The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1910-11-21
THE NIGHT OF
 THE CHILDREN
James Oppenheir1.

Exclusive Servicc The Survey Press
 Bureau)
 Christmas was in the air. The frosty, starry night turned golden in the city avenues. Up and down the pavement the crowds swept, laughing. talking. jostling-cheeks ruddy with the weather. eyes sparkling with the lights. AS they moved, there unrolled beside them the endless film of bril- liant shop-windows, crammed With riches and through the swinging doors eddies of people were sucked in and elected. At the curb the toy-ped- lars shouted, the chestnut stands sent up their smoke. It seemed as if the millions of the city mad poured out to mingle in a street festival of joy and brotherhood. People laughed at one another, a wine of good humor drenched the air. It was as 1T thlS night hate and strife and greed hao been sloughed off; as if the race salu' "Come. let us be happy with one an other. We are all here together. Let us meet and mingle in joy and good will and peace!
 It was the Night of the Children. Far through the sleeping city the mll- lion children were in their Deos ana it was for them that these people met For their children they were sweeping the shops, that Christmas morning might dawn with the candies of the pine and hanging bulgy stock- ings and the mysterious new toys. And it was the thought of the chll- dren. possibly, that made these men and women SO Iight-footed, so bub- blingly Joyous, so innocently happy. It made children of them and they ming led with each other, like laughlng rollicking boys and girls.
 There was one vast department store, nearly a block square and SIX
 
 masses of the crowd. Pendant rom its ceilings hung white moons or Ignt and under these a density of human sty slowly swirled about the spark ling laden counters. The air was ov. erwarm with breathing ana tingieo with the excitement of shuffling shoes, rattle of packages and a hive hum of talk and exclamations. The place was electric with the push of many wills, the clash of desires, the lm- peded hurry, the drawing near or closing time. 10:3o had come and gone, hungered and strained and clamored and struggled to get it's fill.
 One counter especially was besieg- ed. At this was sold little five cent neckares of "snow" for Christmas trees. Behind this counter stood Ma mic Rigs Sioealess her face ace pale and drawn and wrinkled. her eyes hioodshot her lips trembling As she made ort checks, and received and made change. and handled the enve- lopey her hands visibly, shook. Faces crowded near her; leaned med close, hes eyea asms
 This snow?
 "Yes. ma'am".
 How muchT
 Five cents"
 Only one for dvef"
 ''Only one"
 How much in a package?
 T don't know, ma'am."
 Don't known
 At least five voices interrupted: z .'See here, want a half dozen of these.n where's my changer T can't wait all night" Isn't there any one to wait on me?" Say, I'll speak to the floorwalker if l oon't get proper attention!'
 Mamie answered as best she could.
 Just a minute! You said five? Six? Change hasn't come I can't help It, 1na'am! Yes, it's five a package! snow! Yesl I'll wait on you ina minute! But she was doing her work mechan- fcally. In fact. Mamie wasn't "an fhere' Her fingers, her lips kept work ing but the real Mamie seemed Tn a trance. Sunburst after sunburst or faces shot the air before her, loud SeanOlSe or VOiceS swSpl uCf V. oiii' and she felt deathly sick. Every bone in her body ached. It seemed as if her feet had broken and were bleed ing. She was horribly nauseated and dizzy. She felt as if she were going to faint. By sheer force of grit she chung to the counter, she Kept up right. she moved, talked, worked. On and on it went, minute by minute. and still the faces crowded, the voices rang out, the packages had to be delivered, the change made, the checks written out.
 Afterwards it's seemed to her. that her whole year had been rushing to- ward this Christmas climax. Most of that year, she had worked In a cheaper store-worked g 1-2 hours a day for $2.62 1-2 a week. AS this was not enough to live on, she had board ed with an Aunt in Hoboken, paying her $l.15 a week. But it took an hour and a quarter to get to work and she rose early before dawn to Cet to her counter at sharp. Car fare cost her $1.26 which, with the board left her twenty cents a week. No recreation, no freshafr. And every few nights she was up tli mionignt be neat appearing. This work, she felt was killing her-so she left it and took a position in the larger store for s4 a week.
 But she had to figure close. Sne slept nearby in charity dormitory for six cents a night. She went with ont breakfast, lunch and supper con- sisted of coffee and rolls for ten cents each: laundry was twenty-one cents a week. Clothes and extra came close to s2 In this way she spent all her wages-toiled from s a. m. to 6:15 D. m. and on Saturdays till 9:3O. Strength does not, come on coffee and rolls. nor on nine and half hours of standing indoors nor on lack of pleasure and mental growth Mamie grew sicily, wrinkled, weaker day by day: she was afflicted with violent headaches, and at seventeen she was already a sapped and aged woman, unfit for marriage and child-bearing. and housework, with no future but incessant toll, and no savings against sickness or old age.
 This was bad enough. But then the holiday rush began. The store was kept open until 11:30 at night. Mamie grew feverish, had dizzy spells. was too sick to eat. Her condition grew worse each day and now on this last day she had come to work at in the morning feeling that she could not endure a half hour of standing up nor the crowds, nor the noise nor inc bad air That day was a wild eiow torture, measured by minutes, endless and pitiless On and on it vent. on up to noon, on from 12:45 10 six, on from 6:30 to this very rnln- ute.