AC dBooks

Not all the allurements of my dream were sufficient to reconcile me to
such a dangerous separation.
"It's impossible," I thought. "Quite impossible."
Insensibly my rapid footsteps slackened. When I reached that part of the
Mile End Road in which the Jewish tailors live, and found myself
listening to a foreign language which I afterwards knew to be Yiddish,
and looking at men with curls at each side of their sallow faces,
slithering along as if they were wearing eastern slippers without heels,
I stopped, without knowing why, at the corner of a street where an
Italian organ-man was playing while a number of bright-eyed Jewish
children danced.
I was still looking on, hardly thinking of what I saw, when my eyes fell
on an advertisement, pasted on the window of a sausage-and-ham shop at
the corner. In large written characters it ran:
_Seamstress Wanted. Good Wages.
Apply No. ---- Washington Street_.
How little are the things on which our destiny seems to hang! In a
moment I was remembering what Mrs.


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