“Major,” he said, “they ain’t no law against thinkin’, is they?”
“That depends,” said the Major. “What’s in your mind now?”
“Well,” said the Kentuckian, “I was just thinkin’ that them Rebels certainly did give us fellers hell day before yistiddy down below the state line.”
§ 276 Where Higher Education Would Have Landed Him
Some fifteen years ago there landed in New York a friendless and almost penniless Russian immigrant who found lodgings on the East Side and at once, with racial perseverance and energy, set out to earn a living.
He was of a likeable disposition, and speedily made acquaintances who sought to aid him in his ambition. One of them sponsored him for the vacant post of janitor, or shammos, to use the common Hebraic word, of a little synagogue on a side street. But when the officers of the congregation found out the applicant was entirely illiterate they reluctantly denied him employment, inasmuch as a shammos must keep certain records. The greenhorn quickly rallied from his disappointment. He got a job somewhere. He prospered. Presently he became a dabbler in real-estate.
Within ten years he was one of the largest independent operators in East Side tenement-house property and popularly rated as a millionaire. An occasion arose when he needed a large amount of money to swing what promised to be a profitable deal. Finding himself for the moment short of cash, he went to the East Side branch of one of the large banks.
It was the first time in his entire business career that he had found it necessary to borrow extensively. He explained his position to the manager, who knew of his success, and asked for a loan of fifty thousand dollars.
“I’ll be very glad to accommodate you, Mr. Rabin,” said the banker. “Just sit down there at that desk and make out a note for the amount.”
The caller smiled an embarrassed smile.