The sign-boards were in English and Yiddish, some
of them in Russian. The scurry and hustle of the people were not
merely overwhelmingly greater, both in volume and intensity,
than in my native town. It was of another sort. The swing and step
of the pedestrians, the voices and manner of the street peddlers,
and a hundred and one other things seemed to testify to far more
self-confidence and energy, to larger ambitions and wider scopes,
than did the appearance of the crowds in my birthplace
The great thing was that these people were better dressed than the
inhabitants of my town. The poorest-looking man wore a hat
(instead of a cap), a stiff collar and a necktie, and the poorest
woman wore a hat or a bonnet
The appearance of a newly arrived immigrant was still a novel
spectacle on the East Side. Many of the passers-by paused to look
at me with wistful smiles of curiosity
"There goes a green one!" some of them exclaimed
The sight of me obviously evoked reminiscences in them of the
days when they had been "green ones" like myself.
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