Omaha daily bee., 1896-12-20
THE SCISSORS MAN's ooNrnInurioN.

/ by Dorothy SOthOrOn IN Snthnr0nS s MNga.lnc.
Jack Harding was rich, young and single
The latter was plainly his own fault, fol
many a designing mamma, with rosebud o
q daughter for bait, had skillfully angled
for him without avail. He had given VI
society and even his dearest friends could
not conjecture where he secreted himself oi
the cause of the change in him. OF course
there was the usual onclusion-love-but
with whom?
One night when he and his most loyal
friend. Maris Williams. were having quiet
smoke together, Maris tactfully turned the
conversation to the change that had come
over his friend.
Come now. Jack, what is it? You and
| have known each other since we were in
pinafores ana | really do want to know all
about her. Is she Rosters or Proctor's ?
or, better STILL some demure little maid you
lost your heart with in your jaunts this sum
mer?"
Jack took a few slow purs from his
! Havana watched the smoke until 1t had all
passed into space, then, turning to his
| friend. said
well, Maris, you are my oldest friend and
l will be candid with you, though had in.
tended to keep my new philosophy to
| myself. | am sick of living for pleasure,
striving each day only for some new excite
! ment to keep ones self from ennui.
Listen, my friend; do you ever think
| how selfish we who have so much are-we
who never know what it is to want? There
| is so much we can do for our suffering
felow-creatures the spirit working in its
little sphere finds its mortal life too short
for its vast means of usefulness; so, not
being quite certain what comes after this
mortal life, | have. after thinking calmly
about the matter, decided to devote my
time and money to the downtrodden-the
oppressed"
Maris. who had remained perfectly quiet
until his friend finished, looked thought
fully at him. sank back deeper in the
cushions, and sighed.
What has brought the subject home to
you? You have never known what it is to
want or suffer-
Eyes. | have suffered Maris. All these
years | have felt the lack of a something
in the very depths of my being-a vital
something, without which life il void; and,
Maris a newsboy was the means of leading
me TO discover that for which l sought-a
heart.
"A little before Christmas | was hurry
ing along a crowded street, when | felt
tug at my sleeve and looking down,
saw newsboy clad in thin, worn clothes
much too large, and the remains of shoes
through the holes in which the icy water
poured. Ii was storming, and | was mutlied
up in my great coat, with its fur collar
high up over my ears. The contrast be
tween us was so great that as | looked al
the wan, thin face, pnchod with cold ana
hunger. | thought of my brothers rosy
romping chaps no larger than this little
struggler, and felt beneath my great coat
The boy did not understand my silence, and
in thin, shrill voice, cried:
Please, Mister, / aint er beggin'-
don't call the cOp-I wants ter sell me
papers-Meg an me don't beg. we works
linn han On lie Chp
him away from the crowd, and would you
believe it, Maris?-I brought him home
with me to dinner. | wish you could have
seen his eyes when he and sat down to
our meal together. After filling his plate
with what thought a small boy could eat,
| busted myself with a duck Henley had
sent me. Being used to taking my meals in
silence and the bird being one of those
prime ceeried ones from the Chesapeake, |
did not think Of my little friend for some
time. When / did, not one mouthful OF his
food had been touched and he was actually
weeping | am not used to youngsters; all
| have ever seen only cry when they want
something they cannot have, so rather
ungraciously | asked him If 1t was some OF
my bird he wanted, ana was chagrned when
he answered:
No. please sir, but Meg-shes my
sister, an | forgot her. May take this to
Meg? She's sick an cold, an amt had
nothin' but some Crusts for two days
Please. mister, let me have it for her! II
warn't cryin' for the food mister, but
cause I forgot her
II bado him eat his dinner, and promised
10 provide one for Meg. Dixon prepared a
basket, and with it in one hand, | started
off. rather shamefaccdly, with my new
found friend.
ball. | did not go. DO you know where l
was? At Meg's deathbed. The little fellow
and | went to that part of the city which
we all read Of but seldom see. We stumbled
up the creaking stairs until the top moor was
reached. Oh, how cold and barren II was!
ON a cot in the corner lay the emaciated |
form of a young girl who would have been
pretty but for the stamp that want and |
distress had imprinted upon her face. The |
wretched boy leaned lovingly over his sister, |
kissed her thin, blue lips, and whispered;
Meg, Meg. have had great big
dinner, a dinner bigger than they give us
boys at Christmas, and, Meg dear, we have
brought you some of it,
"The poor girl started and looked vacantly |
at me. As my eyes became more accustomed |
TO the dimly lighted room ] saw hgure' |
whose every movement seemed familiar 10
me. ministering to the wants OF the dying |
girl DO you remember Kitty Lawrence, |
and how abruptly she gave up all social ,
events?"
"Why. of course do She dropped out of ,
our set just before you did; one rarely hears
her name now. / believe she mas the ms
sionary fad" u, So,
well, Maris, call 1t what you viii, but
IL you could hear how they who live IN the
very depths OF poverty and despair
speak of and love her, you would not
call It fad. She was the
one at Meg's deathbcd-the one
who drew the last confession
from the girl-and prayed that her soul
freed from its burden, might have peace
Her body shaken at intervals by hard. dry
cough. Meg told her story-a story alas'
that has so many counterpaTts'
"Sbe and Jimmy had known no father
and their mother was one only In name
Al the age of l6 the girl had taken her
little brother and struggled to support both
She labored diligently, stealing many hours
from the night, bending over the coarse
work and plying her needle back and forth
In that way she earned bread for the boy
and herself Then he was taken Ill, and
day and night she strlyed to ease his pain
OF course she could not work, and when
work ceases with the poor, there is no bread
We do not know how callous weak beings
who have grown old In want become, and
that which was born In the girl then crept
forth She saw. for the first time, that she
was fair 10 look upon, Why should she
not sacrifice herself for Jimmie? She would
die the worst Of deaths-moral sulcide-Dut
Jimmie should be saved AZ the beginning
OF her downfall the cold, bitter contempt OF
the passersby pierced her ike northeast
wind. Gradually, after two or three months,
she shook off her feeling OF shame and