M. to the station, where I waited one hour 
 and a half. I returned New York again 9 
 P. M.^ with hunger and exhausted from emo 
 tion, as I am not quite recovered from my ill 
 ness. Since then three times I asked for ref 
 erence; he never answered. Until now it is 
 quite mystery what made him angry me. His 
 action handicapped me greatly to hunt new 
 place. 
 
 Once I was engaged as a second butler in 
 the villa of a retired merchant. When I got 
 there I found myself I am really a useful man 
 as well as second butler, as I am requested to 
 make the beds of coachmen, carry up the coal 
 for the cook, help the work of chambermaid, 
 laundress and housekeeper wanted me to do. 
 The members of the family were only three, 
 [273] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 old gentleman, old lady and their daughter- 
 old maid. They were proud and aristocratic. 
 They would not speak to servants except to 
 give order and reprimand. There were ten 
 servants to serve them. An old lady and old 
 maid has nothing to do but to watch rigidly 
 how servants work. The old gentleman was 
 lovely, good-natured man. So we servants 
 called an old lady the queen regent, her daugh 
 ter prosecute attorney, the housekeeper, de 
 tective. Every morning I wash the front 
 door porch at 6 A. M. But sometime mail car 
 rier or coachman leave the footmarks after I 
 have cleaned the steps. Later prosecutor get 
 up. If she found the marks she will upbraid 
 me that I did not swept the place at all. When 
 she come to reception room every morning 
 first thing she would do was this, drew out her 
 snow-white clean handkerchief, wrap up her 
 forefinger and scrape the crossboard at the 
 bottom of chair and also the corners of wood 
 work. If by chance any dust deposited to the 
 handkerchief there will be a thunder of repri 
 mand. The housekeeper-detective was a timid 
 and sensitive woman. She enforced zealously 
 the oppressive domestic rules issued by the 
 queen regent. We were told not to talk aloud 
 or laugh. If we commence to gay and our 
 voice began louder sure the detective come for 
 explanation. I was always looked by her as 
 suspicious boy. There must be complete 
 silence be ruled, hence somewhat gloomy. I 
 [274] 
 
STORY OF A JAPANESE SERVANT 
 
 have openly called housekeeper " Miss Detec 
 tive " and told her, " We ought make this 
 household little cheerful. Let us have sun 
 shine, Miss Detective," said I. While the lux 
 urious dishes are served in the table, the meals 
 given for the servants was lamentably poor 
 one. The dog meat or soup meat was given 
 to our dinner. The morning papers was not 
 allowed to be read until 9 P. M. Besides I 
 was expected to work all the time ; this was im 
 possible physically. One afternoon I am so 
 tired I sat down in the chair at the pantry and 
 rested. Miss Detective came inquired why I 
 am not working. I said to her, " I have done 
 everything assigned to me. I am not machine. 
 I cannot work all the time." Soon I was 
 called out before the queen. Her majesty 
 asked me what I have been doing. I replied, 
 " Nothing, madam." " But you must do 
 something, B.," said her majesty. : Did you 
 cleaned the windows of my room? " " I have 
 washed that windows last Saturday; this is 
 Wednesday. They are clean, madam." 
 Last Saturday! You must wash that win 
 dows any way this week! " I told her it is 
 foolish to waste money and it is more 
 so to waste energy. " Do you know to 
 whom you are speaking? " said she. " Do it 
 now! " Finding no use to argue with her I 
 went on to clean the windows. As soon as 
 that is done I told Miss Detective I want to 
 leave instantly; it is perfectly nonsense to 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 work to such a person to enslave myself. Miss 
 Detective, finding me beyond her control, send 
 me up to the head of family. The old gentle 
 man said: " Say, B., do you understand the 
 law protect you and me." " No, sir; not 
 always for a servant. The law might protect 
 you and your millions are ample enough to 
 break the law," said I in a sulky mood. " All 
 I can do is to escape from the law. You can 
 get rid of your servant when you dislike him. 
 If I insist to quit immediately you can with 
 hold my wages and could compel me to stay 
 till the month out, as I have been engaged so, 
 by resorting to the law." He said I must stay 
 till my successor be found. Finally we have 
 compromised that I should stay five days 
 more. 
 
 Greatest trouble and disadvantage to be a 
 domestic servant is that he has to be absolutely 
 subjected under the emotional rule of the mis 
 tress. No amount of candid or rational argu 
 ment will avail. No matter how worthy your 
 dissenting opinion be, if it does not please your 
 mistress you have to suffer for it. Once I 
 worked for a widow lady whose incomes are 
 derived from the real estate, stock and bonds. 
 She is economizing so strictly that often handi 
 capped me. One day, taking the chances of 
 her good humor, I told her that her well 
 meant efforts are the misapplication of her 
 energy, trying to save her pin money through 
 the economy of gas bill and grocery bill 
 [276] 
 
STORY OF A JAPANESE SERVANT 
 
 in the old-fashioned way while neglecting 
 to avail herself to the " modern high finance 
 scheme " hereby she may improve her re 
 sources. The reward of this speech was an 
 honorable discharge! To be a successful ser 
 vant is to make yourself a fool. This habitual 
 submission will bring a lamentable effect to 
 the one s brain function. Day after day 
 throughout the years confined into the kitchen 
 and dining-room, physically tired, unable to 
 refresh yourself in the way of mental reci 
 procity, even the bright head will suffer if 
 stay too long as a servant. Of course, one s 
 character will be greatly improved and re 
 fined by serving the employer like Mr. C. 
 and Mrs. B. But they are exception. Ma 
 jority of employer will not be interested in 
 their servants. 
 
 The motive of my engaging in the domestic 
 work, no matter how meritorious it may intrin 
 sically be, our people look with me the scorn 
 ful eyes if not with positive despise. The 
 doors of prominent Japanese family closed 
 before me. Sometimes I was unrecognized by 
 the fellow students from Japan, who are sons 
 of wealth. I wrote one day a few lines to 
 console myself: 
 
 Who does scorn the honest toil 
 Mayest ungraceful post thou hail 
 When the motive is true and pure 
 The wealth of learning to store. 
 [277] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 O ! never say that my humble lot 
 Does harm the fame of fortunate sons 
 Of Yamato. Disgrace me not. 
 How wilt thou feel, were it thine once. 
 
 How I suffer within knowest thou not ; 
 Aspiring hope alone animates weary heart. 
 Year after year and day after day 
 To realize the hope dear to my destiny. 
 
 Unknown to shape my destination 
 My heart sobered with resignation. 
 But far from to be the misanthropist 
 The love of life giving the keener zest. 
 
 I kneel down for the silent prayer, 
 Concealing my own I toil and prepare 
 Over the rough sea I steer my heart, 
 And absorbed the whole my thought. 
 
 O what joy how blessed I am! 
 
 With inspiring hope for my future aim 
 
 To consecrate my own for Truth and Humanity, 
 
 To this end I devote with honor and sincerity. 
 
 Some say Japanese are studying while they 
 are working in the kitchen, but it is all non 
 sense. Many of them started so, but nearly 
 all of them failed. It is all well up to college, 
 where there are not much references need to 
 read. After you have served dinner, wash 
 ing dishes and cleaning dining-room, you are 
 often tired when you commence to write an 
 essay. You will feel sometime your fingers 
 [278] 
 
STORY OF A JAPANESE SERVANT 
 
 are stiff and your arms are ache. In the after 
 noon, just when you began concentrated on 
 the points in the book, the front door bell rung 
 the goods delivered from the stores, or call 
 ers to mistress, or telephone messages and what 
 not. How often you are disturbed while you 
 have to read at least three hours succession 
 quietly in order to make the outline and dug 
 up all the essential points. I have experience, 
 once I attended lecture after I have done a 
 rush work in the kitchen. I was so tired felt 
 as though all the blood in the body rushing up 
 to the brain and partly sleepy. My hands 
 would not work. I could not take the note of 
 professor s lecture, as my head so dull could 
 not order to my hand what professor s lecture 
 was. 
 
 Many Japanese servants has told me as soon 
 as they saved sufficient amount of money they 
 would start the business. But many young 
 Japanese, while their intentions are laudable, 
 they will find the vile condition of environment 
 in a large city like New York has a greater 
 force than their moral courage could resist. 
 Disheartened from the hard work or excessive 
 disagreeableness of their environment often 
 tempt them to seek a vain comfort in the mis 
 directed quarter; thus dissipate their pre 
 ciously earned money. Even those who have 
 saved money successfully for the capital to 
 start the business, their future is quite doubt 
 ful. When they have saved enough money 
 [279] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 it will be a time that their business ability 
 melted away or by no means are sharp. Years 
 husbanding of domestic work, handicapped 
 and over-interfered by mistress, their mental 
 agilities are reduced to the lamentable degree. 
 Yet, matured by these undesirable experience, 
 most of them are quite unconscious of this out 
 come as little by little submissive and depend 
 ing habit so securely rooted within their mind. 
 It will be an exceedingly hard to adjust them 
 selves immediately to the careful and shrewd 
 watch required in the modern business enter 
 prise, though they may be assisted by the in 
 stinct of self-interest. Most deliberate reflec 
 tion is required from these unconscious servile 
 habit of action to restore to their previous in 
 dependent thinking mind. The sooner they 
 quit the kitchen the better, though needless to 
 say there are a few 7 exceptions. 
 
 Above all I am so grateful to the members 
 of the Japanese Consulate, prominent citizens 
 of our colony, editors of Japanese papers, 
 ministers and secretaries of Japanese missions 
 co-operating each other to help out young 
 Japanese to secure their more agreeable and 
 harmless position, and also they are throwing 
 their good influence to induce Japanese domes 
 tic servants to go over to Korea and Man 
 churia to become a pioneer and land owner in 
 these country, instead of to be the co-worker 
 with the Venus in the American commissary 
 department. 
 
 [280] 
 
UF 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THE LIFE STORY OF A CHINAMAN 
 
 Mr. Lee Chew is a representative Chinese business man of 
 New York. He expresses with much force the following opin 
 ions that are generally held by his countrymen throughout 
 America. The interview that follows is strictly as he gave it, 
 except as to detail of arrangement and mere verbiage. 
 
 THE village where I was born is situated in 
 the province of Canton, on one of the 
 banks of the Si-Kiang River. It is called a 
 village, although it is really as big as a city, 
 for there are about 5,000 men in it over eigh 
 teen years of age women and children and 
 even youths are not counted in our villages. 
 
 All in the village belonged to the tribe of 
 
 Lee. They did not intermarry with one 
 
 another, but the men went to other villages 
 
 for their wives and brought them home to their 
 
 fathers houses, and men from other villages 
 
 Wus and Wings and Sings and Fongs, etc. 
 
 chose wives from among our girls. 
 
 When I was a baby I was kept in our house 
 all the time with my mother, but when I was 
 a boy of seven I had to sleep at nights with 
 other boys of the village about thirty of them 
 in one house. The girls are separated the 
 same way thirty or forty of them sleeping 
 [381] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 together in one house away from their parents 
 and the widows have houses where they work 
 and sleep, though they go to their fathers 
 houses to eat. 
 
 My father s house is built of fine blue brick, 
 better than the brick in the houses here in the 
 United States. It is only one story high, 
 roofed with red tiles and surrounded by a stone 
 wall which also incloses the yard. There are 
 four rooms in the house, one large living room 
 which serves for a parlor and three private 
 rooms, one occupied by my grandfather, who 
 is very old and very honorable ; another by my 
 father and mother, and the third by my oldest 
 brother and his wife and two little children. 
 There are no windows, but the door is left open 
 all day. 
 
 All the men of the village have farms, but 
 they don t live on them as the farmers do here ; 
 they live in the village, but go out during the 
 day time and w r ork their farms, coming home 
 before dark. My father has a farm of about 
 ten acres, on which he grows a great abundance 
 of things sweet potatoes, rice, beans, peas, 
 yams, sugar cane, pineapples, bananas, lychee 
 nuts and palms. The palm leaves are useful 
 and can be sold. Men make fans of the lower 
 part of each leaf near the stem, and water 
 proof coats and hats, and awnings for boats, 
 of the parts that are left when the fans are cut 
 out. 
 
 So many different things can be grown on 
 
STORY OF A CHINAMAN 
 
 one small farm, because we bring plenty of 
 water in a canal from the mountains thirty 
 miles away, and every farmer takes as much as 
 he wants for his fields by means of drains. 
 
 GROUND PLAN OF LEE CHEWS FATHER S HOUSE 
 
 LIVING ROOM 
 
 about 
 20 x 20 ft. 
 
 DOG| 
 
 PIG 
 PriN 
 
 CHICK 
 ENS. 
 DUCKS 
 
 He can give each crop the right amount of 
 water. 
 
 Our people all working together make 
 
 these things, the mandarin has nothing to do 
 
 with it, and we pay no taxes, except a small 
 
 one on the land. We have our own Govern- 
 
 [283] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 ment, consisting of the elders of our tribe 
 the honorable men. When a men gets to be 
 sixty years of age he begins to have honor and 
 to become a leader, and then the older he grows 
 the more he is honored. We had some men 
 who were nearly one hundred years, but very 
 few of them. 
 
 In spite of the fact that any man may cor 
 rect them for a fault, Chinese boys have good 
 times and plenty of play. We played games 
 like tag, and other games like shinny and a 
 sort of football called yin. 
 
 We had dogs to play with plenty of dogs 
 and good dogs that understand Chinese as 
 well as American dogs understand American 
 language. We hunted with them, and we also 
 went fishing and had as good a time as Ameri 
 can boys, perhaps better, as we were almost 
 always together in our house, which was a sort 
 of boys club house, so we had many playmates. 
 Whatever we did we did all together, and our 
 rivals were the boys of other club houses, with 
 whom we sometimes competed in the games. 
 But all our play outdoors was in the daylight, 
 because there were many graveyards about 
 and after dark, so it was said, black ghosts 
 with flaming mouths and eyes and long claws 
 and teeth would come from these and tear 
 to pieces and devour any one whom they might 
 meet. 
 
 It was not all play for us boys, however. 
 We had to go to school, where we learned to 
 [284] 
 
STORY OF A CHINAMAN 
 
 read and write and to recite the precepts of 
 Kong-f oo-tsze and the other Sages, and stories 
 about the great Emperors of China, who ruled 
 with the wisdom of gods and gave to the 
 whole world the light of high civilization and 
 the culture of our literature, which is the ad 
 miration of all nations. 
 
 I went to my parents house for meals, ap 
 proaching my grandfather with awe, my 
 father and mother with veneration and my 
 elder brother with respect. I never spoke un 
 less spoken to, but I listened and heard much 
 concerning the red haired, green eyed foreign 
 devils with the hairy faces, who had lately 
 come out of the sea and clustered on our shores. 
 They were wild and fierce and wicked, and 
 paid no regard to the moral precepts of Kong- 
 f oo-tsze and the Sages; neither did they wor 
 ship their ancestors, but pretended to be wiser 
 than their fathers and grandfathers. They 
 loved to beat people and to rob and murder. 
 In the streets of Hong Kong many of them 
 could be seen reeling drunk. Their speech 
 was a savage roar, like the voice of the tiger 
 or the buffalo, and they wanted to take the 
 land away from the Chinese. Their men and 
 women lived together like animals, without 
 any marriage or faithfulness, and even were 
 shameless enough to walk the streets arm in 
 arm in daylight. So the old man said. 
 
 All this was very shocking and disgusting, 
 as our women seldom were on the street, ex- 
 [285] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 cept in the evenings, when they went with the 
 water jars to three wells that supplied all 
 the people. Then if they met a man they 
 stood still, with their faces turned to the wall, 
 while he looked the other way when he passed 
 them. A man who spoke to a woman on the 
 street in a Chinese village would be beaten, 
 perhaps killed. 
 
 My grandfather told how the English for 
 eign devils had made wicked war on the 
 Emperor, and by means of their enchant 
 ments and spells had defeated his armies and 
 forced him to admit their opium, so that the 
 Chinese might smoke and become weakened 
 and the foreign devils might rob them of their 
 land. 
 
 My grandfather said that it was well known 
 that the Chinese were always the greatest and 
 wisest among men. They had invented and 
 discovered everything that was good. There 
 fore the things which the foreign devils had 
 and the Chinese had not must be evil. Some of 
 these things were very wonderful, enabling the 
 red haired savages to talk with one another, 
 though they might be thousands of miles 
 apart. They had suns that made darkness 
 like day, their ships carried earthquakes and 
 volcanoes to fight for them, and thousands of 
 demons that lived in iron and steel houses spun 
 their cotton and silk, pushed their boats, pulled 
 their cars, printed their newspapers and did 
 other work for them. They were constant^ 
 [286] 
 
STORY OF A CHINAMAN 
 
 showing disrespect for their ancestors by 
 getting new things to take the place of the 
 old. 
 
 I heard about the American foreign devils, 
 that they were false, having made a treaty by 
 which it was agreed that they could freely 
 come to China, and the Chinese as freely go to 
 their country. After this treaty was made 
 China opened its doors to them and then they 
 broke the treaty that they had asked for by 
 shutting the Chinese out of their country. 
 
 When I was ten years of age I worked on 
 my father s farm, digging, hoeing, manuring, 
 gathering and carrying the crop. We had no 
 horses, as nobody under the rank of an official 
 is allowed to have a horse in China, and horses 
 do not work on farms there, which is the reason 
 why the roads there are so bad. The people 
 cannot use roads as they are used here, and so 
 they do not make them. 
 
 I worked on my father s farm till I was 
 about sixteen years of age, when a man of 
 our tribe came back from America and took 
 ground as large as four city blocks and made a 
 paradise of it. He put a large stone wall 
 around and led some streams through and built 
 a palace and summer house and about twenty 
 other structures, "with beautiful bridges over 
 the streams and walks and roads. Trees and 
 flowers, singing birds, water fowl and curious 
 animals were within the walls. 
 
 The man had gone away from our village a 
 [287] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 poor boy. Now he returned with unlimited 
 wealth, which he had obtained in the country 
 of the American wizards. After many amaz 
 ing adventures he had become a merchant in 
 a city called Mott Street, so it was said. 
 
 When his palace and grounds were com 
 pleted he gave a dinner to all the people who 
 assembled to be his guests. One hundred pigs 
 roasted whole were served on the tables, with 
 chickens, ducks, geese and such an abundance 
 of dainties that our villagers even now lick 
 their fingers when they think of it. He had 
 the best actors from Hong Kong performing, 
 and every musician for miles around was play 
 ing and singing. At night the blaze of the 
 lanterns could be seen for many miles. 
 
 Having made his wealth among the barbar 
 ians this man had faithfully returned to pour 
 it out among his tribesmen, and he is living in 
 our village now very happy, and a pillar of 
 strength to the poor. 
 
 The wealth of this man filled my mind with 
 the idea that I, too, would like to go to the 
 country of the wizards and gain some of their 
 wealth, and after a long time my father con 
 sented, and gave me his blessing, and my 
 mother took leave of me with tears, while my 
 grandfather laid his hand upon my head and 
 told me to remember and live up to the ad 
 monitions of the Sages, to avoid gambling, 
 bad women and men of evil minds, and so to 
 [288 ] 
 
STORY OF A CHINAMAN 
 
 govern my conduct that when I died my an 
 cestors might rejoice to welcome me as a guest 
 on high. 
 
 My father gave me $100, arid I went to 
 Hong Kong with five other boys from our 
 place and we got steerage passage on a 
 steamer, paying $50 each. Everything was 
 new to me. All my life I had been used to 
 sleeping on a board bed with a wooden pillow, 
 and I found the steamer s bunk very uncom 
 fortable, because it was so soft. The food was 
 different from that which I had been used to, 
 and I did not like it at all. I was afraid of the 
 stews, for the thought of what they might be 
 made of by the wicked wizards of the ship made 
 me ill. Of the great power of these people I 
 saw many signs. The engines that moved the 
 ship were wonderful monsters, strong enough 
 to lift mountains. When I got to San Fran 
 cisco, which was before the passage of the Ex 
 clusion act, I was half starved, because I was 
 afraid to eat the provisions of the barbarians, 
 but a few days living in the Chinese quarter 
 made me happy again. A man got me work 
 as a house servant in an American family, and 
 my start was the same as that of almost all the 
 Chinese in this country. 
 
 The Chinese laundryman does not learn his 
 
 trade in China; there are no laundries in 
 
 China. The women there do the washing in 
 
 tubs and have no washboards or flat irons. All 
 
 [289] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 the Chinese laundrymen here were taught in 
 the first place by American women just as I 
 was taught. 
 
 When I went to work for that American 
 family I could not speak a word of English, 
 and I did not know anything about housework. 
 The family consisted of husband, wife and 
 two children. They were very good to me 
 and paid me $3.50 a week, of which I could 
 save $3. 
 
 I did not know how to do anything, and I 
 did not understand what the lady said to me, 
 but she showed me how to cook, wash, iron, 
 sweep, dust, make beds, wash dishes, clean 
 windows, paint and brass, polish the knives and 
 forks, etc., by doing the things herself and 
 then overseeing my efforts to imitate her. 
 She would take my hands and show them how 
 to do things. She and her husband and chil 
 dren laughed at me a great deal, but it was 
 all good natured. I was not confined to the 
 house in the way servants are confined here, 
 but when my work was done in the morning I 
 was allowed to go out till lunch time. People 
 in California are more generous than they are 
 here. 
 
 In six months I had learned how to do the 
 work of our house quite well, and I was get 
 ting $5 a week and board, and putting away 
 about $4.25 a week. I had also learned some 
 English, and by going to a Sunday school I 
 learned more English and something about 
 [290] 
 
STORY OF A CHINAMAN 
 
 Jesus, who was a great Sage, and whose pre 
 cepts are like those of Kong-f oo-tsze. 
 
 It was twenty years ago when I came to this 
 country, and I worked for two years as a ser 
 vant, getting at the last $35 a month. I sent 
 money home to comfort my parents, but 
 though I dressed well and lived well and had 
 pleasure, going quite often to the Chinese 
 theater and to dinner parties in Chinatown, I 
 saved $50 in the first six months, $90 in the sec 
 ond, $120 in the third and $150 in the fourth. 
 So I had $410 at the end of two years, and I 
 was now ready to start in business. 
 
 When I first opened a laundry it was in 
 company with a partner, who had been in the 
 business for some years. We went to a town 
 about 500 miles inland, where a railroad was 
 building. We got a board shanty and worked 
 for the men employed by the railroads. Our 
 rent cost us $10 a month and food nearly $5 a 
 week each, for all food was dear and we 
 wanted the best of everything we lived prin 
 cipally on rice, chickens, ducks and pork, and 
 did our own cooking. The Chinese take nat 
 urally to cooking. It cost us about $50 for 
 our furniture and apparatus, and we made 
 close upon $60 a week, which we divided be 
 tween us. We had to put up with many in 
 sults and some frauds, as men would come in 
 and claim parcels that did not belong to them, 
 saying they had lost their tickets, and would 
 fight if they did not get what they asked for. 
 [291] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 Sometimes we were taken before Magistrates 
 and fined for losing shirts that we had never 
 seen. On the other hand, we were making 
 money, and even after sending home $3 a 
 week I was able to save about $15. When the 
 railroad construction gang moved on we went 
 with them. The men were rough and preju 
 diced against us, but not more so than in the 
 big Eastern cities. It is only lately in New 
 York that the Chinese have been able to dis 
 continue putting wire screens in front of their 
 windows, and at the present time the street 
 boys are still breaking the windows of Chinese 
 laundries all over the city, while the police seem 
 to think it a joke. 
 
 We were three years with the railroad, and 
 then went to the mines, where we made plenty 
 of money in gold dust, but had a hard time, for 
 many of the miners were wild men who car 
 ried revolvers and after drinking would come 
 into our place to shoot and steal shirts, for 
 which we had to pay. One of these men hit 
 his head hard against a flat iron and all the 
 miners came and broke up our laundry, chasing 
 us out of town. They were going to hang us. 
 We lost all our property and $365 in money, 
 which members of the mob must have found. 
 
 Luckily most of our money was in the hands 
 of Chinese bankers in San Francisco. I drew 
 $500 and went East to Chicago, where I had 
 a laundry for three years, during which I in 
 creased my capital to $2,500. After that I 
 
STORY OF A CHINAMAN 
 
 was four years in Detroit. I went home to 
 China in 1897, but returned in 1898, and began 
 a laundry business in Buffalo. But Chinese 
 laundry business now is not as good as it was 
 ten years ago. Amercan cheap labor in the 
 steam laundries has hurt it. So I determined 
 to become a general merchant, and with this 
 idea I came to New York and opened a shop 
 in the Chinese quarter, keeping silks, teas, 
 porcelain, clothes, shoes, hats and Chinese pro 
 visions, which include shark s fins and nuts, 
 lily bulbs and lily flowers, lychee nuts and 
 other Chinese dainties, but do not include rats, 
 because it would be too expensive to import 
 them. The rat which is eaten by the Chinese 
 is a field animal which lives on rice, grain and 
 sugar cane. Its flesh is delicious. Many 
 Americans who have tasted shark s fin and 
 bird s nest soup and tiger lily flowers and 
 bulbs are firm friends of Chinese cookery. If 
 they could enjoy one of our fine rats they 
 would go to China to live, so as to get some 
 more. 
 
 American people eat ground hogs, which 
 are very like these Chinese rats and they also 
 eat many sorts of food that our people would 
 not touch. Those that have dined with us know 
 that we understand how to live well. 
 
 The ordinary laundry shop is generally 
 
 divided into three rooms. In front is the 
 
 room where the customers are received, behind 
 
 that a bedroom and in the back the work shop, 
 
 [293] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 which is also the dining room and kitchen. 
 The stove and cooking utensils are the same as 
 those of the Americans. 
 
 Work in a laundry begins early on Monday 
 morning about seven o clock. There are 
 generally two men, one of whom washes while 
 the other does the ironing. The man who 
 irons does not start in till Tuesday, as the 
 clothes are not ready for him to begin till that 
 time. So he has Sundays and Mondays as 
 holidays. The man who does the washing fin 
 ishes up on Friday night, and so he has Satur 
 day and Sunday. Each works only five days 
 a week, but those are long days from seven 
 o clock in the morning till midnight. 
 
 During his holidays the Chinaman gets a 
 good deal of fun out of life. There s a good 
 deal of gambling and some opium smoking, 
 but not so much as Americans imagine. Only 
 a few of New York s Chinamen smoke opium. 
 The habit is very general among rich men and 
 officials in China, but not so much among poor 
 men. I don t think it does as much harm as 
 the liquor that the Americans drink. There s 
 nothing so bad as a drunken man. Opium 
 doesn t make people crazy. 
 
 Gambling is mostly fan tan, but there is a 
 good deal of poker, which the Chinese have 
 learned from Americans and can play very 
 well. They also gamble with dominoes and 
 dice. 
 
 The fights among the Chinese and the oper- 
 
STORY OF A CHINAMAN 
 
 ations of the hatchet men are all due to gam 
 bling. Newspapers often say that they are 
 feuds between the six companies, but that is a 
 mistake. The six companies are purely be 
 nevolent societies, which look after the China 
 man when he first lands here. They repre 
 sent the six southern provinces of China, 
 where most of our people are from, and they 
 are like the German, Swedish, English, Irish 
 arid Italian societies which assist emigrants. 
 When the Chinese keep clear of gambling 
 and opium they are not blackmailed, and they 
 have no trouble with hatchet men or any 
 others. 
 
 About 500 of New York s Chinese are 
 Christians, the others are Buddhists, Taoists, 
 etc., all mixed up. These haven t any Sunday 
 of their own, but keep New Year s Day and 
 the first and fifteenth days of each month, 
 when they go to the temple in Mott Street. 
 
 In all New York there are less than forty 
 Chinese women, and it is impossible to get a 
 Chinese woman out here unless one goes to 
 China and marries her there, and then he must 
 collect affidavits to prove that she really is his 
 wife. That is in case of a merchant. A laun- 
 dryman can t bring his wife here under any 
 circumstances, and even the women of the 
 Chinese Ambassador s family had trouble get 
 ting in lately. 
 
 Is it any wonder, therefore, or any proof 
 of the demoralization of our people if some of 
 [295] 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 the white women in Chinatown are not of good 
 character? What other set of men so isolated 
 and so surrounded by alien and prejudiced 
 people are more moral? Men, wherever they 
 may be, need the society of women, and 
 among the white women of Chinatown are 
 many excellent and faithful wives and mothers. 
 
 Some fault is found with us for sticking to 
 our old customs here, especially in the matter of 
 clothes, but the reason is that we find American 
 clothes much inferior, so far as comfort and 
 warmth go. The Chinaman s coat for the 
 winter is very durable, very light and very 
 warm. It is easy and not in the way. If he 
 wants to work he slips out of it in a moment 
 and can put it on again as quickly. Our shoes 
 and hats also are better, we think, for our pur 
 poses, than the American clothes. Most of 
 us have tried the American clothes, and they 
 make us feel as if we were in the stocks. 
 
 I have found out, during my residence in 
 this country, that much of the Chinese preju 
 dice against Americans is unfounded, and I 
 no longer put faith in the wild tales that were 
 told about them in our village, though some of 
 the Chinese, who have been here twenty years 
 and who are learned men, still believe that there 
 is no marriage in this country, that the land is 
 infested with demons and that all the people 
 are given over to general wickedness. 
 
 I know better. Americans are not all bad, 
 nor are they wicked wizards. Still, they have 
 [296] 
 
STORY OF A CHINAMAN 
 
 their faults and their treatment of us is out 
 rageous. 
 
 The reason why so many Chinese go into 
 the laundry business in this country is because 
 it requires little capital and is one of the few 
 opportunities that are open. Men of other 
 nationalities who are jealous of the Chinese, 
 because he is a more faithful worker than one 
 of their people, have raised such a great outcry 
 about Chinese cheap labor that they have shut 
 him out of working on farms or in factories or 
 building railroads or making streets or dig 
 ging sewers. He cannot practice any trade, 
 and his opportunities to do business are limited 
 to his own countrymen. So he opens a laun 
 dry when he quits domestic service. 
 
 The treatment of the Chinese in this country 
 is all wrong and mean. It is persisted in 
 merely because China is not a fighting nation. 
 The Americans would not dare to treat Ger 
 mans, English, Italians or even Japanese as 
 they treat the Chinese, because if they did there 
 would be a war. 
 
 There is no reason for the prejudice against 
 the Chinese. The cheap labor cry was always 
 a falsehood. Their labor was never cheap, 
 and is not cheap now. It has always com 
 manded the highest market price. But the 
 trouble is that the Chinese are such excellent 
 and faithful workers that bosses will have no 
 others when they can get them. If you look 
 at men working on the street you will find an 
 [2971 
 
UNDISTINGUISHED AMERICANS 
 
 overseer for every four or five of them. That 
 watching is not necessary for Chinese. They 
 work as well when left to themselves as they 
 do when some one is looking at them. 
 
 It was the jealousy of laboring men of other 
 nationalities especially the Irish that raised 
 all the outcry against the Chinese. No one 
 would hire an Irishman, German, Englishman 
 or Italian when he could get a Chinese, be 
 cause our countrymen are so much more hon 
 est, industrious, steady, sober and painstaking. 
 Chinese were persecuted, not for their vices, 
 but for their virtues. There never was any 
 honesty in the pretended fear of leprosy or in 
 the cheap labor scare, and the persecution con 
 tinues still, because Americans make a mere 
 practice of loving justice. They are all for 
 money making, and they want to be on the 
 strongest side always. They treat you as a 
 friend while you are prosperous, but if you 
 have a misfortune they don t know you. There 
 is nothing substantial in their friendship. 
 
 Irish fill the almshouses and prisons and 
 orphan asylums, Italians are among the most 
 dangerous of men, Jews are unclean and ig 
 norant. Yet they are all let in, while Chinese, 
 who are sober, or duly law abiding, clean, edu 
 cated and industrious, are shut out. There are 
 few Chinamen in jails and none in the poor 
 houses. There are no Chinese tramps or 
 drunkards. Many Chinese here have become 
 sincere Christians, in spite of the persecution 
 [298] 
 
STORY OF A CHINAMAN 
 
 which they have to endure from their heathen 
 countrymen. More than half the Chinese in 
 this country would become citizens if allowed 
 to do so, and would be patriotic Americans, 
 But how can they make this country their 
 home as matters are now? They are not al 
 lowed to bring wives here from China, and if 
 they marry American women there is a great 
 outcry. 
 
 All Congressmen acknowledge the injustice 
 of the treatment of my people, yet they con 
 tinue it. They have no backbone. 
 
 Under the circumstances, how can I call 
 this my home, and how can any one blame me 
 if I take my money and go back to my village 
 in China? 
 
 THE END 
 
 [299] 
 
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