"On the Trail of the Immigrant" by Edward Alfred Steiner. Published by Good Press. Good Press publishes a wide range of titles that encompasses every genre. From well-known classics & literary fiction and non-fiction to forgotten−or yet undiscovered gems−of world literature, we issue the books that need to be read. Each Good Press edition has been meticulously edited and formatted to boost readability for all e-readers and devices. Our goal is to produce eBooks that are user-friendly and accessible to everyone in a high-quality digital format.
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Edward Alfred Steiner. On the Trail of the Immigrant
On the Trail of the Immigrant
Table of Contents
I. BY WAY OF INTRODUCTION
II. THE BEGINNING OF THE TRAIL
III. THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE STEERAGE
IV. LAND, HO!
V. AT THE GATEWAY
VI “THE MAN AT THE GATE”
VII. THE GERMAN IN AMERICA
VIII. THE SCANDINAVIAN IMMIGRANT
IX. THE JEW IN HIS OLD WORLD HOME
X. THE NEW EXODUS
XI. IN THE GHETTOS OF NEW YORK
XII. THE SLAVS AT HOME
XIII. THE SLAVIC INVASION
XIV. DRIFTING WITH THE “HUNKIES”
Centre of Mill Horrors
From Accident to Hospital
XV. THE BOHEMIAN IMMIGRANT
XVI. LITTLE HUNGARY
XVII. THE ITALIAN AT HOME
XVIII. THE ITALIAN IN AMERICA
XIX. WHERE GREEK MEETS GREEK
XX. THE NEW AMERICAN AND THE NEW PROBLEM
XXI. THE NEW AMERICAN AND OLD PROBLEMS
XXII. RELIGION AND POLITICS
XXIII. BIRDS OF PASSAGE
XXIV. IN THE SECOND CABIN
XXV. AU REVOIR
APPENDIX. IMMIGRATION STATISTICS
INDEX
Отрывок из книги
Edward Alfred Steiner
Published by Good Press, 2021
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Vice there is, crude, rough vice, down here in the steerage. Yes, they drink vodka,—even that rarely; but up in the cabin they drink champagne and Kentucky whiskies, the same devils with other names. Seldom do the steerage passengers gamble—a friendly game of cards perhaps, here and there; while up in the cabin, from sunlight until dawn, poker chips are piled and pass to and fro among daintily attired men and women. There are rough jests in this steerage, and scant courtesy; but virtue is as precious here as there, although kept under tremendous temptation. I have crossed the ocean hither and thither, often in the steerage, more often in the cabin; and I have found gentlemen in dirty homespun in the one place, and in the other supposed gentlemen who were but beasts, although they had lackeys to attend them, and suites of rooms in which to make luxurious a useless existence. The steerage brings virtue and vice in the rough. A dollar might not be safe, and yet as safe as a whole bank up in the cabin; the steerage might steal a loaf of white bread or a tempting cake, but it has not yet learned how to corner the wheat market; the men in the steerage might be tempted to steal a ride upon a railroad, but in the cabin I have met rascals who had stolen whole railroads, yet were called “Captains of Industry.”
Yes, this Heaven is coming; coming down almost from above, on yonder fringe of the sea, for far away trails the low lying smoke of the pilot boat, and but a little farther off is—land—land. None but the shipwrecked and the emigrants, these way-farers who come to save and be saved, know the joy of that note which goes from lip to lip as it echoes and reëchoes in thirty languages, yet with the one word of throbbing joy,—land—land—America.
