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and bursting out of the door, haled different members of the company.

"Hungry, Bill?"

"Wait till next Christmas."

And the replies, accompanied by wan smiles:

"Say, kid, what dey handin' out?"

"Are ye leavin' enough fer us?"

These men were to get what the "newsies" left, and yet not all either, for following them would come the women, the tattered hags of the night. And so the feast, begun in brightness, would end with the saddest chapter of civilization.

The women did not line up. They shrank from the stares of passersby, and waited until the last before crawling forth from their lairs.

Two thousand newsboys and homeless men and women were fed through the generosity of Mr. Fliess, who provides such a feast every Christmas. His father began giving these annual dinners forty-five years ago, and his son is continuing them in his memory. Seven hundred pounds of turkey, three hundred of ham, four barrels of potatoes and four of turnips, fifteen hundred pies and countless gallons of coffee, tea, and soup were the principal items of his provision last night. Two hundred applicants were seated at a time. There was no disorder.

One man, arriving late, when the last dishes were being cleared away, was referred to Mr. Heig.

"Misteer," he said, "I came from Peekskill, walking all the way, and I am most famished. Can I have something to eat?"

"There is a cup of tea or coffee left, anyway, and a piece of bread. Give it to him," Mr. Heig said, turning to his assistants.

Presently a plate of steaming turkey and vegetables was placed in front of the man. Mr. Heig said one of the girls helping in the kitchen,