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For a man to be just of this sort, it seemed plain that he must live in an isolated ease upon the unceasing droppings of coupons, rents, and like receivables. Such was the immigrant's first conjecture; and, as with slow, scant questions and answers they made their bargain, every new glance strengthened it; he was evidently a rentier.
Accursed be the heart which has no opening door for the immigrant's weary feet, and thrice accursed be the heart which remembers strangerhood against some mother's homeless boy.
"Yes," interrupted the Creole, smiling at the immigrant's sudden magnanimity, "its positive blemishes; do they all spring from one main defect?" "I think not. The climate has its influence, the soil has its influence dwellers in swamps cannot be mountaineers." "But after all," persisted the Creole, "the greater part of our troubles comes from " "Slavery," said Frowenfeld, "or rather caste."
The immigrant's name was Cheng Chi-lung, and when the partisans of the Ming dynasty made their last stand at Foochaw, they chose Cheng for general, through him soliciting aid from the Yedo Bakufu. Their request was earnestly discussed in Yedo, and it is possible that had the Ming officers held out a little longer, Japan might have sent an expedition across the sea.
She and her husband, who is still in my employ, own half a dozen tenement-houses. One day, on the first of the month, I met her in the street with a large hand-bag and a dignified mien. She was out collecting rent. IT was the spring of 1910. The twenty-fifth anniversary of my coming to America was drawing near. The day of an immigrant's arrival in his new home is like a birthday to him.
The closing episode of the Emperor Suinin's life was the despatch of Tajima Mori, this immigrant's descendant, to the country of Tokoyo, nominally for the purpose of obtaining orange-seeds, but probably with the ulterior motive of exploration. *By Dr. Ariga, an eminent Japanese authority.
"But," replied the unyielding Frowenfeld, turning redder than ever, "that is the very thing that American liberty gives me the right peaceably to do! Here is a structure of society defective, dangerous, erected on views of human relations which the world is abandoning as false; yet the immigrant's welcome is modified with the warning not to touch these false foundations with one of his fingers."
Can we expect to remedy this situation by dismissing the problem of the submerged native elements with legislative palliatives or treating it with careless scorn? Do we better it by driving out of the immigrant's heart the dream of liberty that brought him to our shores?
"What will you do now?" asked the stranger, when a short silence had followed the conclusion of the story. "I hardly know. I am taken somewhat by surprise. I have not chosen a definite course in life as yet. I have been a general student, but have not prepared myself for any profession; I am not sure what I shall be." A certain energy in the immigrant's face half redeemed this childlike speech.
The scene, which is one of the most thrilling in history, repeats itself in the heart of every immigrant as he comes in sight of the American shores. I am at a loss to convey the peculiar state of mind that the experience created in me When the ship reached Sandy Hook I was literally overcome with the beauty of the landscape The immigrant's arrival in his new home is like a second birth to him.
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