The sun., 1896-07-20
DIED ALONE BIIn HER Doo.
Aged widow Jordan Had Been Dead Two
DaYs When Found.

Thirty years ago, when the cabinetmakers
| did not have to compete with machines In their
| business, Thomas Jordan and his wife Barbara
| lived In West Twenty ninth street, and had a
| comfortable home. we'll furnished by the frui,s
| OF Jordans labor. They had saved something
and, though childless. they led quiet and
happy life. One day Cabinetmaker Jordan
saw boy named Charley, and. liking his looks,
he took him to his home and installed him as
member OF the family. Mrs. Jordan soon
came TO look upon the boy as her son, and for
nearly ten years the three lived happily TO-
gethsr.
Then Jordan died, and what he had saved
went to his widow. II not much. bu, the
income from 1t, with Chsrley's earnings. served
to keep them In comfort. They moved from
Twenty ninth street TO Harlem, and then down
10 old Greenwich Village. Mrs. Jordan began
to show the effects OF advancing years, ard as
her eyes grew dim and her hearing less acute
she became querulous and suspicious. Finally
the adopted son, Charley, told her that the
best thing for them was TO separate. Mrs.
Jordan took tho matter philosophically. She
did not want TO have any one around any way.
Her interest IN humanity had been losI, and
ali her thoughts that were not devoted 70 her
aches and pains were centred In a small dog OF
unknown lineage, who repaid her with an IN
Questioning devotion.
Two months ago Mrs. Jordan took her dog
and her few belongings and left Charley's
home. He told her he would help her II 1t
was necessary. She replied that she did not
want his aid and that she was quite capable
OF caring Tor herself. So she moved to her
new homo two rooms on the top floor of the
rear tenement house at l3l West Twenty
eighth street. She selected that locality
because 1t was near where she and her hus-
band had lived for years, and because her
nephew, Frederick Raisner. lived at 2lg. He
only caIne to see her when she wanted him to,
MSsn h. he aid come Vas wiling to 60 away
Lot trouble her very much, and the other ten
ants attended strictly to their own business.
Ing in just when the old woman needed help
TO FIX the wood in the crate, and Ratsner him
tress WAS obligInG, too, and Mrs. Jordan's life
was as happy as that OF any lonely woman OF
The dog shared many OF his mistress S pecu-
liarities., He would not make friends with
peanor was such as one might expect from
the sole friend Of a cranky old woman.
on THURSDAY Nephew Raisner,s daughter
tled because Raisner had not come himself,
her home: Later Mrs Jordan hobbled down
stairs aud then back again, and the tenant
Who saw her on the return trip was the last
Friday and Saturday passed. No one had
the old But on 5e saardaS nahf the
next door neiShhor heard the dog, usually |
quiet, whine and bark. The neighbor told |
his wife. and sLe talked It over with the other |
women early Yesterday morning. until their |
talk reached the janItress. Mrs. Cox. Then |
the door TO Mrs. Jordans rooms was tried, but |
II stuck. The dogs whines acd means could be |
heard plainly, and they seemed TO be appeals
for help. At last little girl said she would |
climb the fire escape and peek through the
shutters. As she climbed the iron ladder the
tenants watched her from the court. When
she reached the top platform she looked through |
the glass for minute, and then she hurried
down.
The lady's dead" she said. and then she
ran OF ard told Rasner. who WAS about to go TO
Long Island with IA friend. He hurried to
tic house, a policeman opened the door, which
was not locked. Old Mrs. Jordan's body, fully
dressed, lay on tie sofa, as though she had
sunk down there TO rest Her eyes were closed
and her body was cold. She had been d. Ad for
forty-eight hours at least. The little dog ran
around the policeman and Raisner and barked
in short, quick notes.
The Coroner was, notified, The policeman
had seen such cases before. She had died from
old age, alone with her deg, whom she regard
ed as her best friend. Perhaps he was. What
money she had in the bank Will pay for the
funeral, and another lonely old woman may
rcn! the rooms and die Oh the sofa IL the small
parlor some day.