The Stark County Democrat. [volume] (Canton, Ohio) 1833-1912, 1893-06-08

20 their mouths. Inever owed cent TO no
man, have been honest and paid as ]
went and done good turn when
could Had ! chosen the other thing
while I had q pretty face of my own !
would have had ease and comfort and
quick death. The rivers the best place,
Pm thinking, for theil that wants ease.
Such q life as this is not living"
"She don't mean it" the frst speaker
said apologetically; "ehe knows there is
better times ahead"
Eyes, the kind You win find in the
next room. Ttskc look in there, man,
and then tell me vhet we are going to
do"
In the next room was found panta-
loon maker, huddled in an old shawl,
finishing the last Of dozen, which, when
taken back, would give her money for
fire and food. She had been i'll for three
days. The bed was an old mattress on a
dry goods box in the corner, and save for
the chair on which she sat and the stove
the room was empty. Gwen that" she
said, with glance at the miserable bed,
'is more than had for long while. l
pawned everything before my husband
died, except the machine"
SIXTY THOUSAND HOMELESS.
Do not believe that these are excep-
tional cases. They are typical specimens
from this vast army of this dark under
world. There are 10000 homeless men
and women in the city of New York
alone-an army of 10000 that do not
know where they will lay their heads to-
pi,rhf L ,.n,1 1,n g
who in a fit Of insanity murdered his
wife anl three children. How do we
know it was insanity? They say he be-
came maniac. And yet the poet tells
us Of how the old hero Virginius could
slay his child rather than see her dis
honored. Is it not possible in view Of
| these frequent horrors, they have been
! prompted not by insanity, but by the de-
| spair of love, by the father and mother
| that stood ON the brink and peered over
the awful abyss and preferred to kill
their own rather than to deliver them to
the hell they saw open before them?
Such poverty is necessarily the mother
Of spair--despair grim and sullen and
! stupefying. The man who fights with
hunger becomes an animal. Is it not bet
ter to die a man than to die brute? Shall
these desperate people reasonH Suicide
| becomes luxury. The death of q child
under such conditions is joy, not sor-
row. They are gathered TO the potter's
field, but they rest, They are crowded
one on top of the other in the great
black trenches, but they will not be
reused in the gray twilight of the morn
ing to dull, ceaseless toll. Their little
bodies molder together in the grave, but
their little stomachs do not cry for bread
and for meat and for drink Their httlo
faces do not grow pinched and wan any
longer. There are some things worse
than death. There are some things worse
than the potter's field. 1t is the living
potter's field--it is the living DEATH
A pitful case of destitution recently
came to light near New York A police
man of the Thirty-third precinct waspa-
trolling his beat on the outskirts Of the
city when in lonely spot in the woods
near Hunts point he came upon q man
and woman and three children stretched
on the bare ground. The man and the
woman were asleep, but the children
were awake and groaning.
When the man was awakened he said
he had no home, no means of subsistence.
During the winter and spring he had
earned a scanty living as an oyster open
ct, but at the close of the season was
thrown out of work. He fell sick, and
the little money he had saved was soon
spent. Then the owner of the house in
which he lived turned him out. He
tramped round, trying to find work, but
failed. His wife and children had no
shelter, and he had not cent to find
them lodging. Not knowing where to
go, they went into the woods, wherc
they slept for three nights. 1t was three
days since they had eaten a scrap of food.
They were taken by the policeman to
the station house and given food, which
they devoured ravenously.
| THE STTRNTERGEn SIYTTJ