The Fulton County news. [volume] (McConnellsburg, Pa.) 1899-current, 1900-03-15

day and the luck Of Cy-
rano de Bergerac, all twisted. may
hap, but still so pronounced that they
made their possessor almost q beggar
instead of queen. Ann Purkin,
seller of newspapers and writer of
poems and essays, died in bed of
charity at St. Alexis Hospital, Cleve-
land, Ohio, few weeks ago, aged
fifty years. For score of years she
had been the most picturesque figure
of Cleveland streets from tue fact that
she wore the clothes that it pleased
her to wear. For most of those years
she has been hungry, at least part of
the days, simply because she would
not use her wits as the world wished
her to use them. She was crank,
but brilliant one. Her love of let
ters was ideal, passionate and unre-
quited-she died for her opinions.
Ann Purkin died with O trunk full
of poems and essays, half of which
are so good that many writer's of
poetry and philosophy would have
been glad to have written them. But
she was not only dress-reformer but
a reformer of everything else almost.
Years ago she addicted herself to
spelling reform, and, as in all things,
she went to the utmost extreme of it.
She would not allow q line sho had
written to be printed otherwise than
she had written it, both as to spelling
and punctuation. She would rather
starve. This kept her out Of print
and made rubbish of what would
have been otherwise available matter,
for in whatever she wrote there was
more or less of the force and bril-
liancy of the pen that has right to
write for print. She made one excep-
ton to this last summer when, during
the street-car strike, she used to take
to the newspaper offices articles nrg-
ing the cessation of violence in the
fight against the company. With a
tone in her voice which o Hindu
mother might have had when she sent
her girl child to the husband that had
bought her, she would say, "You may
change it if you want to-" for she had
gone over the ground often enough to
know no newspaper would print what
she wrote as she wrote it.
DRESSED LIKE Roy.
Ann Purkin's death was the only
kind of death her life could have
brought her. All winter, when she
was not ill, she was at her usual cor
ner on the busy square, selling tho
afternoon papers. Her voice was 10
shrill squeak as she cried out the
names of the papers. To almost all
the newspaper buyers she had ceased
to be curio, they had known her SO
long. IL those who did not know her
stopped to gaze they saw that in her
face which kept them from laughing
Mt her clothes. Her die consisted
of boys woolen shirt--for she was q
very little creature, less than five feet
"A coat over it that looked as though
it had been made by the wearer with
the disregard for it that she showed
for all the other things that seemed
to her unessentials, and pair of short
trousers-like garments that reached
to her knees, Tho breeches were
made of what looked like pieces of
horseblanket, and were shaped not
unlike an ordinary pair of trousers
cut off at the knees. Her stockings
were white aud her shoes heavy ones
such rs working boys wear. Any
thing in the way of head covering
would do, and there was not i'll the
whole of her costume any attempt at
ornamentation or care.
Funny as her clothes were, one for
got them in looking into her face.
The eyes were clear, small and ex-
pressive and thero was in them, when
one talked with her, the look of the
soul that thinks it has never been un-
derstood and has grown hopeless of
ever being.
But there was not a prouder spirit
in the breast of any woman. 1t. is not
known that she ever had penny that
she did not earn. People who offered
her charity were rebuked with q
severity they never forgot. II one
gave her a nickel for paper and
walked away she ran after him aud
made him take his change. Once she
was ill for week or two and the city
relief department. sent her ton of
coal, piling it up in the one room
where she lived, against her protests.
| 1t was in the dead of winter and she
was forced to use about quarter of
the ton of coal. Then she carried
what was left of it down the stairs
and threw it out into the street, from
where it was quickly taken by the
less scrupulous women of the tone
ment. Then she went to the city
hall, made her way into the Mayors
office an1 handed him dollar, say
ing: THAT is for what / used out OF
that load OF coal you sent to me. 1
threw the rest of it into the street,
but ] want to pay for all L used and /
want You to take the money so your
ihieving clorks can't say didn't pay
| it,"
REFUSED CHARITY FOOD.
A week before she died the other
people in the Detroit street tenement
in which Ann Purkin lived remem-
bered that she had not been seen fol
some days. She never locked her
door, and when they went into hei
room they found her alone in the
cold, there being neither fuel nor fire
in the room, only her trunkful OF
manuscripts. There existed between
her and the poor people among whom
| she lived something of the feeling