BOOK I. THE CHILDREN OF THE GHETTO.

Proem
I. The Bread of Affliction
II.  The Sweater
III.  Malka
IV.  The Redemption of the Son and the Daughter
V. The Pauper Alien
vi.  “Reb” Shemuel
VII.  The Neo-Hebrew Poet
VIII.  Esther and her Children
IX.  Dutch Debby
X. A Silent Family
XI.  The Purim Ball
XII.  The Sons of the Covenant
XIII.  Sugarman’s Barmitzvah Party
XIV.  The Hope of the Family
xv.  The Holy Land League
XVI.  The Courtship of Shosshi Shmendrik
XVII.  The Hyams’s Honeymoon
XVIII.  The Hebrew’s Friday Night
XIX.  With the Strikers
XX.  The Hope Extinct
xxi.  The Jargon Players
XXII.  “For Auld Lang Syne, My Dear”
XXIII.  The Dead Monkey
XXIV.  The Shadow of Religion
XXV.  Seder Night

BOOK II.  THE GRANDCHILDREN OF THE GHETTO.

I. The Christmas Dinner
II.  Raphael Leon
III.  “The Flag of Judah”
IV.  The Troubles of an Editor
V. A Woman’s Growth
vi.  Comedy or Tragedy? 
VII.  What the Years brought
VIII.  The Ends of a Generation
IX.  The “Flag” flutters
X. Esther defies the Universe
XI.  Going Home
XII.  A Sheaf of Sequels
XIII.  The Dead Monkey again
XIV.  Sidney settles down
xv.  From Soul to Soul
XVI.  Love’s Temptation
XVII.  The Prodigal Son
XVIII.  Hopes and Dreams

PROEM.

Not here in our London Ghetto the gates and gaberdines of the olden Ghetto of the Eternal City; yet no lack of signs external by which one may know it, and those who dwell therein.  Its narrow streets have no specialty of architecture; its dirt is not picturesque.  It is no longer the stage for the high-buskined tragedy of massacre and martyrdom; only for the obscurer, deeper tragedy that evolves from the pressure of its own inward forces, and the long-drawn-out tragi-comedy of sordid and shifty poverty.  Natheless, this London Ghetto of ours is a region where, amid uncleanness and squalor, the rose of romance blows yet a little longer in the raw air of English reality; a world which hides beneath its stony and unlovely surface an inner world of dreams, fantastic and poetic as the mirage of the Orient where they were woven, of superstitions grotesque as the cathedral gargoyles of the Dark Ages in which they had birth.  And over all lie tenderly some streaks of celestial light shining from the face of the great Lawgiver.

The folk who compose our pictures are children of the Ghetto; their faults are bred of its hovering miasma of persecution, their virtues straitened and intensified by the narrowness of its