The Dawson journal., 1884-01-10
POOR LITTLE DAISY.
An Incident of the Streets.

The day had been chilly and damp,
and as it became darker, it became more
chilly and more damp. Umbrellas Of
every known shape and size and of in
finite variety of color fitted past. The
poor waits who wander about the streets
OF large city betook themselves with
the instinct of dumb animals to places
where they could be sheltered from the
wind and rain-squalid heaps of rags
huddled closely for warmth on chill door
steps or in sheltered close-ways, where
they remained, looking out on the rain
drops, thinking on goodness only knows
what.
Still the rain came down, making every
one and everything wet and miserable
except a few consumptive ducks, which
had, with commendable efforts, made up
their minds to maintain life on offal
found in the reeking haunts of men.
Still the rain fell, washing the filthy air
and besotted pavement from all impuri-
ties, and carrying streams of muddy water
TO the drains, which made q gushing
noise, as if exulting in thus comforting
boon on mankind.
l was standing in sheltered corner
when little girl came running up. She
had her skirt drawn over her head to keep
out the rain. and small bundle of news
papers under her arm-the papers being
placed in such a position as to catch as
little rain as possible. She had intended
to shelter where 1 was; but seeing some
one there, she was hurrying away, when
1 called her back. She came up timidly,
took down her primitive umbrella, and
stood beside me.
"Have you not sold all your papers,
asked, glancing at her little bundle.
"No, sir, it was so wet, she answered,
looking down and biting the corners off
the papers, "that my customers didn't
mind me, but all seemed a-going home as
fast as they was able. 1t was so wet !" she
said again, this time taking courage to
glance at me.
whats your name, little girl?" 1
asked, with patronizing smile.
II don't know as 'ow I ave one, but
the folks is allus a-calling me Daisy, and
the boys allus ask me if / ever seed a
daisy a-growing in the gutter"
"But, Daisy, they don't always do
that. eh?"
"No." she answered, promptly, "they
don't when Jacks there, cause he let's
them see."
"And who's Jack?" was my next ques-
lion.
Pretty little Daisy, she didn't answer;
but she showed by her silence and con-
fusion that Cupid's dart had even pierced
that thin shawl.
sis Jack your brother?" again asked,
by way of drawing her out on this sub
iect.
"No," she said, evading my question;
II have no brother or sister, no father
Or mother. 1 lives with Betsy; but she
never looks arter me no more nor if /
was dog, but Jack does"
"Well, yer a nice 'un, too" said a
ragged something, emerging from the
darkness and dripping with rain. "Here
I've been a-looking for ye the ole night.
Won't yer catch it from Betsy Oh, no p
"Well, Jack, it was so wet that L
couldn't get none sold. Won't yer speak
for me, Jack ?"-and she placed her
hand so lovingly on his shoulder.
"Well, yer a nice 'un, tool" said Jack,
twisting his fingers through her natural
curls. "Look ere, my pretty Venus,
she won't so much as put her little fin
ger on yer!
l assisted them out of their difficulty,
much to the astonishment of Jack, who
never seen any one "as would give
money for muffin"
Away they went, with happy hearts,
and left me gazing at the sloppy sidewalk
and thinking on their future happiness.