St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1891-08-09

Siclian with eyes unfathomable and
jealous. One could easily fancy him
taking the solemn oath of the vendetta.
He smells of garlic, but-well, he looks
pretty, and the beseeching look in his
brown eyes as he cries his damaged
wares is Irresistible. There is flaxen
haired fraulein in charge of a fruit
stand in front of the market house. She
sits under her immense cotton umbrella
and smiles all day. You ask for
peaches, peaches being your hearts
desire, and she gives you plums which
you detest. 1t is of no use to argue,
for she keeps on smiling and says. ia.
ia" with such imperturbabe good
bumor that you really can't feel hurt.
Sometimes there's forlorn looking
squaW with the look of countless GEN.
turtles Of neglect moulded into every
feature, selling Indian relics. She
never smiles. She never looks around.
She sits with her toes turned in, after
the good old Indian custom. and looks
hopeless. Under the awning broad
faced foreign women with indeScribable
hats and stayless figures sit by their
baskets of produce and talk to each
other in foreign tongue. They are
never idle. Their brown fingers are
wonderfully dextrous with the knitting
needles. and yard after yard of edging
grows under their touch. Sometimes it's
A Warm Stocking
or a muffier, but busy as their fingers
are, their eyes never lose a possible Gus
toner. The man with the cotton neck
ties and cheap jewelry basks in the sun
shine of clear conscience. The pretty
country girl adds additional charm to
the sweet peas and marlgolds and
gold-hearted pansies and mystic passion
flowers she sells. Here and there wan
ders tan-colored boy, with bunch of
Sorry-lOoking water lilies in each hot
hand. and two Sunburned bare feet, fin
iShed off with all assortment of sore
toes. There are dozen or so tow
headed children belonging to the mar
ket women, and when Franz pinches
Elsa there is sometimes a very interest
ing row.
The marketers are as interesting as
the market people. MaterfamiliaS, with
her freshness trifie WORE with the care
of six children and her brow little
marked from constant and futile wrest-
ling with the problem "How to make
five dollars do the work OF ten," comes
down early i'll shabby gown, and, after
two hours haggling and worry, trots off
home with a basket full of purchases.
Mrs. Young Mother insists on bringing
that wonderful new baby, and jams the
wheels of the baby carriage against the
shins Of every chance passer who sim
ply abhors babies. Mrs. Society passes
Ianguidly and critically from stall to
stall, while her Victoria with James
carved in wood on the box waits at the
corner.
The grandfather was a green grocer
across the water, but inquiry into the
madame's pedigree is stopped by the
absolutely impenetrable bar of the al
mighty dollar. The woman with the
sun umbrella holds on to her weapon of
destruction with the strength of utter
idiocy, and scrapes out eyes by the
wholesale.
People tread on your toes, bump into
you, buy the very things you have set
your heart on, and make you very I'M
happy when you 90 to market. But the
game goes on day after day, under
changing skies. in wet weather and dry,
from early dawn until the last belated
pedestrian passes the flaring light of
the fruit stand. The market is busy
busy with the noisy buyer and seller,
and interesting with its commingling of
rich and poor, high and low, the good,
the bad and the Indifferent majority.