Brenda, Her School and Her Club
Copyright© 2024 by Helen Leah Reed
Chapter 7: Visiting Manuel
Two or three weeks after their adventure with Manuel passed before Brenda and Nora were able to visit him. They talked several times of going, but something always interfered. Sometimes it was the weather, sometimes it was another engagement, more often they could not go because they had no one to accompany them. For it was evident that two young girls could not go alone to the North End. At length one morning one of the under teachers in the school offered to go with them that very afternoon. She had overheard them at recess expressing their sorrow that they could not go alone.
“Really,” pouted Brenda, “I think that mamma is very mean. We could go as well as not by ourselves, and why we should have to wait for her or some older person to go with us I cannot see.”
“Don’t call your mother mean,” Miss South said laughingly in passing, and then as Brenda explained the cause of her rather undutiful expression, she had added, “Your mother is perfectly right. It would never do for you to go alone. But I have an errand down near Prince Street this very day. If you get Mrs. Barlow’s permission I shall be happy to have you go with me.” So it happened that one warm, sunny day in early November, the girls and Miss South exchanged their Back Bay car at Scollay Square for a Hanover Street electric car. It whizzed swiftly down a street which neither Brenda nor Nora had ever seen before, filled with gay shops whose windows were bright with millinery or jewelry—or, I am sorry to say it—bottles of liquor, amber and red. There was more display here than in the streets up town.
“Sometimes,” said Miss South, “I call this the Bowery of Boston. It is the chief shopping street of the North End, and on Saturday nights the poor people do most of their buying. I came here one evening with my brother. It was really very amusing.”
They had been in the car but a few minutes when Miss South gave the signal for the car to stop.
“It will interest you,” she said, “to see this quaint old street. It has an old-time name, too—’Salem Street.’”
Brenda and Nora glanced around them in surprise. It was a narrow street, winding along almost in a curve. Though most of the houses were brick, a number were of wood. Some of them had gable-roofs, and nearly all of them looked old. Shops occupied the lower part of most of these houses, and many of them were pawn-shops. As they entered the street it seemed as if they could hardly pass through. Hooks and poles laden with old clothes projected from many of these shops, and the sidewalks themselves held numerous loungers and children. Nora looked interested, Brenda, a trifle disgusted, as they saw a woman chattering with a hand-cart man who sold fish.
“Ugh, I wouldn’t want to eat it,” said the latter.
“Oh, it’s probably perfectly good fish,” responded Miss South with a smile. “Only it does not look quite as inviting as it would if shown on a marble slab in an up-town fish market.”
“Are these people dreadfully poor?” asked Nora.
“No,” replied Miss South. “This is the Jewish section, and most of the men here make a pretty good living. They are peddlers, and go out into the country selling tins or fruit, or they have little shops.”
“But these children look so poor!”
“If you will notice more carefully you will see that their clothes are dingy rather than poor. Nearly all wear good shoes, and there are not many rags. Many of these Russian and Polish Jews when they first come to Boston have very little money, and are supported by their friends. But they soon find a chance to earn their living, and a man coming here without a cent, in five years sometimes owns a house. I speak of this, girls, because I have known people to think that dirt and dinginess mean great poverty.”
Nora and Brenda made many exclamations of surprise as they looked down some of the narrow lanes leading from Salem Street.
“It’s just like pictures of Europe, isn’t it?” cried Nora; “and then these people—and the queer signs—Oh! really I think it’s too interesting for anything.”
The signboards of which Nora spoke certainly did look strange.
Some of them had Russian names, others were in odd Hebrew characters. Those which were English were peculiarly worded. The owner of a tiny shop with one little window described himself as a “Wholesale and retail dealer in dry goods,” a corner groceryman called himself an “importer.” The English spelling was not always correct, and the names of the shop-people were long and odd.
Miss South’s errand took her to a large building occupied as an industrial school. On their way upstairs they saw some boys at work at a printing press, and Miss South told the girls a little about the boys’ and girls’ clubs, which met in this building certain evenings in the week. Miss South wished to speak to the kindergarten teacher whose school was on the top floor. Most of the little children had gone home for the day, and only a few remained whose mothers were out working and had no one with whom to leave the children. Nora and Brenda exclaimed with delight at sight of five or six little boys and girls seated in small chairs around a low table. Nearly all had dark hair and eyes, although there was one little blonde girl with long, light curls. They looked at the visitors with small wonder, for they were used to seeing strangers. Nora at once began to play with the light-haired girl, but Brenda, after a glance or two, preferred to look out of the window. Unlike Nora, she was not very fond of children. They did not remain long in the building, and were soon in the street again.
“Just one block below,” said Miss South, “is Prince Street, but before we go there let us look at Christ Church. Do you realize that you are under the very shadow of the spire where Paul Revere hung his lantern?”
The girls fairly jumped with surprise.
“Of course I knew it was somewhere down here, but I hadn’t an idea it was so near,” said Brenda, while Nora began to recite,
“Listen, my children, and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere.”
They had turned the corner again into Salem Street, and following Miss South, had crossed the street. There before them loomed the gray front of the old church with its tall spire on which they could read the inscription:
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