The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1883-09-29
KATY THE FLASH.

here"
1T must be awfully interesting, Mrs.
Smith, to one who has an eye for character
as you have"
Character" echoed the prison matron.
I'm one sense of that word it is a microscope
bless your soul-and not an eye l shall
have. It's very little of that sort of charac
ter is to be found in the Grange Oh, dear!
oh, dear! oh, me-" she sighed, pulling huge
grey stocking out of her pocket, Il fairly tell
you l am never but pulled between laughing
and crying with them"
The speaker was Mrs Smith, the matron
of the prison. which is situated on the north
side of Dublin, tail, handsome woman be-
tween forty and fifty years Of age. The
habit of command was distinctly to be read
in her comely, benevolent face and her
large, gray eyes expressed in almost equal
proportions a keen sense of humor and
quick sympathy. The fine, classic shape of
her head, with its masses of grizzled hair,
was not altogether concealed by her cap; and
aclose-ftting black dress, with snowy collar
and cuffs gave her quasi clerical look The
eyes were perfectly wonderful; one would
pick out Mrs. Smiths face among thousands
for the eyes alone, and the extraordinary
power with which they seemed to be en-
dowed. She had been matron for long time
of the -- prison, and was devoted to her
work. 1t was currently said and believed
that she had a special gift in the way of sub
DUNG and managing the most violent and
abandoned of the habitues of the Grange, as
the prison was nicknamed by them. That she
had deep and thorough knowledge of hu-
man nature, amounting almost to devina-
ton, was universally conceded. She was a
widow and childless, and had held her pres
ent position for upward of eighteen years,
from choice rather than necessity as she
possessed a small competence of her own
''They are extremely witty and amusing, 1
know" remarked the visitor. II very often
read the police reports.
THE police reports" said Mrs Smith, rails
ing her large eyes from the knitting-needleS
which her skilled fingers were making to click
rapidly. "Ah, my dear! They are nothing
in comparison with the people themselves!
What reporter could describe their faces, and
the humors of them? [ would not give a half
hour of them, as l see and hear them in this
place, for a barfowful of reports. Tell me,
did | see you since young Katy died? It's
couple of months since"
mo, you did not. l never heard of young
Katy. What about her, Mrs. Smith,"
Il wonder if have time to tell you before
the suppers@ questioned the matron, glanc-
ing at the clock on her sitting-room chimney
piece. ooh, yes, plenty. Well, let me see.
early days of April that one Monday / was
down as usual to the front to meet Black
Maria, as they call the prison van. was
specializing to myself how many old ac-
qualntances it would bring in. They are
what like best, are old friends, especially
when they arrive by way of Black Maria. 1
am not at all fond of seeing fresh faces, least
of all young ones, coming here by that con-
yeyance"
II suppose you do meet the same people
over and over againY
Just wait till | tell you. 1t was the Bit
terest east wind blowing l ever felt in my
life, and the miserable dozen of wretches
that got out of the van seemed to be pierced
TO their very hearts with it. And when l
tell you that every one of them were old ac-
quaintances-for that matter, the two
Katties were sent in for their
hundred and fiftieth time-you may imagine
we weren't very shy with one another. You
Katty-for they were mother and daughter,
and it would have been hard to tell which of
them was the biggest drunkard or had the
worst tongue-were up for the hundred and
fiftieth time for the same offense,"
''What was that, pray"'
Drunk and disorderly, profane language
and beating the police" answered the mat
ron, quoting the charge sheet. Its gener-
ally all of it, sometimes only drunk and dis
orderly; but they hardly ever go quietly
The young onel let me see. The doctor said,
the day she died, she was not above four-and-
twenty; every bit as bad as the mother, regu-
lar Dublin ones! born in the Coombe, and
am told though | can't say it's true, that
neither of them ever crossed the river Liffey
in her life. / don't think you could find
people like like them anywhere else in the
world. They live, wet or fine, from morning
to night in the streets, crouch in some arch
way or entry; or maybe in night refuge at
understanding TO the season of the year.
Perhaps a frield gives them shelter in a
room-that is to say, their own length on the
floor"
But food They earned nothing, how did
they eat?'
sob! they do-you mistake-these are
basket-women, and perfectly respectable
women, too. Don't mistake me for mo-
ment, they are women of good character.
They hawk oranges or anything that chances
to be in season, and that gives them an.ex-
cuse for stopping people in the streets or
knocking at hall doors. They live in reality
by blackmail. They terrify the servants by
their awful language and threats of violence
and as they are VIGOROUSLY witty, plenty
OF people toss them coppers for their smart
answers A witty tongue is fortune IN
this country People will forgive anything
for well-turned answer. Then-to go back
to the two Katries-food was of small conse-
quence to them. Drink was what they lived
on-whisky and porter were the staple of
their diet And on this occasion that
speak of. it was, as I told you, the
hundred and fftieth time they were
convicted. Well, there they were, after
being locked up since Saturday night
cold and shiyering and sober but as
gay as larks Notwithstanding Young Katy
was coughing frightfully, worse than ever /
heard her before. She could hardly speak
for it. Poor thing The mother had bas-
ket with bunch of dead rhubarb in 1t, and
some other thing, watercress, 1 thidk, but
one could hardly tell what, it was so with
cred She dashed up to me the moment she
saw rue.
"'Ma'am, Mrs Smit, rale glad am to see
We so well'-with grin as if she were de-
lighted.
"'That's more than I am to see you,
Katy replied l very stiflly. | never could
- old q.