Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1890-02-02

Twenty.sixth street, but Lizzie as she sits at
home on Sundays with her bevy of full
grown children about her, and Just as she
proudly insisted she should be handed down
to history by the photographers art. But
vet she is f'hower grip and flower girl she
will be to the end of the chapter, although
her form is portly and her height greater
than that of the average man.
BEGAN IN WAR TIMES.
Lizzie-she has another name, of course,
but nobody ever bothers with it else they
might be guilty of calling her "Mrs. "-be-
gan selling flowers far back in war times.
She was a tall slip OF girl, but even then
with an arm which a blacksmith's helper
might envy. Even in those brawling days
she rarely met with else than courtesy.
Later on she had an exceptional experience
with the welI-known Jimmy Oliver, which
her old-time acquaintances among men
about-town frequently narrate with glee and
which she sometimes when pressed will
speak of with unaffected indignation. She
was walking along Broadway at night with
her nosegays when the so-called "Prince of
Paradise Park" attempted what perhaps he
considered an act of gallantry toward her.
The meek little flower girl quietly placed
her tray upon step and then seizing the
SHG Hlpeu Will bue
pavement of the Fifth Avenue Hotel, in
front of which the occurrence took place, IN
such a thorough manner that it did not re-
quire brooming next morning. Little Lizzie
was not annoyed much after that.
She was quickly installed as a favorite
among men who seek refreshments in popu-
lar public places after theater closing, and
she has never forgotten those who aided her
to make an honest livelihood in her young
days. am familiar with two striking in
stances of this. Among her earliest friends
were A. Wright Sanford and Captain Will
lam NJ. Connor. They never saw her,
whether they bought flowers or not, without
giving her money, and many SO notes have
these generous hands cheered her with on
stormy, saleless nights. Scarcely more than
year ago Sanford, who was the most popu-
lar club man in New York. died. When his
body lay in The Little Church Around the
Corner that edifce was filed with throng
of notable, fashionable people, all sincere
mourners, The air was heavy with the fra
GRANGE OF costly floral emblems of grief.
A SIMPLE BUT TOUCHING SCENE.
As the casket was being borne away there
was noticed midway in the center aisle the
figure of broad-shouldered and unusually
tall woman, whose downcast head was COW
cred with woolen hood, and who was
wrapped in large and heavy plaid shawl.
AS the body reached her, Lizzie "the
flower girl' lifted a face down which the
tears were pouring, and drawing from be-
meath her shawl large wreath composed of
nothing but violets, dropped it on the coffin
and sobbed forth, in unconscious repetition
of the oft-repeated words of Joe, the cross
ing sweeper, in "Bleak House." "He was
good to me, he was" 1 saw men of the
world weep at that simple act
Last summer, when Captain Connor was
absent in Europe, Lizzie made peculiarly
persistent inquiries at the st. James Hotel
as to when the proprietor would return. He
had not been in his room two hours after
landing when, after knocking, a neatly
dressed lad entered, and, handing him
large horseshoe made of violets and roses,
without word. A card on the
floral offering bore the inscription: "Good
Luck from Lizzie, the Flower Girl"
Lizzie is no rival of her far younger sis
ters. She begins her travels far later than
they, and it is not unusual to find her in the
of the Twenty-ninth street chop
house as late as o'clock in the morning.
And while she tolls cheerfullv and smilingly
far into the night, her little ones are sleep
ing in their beds, for she will not permit one
Of them to engage in the life which she has
pursued SO long and so we'll.
LOUIS n. MEGARGEE.