The Prince George's enquirer and southern Maryland advertiser. (Upper Marlborough, Md.) 1882-1925, 1899-04-14

1t is the evening Of Saturday. pay
day. In this ending day which is also
a weeks end, Sundays approach is
felt. All along the Faubourg there
are cries, shouts, and swingings of tav-
ern-doors.
Amid the crowd of laborers swarm
inc over both sidewalks and down into
the roadway little shadow glides fur
lively in and out in the opposite direc-
ton, mounting the steep incline toward
the barriers.
Wrapped tightly in a thin shawl,
her small. wan face framed in a huge
bonnet, she has an air of worry and
shamed misery. Where is she going?
For what can she be searching?
In her hurried steps. in her fixed
gaze which seems to carry her along
more swiftly still, this can be read: ''If
only l get there in time!'
The men turn and jeer rs she passes,
greeting her plain face with: "There
goes the ape. There goes Ealen-
tins ape after him. Won't find him.
will she?'
Heeding nothing, she presses on,
breathless, painting, for the road is hard
| to climb. At last she arrives at the
far end of the faubourg, on corner of
the outer boulevards. A great factory
is there. The doors are closed.
The steam escaping from the engines
whistles like halting locomotive. \
little smoke still floats from the tall
chimneys, and the warm air, rising
from the deserted buildings, seems the
life, the breath Of the work just ceased.
All is eNtinguished.
One lone little light fickers on the
ground floor behind grating; it is the
cashiers lamp, but it disappears at the
moment the woman arrives.
Too late! The men are paid! Where
shall she find him, and wrest his week 5
wages from him, keep him from drink
ing it all?-They SO need the money at
home! The children have no stockings.
They owe the baker. She stands help
lessly gazing far into the night, unable
to move.
The wine-rooms of the Eaubourg are
over-howing with noise and light. All
the stir of the silent factories has spread
itself into these dens. Behind the
blurred pancs rows of bottles mingle
their false colors, the absinthes venom
Gus green, the pink of bitters. and the
golden Dantzic brandy. Shouts, songs,
and the clinking of glasses penetrate
into the street with the ling of money
thrown on the counter 10y hands still
black from having earned it.
Tired arms elbow the tables with the
sluggishness Of fatigue, and, feeling the
unwholesome heat of the place about
them, all these wrctches forget that
the wives and children are cold for
want of Il fire at home
\ little shadow passes and repasses
these low windows, the only lighted
ones in the deserted streets. She
moves from one tavern to another
crouches, wipes corner of the pane
with her shawl, looks in, then goes on
again, anxious, fevcrish.
Suddenly she stops; her Nalcntin is
in there. lie is a large, weIl-built fel-
low, in q white blouse, proud of his
! curling hair and his fine workman S
figure. He is sitting there, surrounded
listened to. lie talks 50 we'll, and, be-
! sides, it is his treat
The poor ape is outside. shivcring
pressing her face to the glass where
| she can see her drunkard in blaze OF
gas seated at table loaded with bot.
ties and circled hy merry faces. The