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"Well, the point is that Pitzela and the way he treats his son is a scandal. You know why? Because he uses his son as an advertisement. Pitzela's son, mind you, is so weak and old that he can hardly walk and he carries a heavy cane and his hands shake like leaves. And Pitzela drags him around all over. To banquets. To political meetings. To the Yiddish theater. All over.
Not that there are not German Jews, but their tongue has not the knack of the pure, guttural German of Prussia. And this man's voice had none of the nasal, throaty tones of Yiddish. "Whew!" whistled Joe, as he and Blake looked into the tell-tale mirror. "That looks bad!" "Hush!" cautioned Blake. "The transoms are open and he may hear you."
There was nothing in what the boys did in heder that I could not have done if I had not been a girl. For a girl it was enough if she could read her prayers in Hebrew, and follow the meaning by the Yiddish translation at the bottom of the page. A girl's real schoolroom was her mother's kitchen.
"Shall I begin with this great man?" he asked, facetiously, pointing his fork at himself. "I am the world-renowned translator and feuilleton writer whose writings have greatly increased the circulation of the Yiddish Tribune." Under the guise of playful vanity he gave vent to a torrent of self-appreciation.
The latter were very singular productions indeed; they were copies each of a page of the Testament, one Russian and the other Yiddish; but the lettering appeared white on a black ground, of which it occupied only quite a small space in the middle, leaving a broad black margin. Each photograph was mounted on a stiff card, and each card had a duplicate photograph pasted on the back.
They were English, quite English, their grandfather having been born in Dresden; and they gave themselves airs in consequence, and called their kinder "children," which annoyed those neighbors who found a larger admixture of Yiddish necessary for conversation.
It was rather the somewhat grotesque fear that the role of Yiddish as a living language may cease that appealed to Miss Frank. The idea was to collect a Yiddish library, encourage the translation of Yiddish books into English, and provide a sufficient supply of Yiddish books and papers for the patients in the London and other Hospitals who are unable to read any other language.
There is no question whatever that the work of Abraham Cahan, Yiddish scholar, journalist, novelist, belongs to the American nation. As far back as the year in which Stephen Crane stirred many sensibilities with his Maggie, the story of an Irish slum in Manhattan, Mr. Cahan produced in Yekl a book of similar and practically equal merit concerning a Jewish slum in the same borough.
"I was pretty rocky when I first went to William H. Seward Square. But the air in that Yiddish country wonderful, dear sir. Regard me; punch, poke, pound where and how you like. Sound as a bell you'll find me. Now I pass on. I yield place to you. The honor, dear sir, is mine." "I confess that I am interested," said Indiman. "The conditions are simply "
It was only when, at the age of sixteen, Gittel Goldstein left the whirring machine-room for the more lucrative and laurelled position of heroine of Goldwater's London Yiddish Theatre that he had discovered how this whimsical, coquettish creature had insinuated herself into his very being.
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