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On the feast days of religion, business is absolutely and literally ignored in Jewry, ignored with a unanimity that has no parallel in Christendom. One familiar with the business energy of the Ghetto on work days is amazed on visiting the region on the Sabbath. The stores are closed tight, and instead of the usual pandemonium, one comes upon a sort of unnatural hush. At first, you cannot realize the cause of this. You have just come from streets stirred with the usual noises of business and trade. The thought occurs: is it possible that anything in the range of human events can lure the Jew from his chosen idol, trade? All at once it dawns upon you that it is the Sabbath, and the phenomenon is explained. On this day the denizens assume a sudden and unwonted burnish. Good clothes are donned universally, and the whole quarter assumes an eminently respectable phase. All Jewry betakes itself to the synagogue and business is not even thought of.

Let us join one of the groups and enter the particular synagogue mentioned above, where the ancient rites of the Torah are observed. The building is of frame and somewhat dingy in appearance. The interior is even plainer than the exterior would suggest. There is no hint of that lavishness that the Semite almost invariably carries into his religious observances. But the personnel of the devotees and the unique character of the service make up fully for any lack of grandeur in the surroundings. By far the larger part of the congregation is composed of old men. They wear the Jewish gabardine, a kind of vari-colored sash swathed round the waist, a counterpart of which may still be seen in the flowing paraphernalia of the Arab of the desert. These gabardines give a picturesque aspect to their wearers and considerably relieve the somberness of the scene. They are held sacred. Shylock wore one, and it will be remembered that Antonio, the merchant of Venice, achieved the culmination of insult to a Jew when he spat upon it. These sashes seem to be made of some costly oriental texture, and the colors are richly interwoven and diversified. Beside the distinctive mark of Judaism each worshiper has a book inscribed with Hebrew characters. These books are very old and have the appearance of treasured heirlooms. The principal ceremony consists of a deep and measured chant, which is almost a counterpart of the chant used in the Roman Catholic churches during Holy Week. It is exceedingly solemn and impressive.

What strikes the rambler through the Ghetto with paramount force is the health of the denizens of what the nose infallibly proclaims to be an infected region. The eye gives the lie direct to the sense of smell. A sturdy hand of health is to be seen in the faces of adult and child, and how this happens in an atmosphere of the very reek of disease must be the despair of sanitary theorists. There seems to be an utter absence of care for the swarming broods of children, and yet the little ones thrive in a real exuberance of strength and beauty. Who can account for these full blown roses these things of bloom found in the environment of a dunghill?

An interesting and unique feature is the signs and placards in the old Hebrew character. In certain portions of the colony English is altogether ignored. Newspapers printed in Hebrew have a lively circulation, and for all purposes one might as well be in a street in the heart of Palestine. The thought naturally occurs, is it possible that the language here current is identical with that of the Bible? No, not exactly. The classical vernacular of the Ghetto would not be exactly intelligible to Renan or Ewald or any of the French or German Hebraists who might visit the glimpses of Moore or Seigel streets. But it is a corruption of the ancient tongue, and probably resembles it as the French of an ancient Vendeau or Breton resembles that spoken in the fanborgs. This modern dialect of the Hebrews is spoken quite generally, is handed down from father to son and to preserve it in the family is esteemed a point of honor. Even the little children understand and babble it.

One of the most interesting characters in Jewry lives in an obscure corner of the quarter in the shadow of the Moore street synagogue. He is one of the very few inhabitants not engaged in trade. He is probably possessed of a competence, for there is the appearance of decent comfort in his surroundings. Old Ismail is one of the scholars of Israel. He takes no heed of material gods, but has set his heart on the poetic riches and memories of his race. He is well versed in the historic lore of his nation, and the past glories of the chosen people are things of real interest for him.

"I see that you are interested in our people," he said. "I have lived here fifteen years, and during that time many changes have come to pass. Three new synagogues have been built and the population has increased tenfold. Our people, as you have probably noticed, are very eager in trade, but, they are not wholly worldly, as I well know, nor does their deep interest in business make them the less earnest about their religion. On the Sabbath you will find all the shops closed and the synagogues crowded. I have heard it asserted that the Jews are falling away from their religion by the thousand, and perhaps this may be true elsewhere, but I am certain that it is not true as regards us. I can see no falling off; on the contrary, there is a steady increase in the attendance at the Williamsburgh synagogues."

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