Mr. Monday and other tales of Jewish Amsterdam

MY YIDDISHE GRANDMA 71

bit seasick either, although the weather was foul during the crossing.

Later she told us a funny story of an encounter she had aboard the boat. In the cabin were a couple of men playing cards, and they asked if she would care to play.

"I told them,'I will not play for four reasons. The first reason is that I have no money'."

The men said they did not care about the other three reasons. Ha, ha! "Of course, they were card-sharps" she added in case we were not bright enough to catch on.

The ship docked at Harwich, and the customs officer did not bother Grandmother at all. I suppose he couldn't understand the strange language she spoke. She boarded the proper train to London, but there was some misunderstanding so that there was no one waiting for her at the station. There she stood, an old woman quite alone, in the strange metropolis. British money she did not have. English she could not speak. All she had was a slip of paper with the address of the daughter, somewhere in Battersea South. That piece of paper Mother had slipped into her hand at the last moment. What luck! A bobby read the address, and that blessed policeman took her to an omnibus. For hours she sat in the bus, riding through the endless streets. The bus conductor did not bother to ask her for fare money. He only laughed.

"Perhaps, he had never seen a young girl before," Grandma remarked grinning.

Finally, the conductor informed her with sign language that she should get off at the next stop. That slip of paper again. She put it under the nose of a passer by, and the man took her to the house, just a few steps away.