The Cook County herald. [volume] (Grand Marais, Minn.) 1893-1909, 1896-09-12
His little lass,

Down on the Seventh street pave
ment, in the Wld quarter Of Washing
ton, old Samuel, in bis shabby shop
suit and tilted back chair, was a second
hand clothes dealer High up in the
sixth STORY, The was the Gather Of q lit
tie lass whom he loved better than he
loved the SILVER coin the old clothes
daily brought him. For her sake he
, drove hard bargains and boarded away
his coin. For her sake he built thick
partition wall in that high sixth story
and shut away from his motherl ess
child ;all, the sights and sounds of Sev-
enth street. He made home room
for hers up there and crowded it with
luxury. But ever in the midst of all
this beauty stQOu a lacedraped bed,
watched and guarded by a low-voiced
nurse, and on it lay the small, slight
formand lovely face of 'Samuers little
lass.
A fall in early infancy had injured
her. in such way that she had never
walked. a famous physician said she
could be cured if her father would con-
sent to long separation and some
terribly critical surgery. Old San'uels
dread was greater than his hope, and
his child was very dear to him. He
had not consented. He had kept his
lass in that high sixth story and,
through his tender care, ife's best and
fairest things had come to her.
Through the whole long day she did
not see her father; but when in the
evening stiffness she heard the clear
slow strokes Of a o'clock bell she
!, HUN
him to her. And when he came, clothed
in fair linen and finest cloth, all hard,
harsh manners left downstairs and
only gentle looks and loving words for
her, she never dreamed they lived in
one Of the foulest, tilthicst quarters of
Washington nor that her father, who
J looked like her pictures of the
patriarchs, was a second-rate, second
hand clothes dealer.
She believed his business called him
each day far down in the great, rich
capital. She thought of him as one Of
those wealthy persons she read about,
whose gold had given aid to govern
ments, to kings, to princes, to presi-
dents. She was very proud, and all
her imaginings were of noble and lofty
things. She had never guessed Of the
dingy shop, the shabby slop-suit, the
dirty pavement and the pawnbrokings.
The days went on, and each ore add
ed coin to tSamuels hoard and COM
forts and luxuries manifold to the life
of his little lass. Until, suddenly, gm
expectedly, there came terrible
change. A fire broke out in the
crowded block where the dingy tene-
ments stood SO close together No
body knows just when or where lit
started. 1t was a monday confa gra-
ton and fierce flames of forked yellow
light were mingled with the glare Of
August sunshine. The throb OF engines
and the shouts of fiji emen sounded out
over walls of women made homeless
and imprecations of men mad with
pain.
When the fire broke out old Samuel
was away. That morning he had
locked his shop and had gone to attend
an auction sale, where the contents of
a wardrobe as we'll as household ef-
fects were to be disposed Of. He re-
turned soon after midday to find his
block ablaze. The door of his shop
had been broken down. Firemen and
floods Of water were pouring in; smoke
and flames were rushing out
With desperate bounds the old man
fought his way through the wild crowd.
He staggered up steep f4;hts Of stairs
until, stifed, burned and nearly blind
ed, he reached the high sixth story
TO Adah, lying on her lace-draped bed,
shut away by that carefully par
tition from the sounds of Seventh
street-to Adah, talking quietly to her
low-voiced nurse, there stumbled in a
wild-eyed, smokes -grimed, hatless, coat
less man, who grasped her almost
fiercely in his arms and, signing to the
nurse to follow, began a perilous de-
scent of stairways, whose dark cor1i-
rdoFs were lighted up by flames.
The fire was feasting on the rotten
woodwork; it's blaze was making mer-
try over the foulness found in bricks
:and mortar. 1t was the strength of
despair that nerved old Samuel, as he
fought with binding smoke and glare
for tthe life of his little lass. Down
swaying stairWays, over falling floors,
mntil at last he stood within the little
shop where for years he had bought
and sold old, faded garments and
boarded away silver coin. Only yes
terday he had carried heavy bag of
silver to the bank and had brought
back IA heavy roll of bills. The bills
were under the counter now, locked
away, with many other rolls in a stout
square wooden box. That box was
Sanue1!s only bank, he himself his
only trusted barker. The hoard be-
meath the counter represented all his
earnings and his savings since the
year his wife died. Should he leave
his hoard for the flames to deEour?
Should he let fate cheat hin: out Of his
future? There had been II dream in
his old heart Of a day when he and his
child should sail away ITO the fair land
Of the Orient-Where among a people
of her mothers gentle race and man
ners, his Adah should live out her life
and he begin to live his own more
sobly. Should that golden dream of
happiness end ip a reality of absolute
pennilessness? "@"
He measured with quick ;gaances the
distance to the doorway. There was
time to leap the counter, to seize the
box; to gain the outer air. Except for
the precious burden lying helpless in
his afsns! Except for his Adah. who
had uttered neither cry nor questioning
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