Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1879-02-13
A MILE.END MYSTERY.

"A
Mile-end was a small country town;
but such a town The houses were
packed and pressed and crowded TO-
gether, making them look as though
they would suffocate for want Of air.
Then they were 50 dilapidated and faded
and tumble-doWn Itseemed a wonder
they kept up at all. To look at them at
q distance you would think, from the
queer way the roofs all slanted and
leaned toward each other, and trick
some Of the houses had of pOking Up
inquisitiye-looking dormer gables and
windows in quite unexpected places,
that they had some important secret
that they were whispering about and
hObnobbing over. And then the narrow,
crooked streets, with their seas of mud
filthy cutters and debris-littered side
walks, the very stones Of which had a
dis sipated, rakish air, as if, instead OF
lying quietly IN their places and doing
their duty, they could ddhothing better
with their time than go knocking about
In a disreputable fashion to trip up I'M
wary passengers. And then the odors !
Surely Cologne itself never boosted a
larger aud more extensive collection;
at least, for the sake of its luckless III
habitants, let us hope so.
A more unhealthy, understood, dirty
gossiping, miserable, worthless set of
human beings scarcely never existed
anywhere. The men were mostly out
of work and drunk, the women lean
and ragged and unwomanly, and the
children little and weird and w0lf-eyed.
Many was the drunken brawl and scene
of brutal violence that awoke the mid
night echoes Of the streets, and fever
and malaria, unmolested, stalked
abroad. Within the houses were as I'M
inviting as withOut-with q separate
family ON every tloor-sometimes with
in every room. What wonder that the
health and morals of the place should
be at a terribly low ebb
And what seemed to make all more
painful and pitiful was the loneliness of
the valley III whose lap lay this pesti-
lent little town. The green, flower
gcmmed meadows were so fresh and
fair, the air so fragrant and balmy, the
birds sang SO sweetly, the little flowers
were SO brilliantly hued and so daintily
formed, the river and its many shady
back-waters and tributary streamlets
were so fresh, and bright, and sparkling
and the murmuring music that they
made blended in such sweet harmony
with the tinkling Of the sheep-bells, the
lowing of the cattle and the clear, ring
ing note of the sky-lark, whose bit of Il
body seemed Il mere specl far away
against the blue. 1t lay, this lovely val
ley, like glorious picture, nobly franz
ed by purple, shadOW-swept hills, and
overarched by heavens cioud-hecked
blue
But, though rich in beauty and health
full with heavens breezes, it yet clasped
canker-spot of corruption to its breast
like a beautiful woman whose soul is
worthless and diseased Very few OF
the miserable inhabitants of Mile-end,
not even the children, ever found their
way out of the noisOme atmosphere OF
the streets into the purity and beauty OF
the fields beyond. Like the grub that
tastes ofthe nut it feeds and fattens on,
the dirt and squalor and poverty of the
place seemed to grow into the hearts
and minds and natures of its people,
and to rub out all capacity for enjoying
what was better and purer than them
selves.
And yet, even here brutal and degrad-
ed as were the many, III the few, terribly
small as that minority was, might be
found high and noble instincts that
pushed themselves up through the poi
sOnous soil and CROPPED painfully up
ward and onward to the light. Even
here, as everywhere, might be found
instances (rare, perhaps, but still there)
Of brave patience, endurance and hero
Ism under great stress of suffering and
wrong. Then, too, although in most
Of those poor, semi-savage breasts vice
and sin had nearly elboWed out any viz
tue that nature might have originally
planted, 1t must not be overlooked that,
great as the sin was, as great was the
suffering; and who shall say, if these
poor souls had been born into the clover
OF this life as regarded their physical
and moral surroundings, what fair and
delicate and beautiful blossoms might
not have expanded and doomed in their
natures
Mile-enG was very old as we'll as a
very dirty place, ard one particular
house in its principal street stood for
ward into the road several feet beyond
Its nelghbors; its upper story quite over
hanging the basement. This house was
so old that it almost tottered when the
wind blew-as it often did at Mile-end-
even IN spite of the wooden props, them
selves rotten now, with which it had
been buttressed up. But in spite, or on
account of its age and discomfort and
general dilapidation, it was beautifully
mellowed and harmonious in the tone
of its coloring. Tufts of vivid green
moss, and yellow and gray ichen, at
intervals carpeted and softened the red
tiles: and hardy clumps of orange wall
flowers filed up the gaps left by depart
ed bricks and mortar, thus throwing
over the actual decay and rotteness a
glamorous veil of picturesque beauty.
Within, this house was cruelty old and
cold and comfortless; the beauty Of de-
cay was all outside, and only lis stern
reality existed within the frail and
draughty walls. There were ten rooms
IN this house, which gave shelter to sew
en- families. The noise and brawling
were incessant, never seeming to stop
night or day, for when at last the sickly
children were asleep the night was made