Over there people go to the same synagogue
all their lives, while here one is constantly on the move. They call
it a city.
Pshaw! It is a market-place, a bazar, an inn, not a city! People are
together for a day and then, behold! they have flown apart. Where
to? Nobody knows. I don't know what has become of you and you
don't know what has become of me."
"That's why there is no real friendship here," I chimed in, heartily.
"That's why one feels so friendless, so lonely."
My shop, of course, shut down, and I roamed about the streets a
good deal. I was restless. I continually felt nonplussed, ashamed to
look myself in the face, as it were. One forenoon I found myself
walking in the direction of Twenty-third Street and Lexington
Avenue. The college building was now a source of consolation.
Indeed, what was money beside the halo of higher education? I
paused in front of the building. There were several students on the
campus, all Jewish boys. I accosted one of them. I spoke to him
enviously, and left the place thrilling with a determination to drop
all thought of business, to take the entrance examination, and be a
college student at last.
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