et. And with one-fifth of this capital he buys a second-hand
push-cart from his Greek neighbour, wends his way with it to the
market-place, makes a purchase there of a few boxes of oranges, sorts
them in his cart into three classes,--"there is no equality in
nature," he says, while doing this,--sticks a price card at the head
of each class, and starts, in the name of Allah, his business. That is
how he will keep in the open air twelve hours a day.

But in the district where he is known he does not long remain. The
sympathy of his compatriots is to him worse than the doctor's
medicines, and those who had often heard him speechifying exchanged
significant looks when he passed. Moreover, the police would not let
him set up his stand anywhere. "There comes the push-cart orator,"
they would say to each other; and before our poor Syrian stops to
breathe, one of them grumpishly cries out, "Move on there! Move on!"
Once Khalid ventures to ask, "But why are others allowed to set up
their stands here?" And the "copper" (we beg the Critic's pardon
again) coming forward twirling his club, lays his hand on Khalid's
shoulder and calmly this: "Don't you think I know you? Move on, I
say." O Khalid, have you forgotten that these "coppers" are the
minions of Tammany? Why tarry, therefore, and ask questions? Yes, make
a big move at once--out of the district entirely.

Now, to the East Side, into the Jewish Quarter, Khalid directs his
cart. And there, he falls in with Jewish fellow push-cart peddlers
and puts up with them in a cellar similar to his in the Syrian
Quarter. But only for a month could he suffer what the Jew has
suffered for centuries. Why? There is this difference between the
cellar of the Semite Syrian and that of the Semite Jew: in the first
we eat _mojadderah_, in the second, _kosher_ but stinking flesh; in
the first we read poetry and play the lute, in the second we fight
about the rent and the division of the profits of the day; in the
first we sleep in linen "as white as the wings of the dove," in the
second on pieces of smelly blankets; the first is redolent of ottar of
roses, Shakib's favourite perfume, the second is especially made
insufferable by that stench which is peculiar to every Hebrew hive.
For these and other reasons, Khalid separates himself from his Semite
fellow peddlers, and makes this time a bigger move than the first.

Ay, even to the Bronx, where often in former days, shouldering the
peddling-box, h