thing in the world seemed
to have taken up its abode therein. We sat the whole night sweeping
the vermin from us. After a year of horror--as it seemed--came the
dawn. In the morning entered the landlord, and demanded a shilling. I
had not a farthing, but I had a leather bag which I gave him for the
night's lodging. I begged him to let me a room in the house. So he let
me a small back room upstairs, the size of a table, at three and
sixpence a week. He relied on our collecting his rent from the
kind-hearted.

We entered the empty room with joy, and sat down on the floor. We
remained the whole day without bread. The children managed to get a
crust now and again from other lodgers, but all day long they cried
for food, and at night they cried because they had nothing to sleep
on. I asked our landlord if he knew of any work we could do. He said
he would see what could be done. Next day he went out, and returned
with a heap of linen to be washed. The family set to work at once, but
I am sure my wife washed the things less with water than with tears.
Oh, Kazelia! We washed the whole week, the landlord each day bringing
bread and washing. At the end of the week he said: 'You have worked
out your rent, and have nothing to pay.' I should think not indeed!

My eldest daughter was fortunate enough to get a place at a tailor's
for four shillings a week, and the others sought washing and
scrubbing. So each day we had bread, and at the end of the week rent.
Bread and water alone formed our sustenance. But we were very grateful
all the same. When the holidays came on, my daughter fell out of work.
I heard a word 'slack.' I inquired, 'What is the meaning of the word
"slack"?' Then my daughter told me that it means _schlecht_ (bad).
There is nothing to be earned. Now, what should I do? I had no means
of living. The children cried for bread and something to sleep on.
Still we lived somehow till _Rosh Hashanah_ (New Year), hoping it
would indeed be a New Year.

It was _Erev Yomtov_ (the day before the holiday), and no washing was
to be had. We struggled as before death. The landlord of the house
came in. He said to me: 'Aren't you ashamed? Can't you see your
children have scarcely strength to live? Why have you not compassion
on your little ones? Go to the Charity Board. There you will receive
help.' Believe me, I would rather have died. But the little ones were
starving, and their cries wrung me. So I went to a Charity Board. I
said,