Edmund Reid

him outside the docks, and because he is ignorant and
friendless in a strange land, and speaks only his own
language, seize upon him and convey him to a shark's
boarding house, and keep him there on some pretence or
other until he is penniless. Then the "shark" lends him a
few shillings on his luggage, and when that is gone turns
him into the street with only the clothes he stands up in.
That is how hundreds of Jewish immigrants commence
their career as units in the densely-packed population of
East London and begin "to look for work" destitute.
The Jewish community, fully aware of these evils,
does its best to guard against them. They have agents
who meet every boat, and, addressing the poor aliens
in their own language, help them to get their scanty
belongings from the docks, and advise and direct them
as to lodgings and homes and shelters where they will be
honestly dealt with.
Let us meet a ship from Hamburg, laden with men and
women who will presently be working in the dens of the
sweaters.
It is a pouring wet day. The rain is coming down in
torrents, and one has to wade through small lakes and
rivulets of mud to reach the narrow pathway leading to
Irongate Stairs, where the immigrant passengers of the
vessel lying at anchor in the Thames are to land. This is a
river steamer, and so the wretched immigrants are taken
off in small boats and rowed to the steps. Look at them,
the men thin and hungry-eyed, the women with their
heads bare and only a thin shawl over their shoulders,
the children terrified by the swaying of the boat that lies off waiting to land when the other boats have discharged
their load!
What must these people feel as they get their first glimpse of London? All they can see is a blurred and blotted
line of wharves and grim buildings, and when at last they land it is in a dark archway crowded with loafers and
touts all busily trying to confuse them, to seize their luggage, almost fighting to get possession of it.
Fortunately Mr Somper, the Superintendent of the Poor Jews' Temporary Shelter, is here also. As the scared
and shivering foreigners step ashore he speaks to them either in Yiddish or Lettish, and finds out if they have an
address to go to. Most of them have something written on a piece of paper which they produce creased and soiled
from a pocket. It is the address of a friend or relative, or of a boarding-house. Others have no idea where they
are going. Many, asked what money they have, confess to twenty or thirty shillings as their entire fortune. Others
at once begin to unfold a tale of robbery at the frontier, and moan that they have scarcely anything. These are
at once taken charge of and housed in the shelter until their friends can be found for them. For most of them
have friends "somewhere." It may be a brother, it may be only a fellow townsman or fellow villager, who came to
London years ago. In the shelter they are taken care of with their money and their "baggage" until their friends
can be communicated with or employment obtained.
Here, stepping from the boat, are two young Germans. They are going on to America. Here are two Russians
in long coats, high boots, and peaked caps. These also are for America. But the rest of the pale, anxious, and
dishevelled crowd are for London. This Russian lad, still wearing the red embroidered shirt of his Fatherland,
has been sent for by his brother, a tailor. This young fellow with a wife and two children has nowhere to go. He
has come to escape military service and to look for work. Under the dark archway, wet and miserable, there is a
crowd of sixty-four men, women, and children huddled together gesticulating and shrieking, and always in mortal
terror that some unauthorised person is going to lay hands on the little bundles and sacks which contain their all.
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