The daily morning journal and courier., 1900-01-20
A NEW YORK BUSINESS MAN.
HOW HE CARES FOR HIS FAMILY.
The Story ofn Salvation Army Christi
 mas Basket.

The Story ofn Salvation Army Christ.
 mas Basket,
 There is a certain business man ir
 this city-a very small man in a very
 smaln way of business-in whom this
 reporter has for some time had live
 ly interest. buying of his wares
 which are comprised in an assortment
 of the daily evening ewspapers-With
 very far regularity. Tia most
 genial and approachable young gentle man, this merchant, perfectly willing
 to discuss his affairs and nowise ill
 disposed toward urbane curiosity on the part of his patrons; wherefore it
 was not altogether extraordinary that after time this reporter came to know somewhat of the young business mans personal and strictly domestic menage.
 For example. this household has no head, unless it be our merchant him. self; the husband and father that was died some three years ago in hospital, and since then the mother has fought unaided, save for this her oldest child, in grim and relentless warfare with the hunger that too often both her children and herself have known.
 There are three children, of whom our 11-years-old business man is the eldest; the younger two are both girls, therefore as yet valuless as wage producers. The weight upon the moth- CT, who until recently mainly battled with almost savage, tenacity in order not> only to give her children bread, but to insure them an education in the public schools as we'll.
 She did family washing, but in the fall standing over her tubs, she caught cold, and in her il!-nourished blood the poison of rheumatism developed so that it is now weeks that with untitled, pain-distorted hands she has been compelled to sit idle and agonize for the need that she has daily seen pinch ing her childrens faces to likeness of grotesque maturity.
 The boy has sold evening papers, go- ing school meantime, but of late, real izing even at his years the staggering responsibility that rests now wholly upon his young shoulders, he has talk en to the morning papers as we'll, watching alertly between whiles for any chance opportunity to earn few pennies by the performance of some errand.
 How they have lived only the pitt ful Christ knows; for this racked and starving washerwoman ia proud be- yond the verge of stubbornness Few of any, of the families in the same tenement know anything of he stress in that poor home; few, if any, of her acquaintance have any suspicion, or if suspicion, any means of verification of the tragedy that for so many weeks has hourly been hidden in those three bare rooms
 This pathetic mother has all along acted upon terribly maternal, if mis- taken instinct of fear. She was hourly tortured with the conviction that If her helplessness and their bitter pov- erty were known to he authorities, she would be forcibly sent to the hospital, and her children committed to the care of a well-known society. And then" said this faithful martyr, God knows when I'd ever get 'em again."
 All this, or nearly all, bit by bit, the Cry reporter got out of the small news paper purveyor, with the result that a little while ago certain lass called at this pitiful home, and among other of her visit, on Christi mas morning a little blue-nosed news paper merchant stood we'll toward the | head of one of the lines of waiting basket-folk in Madison Square Gar den. And while he waited for his basket, the reporter waited for him.
 Perhaps it was 1130 o'clock when in l a most friendly way they walked away 1 together. There was lot of raw ma l terial In that basket-a chicken, vege- 1 tables, dessicated peas and so on- and the reporter was curious.
 How are your mothers hands?" he | asked.
 Just sane,' said the business man.
 But how, then, will she be able to | cook the dinner for your"
 'Oh. she won't" remarked the mer- | chant cheerfully; me an de kidsll get | it."
 The kids, you'll observe, are the young gentleman's sisters, respectively | something like two and three years his Juniors, therefore still lacking his fna- .urity.
 But" said the reporter, somewhat lghast at this nonchalance. won't you poll it?"
 "Oh, will we?' said the business man ,asily, displaying a block of teeth to make even g patriarch among fowls vince; well, l guess-nit! Mall tell IS what to do, an we'll do 1t all right, Ill right. Why"-with look dignity ne an de kids has done all de cook n fir I dunno how long!'
 Bravely said, my small dissembler! Ill the cooking, indeed!-and little nough it has been, by all account, for many week past.
 Why doesn't your mother ask some leighbor to come in and cook the din- Ter for you?''
 Nav, sir!" There was emphasis in he headshake that accompanied this mphatic answer. "We don't want all he women on our block a-talkin' bout our 'fairs!"
 How many times do you suppose he ad heard his mother give utterance Q that proud rebuff? Why, even our ass found it hard at first to win this cor woman's confidence, though the oman received her with grateful cor iality. For when it exists at all, there | no pride so deep-seated as the pride f the bitterly poor. Of all the ob- tacles against which our slum lasses ave to contend. none so successfully