Whig and tribune. [volume] (Jackson, Tenn.) 1870-1877, 1872-02-10


kindly lent.
Now at last they were moving
slowly over the pavement, the big
| tears began to run, one after the 9th
err, down the newsboy's cheeks.
They thought it was from pain,
and so arranged him all the more
carefully, lest he should suffer un-
necessarily. Yet it evidently was
not that, for when they asked him,
he said that he felt numb and sore,
but had very little real suffering.
Only once on the whole long ride
did he open his lips to put ques-
tion, or to speak of his own record.
And this was what he asked of the
mild lodger:
"Please, doctor, how many weeks
will it be before Pm out again %
"Indeed, my poor little fellow, "
he said, al cannot tell. But it will
be a long while before the bone
knits together so that you can walk. :"
He spoke as he always did, gently
and quietly, and his hand almost un-
consciously brushed back the hair
from the boys forehead. 1t was
sadly cold and damp, and that warm,
tender touch seemed to make the
great tear-drops start once more.
Silently they rode on, without a
word, except of kind sympathy
without complaint from their pa
tient-Without any disturbance ex-
cept the usual street noises and the
rumbling of the wheels over the
pavement. Softly they drew up in
a side street, in front of a house
which the boy had pointed out.
The mild lodger left the carriage,
and went through the narrow en-
trance up the steep and dirty stairs,
pausing at last, and knocking at a
door on the right.
There was no answer, and the
sound of his knock was cherries, as
if here was an empty, deserted room.
He knocked again, and then, hear
ing no reply, pushed in the half
latched door.
Did you ever see one of these
dwellings of the poor? Well, this
was like all the rest-a low room in
the peak of the house with a roof
smoke blackened, and the plaster
falling off = with windows made
tight by rags, and the stove rusted
and broken and freless. In a cor
ner were huddled two children
Just as l, dear reader, who tell you
this story. have often seen them
wrapped in old shawls and pieces of
carpet, and asleep with the cold in
each Utheraz arms. ----sal---------------
The mild lodger, in his gentle, af-
fectionate way, touched them softly,
and woke them up. "Where
was their mother 2" Gone to
work" Where was their father 2"
Dead ''Had they any brothers?''
" Yes, Johnny he was out selling
papers" Sure enough, this was the
whole story - one of those three
volume miseries told in three SEN
! teuces.
Our medical friend was very much
puzzled. He couldn't leave ''John-
ny'' there, that was certain. He
was in the midst of a great cogita-
ton, also, about Johnny's sisters,
when he heard shout below. 1t
was his fellow-lodger calling his
name.
He rushed down stairs, for there
was that in the voice which startled.
| And if the voice was startling, the
sight was still more so. Two po-
| Iicemen had wheeled to the door a
woman on cart, her clothes torn
and disordered, her face bloated,
and deep fresh cash over her tenn
pie. 1t was Johnny's mother.
In the carriage the boy was cry
ing as if his little heart would break
The crowd, gathering close around
the policemen and their burden
were struck with pity and disgust
rough people as they were. Pity
for the boy, disgust for the shape
less, shameless mass which was al
that was left of the humanity of hi
mother"
But the mild lodger saw wha
they did not see.
'.Who is this?" was the first ques
tion, as he took hold of the dirty
dropping wrist, and felt for tn,
palse.
"Only that drunken old Irisl
MoH.'"
Well, that was enough. 'Irisl
Moll" was so well known for drum
enness, that no one stopped to in
quire if she was anything else thar
drunk. But it happened that in thi
case it was more serious. Their
was no pulse in the wrist, no flut
tering at the heart, no breath in tn
lungs. ''Irish Moll," dirty, torn
with the blood CONCEALED in the Gu
on her forehead, had somehow died
So the handcart, followed by tn
awestruck crowd, went off to tn
stationhouse; and the two dodgers
leaving Johnny helpless and sob
bing in the carriage, went up stair
together, moved by one purpose
took each of them a child, and brot
it down.
That hack-driver-a decent, res
pectable, hard working man-tounC
his afternoons work very profita
BILE. First, to u friends house fo
directions, and to leave JOHNNY
Then to a Children's Home, wheru
little Mary and and little Kate wer
taken into warmth and shelter
Then to more friends, for more in
formation; and finally to one O
those places of mercy, a Children
Hospital. At last, carrying Johnn,
carefully together, they reached
their final destination about tel
O'Clock.
: They had had no supper, and ha,
! been so absorbed in their occupa
, tion that they were very fOFgetfu
, of the fact. But now they dismiss
] ed their driver, and walking int
: the restaurant, sat down at one O
: the tables.
5 - WELL" said the medical student
at length, "we have gone so far
= what more can be done? We ceI
| tainly can't stop here"
r sENo, We can't" /" was the reply
alt looks to me as if this was yer
: much like q lesson to US to be NOR
: benevolent, and less selfish. Her
/ am l with my business and a goo
salary, and you with your studie
and your rich father, and your me
5 ney in your own right. We are nC
1 married or likely to be at present.
4; And if we do get into that delight
: full state, why, it isn't very hard
e remember those childrea, anyhow
1t seems pretty clear that nobody
t going to claim them, for nobOd
b would be very likely to keep up an
: knowledge of such a woman as the
Y mother. This is my plan, thea thi
we look after Johnny together, an
5 after the children separately. VIII
y do you say 2"
s The mild lodger Thought a m,
t, ment, and then answ cred;