The Red Cloud chief., 1897-01-01

"Woy Idot WYNN
Without attracting the attention of any
save the pretty head nurse, says the
New York Herald. The little chap was
an Indian baby, the two-weeks-old,
three-pound son Of a ~17-year-old moth
err, who Is said to be as near a little
heathen" as we often find in New
York. She is a Carib Indian, a pref
ty, b~rown-skinned daughter of a race
which is rapidly disappearing from the
face of the earth. His father? But
that's the old, old story" The girl
came originally from Maracaibo, where
her sisters are being continually sold
by their mothers to liquor dealers for
liquor or for beads or silk or bracelets
OF beaten silver, wherewith to deck
such bodies as John Boyle O'Reilly
'aid CLEAN In the sunshine like little
copper statuettes." From Maracaibo
these tiny slaves are taken to Caracas,
where they are put into families and
servants when they are scarcely more
than babies themselves. When this
girl was but IL years old she was
brought to this country by a family
IN whose service she had been for
years. Annie and her baby were TAX
en- to Bellevue by a beautiful Span
ish woman who lives in Goth street
and Annie was taken away by her
when the little tragedy was over.
While the baby lived Annie slept in
the lodging house provided for such
forlorn mothers as she, but the days
she passed by the baby. These wo-
men have no affection" said a Span
ish m who has seen such women
for years, but how little she has known
the dusky little creature other wo-
men may decide. They are absolute
ly without moral sense, which is nat
ural. They are slothful and dreamy
and maternal love is to them a sealed
book" Yet idle curiosity in the me-
chanism OF a baby. even her own first
born, seems hardly a sufficient reason
for the way Annie passed the hours
by the cot where her sloe-eyed baby,
with her W straight black hair and
old-ivory skin, lay %snoozing and snuff
fling after the manner of his kind. The
nurses would pass and find her on her
knees upon the floor, bending over the
little fellow, watching the fluttering of
his tiny breast, listening to his quick. !
light breathing, sometimes rubbing her
finger over his delicately curved cheek
and sometimes even daring to open the
crumpled pink fists to dwell upon the
wonders of the tiny nails, as perfectly
almond-shaped as her own. you must |
not sit on the floor, Annie" they would |
say, and she would obediently seat
herself upon the wicker rocker they
gave her. But she would as quickly
forget and they would pass through
the ward again, to find her once more
upon her knees, engaged in the same
hungry worship. But she never took
her baby in her arms" argued one who
was full of theories regarding the lack
of maternal love in such heather" as
little Annie.
Possibly" said the womanly nurse,
graciously, "but there's many a moth
er who Is not a 'heathen' who can re-
member how her hands trembled
and her W knees shook the first time
she dared to take In her arms the
precious little creature beating the air
with its fathers hands and looking
at her with Its fathers eyes. She can
tell you why Annie knelt by her baby's
bed and harly breathed when she laid
a finger on its cheek.
Gods greatest gift to man." she
concluded. gravely, is the fact that
mother love is not a matter OF clothes
or complexion"