The daily morning journal and courier., 1898-03-18

ana Tor the HrSt time in my life l blessed my inability as an artist; for otherwise I should surely have been sketching some of those picturesque forts. Had such a picture been found upon me it is doubtfqul if l would now
 be writing this letter.
 Los Fossos, that den of death in Ha- vana, where a few weeks ago the re- concentrados were dying at the rate of one hundred day, has been trans formed into tolerably decent hospital thanks to the Red Cross. Paint, soap and water have been used without stint, conVeniences have been added, and physicians and nurses are in daily attendance. One who visits the place by day is profoundly impressed by the improvement; but eternal vigilance" is the price of it-or rather, eternal scrubbing. Los Fossos is the general sleeping place for the whole army of beggars, mostly reconcentrados, who swarm the streets of Havana by day seeking what they may devour. At nightfall they drag themselves back, with all their sores, filth and infirmi- ties, to the only shelter they know;
 soup is dispensed, and they lie down and wait for another day of beggery.
 Then the scene is worthy the pencil of Dore. Wrapped in their rags and tat ters, some almost naked, men, women and children lie in long rows on the floor in the courtyard, under the carts, wherever human body can find room. Many of them are orphaned children here and there a solitary little wretch alone in this weary world, or a bevy of fatherless and motherless brothers and sisters, clinging to one another for pro- lection, but Los Fossos is infinitely bet ter than it used to be- since all are now tolerably sure of something to eat at least once day, through the bounty of the United States. Formerly 1t was the morning task of the charitable to go about among the melancholy heaps of humanity and pick out the dead from the living-taking dead children from the mothers arms or finding per- haps dead mother with crying chil-
 dren crawling over her. Tears? Yes, we have shed them; and they continue to flow, day after day. But works are more to the purpose. These poor souls demand sympathy-and more than that they need substantial aid.
 The Red Cross society continues to have more or less trouble with the Spanish authorities in Cuba. Unex- peoted obstacles are continually pop ping up like Banquos' ghost, and de- lays are the order of the hour. Just now there is kick" in the custom house over an insignificant box of toys which would be regular God-send
 in the new orphanage if the, waifs could only get hold of them. Although
 Spain subscribed to the treaty of Ge- neva long before the United States came into the fold, she has never re- spected the American amendment ? the terms of her treaty providing only for sick and wounded soldiers in time of war If it were not for the world s opinion, it is doubtful if she would ad- init the American Red Cross at all into her island colony, since the Cubans are about the only ones to be benefited.
 For the Orphanage just established, Miss Barton leased a commodious house in quiet suburb of Havana, a
 beautiful, old-fashioned casa, with large, airy rooms and ample grounds, the once luxurious home of a titled Spaniard. All was ready for the recep- tion of seventy-five orphans, when the first mitch" occurred. Unfortunately
 we had been speaking of it as the
 "Children's Hospital" because natu- rally all the starving waifs are ailing.
 Just as the children were about to be
 moved in, the alcaldi decided that it
 was against the law to establish a hos pital outside of certain limits. but af- ter a weeks delay the necessary papers were made out under the name of an Asylum" and things proceeded exact Iy as had been intended. Only thirty five children, between one and six years
 of age, are there at present-all full or phans, mostly taken from Los Fossos. Many are too feeble from long contin-
 ued hunger, to sit up, and number of them will probably die. When they first entered the stately portals and saw the marble floors and beautiful frescoes of the old-time palace, their delight and astonishment was un- bounded. Said one small girl, "Esta del Cielo?" ?"-"Is it Heaven?" The
 work of preparing them for their new home was a tedious one for the nurses.
 Most of the waifs had never been
 properly cared for, all were filthy | beyond degree; one boy of six years had never worn any sort of garment, and many had never before felt the touch of soap and warm water. After
 all had passed under the scrubbing | brush and had been shorn of their tan l gled and densely populated locks, they were arrayed in garments of various
 sorts from a big box of secondhand l clothing bearing the sign of the United | States Red Cross, given a supper of oatmeal and milk, and put to bed. About nine o'clock I went to look at l them It was sight for angels to see the rows of neat white cots, each with it's spotless sheets and pillows,
 and under the soft blanket a sleeping | child who had never before known the | luxury of a clean bed. The beautiful | but somewhat dilapidated cherubs on | the frescoed walls seemed to look down with pity on the suffering worn cher ubs below; the fragrance of flowers l fioated in through the windows, the | hallowed benediction of the moon rest | ed upon all. Never in it's palmiest | days did the old casa of the Spanish
 aristocrat so richly merit the blessings of heaven. The new orphanage is un- | der the direct supervision of the we'll | known Dr. A. Monae Lesser and his i wife, of New York city. Dr. Lesser, as | everybody knows, is the surgeon-in-
 chief of the Red Cross hospital at New | York-the only one In America, I be- | lieve-which was founded about four