self-respect they have remaining over from their
maiden days, and all sink together, unheeding, in
their degradation and dirt.

Sometimes I become afraid of my own generaliza
tions upon the massed misery of this Ghetto life, and
feel that my impressions are exaggerated, that I am
too close to the picture and lack perspective. At
such moments I find it well to turn to the testimony
of other men to prove to myself that I am not be
coming overwrought and addle-pated. Frederick
Harrison has always struck me as being a level
headed, well-controlled man, and he says:

To me, at least, it would be enough to condemn modern
society as hardly an advance on slavery or serfdom, if the
permanent condition of industry were to be that which we
behold, that ninety per cent of the actual producers of
wealth have no home that they can call their own beyond
the end of the week; have no bit of soil, or so much as a
room that belongs to them; have nothing of value of any
kind, except as much old furniture as will go into a cart;
have the precarious chance of weekly wages, which barely
suffice to keep them in health; are housed, for the most
part, in places that no man thinks fit for his horse; are
separated by so narrow a margin from destitution that a
month of bad trade, sickness, or unexpected loss brings
them face to face with hunger and pauperism... But
below this normal state of the average workman in town
and country, there is found the great band of destitute out
casts the camp followers of the army of industry at
least one-tenth of the whole proletarian population, whose

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v?