The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1913-07-19

: left he paid the toll.
 The s1um that had come to examine
 this day was a particularly bad one.
 Here was building after building, weatler-beaten without and di1apidated and unsanitary within, where the most pressing need of cheap paint and fresh ! wallpaper had been denied It seemed l impossible to believe that, such condi- tions could exist; much more that these buildings could house hundreds of people.
 E had come out of one of three such found myself face to face with young priest who had crossed from an open door on the other side
 1 tsYou. are looking about bit, per- haps," he suggested.
 r I told him briefly why was there and gave an outspoken expression of what thought of the surroundings. had just left man in the advanced stages of tuberculosis, and there were nine per sons in his family all hudd1ed into three rooms, one of them without sunshine.
 'fYes. yes; it is not beautiful" he said, weari1y. This is a part of my parish. In this block behind me are eleven of my Portuguese families Azore Islanders. I have made many complaints to the authorities But you seeP He shrugged his shoulders sig ni7eant1y.
 l l Portuguese parish 1 told him under what conditions [ had found his people 7 in the Azores and yet how eager they 1were to leave their homes to efrigrate Was it possible that all were driven to such straits as this
 "0h, no," he treasured me, with a shade of annoyance. Many had pros pered and had established themselves in business; only the times were hard just now, the factories were not running on full time, and many families had been reduced to want.
 Tt is only at this thatssI complain, he said, warming to his subject now that l he felt assured of a sympathetic listener. 1 These people are gentle and home-1ov- ing, and they believed that this great country would be a hundred times better than their own. And you see what they have found"
 He shook his fist threateningly at the tenement blocks about him and raised his voice in anger: Filth and poverty and degradation, and they pay higher for what they get than people who hire ex- pensiVe apartments They are laughed at when they beg for the most simple re- pairs; they are denied even Gods clean l air and the sunshine that has bathed l them at home since the day of their birth. And I, their leader, with authority over them, cannot raise my voice loud | enough to be heard I, who am teach
 
 adopted country, cannot gain these sim pie things that the law ought to compel l It is dishonest Gods curse must some day fall upon itP
 He stopped abruptly as fellow coun- 1 trynan came hurriedly through the nar- row passage that led from the court to the street and they saluted. Good morning, Doctor: Good morning, Father
 tfYou had better call upon the family on the top hoor," said the priest, indi- eating the building from which he had | just come 'tThe old lady sent for me this morning. She believes that she is soon to die"
 "It is a sad case" replied the Portu- guese physician.
 sTuberculosis 7'' suggested
 No, the physician answered, thought l fully. She is hornesick, and in time she will die of it.
 "Honesick P I exclaimed in surprise.
 "She came over from Saint Michael in the ship with the family who have be- They have had hard time of it, but have been very good to her. The man, Marchelis, changed his name to Mar 1 shall in the hope that he might find work. Her own name they never tell
 "She told it to me just now, said the priest in even tones. Her name is Maria Souza, and her people live beyond Ponta Delgada in San Miguel"
 Maria Souza, did you say?" I de. manded. There came to my mind all at once the picture of the white-washed cottage in the country with it's roses and the fragrant basil, and the little brown eyed children who were waiting for the return of their grandmother No won der that the heart of the old woman was breaking! No wonder if amid this squa1or and decay she pined for her l island home and it's blessed sunshinei | s11 tion. related the story to the priest and the doctor briefly, and we went within together and up the narrow broken stairways to confirm if. There 1 in little room in one of the top tene- ments we found the woman l sought. The family with whom she had found shelter had done all in their power to make their tiny apartment clean and home-1ike. They had pinned up penny newspapers to conceal the remnants of the stained wallpaper i; the bare floors been scrubbed frequently; the bed-cloth- ing was old but clean; and there was even a yellow bird in a gi1ded cage in the room where silent, homesick Maria Souza lay.
 The priest went over to the bedside and, stroking her withered hand gently, told her that he had brought a visitor from San Miguel, one who knew Manuel and her daughter and who had mes sage from them. The message was that ali were well and waiting for her re- turn, and that they had tried many times to find her.
 Why the excitement of this news did not kill her do not know, unless it be true that joy is never fatal She burst into tears and then talked wildly, the priest translating such broken sentences as did not understand Her daughter had many children, she said. Manuel had been very good to her in the years f{12f he had da hr~r 1,i but she could not burden him for the money to pay her passage home, so she had kept silent and not written, for she was proud woman, but it had broken her heart
 was speaking. The recollection of that day on the island had also brought back to my mind the Landscams and the debt that the man still owed. Somewhere within an hour his name had flashed