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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 445 pages of information about The Jungle.

The cost of the wedding feast would, of course, be returned to them; but the problem was to raise it even temporarily.  They had been in the neighborhood so short a time that they could not get much credit, and there was no one except Szedvilas from whom they could borrow even a little.  Evening after evening Jurgis and Ona would sit and figure the expenses, calculating the term of their separation.  They could not possibly manage it decently for less than two hundred dollars, and even though they were welcome to count in the whole of the earnings of Marija and Jonas, as a loan, they could not hope to raise this sum in less than four or five months.  So Ona began thinking of seeking employment herself, saying that if she had even ordinarily good luck, she might be able to take two months off the time.  They were just beginning to adjust themselves to this necessity, when out of the clear sky there fell a thunderbolt upon them—­a calamity that scattered all their hopes to the four winds.

About a block away from them there lived another Lithuanian family, consisting of an elderly widow and one grown son; their name was Majauszkis, and our friends struck up an acquaintance with them before long.  One evening they came over for a visit, and naturally the first subject upon which the conversation turned was the neighborhood and its history; and then Grandmother Majauszkiene, as the old lady was called, proceeded to recite to them a string of horrors that fairly froze their blood.  She was a wrinkled-up and wizened personage—­she must have been eighty—­and as she mumbled the grim story through her toothless gums, she seemed a very old witch to them.  Grandmother Majauszkiene had lived in the midst of misfortune so long that it had come to be her element, and she talked about starvation, sickness, and death as other people might about weddings and holidays.

The thing came gradually.  In the first place as to the house they had bought, it was not new at all, as they had supposed; it was about fifteen years old, and there was nothing new upon it but the paint, which was so bad that it needed to be put on new every year or two.  The house was one of a whole row that was built by a company which existed to make money by swindling poor people.  The family had paid fifteen hundred dollars for it, and it had not cost the builders five hundred, when it was new.  Grandmother Majauszkiene knew that because her son belonged to a political organization with a contractor who put up exactly such houses.  They used the very flimsiest and cheapest material; they built the houses a dozen at a time, and they cared about nothing at all except the outside shine.  The family could take her word as to the trouble they would have, for she had been through it all—­she and her son had bought their house in exactly the same way.  They had fooled the company, however, for her son was a skilled man, who made as high as a hundred dollars a month, and as he had had sense enough not to marry, they had been able to pay for the house.

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