The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1877-05-23

ana perish from the nrSt hot days OF July
through the long, sultry hours of August
and September, until the cold winds of Octo-
Der bring respite. They perish like the off
spring of brutes, no one rescuing them from
the certain death before them, but day after
day allowing the screening fever to dry
up their life blood, and pestilence and
famine to complete the work. The moth
ers-poor, ignorant, helpless-watch their
babies die and stretch their hands to God for
His pity, for the hearts of men and women
seem sealed. They are forced to leave their
children either in the rooms locked up to
keep them out of danger, or else turn them
loose in the streets to learn the vice and
wickedness of the brood of wretches and
criminals who exult in the degradation of
even child. There is no alternative for
these poor, hard working women, and dread
ing the one as much as the other, they are
forced to a conclusion, and whether the little
ones are left in the musty, lily ventilated,
close rooms or abandoned to the mercy of
the street gang, dangers menace them con-
stantly. They sicken and suffer and die,
and the death list swells with their names
until in midsummer it touches high up in
the hundreds. There are orphan asylums,
there are homes for the friendless, there are
places for the foundlings and waits of
the great city, but every one is crowded
In debt and harrassed by pecuniary difficult
ties, and ere child can be placed in one of
these abodes enough red tape is consumed
to .carry claim upon the government
through to the secretary of the department.
Women do not want to give their children
away at all maybe; they simply want
chance to give them little fresh air, some
good food and bath every day, but these
are as far beyond their reach as a trip to
Europe. Excursions to the country. ticket
for milk and bread, d prescription from
physician and an order on a druggist are COW
eted as among the unattainable things of
life. And so this summer will come as all
summers come TO the children of the poor in
New York city, bringing disease and death,
and the columns of every paper will be filled
with regrets and resolutions and sanitary
measures when it is too late to do anything
but bury The dead. The rich have done
much, but so much remains yet to be done
that past charity will avail nothing But
there does exist in New York sentimental
ity that is repelling to the mind when the
wholesale slaughter of the children each
season is considered. Mr.. Bergh proposes TO
take the money realized from the dog show
and build home where tender puppies and
venerable CANNES may be housed and
cared for. There certainly can be in
that great city no tottering men and
women just on the verge OF the grave,
whose last days are miserable and unhappy
because they have not where to lay their
heads There probably are never seen on
the streets old people, hungry, trembling
and sick, asking with quivering lips and
flush of shame for food, for shelter. Old
men do not beg for work at the doors of the
citizens and plead for humanitys sake for a
crust OF bread to keep the life from depart
dren never greet the eye as they perform
mental tasks to support themselves and per-
chance orphaned grandchildren. The idea.
the movement now is to pick up the old
dogs, to carry them tenderly away from the
hustle and dangers of the world and in
some quiet, homelike place, let them
breathe their lives gently with kind hands
to sooth their last moments-to give food
to the cur whose bite is poison, and shelter
the brute whose life is danger to the COM
munity. 1t is to see that the puppies are
kept in comfortable beds, are shut away
from dangerous places, are fondled and
while the means and dying cries
of scores of children are filling the fetid air
with their echoes. BY all means have
the dogs taken care of, have
them enjoy life. They are noble
brutes, but the children, the old people are
only human, are only paupers, and can be
spared. The aristocratic matron who fondles
on her lap the Spitz or poodle would push
from her side, as if she were contamination
itself, the poor baby girl taken from the
slums of the city. She would cleanse and
battle her hands as If polluted if those tiny
fingers should clasp themselves about hers,
so white and jeweled, but she will let the
vicious, swapping. dangerous pet in her arms
lick her face and lips. She will shed tears
when it dies in spasms or with hydrOphobia
She will lay it in a perfumed, satin lined
box and bury it in her yard, or as man did
last week, in his cemetery lot, but she has
no tears for the white face and purpling lips
of the baby whose coffin is box of pine, its
shroud the calico slip. Hundreds of dollars
are given for dog, and men and boys all
going to destruction because they must steal
or starve, and self-preservation is the first
law of nature. dog of a certain breed is
worth thousands of dollars, but the pure
soul and unblemished character of lad of a
poor family is worth nothing. And yet if
Mr.. Bergh succeeds, il men and women in