Idaho tri-weekly world. (Idaho City, Idaho) 1875-1875, 1875-05-05

black, CHASTITY, hideously deformed
thing there, which they call life, go
with you down into your graves. If
it does not make you better men and
women for this world and the next,
the angels of Heaven pity you! Look
at it
.Women leering through the cas-,
(Just such bosoms used to nurse yOu;)
Men, turned wolves BY famine-pass!
These will speak themselves and curse you.
Ragged children with bare feet,
Whom the angels in wLite rament
Know the uames of To repeat.
When they come on you for payment
Wicked children with peaked chins
And old tor~heads. There are many
With no pleasures except sins,
Gambling for stolen penny.
Sickiy children that whine low
To themsriyes and not their mother,
From mer- habst-n-vrr so,
Hoping help Or care from others.
Patient children-thlnk what pain
Makes young child pa,i-nt-ponder.
Wronged ton commonly to strain
After right, or wish or wonder"
And yet it sometimes happens
amid this horrible, social scum, there
are even children whose souls are
brave and strong enough to make
their escape.
The world calls it suicide: but l
think God and The angels have charge
Of such. Here il is slow death !;
there, rest entire, everlasting. We
stoop and read Oh some graveyard
stone, "a life of suffering ended in
peace'-and we think how some tort
uous, deadly dis. asc has slowly coiled
itself about its victim, twisting and
writhing itself through the system till
it touched the vitals and then there
was q grave to be filed.
As we stand among the numberless
'low-roofcd hospitals of po,tcr's field,
we know beyond all doubling truly,
there within that huge pile Of mason
ry with its stacks Of chimneys-its
ponderous macl,inery-its mountains
of smoke and foul. rancid air-ifc is a
subtle poison, slower perhaps, in its
working. but sevcnfold fercer and
deadlicr than any mortal disease that
flesh is heir to.
The little, dark figure that stood
midway on the bridge, with its face
upturncd +, the yellow moon had
scarcely reached its twelfth birthday,
yet childish grace had been twisted
out Of the limbs, ch hildhood had been
washed out Of the face. till it wore
half lifetime history. There was no
bitterness about the mouth, only the
grieved look Of tired child, and the
eyes were full of a passionate longing,
that dcepened into dumb, fierce hun.
ger. On winter nights. in city gar.
rets, in damp cellars and even in the
streets there are swift, silent battles
with starvation and death. The
morning papers chronicle them in a
few brief, terse sentences:
Found last night in o miserable
garrct the body Of q dead woman hor-
ribly emaciated-- awful gray pal
lor of want upon the facc-the feat
urcs sharp and pinched, and the bony
arms clutching to her bosom young
child, that moaned and moaned at the
dead mothers breast. Coroners yer.
dict, death from starvation"
Women read and stare into each
others eyes with sudden sweep OF
horror blanching their faces; then
down at their jeweled hands as if ex.
pccting to sec treacherous blood-stains
traced amid their snowy whiteness;
at last of to the grey. overhanging
sky. with : guilty feeling Of murder
clinging to their souls.
Men look graver than their wont.
catch up suddenly a their thoughlz