Yon marks of the Israelite

"Go where we may - rest where we will,
Eternal London haunts us still"
quoth yon poete Thomas Moore.

Such is as mayebe, but I still doth travel abroad, and but this past week did in yon Holy Lande of Israele make mine dwelling. Dwelling in yon "Bet Canada" absorbtionn centre, I do make everie effort for to change mine English ways to those of the dwellers of this land. And it seems that for today I did succseed. Forre today was of that great occasion; ye buying of the "source" sandalim, with which the feet of everie zioniste are more surely girded. For certayn, today I am of one with the people of this fayre country.

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The juggling peril of Hendone common

O, what multidudinous curiositees does life in our seething capital offere!
A new and misterious visitant has apeered in our fayre City. For though fayre and artificiyal to the eye, holding every mannere of contrivance and coloure, Londone also seemes haunted by the deepest eccentricitee, sometimes sinsister and unattural! Manee readers will remembere the tayles of Spring-heeled Jack, who did jumpe as high as Londone-houses and breathe in blue-fyre! Norre can one easilly forgett the preacherre of Oxford Circus, who did for manee a yeare preach the gospells to the thronging shopperes therre. Once againe, Londone is visited by most severre oddnes, this time in the form of the mad juggling perille of Hendone common. For this is wherre the woman, of the Gheto born it is said, did firste appear, juggling maddly with nerry a glance at the passers by. Soone, more appearancess were mayde of herr, juggling with skille and abandonn at many a weddingg and bar-mitzsvah. For manee months did she juggle in the streetes and alleyys around Hendon and it's common, sometymes straying as far as the woods at Hampstead, but always returnning to her first haunts. But no longgerre! In a doublle-act of waywarddness, the Hendone-juggler has appearred bothe in the centre of ourre City, farr from the Gheto-gates, and also (or, methinks, "as a result" one could sayye) in the pages of yon "London Lite". The parishoners of Golders Green, who had come to thinke of the juggler as a locall featture, are moste distrresed at these developementts, even talking of treachorree! And as for the rest of Londonne; the throngingg masses waited agogg to see wherre the fabbled juggler should next appearre...

A mysterie in the cofee-house

O, what intrigue lyfe does afford!
Samuel of Oxford, a fellow-Jewe and incumbent of my motheres lodging house, did but last weeke visite a favorite drinking-haunte of his, a cofee-house in the centre of our Ghetto. No soonere had he sat himself down and begun to busee himself with the acounts and numbers that are his trayde, when the ownere of said cofee-house - a man in far Palestyne born - did brake into loud cryes of welcome. He had spyed an aquantaince - a fellow-countryman it transpyred - making entrance to the shoppe, leading by the arme a fair lady of most curious extraction. She seemed to be from some distante lande - perhaps even farr and fabled Malay - and had the hooded eyes and amberr skin of such persons.
"This is the lady I told you about" sayed the man who with her had enterred, "perhaps we can...help her?"
"Ah...excellent" did the Israelite respond, "but", added he, "you must know that it will be expensive!"
"No problem" did the Eastern laydee respond, drawing from her pockett a wad of bank-notes, which she handded over with nevver a flutter.
O, the misteree!
Who was the laydee? What was the service to be rendered? Samuel, a gentelman of polyte extraktion did not think it pertinent to enquire. And thus we can only think on this thinng and wonder...