Delaware gazette and state journal. (Wilmington, Del.) 1883-1902, 1894-06-28

NEW York, June 22.-They are
around us every day. The tragedies,
mean. That's the reason why when we
go to the theatre we want to see some
thing amusing. l went the other day to
sec Mis- Connolly to tell her goodbye,
and to leave in her hands little money
that some good people had given me to
make some of the babies happier. Mis-
Connolly was distinctly unhappy.
Charlie wasn't there, and the whole
place had an air of misery, for when
Mis- Connolly suffers she has little
heart for anything else. She took the
note gave her, turned it over in her
hands, then burst out crying.
Then she said, "Well, Miss, is it to
make Twin child glad ?" | told her
that had intended it should do that,
but what did she mean by asking me so
positively about living child?
She cried harder than ever, then be.
gan to put on her bonnet, and asked me
to go with her.
A GREAT CITY's wRETCHED ALLEY.
We went down the street, then turned
into little side alley which seemed to
me the dirtiest / had ever been in.
Babies were stretched out on the pave.
ment; were walking at the risk of being
frun over in the middle of the street;
were sleeping on doorsteps; while larger
children were frantically playing around
as II even dirt and rags could not subdue
the natural desire of children for
pleasure. Untidy women were gossip
ing in the doorways, buying unripe fruit
from the peddlers, or administering,
without any regard for the feelings OF
the looker-on, the punishment they
thought due their offspring. Into the
meanest looking of these houses we
went. Doors were thrown open, and
nobody seemed to care whether the rest
of the world saw them or not. Sewing
machines were heard everywhere and,
above all, every now and then would
rise the voice of drunken man singing
one of the popular songs of the day.
Little girls were carrying tin kettles Of
beer, and the smell Of fried fish filled
the air until ii seemed heavy with
grease. don't think | was ever in
such a place before, and yet l thought
had seen the other side.
AFTER CLIMBING FOUR FLIGHTS,
we stopped and Mis- Connolly raped
on the first closed door we had seen.
just outside were two or three women
evidently meaning to be neighborly,
talking IN low whispers, while inside
there was nothing but death and misery.
Before them even the one woman who
seemed to be trying to straighten the
wretched room was awed into silence.
BY the one window sat q strong, healthy
looking young man with hard look on
his face as if, no matter what came, he
wouldn't soften. On the bed lay dead
woman and beside her little baby.
That Mis- Connolly had already been
there was proved by the fact that the
tired eyes were closed, that the wearied
body was gowned in plain clean white
nightdress, and that the little baby had a
slip upon it which once remember was
shown TO me as the first one that Charlie
ever wore. The tired hands that had
worked and toiled We're crossed over
the breast, upon which the little baby
would have rested if it had ever done
anything more than give just one cry of
pain when it came into the wretched
world about it.
THE STRONG, GRIEF.sTRIcKEN Hus-
pressed Mis- Connolly's hand: she
knew what | meant, and she went over
and said to the man, "rim, it's all right.
They wont have to be buried like pau.
pers; I've got the money as will bury
Ida an the baby as You would like 'enl
TO be buried, and now, my man, leave
EN- for little while an come have q
cup OF tea with Connolly an me.
She had to persuade him very hard
because those dead ones were Just as
dear to him as if he had been a million.
aire. But at length he agreed, as there
were couple of neighbors there, to &c
with us. l stayed to tea, because
wanted to find out what made thai
mans face look so hard. / wanted &c
know where he had got that look in hi:
eyes, which even the death of the
woman he loved, did not soften.
wanted to know what it all meant
After tea was over, and Mis- Connolly
had taken note from me to its destina.
ton, said to Tim, looking him straight
in the face: SNOW, my man, tell me
what is the matter. | am sure you
know that l am sorry for you in youI
trouble, and if it will make you any
happier, l tell you this now; your wifi,
and your little baby are not going to bt
taken to crowded city graveyard, bu
away OF to quiet little place in tn,
country, where the birds will sing
eternal lullaby, and the trees rustic al
eternal prayer. But | want to know
what is your trouble-maybe eau hell
you. Living trouble, my friend, is
thousand times worse than dead. Wha
is the matter? 2"
Evidently the thought of the uuie
resting place for his own had touched
him, for when looked at him his eve
were full of tears, and then he said
"lda came from the country, and il sh
knows she'll be glad to think that he
and the baby are goin' back there. II
tell you how it was, Miss; it all cam
through the very thing that is supposed
to help the laboring man.
I WAS MAXIM A DECENT LIyIN'
"when 1 married Ida, an we fixed
comfortable little home. You see the hol
she died in. Well, one day when w
were at work, the man from the unioj
came in and said we would stop. Tina
night there was great speech in one o
the big halls made by gentleman VIII,
is great for the woIkingman, and VIII,
is anxious to get some political position
He told us how we were all slaves, an,
how the master was grindin us down
an how We ought to stand up for on
rights. Ida had saved a little money
and for while we lived on that. The,
had TO ask the union to help us; the
they wouldn't give no more. Then
went to see the master, and two or thre
Df the other men went with me. Hi
talk was reasonable; he wasn't sellin' a
much hisself, an SO he had 10 IN
wages, but as soon as times got better Ii
was wil!in' to raise EN- again. | wsnte
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