The steel plant has caused a terrific influx of people and it is impossible to house them all. A doctor chap tells me that in many large rooming houses a bed has always at least two occupants during the twenty-four hours. When the man goes off to work in the morning, the fellow who has been working on night shift takes his place. I believe that soon the two parts of this town are going to join and that then they will form a city which will be able to borrow enough money to keep the place in first class order. The people are not poor and indeed there are sometimes quite thrilling murders, I have heard, for the ignorant foreigners keep all their money in a chest under their beds or hidden in some way. I hear that this was caused by clever German propaganda. The Boche envoys went about and suggested to the people that if the United States entered the war they would soon be strafed by the fatherland, and that in any case, the Government would pinch all of their money.
Opposite the steel works office there are two photographic studios. All the people photographed are of Southern European blood. One sees happy brides, merry babies, and last, but not least, many corpses surrounded by sad but interested relatives. When one of these foreigners dies things change for him at once. He is placed in a beautiful coffin, lined with the most comfortable looking fluffy figured satin. His head rests on a great big cushion. The side of the coffin, called here a casket, is hinged and falls down, thus forming a couch, on which the dead person rests. Before the funeral, all the friends, and whoever can get there in time, group themselves around the corpse and are photographed. If the coffin is not a very convenient type, it is raised, and one sees the corpse, dressed in his best clothes, with a watch chain across his waistcoat, surrounded by all his friends who, I am sure, are looking their best. Sometimes a sweet wee baby can be seen in the picture, lying in its expensive coffin, while the father and mother and the other children stand near. It is a funny idea and a little horrible, I think. These gruesome photographs are exposed in the front window. It is a curious thing that the more ignorant amongst us seem to enjoy a good funeral.
I expect, that within a couple of years, this town will be a beautiful city with parks and good roads. The climate is certainly good and the hills around are fine. The steel company now dominates the place, business has taken charge of the people here, but the natural beauty of this spot can never be changed. Let me quote from the writings of a man who arrived here many years ago. He was very much impressed with the beauty of the hills:
"The high hills around Bethlehem in the month of October present a scene of gorgeous beauty almost beyond description. The foliage of the trees contains all the tints of the rainbow, but is even more beautiful, if that is possible, because the colours are more diffused. Some trees, the pine, the hemlock, and the laurel still retain their vivid green; the sycamore its sombre brown; the maple, the beauty of the wood and valley, is parti coloured; its leaves, green at first, soon turn into a brilliant red and yellow; the sturdy oak is clothed in purple, the gum is dressed in brilliant red; the sumac bushes are covered with leaves of brightest crimson; the beech with those of a delicate pale yellow almost white; the chestnut a buff; while the noble hickory hangs with golden pendants; the dogwood has its deep rich red leaves and clusters of berries of a brighter red."
In spite of the great steel plant, Bethlehem still nests in a very lovely valley, and during the autumn the hills are just as gorgeously beautiful as when John Hill Martin, the writer of the above, visited the town.
III
SOCIAL AMENITIES IN "BACK BILLETS"
Bethlehem, December 20, 1917.