The Somerset herald. [volume] (Somerset, Pa.) 1870-1936, 1892-09-21
PASQUALE, OF MULBERRY
BEND.
Pasquale was his name.

Pasquale was his name.
He was little devil, that boy.
At least the people of the Bend said SC
after the episode of Keg alley. He had
never seen the skies of Italy, but Camil-
Ia, his sister, was born there. That was
before his father killed the policeman
and long before his mother went TO live
in Keg alley. He was only z, but he
knew what it meant for a woman in the
Bend to go and live in Keg alley, and il
left Camilla and him pretty much alone
In fact, there was no one else left in the
family except the kitten-or rather the
cat. For although the animal was but a
few months old, it had never been a
kitten.
There are no kittens in Mulberry Bend
One day a gentleman friend of the
family-Pasquale, Camilla and the cat
bought new hand organ. That nigh;
all Of the ladies and gentlemen who were
honored by his acquaintance sat about
upon doorsteps and curbstones and ad-
mired its melody.
1t was a new organ, but it did not dis
dain old tunes. Gradually the discord-
ant noises and clatter Of feet subsided
and the Bend grew sober under the spell
oforgan music, while every cobble its
length reeked with some story, and the
glare of smoky oil lamps welded the
stenches decaying melons and Of fish
Pasquale sat upon the curb with q
swarm Of other humans and listened.
His garments were entirely appropriate
to the sultry midsummer night. His
ragged little shirt was supplemented by
trousers once worn by Uncle Dominica
who kept the fish-stall at the corner
Their legs shortened by the scissors, and
worn by Pasquale, they had really
quite the grand air. In one skinny arm
he clutched close to his breast the siekly
so1ed-eyed kitten which was alread q
cat.
She had already met her mouse.
SO she clung closely to Pasquale with
her little sharp claws, and eyed askance
the other gamins of this gutter ofMul.
berry Bend.
Digging her brown toes into the debris
of the stones and laughing, her white
teeth gleamingin the dust, stood Camil-
la. Pasquale WIS i'll shaped; his ugli-
ness asserted itself; but Camilla was
cursed with certain amount of fbeauty
She was wanton looking young animal,
already II. Her eyes held little lurk-
ing devil, born there before they ever
saw the light. Her shining purple black
hair rioted in its wild locks, and her walk
was that of a feminine gamin. Like the
other girls Of her age, she wore a calico
skirt, a gaudy cotton waist and handker.
chief, while about her slim neck was q
string of beads.
Suddenly the organ groaned, hesitated
and broke into another tune.
"An' sure, what isit asked little
Irish girl Of Pasquale.
But he shook his dark head, while
from the other side of him boy piped
an answer.
"Love not !" said the bov.
"Love-a-not," re, eated Pasquale slow.
lv. and then looked at the kitten. He
listened moment, then shook his head
and softly kissed it.
An hour later, after searching in vain
for Camilla, he and the kitten went fast
asleep behind some empty beer kegs. A
little later another child crawled in be-
side them. 1t was Camilla, and she wore
some new and elittering beads Of colored
glass.
And in the Bend was still the hoarke
noise of voices singing, grinding of organs
and clatter of feet. Thugs, pickpockets
and women of the pavement in their
most depraved tpye, shouldered the chill
dren of Italy. All night the soiled stream
of humanity flowed on, beating, beating,
beating, and surging into the arteries of
the place called Keg alley, Nannygoat
alley and "Fifty-nine." And through
the narrow riffs between the tops of the
grim tenements blue strip of star-spang-
led sky looked down.
No wonder the stars are pale.
And the kitten stretched itself lazily,
licked industriously for moment at the
dirt upon Pasquale's pallid face and then
gazed winkingly up at the midnight sky.
And Pasquale slept with the quiet of
death, though Camilla grew restless and
muttered in her dreams, while two scarlet
spots glowed upon her cheeks like wind
flowers upon Tuscan slope.
And around the corner in a low dive
drunken, sodden creature, whom nature
had crowned with the royalty of mother
hood, sang with some tipsy sailors.
Nature is fine satirist and enjoys well
a bit of joke. That jokes are cruel is
our misfortune.
And 50 the children slept.
A few days later Pasquale lost his kit
ten. Stealthy, cunning of eye, he sought
everywhere and said nothing. There
was a strange weight in his breast, and
at night when he lay in his corner be-
hind the kegs he was lonely. For Ca
milla was late now always. Once it was