The San Francisco call., 1896-03-30
Little Mary, Pet of the Girls
Training Home, in
Italy.
TRIED TO GET TO THE HILLS.
Work of Reclamation Being Done hy
Worthy Institution in the
Mission.

An odd little girl, with big, soft black
ewes and thoughtful face that might, as
far as seriousness goes, belong to a woman,
took steerage passage on one of the Allan
tic liners the other day. a forlorn little
figure it was. Notwithstanding the fact that
it was surrounded by troop of other chill
dren, with dark Italian faces and large,
wondering eyes.
The child was Little Mary" the former
pet and prodigy of the Girls Training
Home Of this City. Every one who has
visited that institution remembers Mary
Scravoni, the elin child, with vivacious
manners and queer history.
Mary is the daughter of an italian ash
man. She is the oldest child in a large
family, and year ago she tired of her en-
vironment. She grew tired of attending
the wants of little brown babies who, as
soon as they learned to understand Mary
and there was a curious language of pam
tomime established between them, were
duplicated by other and smaller human
copies. She used to look out at the green
hills, so near and yet so far to her childish
comprehension, and wish she were wan
der1ng over them, far from the stuffy little
room and the large-eyed crying baby.
One day when the newest baby was
asleep she put on her tattered hat and
started toward the hills. She wandered
along streets and tarried at shop windows
she had never seen. She crossed the street
Just before an electric car that whizzed
past her so quickly it made her head ache.
Then she hurried on to the stretch of
green just ahead and walked and walked
until she was tired and sank down to
sleep. The hills were still at a distance
when she awoke, but big blue-coated
policeman was leaning over her.
She was frightened at the sight and be-
tween her sobs asked him to let her leave
him and all those people and wander on to
the beautiful green hills. But be was re-
lentless and the queer, fanciful child soon
found herself in courtroom where her
sire, the ashman, was testifying that he
could not keep her at home, in fact that
she was incorr. gible.
She was committed to prison-like
house where the children called her
"Mooneyes" and said she acted as though
she were asleep. So she slipped away
again and ran toward the hills that con-
tanned so much of promise to her. Like
Moses OF old she was destined never to set
foot upon that alluring ground, for once
more stern-voiced man with silver star
on his breast overlook her.
Again she was brought into court, and
again declared incorrigible. This story
was repeated once, twice, thrice, indeed
many times until one day kind lady
with a fair face and a sweet smile put her
arms about her and asked her why she
was so naughty and persisted in running
away. Mary leaned her head on the ma
tronly shoulder and cried as she never
had before. while she told her story about
being tired of the house and the con-
stantly recurring babies and of her longing
Tor the wonderful far-aWay green hills.
The lady's eyes were moist when she had
heard the last word of the pathetic little
story. She pushed back the tangled brown
hair and touched Mary's forehead with
her lips. 1t had been a long time since
Mary had been kissed, aud that little act
made her the good lady's willing subject
for life.
"Will you give up your trip to the hills
for while and go with me to a home
where there are other girls, older and sad
der girls than your" asked the lady. and
Mary nodded. She went with the lady to
small house on quiet street where there
were other girls some of them almost as
young as herself, but all with faces on
which were written characters little
Mary's pure, dreamy eyes could not de-
cipher. The girls saw this and never per.
mItted her to read the riddle. She was
not of them, although with them, and they
loved her for it.
Little Mary" some one called her when
she made her debut in the queer circle,
and Little Mary she will always be to
them. She never lost the old dr.aminess,
but displayed an aptitude for reading and
applying what she read. The old book
that many discard now was newly dis
covered treasure to her. Strangely apt
were her quotations from 1t. Man looketh
upon the outward appearance, but God
seeth the heart" she said when one of
the girls complained that her dress was
shabby.
f. III
used TO say when she encountered that
ogre of childhood, dark room. and when
she looked away at the loved hills with the
hope that some day the ladies who were SO
kind to her would permit her to make that
long-deferred journey (she never thought
of going without permission, now) she
used to say, 81 will look toward the hills
whence cometh my help"
Mary was happy now She was peering
into the mysteries of learning and she was
learning the joys OF thoughtfulness for
others.
Ladies who visited the home always
noted the eerie little face and elfish form,
and one of them talked vaguely OF taking
Little Mary" to her home as companion
for her children.
One day there was a sharp, sudden blow
and Mary awoke from her happiness. Her
sire, the ashuan, presented himself at the
neat, quiet home and demanded his
daughter. The family was about to return
to Italy, and she must 90 with them:
There was no appeal from the parental
court. His rights had never been re-
Iinquished. So Mary made ready Tor the
journey.
There was much weeping the night she
left. There was a quaver in the little
voice as it plead, Dear Lord, make our
homes happy wherever they may be, but
vou know there is no other home 'zactly
ike this"
And Mary went out into the rain and
the night, leaving happiness behind and
going forward to duty. the simple, pa
fhetic annals of the modest home at 26
Hill street will never contain more touch
ing history, nor one more often recalled,
than that of Little Mary"
VT,;n Arftv