Springfield globe-republic. (Springfield, Ohio) 1884-1887, 1885-05-03
''Shall They Remain Like Me-Know
Naught More Than the Beasts of the
Field?" the One COntin-
ual Cry.
Janet Dale In Chicago News. |


We have traversel We son street before.
We have penetrated many OF its wretched
homes together. You have brought aid to
those hero who were starving, sick, and de-
spairing. You knew all its phases a year
ago-its double row of houses crowded to
overhowing with human beings The mar
row thoroughfare sosms less filthy than then.
Greater cleanliness comes to it with greater
prosperity. There are fewer people along it
in need Of help than there were year ago.
Then the dogs were snarling and wrangliny
over some feshless bones, while now they sit
contentedly near their own doorsteps, or re-
main within near the fire with the children,
for hunger does not drive them forth this
winter to search for cast-away bits of food
You have paused at this door before-you
have entered the house, but never that por.
tion Of 1t where we will now go. Up the
old steps, along the narrow passage, and
then down another fight Of stairs even less
secure than the first At the foot We turn
our faces toward the street and notice low,
black door in under the stairs. You think
no one can dwell within. You say no human
being would think Of living here; that this
Is but the rough plank foundation to support
the house. You point to the crevices, filed
with manure to keep the frost from entering,
and say scarcely rat would bur
row here. Yet there are men
and women and little children
this little black door. All within Is dark
ness At our call door, far around to tho
left, is opened, and faint streak Of light
from rear window guides to where q
woman stands holding barefooted, fretting
baby. Its small toes are purple with the
cold, and the frosted skin Is poeling of from
them. Two other children, also barefoot,
are in the room. There is no fire in the
| small stove. There is one wretched bed, des-
titute Of sheets, its only covering an OLD
blanket or two. The woman stares inquir-
ingly at us. She speaks no English or Ger
man. She is Russian Pole. Generations Of
repression, generations OF suffering from
cold, hunger and brutal treatment, are
stamped on her face. When we speak tn
her she runs quickly out and brings In lad
to act as interpreter. "Her name, says this
boy. "is Mariana Wynderche. They cam.
| 10 America in July. Why did they comet
Because it is SO bad in Russia for the
Poles."
"But could they live there and have less
than they have heref" asked, in surprise
For answer he turns to her and repeats my
words
"Shs says" he answers, "that may be
never will she be bettered by coming here,
but that her children will. There, she says,
her children could look for nothing better
than what their fathers and mothers have
borne. Here they have chance. She says
she will 8 nd them to school that they may
| learn. Her man Is molder, but he
can find no work, for he talks naught but
Polish. So he picks rags, but the snow has
covered all the rags Som, days, she says,
they have something to eat; some days
nothing Today fhav hava M fro To-
morrow, perhaps they may have, for her
man may find some cinders or bits of wood.
She says it Is no worse than Russia and by
and by the children will do better"
Meantim the two tiny, low rooms are
| freless; tlere Is not morsel Of food i'm
| them. N 1T soul whose shelter they are
has broken fast to-day. The two older
children utter no l,ment; only the babe
keeps up ceaseess, fretful complaint
| Of its misery. 1t is but little they re-
| quire to make life more than sndurs-
BILE, for with these folk little goes great
way The woman Is not stupid because she
weeps not nor makes complaint. Hers /, the
stoldity Of endurance. But she stoops with
( a sudden gesture AMI kisses my hand IS
| give her coin. When we return to the
light SEQ something glistening upon 1t Is
| 1t bit of melted snowi
Down In the rear OF another number we
knocked louily at another door, A woman
opens it. She Is clad In divers rags One
foot Is encase sed In an old rubber; the other in
the portion Of boot. Presently she ex-
plains to us through an interpreter that she
| found them in an ash heap There Is no fire
here, either. Some half-charred pieces of
pine lay by the stove. These, too, she picked
i out OF an ash heap.
| "She say, OIL SO cold were they many
nights" tells the interpreter. Neither she
nor her two little girls could stay In the bed.
They must walk, walk, all night to keep
from the death"
| The two pretty children look at him as he
t,ls the story, and the smaller one shivers In
remembrance Of the last nights torture.
Even with our heavy wrap. we are chilled
now, In the daytime, by the atmosphere Of
| the room.
| The woman Is q widow, and hor name il
Eve Hohovitoh. II Is the same story she
tells as the one before her.
II came that my little girls could be bst-
ter in their life than me. What had they
to hope forr She stretches out her hands
Her voice is even-keyed but harsh. But her
| gestures are as impassioned and expressive
a. tragedisnne's. What has her existence
been but q tragedy
u would have the clothes and shoes that
they may 60 to school and learn" she con-
tinues "Shall they remain like me-know
paught more than the beasts in the stable