Democratic Northwest. [volume] (Napoleon, Ohio) 1869-1894, 1885-12-17
HIS MoTH,lR's PORTRAIT.

room In tenement HOuSe, IOOm
where the smoke from the shoulder
ing fire curled in odd fantastic wreaths
in the angles of the sloping ceiling, and
mice gnawed stealthily at the base
boards.
Not a pleasant place to die in, and
perhaps it was just as well that poor
Phoebe Wells, in her restless delirium,
fancied herself back once more among
the velvet grass and apple blossoms
of the sweet-scented orchard at home.
Meanwhile child of four years old,
with his round face besmeared with
dirt. and his faxen eurls tightly mat
ted together with neglect, sat coiled
up in window seat, playing with a
headless wooden-horse and singing
softly to himself. For the afternoon
sunshine was warm on his face, and
what did little Charlie know OF deathP
s.Sure it's wanderin' she is" said
one of the women who was sitting in
the room; 'and enough to tire the pa
tience of the blessed saints themselves,
sitting here. There's the bit of let
ter she began to write and hadn't
strength to finish. What shall we do
with itP"
Burn it," shortly returns a wrink-
led old hag, who was already busy in
tnrning over the slender store of linen
in the worn hair-trunk to find some-
thing fitting for shroud; tits no use
to anybody now, and she can't spake
reasonable to tell us where It's to go,
Yes, yes, honey, l know" as Phoebe
stretched out her attenuated hands
with a wistful cry of "Charlie-my
boy-you'll tako Charlie home"
'.Sure, an it's that we will," said
the old woman, chuckling. We've
got nothin' else to do, my fine lady, an
lots o. money to spare, excursioning
round the country! Lie still-that's a
dear!'
But still she cried, Charlie
Charlie!' and the younger woman
lifted the little creature, still clinging
to, his wooden horse, on to the bed.
Charlie opened his blue eyes wonder
ingly and began to cry.
''Mamma, what makes you look so
stranger"
She drew him close down to her
with a shuddering sigh, his cheek
against hers, his tangled curls ming
ling with her disheyelled black tresses.
"Oh, my baby, l cannot go and
leave you'll cannot! L"
The death-rattle in her throat inter-
rupted all further attempts at speech.
There were one or two incoherent MUIR
muring sounds--tnat was all-and so
poor Phoebe Wells died.
.'She's got no friends" said Mrs.
Dennis, "an' it's but fair, afther all
the trouble we've had, Nora Ma
carty, we should divide the little she's
left"
.'It's mo ought to have the bits o.
clothes an things" said Nora jealous
ly. "You never came a-nigh her till
the last two days"
"Well, an it's no more than fair,
Nora DEAR" said the Irishwoman
smoothly; .'an' you goin' to be mar
ried in a month. You kape the clothes,
an welcome, and III have the bit of
boy; he's just the child l want for beg
gin, since they took poor little Barney
O'Toole away, worse luck to 'em!
Come along, child, an stop that cryin'
or it'll be the worse for yez. Did ye
want a taste O Mother Dennis's strapp
Then hould yer noise!"
Charlie followed his rough guide,
into trembling silence.
"Yez wouldn't belav it, an him SO
young" said Mrs. Dennis triumphant
ly, ''but he's the best litter in all the
children! See there, Mike Dooley.
two hankechers an suutf-box. let
alone the two apples from the ped
dler's stand, an an ash-box half full of
illigant paper rags. Give him a.drop
O. yer beer, Mike, an ye shall have
baked potaties an pigs'-trotters for
your supper, darlint!
This was one OF Charlie lucky days.
Sometimes he came home. blue with
cold, penniless, and without booty of
any kind; and then Mrs. Dennis was
as liberal in the use OF the strap, and
what she called "the rough side Of her
tongue rs she was in her system of
rewards. Altogether. Charles life
was one Of vicissitudes.
"I'll run away when Pm big enough"
resolved the little six-ycar-old hero,
many a night as he lay on his straw
pallet, with half dozen other puny
wretches as miserable as himself,
watching the peaceful stars shining
through the rafters overhead.
"Mrs. Dennis says my mammals
name was Bridget Lanigan, but it
wasn't; it was Phoebe! She told me SO
once; and had q wooden horse TO
play with, and ] used to say my
prayers at night, / can't remember
'em now; and Pat Keelen says they're
all trash--and-a and"
So little Charlie dropped off to sleep.
rs forlorn a little wretch as night
brooded over with her peaceful pro-
tecting wings Of starry darkness.
But Charlie did not run away. In
the first place, there was nowhere to
rum to, and Charlie was sufficient Of a
to remain quietly where
he was sure Of a shelter and daily
bread to eat; not always that, how
over. unless Mrs Dennis happened to
be in tolerably good humor; and then,
child as he was, he felt himself to be a
sort Of pariah in tho outer world, his
tiny hand against every mans. and
every mans against him. particularly
the police.
Such was the state Of affairs one de-.