The evening world., 1889-08-22

All daY long lie sits ut the open WINDOW III
the little kitchen, his blue eye dark and
fathomless. gazing into vacancy but always
with n child in his lap.
To-day the little one has her head on his
breast, a flannel bnndage Is wound about her
throat. aud as she sleeps the father sings in n
soft. sweet voice, There is q green hill far
away"
The quick ear catches our stem. and when
the sad music is hushed we find chairs among
the little ones and learn their needs.
Twelve. nine. eight. six, { ur and three
repro. ent their ages; all boys but the third.
The mother takes in washing, and OH her in
come the family manages to ex st.
I'm the Winter we live comfortably" she
says. but since MAY I have had little work
aud now I can ret nothing to do.
What do | need most? l can hardly tell.
The chi dren a. you SEQ, are barefoot and
hey have 40 other clothes"
Nor has site. but her own comforts are for
gotten. When we ask the quiet, patient man
what we cun do for him he says: Thank
you nothing. Don't mind me-"
But what would you ike to eat ?"
ut is all the same to me. Anything will
satisfy me-"
Instead Of anything We get the definite
articles of diet. and the good-natured doctor
goes of again to market, this t me with n
long, long list and several additions in the
shape of suggestions, for l want q young
chicken to give the sick boy and fresh bread
and sweet milk for tho group of pale faces.
He gets -four. vegetables, tea, coffee, rice,
sugar. soap. starch, bluing, oil, butter, some
cereals and tap ,oca to make pudding for the
young children, and a package of tobacco for
the silent husband. The purchases we make
along Third avenue include a dress. bonnet
nni th,wl for the brave-hearted mother. a
pair of shoes for five little boys and q blazer.
Think of that, you dudes who whine among
the rocks of NarraGansettl for the iGhtIess
man is content to know that his children are
alive and we'll.
For all these luxuries we pay but %.
We tell the mother and father about you,
dear old Wall Street, and this is the message
they send you;
May God in his mercy bless him. Idon't
know what they do in Wall street." the
woman says. but for every cent he has sent
us. and you tell me it's 800, I'll have the little
ones say q PRAYER. Good luck to him, very
good luck"
In the hall we learn that the poor mother
owes fourteen months rent, and through the
benevolcnce of blustery, big hearted old Pat
McKewen. who owns the building, the family
has been permitted to remain.
The awful calamity which fell upon the
little home occurred just a year ago, and
every penny was spent In the vain endeavor
to save one of the eyes from the impenetrkble
oloor, ,yl,,ol, fall - ac falls tha plauun nm
men," without warning or premonition.
In a f~ruitless hunt for n destitute family,
we use 30 to buy for one-eyed Tim an inter-
est in a lemon stock, for repairs on a little
crutch, 20 replace q glass pitcher over the
fragments of which u ten-year-old girl is sor-
~rowing-and to start q fund for Jerry T. s
school shoes.
Our fayors in East Seventeenth street
amountto 81. GO, the cost OF ten quarts of milk,
one watermelon. three dozen bananas, a peck
of sweet peppers and q measure of sweet po-
tatoes. The three last named articles are
given with an oral lesson in fritter and fries
to O group Of women whose knowledge of
cooking is limited 70 bakers bread and fried
steak.
Patsy N. Is brought to the carriage door by
q company of friends. and the sight of hit
bare brown body cleaning through the Bliti
In pnntaloons and the rent in his shirt, de-
cides us, and he is invited TO a seat on the
hox with Mr.. Ripley's academic trained
Coachman.
Patsy gets quite laxative in the Sixth ave
nue. clothing store, where we buy his outfit.
His mother Is dead. he tells us, and all the
children are dead but me-"
H. Fo.lou oal la baya n ron,,, 0,lara thax
sleep, picking up their meals the best wa,
they can. For the past month the father ha'
been out of employment. and when schooI
closed Patsy went to work in a pencil fac.
tory, where he earned 90. so a week. On thil
the father aud son lived, but a week ago tn,
boy was discharged. Fortunately he is goinl
back to school, and with S12. 04 We transform
the small tramp into a handsome boy, givin!
him his first coat, pants and vest, all related
in color and cut, a new shirt, a gorgeous Sc
of suspenders and a stiff straw hat, trimmed
with a real Tuxedo ribbon.
After dinner we go uptown to see Adj,
, r., in West Fifty-third street, a sick boy, tn,
son of a seamstress. Aldie is in need of fresi
air, and on the advice of the doctor I paw eli
in advance for four weeks boardin Saugerties
on-the- Hudson
Some friends provide rnilroad fare for tn
! boy, and DR.. Mason engages the moihe Il
: nurse a patient for a couple of weeks, ant
another family is made happy.
How is your baby this morning. Mrs. {. P
= the doctor asks a patient In West Fiftietl
street.
"Oh, I'm afraid she's going to heaven" /
the hopeless response.
: But she is wise, for nothing short of
> miricle or an elixir can save the little one
, who has wasted TO a mere skeleton. We civ
= the mother SOM of the brandy sent b.
= Little Mother in One Hundred and Thirty
= eighth Street." and for 50 get u years leas
' on n baby carriage. in which the dying chill,
Is placed at once and wheeled off to the par
TO be kept in the open dir all day.
!, The next house is in West Forty -thir