The weekly examiner., 1891-08-01
SAVE DANNY'S CLOTHES.
AN EVERYDAY STORY OF THE LIFE
 OF THE BIG CiTY's POOR.

-9 Experiences Which Make Men Desperate
 Enough to Almost Commit Murder.
 One Man Discovers That the Discon-
 tented Are Not Hardened Wretches.
 It was Saturday night in Baxter street.
 Just outside the door of dealer in secondhand clothing I saw an oldish woman with bundle. The light fell full on her face, and she looked so pale and pinched and careworn that moved a step nearer. She started to go in, re- treated, stood still, and it was then I moved closer and asked:
 sWel1, why don't you go in?'
 t'I-Fn have to, suppose" she slowly answered, ssbut-but"- Her tears began to fall, and taking the bundle from her arms I unrolled it. Something to sell, of course-something to bring the pitiful price of bread for Sunday-but what? A wee little suit of clothes for 9 boy three or four years old everything, from cap to stockings and shoes. The fabric was plain, and the garments had been worn, and doubt if the man inside would have given her more than half dollar for the outfit.
 ''These are your little boys clothes?' l said, as I held them up.
 'tThey were his, sir, but he's dead. It was his first and only suit"
 .'And you must raise money tonight by selling this suit?"
 s'Pve waited and waited, hoping I could see some other way, but we must have bread"
 ssI'n go home with you."
 She bent down and peered into my face and then turned, and followed. A block and half down, and then we crowd past men, women and children on the door steps and ascend three flights of stairs. In the semidarkness rub against a man coming down, and he turns with curse. stumble against drunken woman and arouse her from stupid sleep, and she pours out a torrent of abuse and tries to clutch me.
 Here's our home, sir"
 Three little bits of rooms-bare walls bare foors-smoke and dirt. The bed steads had been sold, and two old straw mattresses lay on the floor. An old stove "a table-two or three chairs-a tene- ment house outfit. On one mattress lay two little girls-the oldest about nine. On the other lay man-the husband helpless and crippled with a fever sore. A lamp sat on the table to light this room.
 'sSit down, please said the woman, as she dusted off a chair with her apron.
 The children were drowsing, but they sprang up at my step and stood looking and wondering. The man had been lying with his face to the wall. He turned over after struggle, and it was curious to watch the expression of his face. It betrayed fear, curiosity, hope and despair by turns, and there was des- peration in his eyes and in his tones as he finally said:
 eff this is the end then we'll have to go."
 .sI did not come to turn you out"
 s1You are no policeman?'
 "No."
 t'And we've nothing to be robbed of"
 t'1 was going to sell poor Danny's clothes, and he took them away and has come to see for himself how it is," ex- plained the wife.
 Well, that's easily seen," replied the man, with a grim smile. "Are you one of the free doctors?"
 ssNo."
 "A preacher?''
 s'No."
 All four looked at me so queerly that thought it best to explain:
 '.You are hungry. Let the wife and children go down for provisions and I'll stop with you a bit. I came up to see if couldn't be of some use."
 Even after had put money in the woman's hand they stared at me and couldn't make it out, and when mother and children went out the man flushed up, ,breathed hard and fast, and seemed afraid of me. I helped him to sit up on the straw, gave him cigar to smoke, and after bit he said:
 s'You must excuse us, sir, but I'm not yet sure whether Pm awake or dream ing, and I know the others feel the same way. It's so sudden that I'm all upset.o
 'sHow did you come to be in this con- dition,' asked.
 s'Fate brought me to it," he replied. stI was one of the workmen on the big bridge and got my 50 day. Within six months I burned out on Broome street and lost everything, and this fever sore came to render me helpless. It's been nothing but. sickness and trouble and poverty since then. The wife used to work, but she fell in Canal street last winter and broke her arm, and our boy Danny fell out of that window and was killed about the same time."
 s'It has been hard hnes.''
 ssYou can't understand how hard un- til you've been there yourself" he re- piled. ''When man finds himself go- ing down and down and down, without power to mend things; freezing, hunger ing and dying by inches, he's sure to get desperate. In the last week I've been an atheist, anarchist and devil I've sat here and cried out that there was no God except for the rich. I've said that if could get down stairs again I'd burn and kill. I've looked at wife and chil- dren with murder in my heart!"