The Vancouver independent. (Vancouver, W.T. [Wash.]) 1875-1910, 1881-06-30
RAGS AND WHEAT.


handsome dwelling.
''Git along wild your old cart!'
screamed the Irish maid, who was wash
ing the windows. eye just scatter
smallpox and yellow fever over the
town wild your rags!"
He took up the barrow and trundled
on. Presently he come to house
before which row of carriages was
drawn up.
cts wedding, no doubt" he said to
little Maggy, his daughter, who ran
along beside him. "Ra-ags! Now
you'll see the fine ladies come out,
"Move on! move on!' shouted the
white-gloved negro footman. "Clah de
way dab"
Vokes moved on down the broad sunny
street. He was a little, dirty, wretched
man; his cart and he were a ]eprous spot
on the brightness. The stately houses,
the waving trees, the balconied windows
filled with roses, made his filth and
wretchedness more glazing than ever
before. But he did not leave the street,
for he thought the sight of them pleased
Maggy.
Family carriages were coming in from
the park filled with uninterrupted BONES
and delicately dressed children. There
were many baby-wagons going home
ward on the shady sidewalk, the nurses
chattering and the babies faces peeping
out from lace and silk. Maggy, who
was wretchedly dressed, looked back at
them.
81 wish was one of them children"
she said, eagerly.
"Come out of this street," growled
Vokes.
In the dingy alley into which they
plunged, gang of wretched boys were
torturing dog.
"You Joel" shouted Vokes.
Joe, thin, hungry-looking boy of
thirteen, came up to his father and
walked beside him homeward. His
clothes were patched, and his face dirty,
but under the dirt Joe was not an i'll
looking fellow. He had a steady, honest
eye, and laughing mouth.
"What are We runnin with them Jail
birds for?" said his father.
"Got nothing else to do" said Joe
whistling
Vokes trundled his barrow on in 81
lence, except for the dreary cry OF
"Ragsw
Joe had told the truth-what else was
there for him to do? There were dozens
of boys in their alley without work
boys who would have worked if work
was to be found. There was not trade
or any sort of labor in the great over
crowded city in which boy could find
place.
Joe soon turned off and left his father
and Maggy to make their way home alone.
Vokes went on without calling Rags"
again.
When he married he was small shop.
keeper in pretty country town. Then
he thought he would move into the city
and make his fortune. as other shrewd
fellows had done.
Instead of this, he had gone steadily
downwards. In this year, with twenty
thousand other men in Philadelphia, he
found himself utterly without work or
money, and was glad to go about and
pick rags up from the cutters.
He turned into narrow, dark alley,
then passed through yard in which
two starved cats were fighting over a
bone, and went into wretched tenement.
Tie few rags were carried into room
and thrown into one corner.
81 wish the rags did not have to come
in here, john" said the wife, feebly.
But she said that twenty times every day.
She was a Scotchwoman and clearly.
But all her scrubbing would not keep
the green mildew from the walls of the
damp house, nor the dirt from the chill
dren's faces and clothes, when they were
forced to live as they did.
She was holding baby to her breast.
1t cried shrilly now and then. Its face
was gray and pinched. She took it down
presently.
"There's nothing for you, my lammie"
she said. 1.-The child's sick with hunger,
john"
II know it, Mary" said Vokes. He
was sitting on his barrow, his head in
his hands. "What can 1 do? There's
nothin' left to pawn" looking at the
straw bed in one corner, the broken
chairs, the pot and pan, in which moth
ing had been cooked that day.
I'm hungry as baby" sobbed Mag
gle. Her mother put her arm about
her.
1T seems hard, john" she said. "that
we must starve when you and me and
Joe is all willin' and able to work"
"There's no work" cried Vokes,
vehemently. "There's no standin' room
any more for poor man on Gods
earth"
Now Joe, hungry and angry, had just