National Republican. (Washington City (D.C.)) 1872-1888, 1874-12-25
KITTY DOD's LAST CHRISTMAS.
HOW A LITTLE MATCH VENDER SPENT
IT'D CLLn Isrrn- TIE LlIIY


HER CHRISTMAS IN THE CITY.
Perhaps you do not know Kitty bod; If 50 1t
may only be as a rosy, bright-eyed little match
vender, whom you often see wandering through
the busy, hunming, restless crowd Of sellers and
buyers that thTong the spacious market-house
below the Avenue, crying in q plaintive voice I;
matches, matches; buy matches If you please,
sir; only two cents box"
In one of the grim and unclean alleys that skirt
with narrow, winding and crooked way the MUIR
der Bay district Of the Island is Kitty Dods
home, If such It may be called. The poorest Of
the poor the worst Of the bad, the most degraded
of the doWn-fallen have sought q scsnty harNnr
there, and in course Of time the place has beco.
q section Of populous poverty. All about the
quarters, whisheVer way the eyes may turn, ART
70 be seen clearly -defned traces Of misery and
Of Wretchedness which ever encompass and per.
meate the abiding places Of the miserable poor.
Many Of these are shown forth in froWsy yards,
oeeaying houses ny sna3ggy
scents by day and at night making the gloomy
place quite impossible.
But Kitty bod never thought of these. She
had 8 mission to perform, and, like true little
soul, she went at the work with good cheer and o
will. crippled mother and drunken father
were her dependents. Her resources were few
bundles of matches Her income was a misery
profit on all she could sell, and to ply her trade
so to keep the wolf Of starvation from crossing
the threshold Of her Wretehed home was her
mission.
1t was a late hour last Christmas night when
the little creature, chilled with the raw and pen
etrating winter air. entered the darksOme and
only room Of her humble abode. She had spent
the day on the street seeking buyers, and finding
but few. Matches, matches who will buy
matches!" had pealed in silver tones from her lit
tie throat all day long, and as the shades Of night
slowly gathered about her small form, and
wrapped the city and all the country far and near
with the cleaning, still the ott-repeated cry was
audible, more plaintive, more pleading, more
anxious than before, " Matches, matches; who
will buy matches!
Tired and exhausted. after many hours Of cease
less exertion 10 dispose Of her little store, she
turned from the broad avenue Just as the braZen
voice in the steeple Of St Aloysius called ten and
set out on darksome journey toward home: Tho
streets were being fast deserted. The darkness
and deepening silence seemed to inspire the trees,
the walls, the walks, the houses and all things
else with solitude and loneliness The city itself
seemed TO be falling asleep. Once beneath the
pOorly-sheltering roof Of her pinched and cheer
less quarters she drew her little dealchair to the
bedside Of her invalid and crippled mother, and
tried the best she could to enliven the dropping
spirits Of the I'll one by recounttng the story of
her Christmas days work. Sitting thus IN the
dimly-lighted apartment by the couch Of pain
and distress, she spent the wee small hours Of
night, and 1t was not until the monotone voice
sounded twelve from the time-recording tower Of
Aloysius that she was aroused by the shutting,
unsteady noise Of feet on the threshold from a
quiet musing over the Christmas visions Of the
day whose kneIl had Just been struck. A besOtted
father had come home drunk.
His was not the drunkenness that breeds mirth,
fun and good humor. 1t was that which inspires
violence and sanctions bTutality-a heavy breath
ing, fetid breath, blear-eyed drunkenness, which
fills home with apprehension and fear. He
wanted more money for more drink, but Kitty
DOd's unsuccessful efforts Of the day had left her
without the means WhereWith to crafty the
drunken mans desire. But he must have it. He
would have it, and staggering to the bedside OF
the crippled form, he demanded money. Shaking
the covering figure, he cursed it because it had
none to give. One more drink. Money will buy
It. He must have money. Tearing the meagre
covering hack he seized the wasted form Of Kittys
mother, and dragging It to the floor planted his
foot upon her breast, and madly Kissed, "Wtl ye
give IL me now? Money, dye hear! Money for
another dram!" The little match vender here
rushed at the merciless creature like one OF the
Furies bent on destruction, and pushing him vio-
lently from the crippled shape beneath his feet
she struggled to gain the partially-Opened door
Just at a moment when hurrying footsteps from
without burst in upon the tragic scene, and a
Metropolitan police officer, seiZing the father
dragged him, bowling, stamping and cursing,
towards a statiOn-hOUse at no great distance
away, and Kitty bod was left alone with the
helpless form of her crippled mother.
II was now past midnight, and the emaciated
form OF her burden still lay upon the cold and
naked floor Of the tenement-hOuse. Kitty was
not naturally strong. Her mother was too weak
for self-assistance, and to once more place the
pain-stricken cripple upon the bed was impossible
Tor the little one, so sne put the bedding upon
the floor, and tried as best she could to make her
mother easy there.
1t was long dreary night, and the little ven
der sunk into nttul slumDers, aWaklng now and
then only to tuck the ragged and meagre cover
ing closer round the helpless shape upon the
floor, occasionally listening to CATCH If possible,
the sound Of breathing, and then once more sink
ing back into her little chair in restless sleep.
The night moved on and morning came, and with
its earliest dRwning aWOke the little WOuld-be
watcher, who, startled by the quiet of the room,
aroused herself, and kneeling down before the
PROSTATE form upon the rough and barren floor,
with anxious hands removed the covering.
Mother no answer came. The eyes were
closed. The lips were bloodless and still. All
traces of agony were gone. All signs Of care
and wasting disease had been smOOthed away,
and the pleasant smile Of an easy death was i'm
pressed upon her brow.
Matches, matches, buy matches If you please,
sir; only two cents bOX!" Day after day, along
the busy Streets and through the great market
house Of the city the little rosy bright-eyed ven
der may still be seen Flooding her way with her
little store Of goods under her arms, and pOr-
tion Of the same held out in her dimpled hand,
crying, more plaintiVely than ever before,
matches matches, who will buy matches? only
two cents q bOX!n W, UP,