The morning call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1878-1895, 1893-05-13
JULOT'S PUNCH.

occasion there Is to be distribution OF
playthings donated to the inmates by the
ingenious industry of unknown comrades
whose first steps in life have been pro-
tected by mole merciful destiny.
These toys come from the four quarters
of the town and many of them display a
rare ability in the art of matchmaking
notnings-a remnant OF goods, morsel OF
cotton, little paste. and from it the chill
dren have composed some marvel of grace
and good taste. Subscriptions have been
opened. money has poured in and pur-
chases old and new have been made. The
toys are arranged in beautiful order; there
are dolls. farms, swords, guns, Noah's
arks, balloons, tin soldiers, in short, a per-
fect treasure CT picturesque fancles.
The distribution has taken place and
childish delight is at its height in the class
rooms and the courts.
For his part Julot has received a Punch.
Alas! they had TO take it to his bed in
the sixth ward, where he is kept, In CON-
pany with some other companions in mis-
fortune. by disease that never pardons.
In great haste and with care Mr.. Punch
has been suspended from the summit OF
his gilded hat 10 the triangle which sup
| ports the curtains of Julot's cot. When
lbO jim SHliu cttS MN, Cidu III SILK COH l,
half red half yellow, he opens wide his
eyes burning with fever. and feeble
smile fiickers on his pale lips. as he whis-
pers softly, "Oh, you lovely, lovely
Punchi"
Then, anxious to press the doll in his
arms. he tries to sit up in bed, but falls
back, poor little thing, full length on the
pillows. And now he remains there, silent
and motionless, in an admiration border
ing on ecstasy.
AT the end of a minute tiny hand, dry
and thin. that shows the blue veins, slips
from under the bed-cOver. Slowly. slowly
II erawlS over the quilts, and, Selling the
thread which moves the doll, gives it a
brusque pull. Oh, marvel Mr.. Punch is
Immediately dashed into space, to right,
tO-left. arms and legs; his eyes roll in
their Orbits, he puts out his tongue and
makes the most Imaginable contortions in
the world. All! Mr.. Punch, Mr.. Punch,
how natural you are, with your powdered
wig, your hooked nose, your pointed chin.
Ii is easy to recognize you, you rogue,
while you brandish your stick like true
tend. the terror of the police.
And Jalot, his mouth open. his eyes
half closed, pulls the thread with a
rhythmical movement. FORGETTING his life OF
misery while Mr.. Punch dances before
him. He Is only years old, JulOt. His
fifth year is just beginning with the lie W
year, ana consumption is finishing in his
frail organization the dark work which.
for the last few months, it has pursued
without mercy.
Consumption Julot Knocks it. While Mr..
Punch jumps about nj the end of the
thread he is distracted from his sufferings,
and lets his thoughts wander into the land
Of dreams-a charming country, where
| little children pass their time in play
where the loving mothers have their lips
iull OF kisses, and where one is neyer-0h
neyer-beaten.
Who is Julot? The card fixed at the
head OF his cot says:
Jules Davis. Destitute. Tuberoeious. "
That is all-terrifying in its laconicism,
| this official nUtice. But downstairs. in the
| books OF the house, on great register.
there exists more detailed information,
extracted from bulletin of the civil Gov
| eminent. and also from u note of the po-
lice. In substance:
Jules Davis. Born the Doth Deem
! Der, 16S-, at Paris, IN the fourteenth dis
| trict. Son Of Elisa Davis, foweG-yender,
and of father not named. Elisa Davis
! condemned to six months in Jail for shop
| lifting, Both July, 1S9-; sent to serve
her term at the prison of Saint Lazare."
Now Julot. whose whole family con-
| sisted OF the unknown father and the
! thieying mother. had been sent to the
| Children's Refuge by the state. One
morning in July policeman had taken
i'm TO the refuge, where they wrote down
his name. surname and all the other infor-
nation, and as the unfortunate child could
| scarcely stand, they had quickly put him
| in the sick ward.
The place is pleasing enough to the eye
| in its gray nudity. There Is n chimney,
where the fire burns night and day. which
| ILLS the air with warmth ana comfort
| there are also about fifteen cots, exquisiteiy
| clean and soft, where the sick children
rest, while the nurses come and 20 with
| gentle footsteps. Here all is rep0se and
calm, and Julot, i'll spite of his sickness.
| abandons himself to the delicious sense oil
| rest and comfort.
In the confused lImbos OF his memory
| he can recall long series of miserable
| lodgings, taken and Quilted each week.
| dirty dens which reSounded night and day
| with the sounds of savage laughter. In
| the narrow passages he had been wont to
| meet drunken men and women in rags,
and to hear low songs and oatAs contn-
ually. And all around. under the eyes OF
| himself and other children, condemned by
| cruel late to live in these places OF
wletchedness and perdition, had been un-
| rolled scenes which placed in their candid
| souls grains OF Drecocious vice and preco-
elous corruption destined 10 spring up
| later.
But all these horrors are far far away.
Surrounded by the warmth of the beauti-
full ward. under the protection of friendly
| glanees, Julot remembers none Of the
past-0h, nothing. Julot pulls the thread
and Mr.. Punch gambos like a creature
! possessed, While Julot smiles and i happy.
The day declines and night Gomez; the
gas IS lighted in the wards, and soft light
| filters through the white curtains Of the
| cots on which the sick children lie.
Now and then paroXysms OF coughing
| tear the air; sometimes a moan, sometimes
call. The night nurse always jumps up
! and advances toward the cot whence the
hn. IL IL !.
! bends forward, asks softly wha: is the
| matter, and according TO circumstances,
! comforts the child with tender word, OF
! administers the medicine prescribed by the
doctor.
And Julot?
Jnlot does not breathe q word. His
strength is falling His livid, drawn face
OF privations endured, blows received, i'm
pradenees undergone. In a word, a long
and doiorous martyrdom is inscribed, in
| ineffaceable marks, on his thin face. His
dim eyes see the outline of Mr.. Punch
through mist. And yet. from time to
time, as II mechanically. he pulls the
thread which works the doll and Pun ch
| responds BY q grimace.
One by one the hours strike. 1t Is mid.
| night, when suddenly soft murmur
almost like the cbirping of bird, rises in
the room. murmur which soon increases
| u
| hoarse cultural sound.
| The nurse bounds I'D. She knows
! only too well the nature and the signif.
canoe of the sound. the death rattle OF O
| child.
"Julotp
| On tiptoe she approaches and looks. A
! shvering spasm raises the child's chest
| His mouth is half open. his eyes dull. he
is in his death agony. Poor little thing, p
she signs, and waits at the head of tht
white cot. powerless to help the child
| whom no human Intervention can save
! Julot is dying, but in the supreme con.
| vulsioD, his hand, which has not loosed
the thread, gives a last jerk to MIR. Punch
and Punch. obedient, makes last grimace
Poor Julotl
But why pity him? A great JOY consoled
| his last momentsi then his mother per
haps would have reclaimed him on coming
| out of prison, and what would he have
become? Happy Juiot. rather, for hi
| suffers no more; he Is cured of his grea
| III, life.-Transl from the French Of
illustrations for The MORNING CALL by
Marie Evelyn.
n