THE LAND OF THE FREE.
A letter from Kathinka Kierson to her father:
JULY 1, 1887.
DEAR FATHER:--We grieved and rejoiced on the receipt of your
last letter: grieved that the Jews of Russia are still smarting under
the lash of persecution, that outbreaks of intolerance still continue;
and we rejoice to learn that dear mother has almost entirely recovered
her reason. We trust that her cure will be permanent, and that the
evening of your life will be as happy as you so richly deserve. It is
truly as you so often said: "Sorrow is essential in bringing out the
best there is in man." As a severe storm in nature purifies the elements
and the earth, reviving the plants, clarifying the air, causing the sun
to shine more gloriously, so, too, do the storms which beset the soul
and wring from it its groans and sighs, purify the spiritual man and
place him nearer to the throne of his Maker. I cannot but thank the
Lord, when I contrast our present position with what would have been our
lot had we remained in Kief. I know we have been favored by a kind
Providence above many of our fellow-refugees, and we do not forget to
thank God for his blessings.
After the trials we experienced on coming to America, the desperate
struggle with poverty, the difficulties Joseph experienced in securing
work, the drifting from city to city in hopes of bettering our
condition, and the reverses which almost drove us to despair, the sun of
prosperity is at length beginning to shine for us. Our experience is but
another illustration of the adage, that "opportunities come to him who
seeks them."
It is now nearly a year since a combination of circumstances brought us
to Chicago. I have already written how Joseph obtained employment in a
large furniture factory, and by indomitable energy and close attention
to business, worked his way up from a simple laborer to be the overseer
of the entire works. I now have more good news for you, news which your
kind heart will be glad to hear.
About six months ago we met an old gentleman, named Pesach Harretzki,
or, as he calls himself, Philip Harris. He is a large manufacturer of
cloth, and had business transactions with the factory in which Joseph
was employed. When he heard that my husband was from Kief, he evinced
the liveliest interest and eagerly inquired after the welfare of a man
whom he remembered as a boy of fourteen, one Mendel Winenki. When Joseph
told him that he had married the daughter of Rabbi Winenki, Mr. Harris
could scarcely restrain his impatience until he saw me. He called at our
home that same evening and whiled away the time with anecdotes of you,
dear father. He told us how ambitious you were to study, and that he
gave you the first German books you ever possessed. He said that his
conscience frequently smote him when he thought of the terrible risk to
which he had exposed you in giving you those books. Altogether, he is a
most agreeable man, and, having known you as a boy, he naturally took a
paternal interest in me. One day he made Joseph a tempting offer to take
a position in his factory. He was getting old, he said, and needed a
young assistant upon whom he could rely. Joseph at once accepted and
entered Mr. Harris' employ. My husband has a wonderful mind. I would not
tell him so to his face, for fear of making him vain, but he is
undoubtedly a genius. He had been in his new position scarcely a month
before he had so revolutionized and improved upon the hitherto neglected
establishment that the business of the house increased materially.
Yesterday, Mr. Harris offered to take him into partnership with him,
and, as he is getting old and is very wealthy, the probabilities are
that he will eventually retire and leave the business entirely in
Joseph's hands. We are, therefore, on the high road to prosperity.
And now, dear father, we have but one desire, namely, to have you with
us. Leave your onerous duties in Kief, take passage in a good vessel for
mother and yourself, and spend the remainder of your life with us in
contentment and peace. You need not pass your time in idleness. There
are many of our countrymen here and your talents will be appreciated in
America as well as in Kief. Joseph unites with me in hoping that you
will not decline our invitation.
It will interest you to learn that David Kierson and his wife are
prominent members of the Hebrew colony at Vineland, New Jersey, founded
by a number of benevolent Jews of Philadelphia. They are prospering and
happy. Both the children are well and send their kisses to you and
mother. Little Mordecai (we call him Morris, as it sounds more American)
is a very bright little fellow, with more questions in an hour than I
can answer in a day. Will he ever resemble his grandfather?