Page:Peterson Magazine 1869B.pdf/218

201 CHARITY'S SECRET. confine yourself to them,” The people about us crowded close to hear.

“Poor cratur! ye’ll find none worse than Mrs. Malone, She’s.afther losin’ her man last spring,”

“Malone, Clincy,, Grew. You know those women?” said Dr. Brettler, to a Dutchman on his knees near him picking out something from under a charred beam.

“Bad enough off, Won't, work. Irish,” muttered the man.

“I have shoes for you,” seeing his feet were bare.

“Ya! I haf got some of mine tools,” holding out. his hands with a grin.

“But you,” I said to the girls, shivering over a burning log. Most of them were holding a baby, with a two- oer dragging at their knees.

“Well, we’re in Smith’s garrets, our folks. But we can get washing. There’s lots worse off than us,”

“But this is beautiful, George!” I cried, as we turned away. ‘‘Not one of these wretches, without, a roof to, cover them, or a whole gar- ment to wear, but has told me of some other poorer than themselves.”

“Yes.”

“I never saw anything like it before. I always heard that you find the finest traits.of human nature among the very poor,” I said, enthusiastically.

George stopped without an ig We were at} the corner of the street.

“What do you propose to do?” I said, eagerly. “I thought I would bring half a dozen families home. They could have our spare chambers, and keep them for a few months,”

George smiled, but, his eyes were full.

“No; remember the two pitchers, Lou. ‘These people have found shelter already, No class is so hospitable as the very poor; they will be more at ease with their own people than with you. Besides——”

“I would be patient, George.” I saw he re- membered certain sharp ways I had with Ann. Iam, I confess, what the negroes call a “hard- bit mistress.”

“Yes; but—— Find these three women, and do what you can for them, and then go. home; I will be there, im. an hour, and. see.what plan will be effectual.”

Searching for the three, I found fifty others. They were kenneled in back-rooms, cellars, attics, in the neighborhood, of bouses which I had passed every day, and which were decent enough outwardly, but within, full of as rank, foul corruption as the whited sepulchres,

I was passed from one to the other eagerly. I found Mrs. Clincy's twins in a shed owned by a gray-haired old woman, and tended by half a dozen others. They were wrapped in old coffee-bags. The other children, who had not the advantage of being twins nor babies, were left to swarm neglected about the kitchen-floor.

“My God!” I thought,,as I took one in my arms, “for anything to be made in Thy image to be born to such an inheritance of misery as this!”

“That’s Fellorar,” exclaimed one woman, “and this is Arrorer. That means the morning, mem. An’ you'll observe she has as blue eyes as the dawn,”

“Where is Mrs. Clincy?”

“Ont beyant, sarching for a room, poor crayture, She’s five forbye these two, God bless ’em. Here’s Miss Ellen; she’s the oldest.”

Ellen, a sharp-chinned girl of fifteen, came in, followed. by Mrs. Cliney, a tall, cheerful, decent-looking woman of fifty.

“Good-morning, Mrs. Breitler,” with a smile, as I named myself. “Yes'm, it’s a hard pull,” as I said something to show her what I felt.

The smile went straight to my heart. Here was a high, beautiful courage.

“Give me that-young un,” said Ellen.

“You handle a baby well, Ellen. Would you like a place as child’s nurse?”

“I’ve got work—I kin pay my board. I want nobody’s help. Here's mother as,does, though,” snapped Ellen, with the unmistakable look of a ‘factory girl.”

I felt as if I had been. struck in the face. However, it was only sturdy independence, I was not cooled.

‘Dear Mrs. Cliney, could, you wrap your babies, up and send them to me for half an hour?” I had a little scheme in my mind.

She assented with a quiet, “Yes, madam.” There was a dignity about the woman that I liked.

A young lady, with a fresh, rosy face, was standing in the door when I turned. She was dressed in Quaker costume, and had a basket on her arm.

“Thee’s going to dress the children?” she said.

“Yes.”

“Let me bring clothes for one. I have lost my little boy, and———” her eyes were full of tears.

“I heard of a woman whose child died last night. It was burned, they told me,” she continued, with a shudder,

“I think she escaped with the corpse, Mrs. Grew, We'll look, for her.” We did look, but could not find either her or