Plainfield High School - Milestone Yearbook (Plainfield, NJ)

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THE ORACLE 9 z 1 i i ’, . RE 3K ok aK K 3K 3K 7 Slova was left with three children to continue the struggle for existence alone. Every day as she thanked God for her bread, she wondered where the next would come from. Winter came; the youngest child fell danger- ously ill; every known trouble seemed to come upon her at once. Then she did the work of two, freezing in the store from dawn till dark, nursing the child in the night, tho’ tired and weary almost beyond bearing. She sent piteous letters to her husband asking for help,—letters that wrung his heart because he had none to give. He was wandering in the streets, his stomach as empty as his pocket, not daring to look at food lest he should seize it, yet too proud to ask his friends for a meal. But she did not know. The first year passed, then the cloud began to lighten: the child became well; Dovid got some work now and then. As the second year drew to its close small sums of money found their way across the Atlantic. Very: small at first, coming irregularly, but afterwards every week, for Dovid had a steady job. And in the spring of the third year something else came, that caused the little store to be sold,—a ticket. Visits were made to kins- folk to say good-bye; everything was made ready for the journey. Slova’s last visit was to her father’s grave, where she fasted a day. Quite a crowd followed her to the wagon when they rode away, weeping. Slova sat facing backwards till the last home scene faded; then faced the front courageously, The journey was like any other. She stole across the border to avoid paying twenty roubles for a pass; was put in a vile immigrant house in Ger- many, where they fleeced all her money away; then she was taken on board a ship which, the officials assured her, they had paid extra to get her in. The ship was little, leaky, and almost unseaworthy. They sailed twenty days, enduring untold agonies, while Dovid in America was nearly sick with anxiety. He had paid a great deal more than the ticket cost to insure his wife a quick ship. The last night on board Slova had a curious dream. Instead of the proud, stately city, she saw a little hillock, up which a path was running, strewn with ashes. Tho’ greatly disappointed, she comforted herself with “Better a path than the wilderness I came from.” The next day, before breakfast, they were taken to Castle Garden, where Slova stood still in dismay. She had no money—the agents had taken care of that—for a telegram; while the children were crying with hunger, aggravated by the sight of the good things on the stalls around to be had for a few cents. Then she was told a certain man sent telegrams for nothing ; so, going to him, she asked if that were true. He nodded, then said, “What is your husband’s name?” “Dovid Chan.”

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8 THEAORACEE “T shall soon go out of the Czar’s power,” he hinted. His wife pretended not to hear. They shut the shop and walked home. The next day when they rode to Riga for new goods, a long, weary way in a springless cart, a shower came up, soaking them through and through. Seeking shelter, they went to a log hut near by, but were driven out because they were Jews. Dovid’s temper was not cooled by the rain. “A plague on these pigs!” he stormed. “May the cholera take them where they will not want for a fire!” “Why only these? All are the same.” “They say in America it is different.” “They say, too, in America one can pick up gold in the streets !” That was all the conversation till they reached Riga. ce te 0 ae se st ey 3K «K K 2K 2K “kK kK Some days after, while at supper, Slova was greatly startled. She saw Dovid had something to tell her, but was entirely unprepared when he blurted out: “Leizer and I are going to America.” “Going to America!” Slova did not believe her ears. “Art drunk or crazy, man? You are making a living yet, and so is the other meshuganer. What more can you.want? Do you believe the silly tales they tell of America? It is the same here or there, only that the other land is godless and full of sin. You cannot throw our bread away; you cannot go.” “We are tired of this place. We want to go where we have a chance. Here it is from hand to mouth; there they all get rich.” “Truly! and leave me, and the children and. forget us all, and forget your religion, and become an opikouros in that shameful land. No one goes there but those who are so low that they can go no lower. Show me one man of good family there that was not ruined here and you can go. You know there is none.” » “T will send for you the very first year, indeed I will. Why not go? One land is as good as another: this is not Jerusalem.” Slova calmed herself. “You cannot go any way. There is no money.” yoellatherstore,” “And I, and the children? How would we live? “Make a smaller one.” So the arguments ran. In the end the man had his way. When the time came Dovid kissed his wife and children and rode away. He was happy, he knew he was; but somehow, there was a queer, dull pain in his heart. This was his home, the home of his fathers; they had lived, loved and died there. The people, too, were kindly, when not set on by church or state ; and as he left it, he knew he loved i t.

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10 THE ORACLE “Dovid Chan!” he roared. Dovid, greatly changed, pushed out of the surging crowd, and hurried towards his wife. The man tried to stop him, but was swept aside; Dovid took his family towards the door. Again the official tried to stop and ques- tion him. “Go to h-ll!” he was told. He did not go, but he did not interfere any- more. And Slova, thinking of the new home, murmured to herself, “Better a tiny path than a wilderness.” In Imitation Chaucer LUNCH-COUNTER ther was in thise schoole Down in ye basement, wher that it was coole, And her ye scholars ate with suche dinne As ne’er was herde at ye Tabard Inne. Ye hotte-dogges and ye egg sandwiches That on his traye eeche one quyk pitches, Eech maketh haste to be ye first in line That while ye grub holds oute he may dine. And he that by mischance doth come in late Is like to get nought but an emptie plate. Twilight HEN the purple shadows are falling And the fire-flies swing their lamps, When the birds to their mates are calling From out of their leafy camps, I love to sit in the twilight And dream of a far-off land, While the moon unveils her silent face And the stars are lit by an unseen Hand. R. F. STRYKER, ’06. ‘Tis a land of dreams and wishes, Only castles in the air, (Unseen and formed in silence), Yet all are wondrous fair. And in the rosy morning light I shall seek, but all in vain, For the dreams I dreamed in the twilight I shall never see again. Eva M. RoceErs, ’06.