"We are so happy in this country that we must celebrate even when we don't want to," said a Hester street storekeeper, and then he quoted the words of the Psalms in the traditional monotone: "And they who led us captive requireth of us a song."

He stood on the sidewalk in front of his dreary and dilapidated grocery store. It was Sunday morning. The chosen people of old who have elected to come to the chosen country of to-day moved up and down in large numbers, almost crowding the street. They stood in little groups idly, and conversed loudly in a more or less Americanized Yiddish, often lapsing into a curious English of their own. Their dress and outward appearance denoted the degrees of their Americanization and prosperity. There were those who live in the Jewish street, or in the immediate vicinity, which is also within the Ghetto, and others who, after spending their first years here, have now travelled by the road of success to "nice, high-toned" districts, such as Allen street in the West End. On Sunday they all come down there, for then you can meet everybody, all the "Landsleute," you can hear all the news, and there was a time when Sunday was the liveliest day on the street. Thus these people walked up and down the thoroughfare, while some stood in small gatherings and talked. Women met, chatted for a few minutes, and then took half an hour in parting.

All the stores were closed, all the places of business deserted, and it seemed strange and incongruous to see all these people out on the street. It seemed as if the people were there for no purpose, as if they had nothing to do. One wondered, at first, if it were a holiday; but the absence of even a suggestion of the spirit of Sabbath soon made it clear that there was no religious meaning in this day, so far as the Hebrew people were concerned. Aside from that, the people would not be out so if it were a holiday. They would be at home, observing and celebrating the day. It appeared as if their idleness was forced upon them; they suggested gatherings of workers who are out on a strike, waiting for settlement. Upon investigation the stranger found that this was an enforced idleness, a compulsory holiday. The Christian Sabbath was forced by law upon the Jews, who had celebrated their Sabbath the day before, and they could not begin the week's work until their loving neighbors were through. And this, too, was the week before Passover, the busiest season in the Ghetto.

My friend, the storekeeper, stood upon the sidewalk in front of his emporium and continued his plaint, not without quaint gestures:

"They call this the freest country on earth, and yet here we have been compelled to close up our stores two days in the week for the whole winter. A number of us have already gone out of business, and the Uppermost only knows what will happen with the rest. We cannot make it pay in five days; rent is very high, profits are small, and around here times are always hard. The poor people who trade with us only know prosperity by sight or hearsay.

"We have preserved our Sabbath through all the persecutions and sufferings which we have endured in the past centuries. Our Sabbath is as dear to us as life itself, and now it is endangered by the laws of this free land. We cannot afford to close our stores on both Saturday and Sunday. Sunday used to be one of the best days of the week for business. It is the first day of the week with us. It is the day after our Sabbath, when every household needs a new supply of food. It is also the day on which our people from the country, having a day off, come in to buy their goods—that is, they used to come in when we were permitted to keep our stores open on Sunday. Now all is changed, and the business is going down and down. We will not keep open on Saturday, and the police won't let us keep open on Sunday. It is outrageous, the way they treat us; it is scandalous, I say."

Keidansky, the radical of the Ghetto, is quite a unique, native character. He is the young man who once told me that he had more good ideas than were good for him, and I believe now that he was right. I met him one day in one of his resorts, a "kosher" lunch room of the Jewish district. I asked him for his opinion on the Sunday question, and he told me what follows—among other things—over a few glasses of Russian tea:—

"So far as I'm personally concerned, one day is as good as another for a Sabbath, and we can't have too many of them. Any day on which we can rest and be at our best, is a holiday. I am too religious to be pious. I can sanctify as many days as I can celebrate. The new conception of 'kosher' is whatever is wholesome, digestible and tasteful. To be really happy is to be holy, and those who have lost this world will not be entrusted with another. I hate uniformity, and it's very tiresome to rest when everybody else rests; but since it would be most convenient to suspend business and activity when the majority of the people observe their Sabbath, since the Christians do not want to rest on the same day that the Lord rested, and decided to get ahead of God and repose on the first instead of the seventh day, why, let it be Sunday, then—as far as I am concerned. Convenience is the first step to happiness, and tolerance is the beginning of philosophy. There is nothing intrinsically sacred in any day; it is only an artificial measure of time, and time is only a blank space, absolutely worthless unless we write upon it with our deeds. All days are made holy or unholy by what we do in them. So, you see, so far as I am concerned, Saturday or Sunday, any day, will do. Personally I have never been compelled to close up my store. I have never been so unfortunate as to own a store. This, however, is only my point of view.

"One of the most immoral things I know of is to force your own petty brand of morality upon the lives of others, and I can hardly conceive of anything more irreligious than forcing your particular religion upon others. To respect the religion of your neighbors is a deeply religious principle, and those who have no religion at all can almost make up for it by respecting the religion of others. Religious liberty is one of the most precious principles of our country, is it not? And here this fundamental principle is rankly violated by the law, or rather by what I think must be a silly misinterpretation of the law. There are thousands of Jews encumbered by and compelled to rest on, if not to observe, a Christian Sabbath. I do not like to believe with some of the Zionists that the seed of anti-Semitism has been sown in this country and that a good crop will soon be up to encourage the restoration of Israel to the Turk's Palestine. I am rather inclined to think that this idea is anti-Semitic. But certainly the stranger in this country would be extremely surprised at the way the Jews are treated here just now in regard to the observance of Sabbath. Who is to blame? The law or those who enforce it? Oh, the law. But perhaps our people now suffer the consequences of having been among the first to bring laws into the world. When people saw that the world was too good they began to make laws, and ever since they have kept up making and multiplying them faster than even the lawmakers can break them. Why, one can hardly walk two steps before he finds that he is breaking a useless law which it is very tempting to violate. I am not so radical as some of my friends. I do not believe that all the stupidity of the age has been incarnated into our laws. A great deal of it has been left in our customs, traditions and superstitions; but a law that interferes with religious liberty in a free country is bad enough.

"I tell you it is just exasperating to walk through the Ghetto of a Sunday now and see all the places of business closed up and all the public resorts abandoned. The poor housewives of the Ghetto whose cupboards are all empty and who need so many things on Saturday night, after their Sabbath, and have to wait until Monday—it is a great hardship for them. I tell you it's dead wrong to force this blue law upon the people. The Hebrew, to whom the traditional Sabbath is as dear as life, ought to receive due consideration, or rather the right to do as he pleases, in so far as he does not harm others. The law should have nothing to do with Sabbath, anyhow. People can never be made religious by law. If you are going to write about it, tell the whole story and show how ill-treated we are. Perhaps you can convert the Christians to the spirit of Christianity. Let the voice of the chosen people be heard!"