Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1888-03-07
TOO LATE.

US MORE CHARITABLE.
ssMamma. mamma" walled tiny, feebl
voice, ''tum take baby"
1t was a lonely tenement room, utterl
bare of anything like cosy home comfort.
dilapidated bedstead and furnishings stoot
in one corner rusty stove, basket witt
few lonesome Jumps of fuel in it,a ricket.
| old chair with one broken rocker, were th'
principal furniture.
In this chair little girl, whose pinchet
white face showed plainly the effects o
close air and semi-starvation, sat in it rock
ing as far as the broken rocker would al
low, and grooming dismal little ditty il
time to her fast-falling tears.
A baby lay back in her arms, golden
haired little creature witch great blue eyes
which under happier circumstances-frest
air, warmth and proper food-would have
been beautiful; but now, its pinched face
staring eyes, and wan, deathly look, wer'
enough to melt heart of stone to pity.
| The child moaned on its pitful wall fol
s'mamma, mamma" and the little girl sang
on amid her tears, while the otherwise
deathly quiet of the room was broken by ar
occasional footstep stumbling up or dowr
| the long staircase without, varied by sound;
of quarreling children in the other rooms,
sounds of blows and screams of pain, fol
ths ill-smelling tenement house was swarm
ing with occupants of all ages and all de
grees of misery.
Once drunken man stumbled along the
narrow passage swearing and cursing, and
weeping little Jane clasped the wailing ba-
by closer to her beating heart, but she had
taken the precaution to turn the key in the
rusty lock, and after trying the door and
iolr ho ohr1f1 1oH n
own wretched room.
Meantime the mother rubbed away on a
washing she was doing in wealthy home
on Beacon street, with heart as heavy as
lead, while the tears stole down her cheeks
and mingled with the foam of the suds.
She had stayed at her home for two whole
days already, days that meant little short
of starvation for the little family; but the
babe was SO sick she could not resist its
pitiful pleadings for her care.
To-day, however, her work was in place
where she well knew her failure to appear
would cause the certain loss of future work,
and she tore herself away from the baby,
though it strained her very heart-strings to
do so.
Mrs. Chauncey had no intention of being
hard woman, and would have been sur
prised had any one ventured to tell her she
was so, but she was certainly unsympathet-
| ic. The sorrows of the poor were nothing
to her, and in her employment of them, il
one failed in any particular, she discharged
them and filled the vacant place with an
other as unconcernedly as she would supply
missing cog in any of her kitchen ma
chinery.
There was sad history preceding this
chapter in the washerwoman's experience.
She had once been happy bride, giving
her heart and hand with the blind devotion
with which woman bestows upon the man
of her choice; long vista of happy years
stretched out before her in anticipation, in
which husband, home, and the little chill
dren were the central figures.
True she knew that her husband occa-
sionally accepted treat from his friends,
Just one glass once in a while, but she
thought nothing of it. Compared with
many others, be was model of temperance
and good principles. She did not know of
the inherited taste which lay lurking IN his
nature, waiting for supply of liquid fire
| to warm it into never-dying flame, but she
| found it out afterward, when the husband
no longer waited for treat, but stepped
into the ever-ready saloon and supplied the
craving which was beginning to dominate
| him.
1t was when little Jane was born that he
came home drunk for the first time in con-
sequence of the absurd custom of celebrat-
ing such events by unlimited treating, and
the wife suffered keeuer anguish than that
of the birth throes, when he stumbled into
her presence in his maudlin condition.
After that his downward course was rap
| id from their neat cottage they went tC
tenement rooms, from rooms to one room,
the miserable shelter where little Jane is
rocking the baby.
| In saloon brawl two years ago he had
killed man, and for this had been sent 7
for life, and The worse than widow had set
about making living for herself and the
child.
| Death is a terrible thing, but there are
living deaths which are infinitely far more
tragical, more pathetic than the grass-cov-
cred grave in the green cemetery.
Then came the baby, born amid tears,
poverty and disgrace; no cap crowned nurse
greeted her advent into the world, not even
a physician, and little Jane, aided and ad-
vised by kind neighbor, who was ever
poorer than they, took the scanty care Of
the mother and child which they received
The mother had almost resented the very
| thought of another mouth to feed, another
form to clothe in her destitution, but the
mother love came with the blue-eyed baby,
and much as she loved little Jane, this lit
tie one, born amid such adverse circum-
stances, crept into heart as no other living
thing had ever done, and became the very
idol of her lonely heart.
| Plain print dresses had seemed good
enough for little James babyhood, but white
pure white-seemed the only suitable
wear for the smiling, goldened-halred visi
tor, and many night she sat up after hel
davis toll for others was done, to wash ant
iron the one fine white and embroidered
robe which was left of James infant ward
robe, that her darling might be fresh anl
sweet through the day.
| Little Jane shared this idolizlng love fo
the fair little blossom in the dingy room
and together they worked and made sacri
fees uncomplainingly that the little on
might be shielded from the hardships O
their lot, while she laughed and crowed ant
contributed her share of sunshine to allevi
ate the SORROWS she knew 80 little of, unit
the sickness came, the result of poverty an,
privation, blanching the cheek and dim
ming the blue eyes of the little comforter.
| 1t seemed to the mother that the wasl
had never been so large at Mrs. Chauncey'
I as SQo uuTTlcu eAO hOlCIOuOuS
suds and rinse, and nothing but the though
of the money she would receive, and whicl
she needed so sorely, upheld her achin,
heart during the anxious day. She wa
nearly done now and Mrs. Chauncey cam,
into the wash-room ;she was not in pleasan
humor to-day. Her drsssmaker had disap
pointed her, and Mr.. Chauncey had refuse,
her the new style sealskin cloak she ha,
asked him for, on the plea of hard times
and she spoke to the tired and sorrowin,
woman coldly and fretfully: SIT seems t
me, Mrs. Dunlap, the washing has dragge,
unusually to-day"
"An' sure, min, it's unusually large,
said the cook, who CHANGED to be in th
room, pointing to the great basket of clothe
ready for the line.
She was as near being privileged char
acter in Mr.. Chauncey's household as an,
one in it, for her place could not be easil
supplied, as she well knew.
j els it, indeed" replied Mrs. Chauncey