Evening times-Republican. [volume] (Marshalltown, Iowa) 1890-1923, 1903-01-01

such a sum is really living wage at
all. A very clever woman was talking
about all this the other day (the Ram
bier is very willing to say that the most
of these ideas are far from original and
We're suggested by the clever woman)
and said she thought that all this dis
cussion was positively degrading Her
| idea was that we are always talking OF
| improving the conditions of the labor
| ing people-that philanthropists build
| libraries for the use of all people. and
| that public schools, and even the higher
| institutions of learning, are being more
and more endowed for those who have
| little In their homes to educate or re-
| fine. Then. to have such theories
| brought forward on all occasions is to
make it appear that all of life is COM
pretended, il one have place not too
cold and not too dirty in which to
| sleep, and food not too scant and not
| too unwholesome, to eat. 1t might, in
| deed, be better if more time were taken
| in arousing the ambition Of the unfor
| tunate unSkilled workers to desire to fit
| themselves for something better than it
| is to try to tell them that, after ALL they
can live on a pittance. 1t has been well
said that patience is the chief virtue of
an animal to which men do not care to
be likened. But ambition belongs to
men and women.
! There are three people in the little
! story-two girls and a bird. One girl
had always said she didn't like birds.
4 OF course, she liked them in the trees.
and even on the walks, and when they
were not too noisy she liked the Eng
| lish sparrOWs, which seemed to think
| the porch of her home especially erect
ed for their dwelling place. But she
| didn't like birds which lived in cages.
! Perhaps she was right In 1t, but she
| herself was willing to say that her dis
\ like came principally from remem-
brance of the time when there We're
three Gagged birds in her home, and she
! had been compelled to care for them.
| That was when she was a tiny little
| girl, and she always wanted to play
| when she had to feed them, or else she
1 was always sure that the time spent
| would make her late to school. Ii you
can remember back to when you We're
! q little girl or little boy, perhaps you
can sympathiZe with her present re-
| pugnance to canaries. 1t was rather
| strange, then. that her only companion
| in her office on the top floor of city
sky-scraper should be a yellow canary.
| The bird did not seem to care for the
| girl any more than she cared for MIN.
| That was probably because the other
| girl of the story--the girl to whom he
| belonged-was very ill at the hospital.
Birds may not understand all that is
said and done, but that one canary
must know some of the human IAN
| guage, for he seemed to droop when
| the office boy repeated from the phone
that the girl companion, over whose
desk he had hunk so many years, was
very i'll at the hospital-so i'll that there
was no hope that she would ever sit at
| the desk again. Then the other girl
came-the girl who did not care for
| birds. They had taken no notice of
each other until the day when the word
came that the brave little girl at the
hospital had written her last manu-
script, and that she would be concerned
no more with written page. except with
the one which the Recording Angel had
written about her in his great white
| book. The girl who did not like
| birds had never seen the other girl,
| whose place she was to fill, but
some way her eyes filled with tears,
rs she looked of across the roofs and
smoke stacks thru the misty rain OF
a wintry day in the city. Her desk
was piled with copy and with proofs
and it was growing near the hour when
the elevator boy scowled when called
Ito the top. But she could not work
just then. She was to take the other
girls place, the girl who had been SO
brave, the girl whose death everyone in
that large concern for which she
worked, looked upon as a personal sor-
row. The bird chirped just then-he
had evidently not heard the bad news.
Then it is the nature Of bird to sing
and in his tiny heart he probably knew
that it was all well with the little girl
who would never feed him again or
call out CHEEKY good morning to him.
The girl at the desk-the girl who had
never liked birds. looked up. There was
a piece Of apple on her desk. She
.lcould not remember whether in the old
days she had ever been told to feed
canaries on fruit, or not; but she took
a bite of the red apple in her fingers
and put it thru the bars of the cage.
Such was the adoption Of the canary.
The girl would probably resent it, Il
you asked her if she liked birds. now.
When the days are all too short for
the many duties that are hers, when
printers rage and elevator boys grum-
bic, it is the chirp of that bird which
awakens an echo of hope in her heart.
The top floor of city sky scraper may
seem a strange dwelling place for
bird, but one girl who can look off
across the roofs and smoke stacks.
knows that bird is true companion
when the view is one seen thru the
misty rain of wintry day in the city.
The little girl had planned months
|ahead what she would buy her big
sister for Christmas. She wanted to
surprise her. she did and nothing could
induce her to tell what it was. She
loved the big sister better than any
one in the world, except her mother
and she IS more interested in her than
she is in her mother even. Big sisters,
| if they are sweet and pretty are always
interesting and the little six-year-old
firmly believes her grown-up sister is
the most attractive young woman in
the world. Several other people have
seemed to think the same thing, so
perhaps the little girl is right When
the gift was finally purchased, she
could scarcely contain her joy. That
day at luncheon, she said Your purse