The Providence news. (Providence [R.I.]) 1891-1906, 1894-10-22

no work; We are discharging men, not
employing them, and doing our best to
take care of our old hands; that is all
We can do" Odd jobs at the house
doors l asked for, but only a few times
out OF the many did l meet with
success; even there, the jobs were
few and many competing for them.
Steady work was not to be found. Mills,
factories aud industries of all kinds were
being shut down, throwing out their
hands, while those running were on short
time or reduced pay, and the men who
still had jobs were lucky. Work l could
not get anywhere-I was forced to idle
ness and misery.
At Home.
| During this struggle for work the SIT
uation at home was rapidly changing.
| Until q short time before the works
stopped / had not thought of saving
much money. l had lived freely and
spent it nearly as fast as 1t came. Accus-
toned TO hearty food, comfortable cloth
ing and some pleasures, about all my
wages were used in supplying them.
! When the shutdown came it found me
badly prepared for it. To be sure, / be-
gan to save and economize when busi-
ness began to look dark, but the, money 1
laid up was comparatively little, aud the
unexpected sickness of my wife soon
cleaned me out. We had TO live, so tried
borrowings but most of my friends being
from our chop, were strapped" like my
self and could not help me. Efforts With
others were unsuccessful, except for
small sum, which did little good. When
the shutdown seemed lasting we cut
down our living expenses TO what we
what was necessary to keep our strength.
| i then made an extra effort and
succeeded in borrowing about half
| months wages by a mortgage on my
furniture, which had cost many times
the amount; this helped me out and
lasted quite a while. Later had to resort
to the pawnshop and get what money
could on the few things left which would
bring it. Finally the time came when
there was none, when the rent was largely
unpaid and the landlord pressing; no fire
in the house, except that from coal picked
| up by my boy about the railroad yards or
the streets; no food to eat but a small
| quantity of cornmeal, little molasses,
| and burnt pea coffee; when we had to go
| to bed early In the evening and remain as
late as possible to quiet the feeling of
goneness in our stomachs; when my wife,
who had always met my nightly report
"No work"-with hopeful words, began to
| show the strain by hollow cheeks and
sunken'eyes; when our boy went crying
| to bed for want of sufficient food; when
| all looked black and starvation seemed
| upon US.
Terrible Experience.
While all this was going on was keep
! ing up my search for work. The strain
upon me was as great or greater than on
my family. Walking the streets all day
| my stomach required more food than IL /
| could have kept still. My wife was sckly,
| and when the pinch came / had TO deny
| myself to give food to her as we'll rs our
boy. ate as little as possible, and hunger
| became not only an occasional feeling, but
| at last one which was always present. /
strapped my belt tighter and tighter
about me to lessen its pangs and give me
peace, but without success--it would not
! be silenced. In this condition i pursued
| my tramp. / passed rows of houses
where comfort and plenty seemed to
| exist and compared them with
| my own desolate home; saw
well-fed romping children and thought
of my boy. / passed healthy, pleasant
faced women, laughing and free from
care, and recalled my poor, sickiy wife
ana her silent suffering. L met stout,
| prosperous-looKing men and thirstod
for the cost of the cigar between their
| lips to provide my family meal.
| went by liquor saloons with signs:
"Free- hot lunch" Gree only to those
who bought, however), and almost won-
dered how 1t would taste going down my
throat; by bake-shops with windows full
| of food which to my hungry eyes looked
richer than gold; by grocery stores
| with their show OF vegetables
and longed for even raw turrip
| to eat; and by restaurants where the
smell OF cooking filling the air almost
drove me wild. One day the crisis came.
! / had been without food .~tpr 80 hours;
there was none at home. My strength
| had become reduced by want until
IL was about TO give way. My
| eyes felt like saucers and my head
| queer; my brain seemed gone and
| could not think; my legs felt so weak i
| found 1t hard to walk; while at my
| stomach was that constant gnawipg of
| burger. Before this I had never asked
for help; my pride prevented, and 1 was
determined to succeed without it. But
| this day, when on my way home, discour-
aged and footsore, in passing a small
eating house, the smell from the kitchen
and sight OF food In the window were too
much for me. forgot all but my want.
Desperate and hungry, stepped inside
and asked for q stale roll. "We don't
give away rolls here; we sell them. Get
outl" was the reply. And a laugh fol-
lowed me through the door. l started
down the street, but had gone only little
way when i realized what had done-I
had begged Full of shame my head began
to swim; my senses to leave me. stag
gered toward lamp-post, reeled-fsll-
and
Help at Last.
When I woke up was in bed. My wife
and boy, in tears, were Mt my side. A
doctor held my pulse. cit is exhaustion;
he is better" he said. Warm broth was
given me and ] slept. This was several
months ago. My mishap had brought me
help. A man who saw IL had me taken
home and provided for our wants. Proper