The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1913-06-27

taxes, and he was obliged to pay in ad- vance or vacate. While he had a dollar left he paid the toll.
 The s1um that I had come to examine this day was a particularly bad one. Here was building after building, weather-beaten without and di1apidated and 1nsanitary within, where the most pressing need of cheap paint and fresh wallpaper had been denied. It seemed impossible to believe that such copdi- tions could exist; much more that these buldings could house hundreds of people.
 ' had come out of one of three such blocks facing a muddy court, when I found myself face to face with young priest who had crossed from an open door on the other side.
 "You are looking about bit per- haps, he suggested.
 told him briefly why I was there and gave an outspoken expression of what thought of the surroundings. I had jMst left man in the advanced stages of tuberculosis, and there were nine per- sons in his family all huddled into three rooms, one of them without sunshine.
 'FYes, yes; it is not beautiful" he said, wearily. This Is 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 yof1 seeP He shrugged his shoulders sig nifcantly.
 So here was part of an American Portuguese parish I told him under what conditions had found his people in the Azores and yet how eager they were to leave their homes to emigrate Was 1t possible that all were driven to such straits as this7
 "Oh, mo-" he reassured 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.
 ''It is only at this that I complain" !" he said. warming to his subject now that he felt assured of a sympathetic listener.
 These people are gentle and home-lov- ing, and they believed that this great country would be hundred times better than their own. And you see what they have found F
 He shook his fist threatening1y at the tenement blocks about him and raised his voice in anger: Filth and poverty and degradation, and they pay higher for pensive apartments. They are laughed at when they beg for the most simple re-s pairs; they are denied even Gods clean air and the sunshine that has bathed 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. l, who am teach ing them to become good citizens of my adopted country, cannot gain these sim pie things that the law ought to compel. It is dishonest. Gods curse must some day fall upon 1t r
 He stopped abruptly as fellow coun- tryman came hurried1y= through the mar row passage that led from the court to the street and they saluted.
 Good morning, Doctor.
 Good morning, Father ?"
 s'Yo11 had better call upon the family on the top floor" said the priest, indi- eating the building from which he had this morning. She believes that she is soon to die"
 ''It is a sad case" replied the Portu- guese physician.
 Tuberculosis ?" I suggested.
 INC" the physician answered, thought fully. She is homesicks and in time she will die of it.
 s'Homesic1zl" I exclaimed in surprise.
 Sine came over from Saint Michael in the ship with. the family who have be- friended hers the physician continued. 'They have had a hard time of it, but have been very good to her. The man, Marchelis, changed his name to Mar SDa1l III IIlG AOpC l1icL 1C 4A1h0 work Her own name they never tell. :"
 She told 1t 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"
 t'Maria Souza, did you say7" de- manded- There came to my mind all at once the picture of the white-washed cottage in the country with its roses and the fragrant basil, and the little brown eyed children who were waiting Sor the return of their grandmother. No won der that the heart of the old woman was brealdngt No wonder if amid this squalor and decay. she pined for her
 But I wasted little time in specula- ton, related the story to the priest and the doctor briefly, and we went within together and up the narrow broken stairways to confirm it. There in a little room in one of the top tene- ments we found the woman sought: The family with whom she had found shelter had done all in their power to make their tiny apartment clean and home-1il1e They had pinned up penny newspapers to conceal the remnants of the stained wallpaper; the bare floors been scrubbed frequently; the bed-cloth- ing was old but clean; and there was 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 visitor from San Miguel, one who knew Manuel and her daughter and who had mes sage from them. The message was that all 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 trans1ating such broken sentences as did not understand. Her daughter had many children, she said Manuel that she had made her home with him, but she could not burden him for the money to pay her passage home, so she had kept silent and not written, for she her heart
 I had been thinking raOidIv while she