The Pittsburgh gazette. (Pittsburgh, Pa.) 1866-1877, February 20, 1869, Image 7
I= C lit .1040#64yttt HAVE CEARITY. 1, --- T rough the great, sitn.blosted city Tolls *homeless lt, tie one— Not a. friend to , oothe or. pits— of a bed to Its upon— - B aged. dirty, bruised and bleeding— . 'object sal to xi: k and cur- e S hooted In sin and sadly Leedlng id from Christian tongue and purse. 'ut ;;he rich anjgay p•st by her, Full of vanity and pride. nd a nittance they deny her. • As they run the 1r slime a 6414.. Then a sullen mood comes ,i'er li .r I Reckless she of woe or we ,I— . Death from hunger is velore her She must either £ tarve or stew . She does steal and who can bi e her , ' I Hunger pangs her tbatt gni,. ' • None endeavor '0 reclaim her. I And she,vicle.tes the law , Then the pameered child of is Won, I 'Who i etused to give relief, Crites, with we 1 affected pas.lon, I "Out upon the little thief: , , DT PRAYCIS 8MITI! 2 nsors fall or Avord-wl'ie sencollng, Crime to een-mre an • deplore - - When , he air( trantgreseed •• itn's ruling She obeyrt a J.'otter l-;w. Take her place-113M her temp atloo— •_ Starved, rinhonsed —no save r nigh— And, though sure of reprohat on, Ye would steal-ere ye would die: THE CITY'S. CHILDREN TERRIELE ILTROCITMS! ! A Litt Feet Troien Off ! ! THE mail CUT FROM HER BACK 1! THE CHILDREN!S AID SOCIETY!! Villiainy , Thrder thetVeil of Charity'. TR* 'TRIC.IOF "SAINTS!" "FIENDS WEARING 9EAVESPB LIVERY: SANCTIMONIOUS LEECHES! RELIGIOUS UUMBUGS EXPOSED! VICE MORE PROFITABLE rzrAy VIRTUE! A SAINT'S FACE AND A DEAION'S HEART:: HOW LONG SHALL SUCH THINGS CONTINUERI THE MO.YSTER Pt,tI4'ISHED!!! RV.TItII3TJTION::: In spite ofthe exertions made by the "Children's Aid Society," "The News Boys' Lodging Rooms,". and city mis sions generally, there is still much to do in the matter of relieving the necessities of the suffering little ones known as "The City's Children"—little, white faced, penury-pinched sufferers who live in pestilential, subterranean, abodes, dark courts and, filthy air-poiadned alley-ways or roam the streets in the day time and sleep at mght in covered wag ons, coabboxes, or any.other place they may be able to steal into--some of whom have neither parents nor friends, and others who have relatives but would be better off without them. Everybody will remember the case of the unfortunate orphan girl who, some twelve or fourteen years ago, was taken from the poor t house by a fiend in human shape named Dlrs.'Decker, who resided at the time on. Staten Island. It will be in the recollection of many how this poor, friendless little creature was tor tured by the, wretch who had adopted her, till death kindly put an end to her sufferings. How she was beaten till her little body was a mass , of bruises— starved till her bones seemed bursting through the skin—turned out into the btter cold almost naked till her feet w re blistered' with frost, and her ema -1 cited frame racked by rheuniatism— w Us all the while the monster who sub jected her to such tortures attended church rogularly 'and was regarded as little leas than a saint by those who did not know her., This, as we have said, occurred nearly a score of years ago, but who can say, how many similar cases have happened since—are happening every day in fact. The Mrs. Deckers are not all dead yet— society is fall ofthem and their.victims, and, what is worse, this will always be the case till the milleninm comes. We cannot alter human nature, but we, can do the next best thing—we can expose such atrocities when they come to light, and such is our purpose ' at: the present time. • Ar.ybodAnybody;who will follow us though the , following narrative of wrong and retribution will acknowledge the full force of all which we have said and will feel themselves well repaid for their tioubli3 as well. ""Please: -air, ; may I s,hovel off your sidewalk?" "'No boy—go home and tell your mother to take care of : yon." !-- “lonly-warit five cents, • sir--Inst five cents—let me have five cents for half-an hour and I'll do any work you're a-Mind 1 to set me at—l do 't care,witat it is;" "No, I tell you! Go home , and keep -out of the streets! Go to school! I don't see what parents csn be thinking , of,to allow their hildren to 'go running around begging: ' '_ •. ' • ' The first speaker.wasa stout-built lad, who carried upon: his shoulder r a rudely -constructed wooden Shovel; an d the Per son to whom he addressed • himself was the weatbylir:'Sayracau, who ci!tcuTded a palatial.mansion in one, of ,the streets hating the Fifth avenue at right angles. -.The boy, was about fottrbom yea& of age„ and though shabbily dressed anci. wretched-looking euongb, there °Was a, something about his countenance Which • could not !WI to impress a close , observer favorably. * ' - -I ' Mr. t3ernonr had just returne d from s; -drive out on'the' avenue in his xnagnift-, cent sleigh ; and RSA about_ enter: the : door of his residence whop the boy, who bad been rook ing , wistfiilly, SS he- walked along, at the windows of, the •, t rich mane , stone in front of which he *as pasS4pg. _paused and accosted him. , ' • About an hour alter the above conver sation3symont ?sgain • dressed for lo a the street, d gazl g from the window of his front rlor. Already be regretted, that he had rudely answered the boy's petition, ari in imagmation he again be held the pleading face. Suddenly an ex ,•elamation, half of fear, half of surprise, ' burst from hb3 lips as he actually, met "the mournful Raze of the, boy's large, sorrowful" eyei. = ' . , It was but a single glance and the boy' -passed away , without offe ring to stop, but soon reoovering himself, Mr. Sey mour sprang to the hall, then out at the Aiefor,' and in an Instant was at the boy's aide._ • “Here L boy!" he said, hurriedly, as he touched the boy on the shoulder, , thaye you got what yon were asking for yet?"! sir,'. replied the boy, ;dejectedly: • 4 'the people tell me that lam too small to shovel acetic and too, big= to beg, and so I s'pOse I'shall have to go home with .out anything. No I won't though, he - added, suddenly, while:a look of savage '• 7 recklessness settled upon his pallid lea-, tures—"no I won't! I have never 'done anything wicked yet, but I'll steal—l'll -murder before I go home withont any thing!" "Good gracious, boy," exclaimed Mr: Seymour, i'what are you saying? Alpon my life you talk like a perfect young sav age. Here—here's some change for you!" And he placed in his hand a few silver _ . In4antly the look of blank despair vanfahed from the boy's face, and an ex- • pression of intense., satisfaction took its place, as eagerly Chitching the money, the rich niala held'Ont to hitri t he hastily ejaculated a fervent "Thank'ee, sir!" and fled away up the street at his top most speed.. Mr. 4eymonr stood looking after the boy till he saw him enter a baker's shop on the corner, and then he mechainicallt followed in the same slirection. "So he was hungry," he muttered, as he walked along, "and perhaps he may be connected with some one who is also hungry. Who can tell? I dim% know that it's anything to ine, but, by George. something which I cannot exactly un derstand, impels me to follow him, and I vrill , do so, let what will come of it. - . The boy was hungry—very hungry— for as he emerged from the baker's shop, clutching ,a loaf of bread' in his nervous grasp, Mr. Seymoiir, who followed close ly, observed that he tore a piece from it and ravenously gnawed at it As he started on a run. At length the by darted up a dark al ley-way, the entrance to which Mr. Sey mour reached just in time to see the ob ject of his pursu t enter a tenant build ink which stood fir‘back in the rear. Mr.•Seymoui also entered the dismal habitation, and, after some delay, found himself in an apartment on the second floor. The room was a small one, and from its position the light of day, ex cept at' meridian (it was about three o'clock then,) was almost excluded. The. floor was cleanly scrubbed; the, walls were white, and the window panes, what few were left, glistened brightly in the' sunlight, but save a clean board which,' resting upon a barrel, served as a table; and a bed which occupied the darkest corner of the room on the floor, the apartinent contained no furniture. • Sitting bolt upright upon this latter ar ticle was a woman, wasted away almost to a skeleton. In both her bony hands she clutched a loaf of bread, from - which she had ravenously torn a mouthful, and lying prone at her side, With his face buried in the pillow, and groaning and sobbing piteously, was the boy whom the rich man had followed. Mr. Seymour was unable to scan the woman's features closely, for the oright glare of the sun upon the snow without had temporarily unfitted his eyes to view objects in a subdued light, but he saw enough to shock him greatly, and stooping down he placed his hand upon the shoulder of the boy, and shaking him gently, he said in a kindly tone: "Get up, my little man, and run out for some more fitting food than that. You shall want for nothing now, for I will be your friend. See, here is money!" And as he spoke he took some silver coins from his pocket. - Riaing from his recumbent position as the first tones of the gentleman's voice fell upon his ears, the boy turned and faced the latter, who wassurprised tosee upon his features, not a lookof grati tude, but an expression amounting al most to malignity. "Go away!" exclaimed the boy, bit terly, "go away, and leave mo alone. I hate you!"- "And why should yon hate me, my poor lad?" inquired Mr. Seymour, in a tone of unfeigned surprise- I .g never in jured you!" "You have !" exclaimed the boy, pas sionately, "you have always injured me, and such as me. I bate you because you are rich, and because you don't care who starves so long as you have plenty to eat and to drink, and to wear, and throw away, I feel as though I could kill you, and I may, too, if you don't go away, for I have the strength to do it now, at though I am only a boy!" "Upon my word, I believe the boy is getting crazy!" exclaimed Mr. Seymour, in a sort of half. soliloquy. 4 .1 believe I am,'.' returned the boy, ve hemently, "and it wouldn't be much to wonder at if I did. I wish I was crazy or dead, I wouldn't care which." Mr. Seymour was about to make some conciliatory reply. but before he could do so.the door opened, and a little girt about nine years old.entered, bearing in her , -hand a = bowl- of soup.- She was a .beautiful, bright looking,child, although her clothes were untidy. and her hair uncombed, and fell straggling around her face. Her large blue eyes were full of gentleness andlove and an almost angelic look rested upon her counte- Inance. She was somewhat disontrerted upon discovering a stranger, but beckoning [ the boy to a corner, she said in a whis. I per, while asinile of joy lighted up her little thin face: "Here,. Charley, I've brought a boirl of real nice soup for your mother, apd I know It 1 11:do her good. Mrs. Maddox, who liVee up stairg, gave it to me for fetching-hero pail of water, but I'm not hungry and it will be so nice for ; your poor mother." The boy's lip quivered as he struggled to subdttesome terrible emotion, and he answered, nt last, in a husky voice: "She don't want it Maggie —/ know she don't—you eat it yourself.' • "Who is that gentleman?" whispered the girl, at the same: time stealing a, glance at Mr.•Seyinour. • • -"He is a rich roan," answered the boy aloud, 0 1Ch0 lives in- a •great house up town." -“Oh, I am so gladl"tezclaimerithe girl, joyously, "for a inn sure.ha will dO BOine thing for your mother." Of course I will, my little lady," said. Mr. Seymour—"that is what I cattle here for." - ' "No you won 3 1" exclaimed the, boy;, bitterly; "because > you can't help - her. now! If you had given me .five cents when I Opt,asked' Jr o for it, it might, pPrhaPs, haye done, some g ood, but; it's, too lute, now. Loolc at her Apar again threwluit .1310U:ell face doWillferd upon tbe ! bed, he., , gave away to another pas eionote out -burst'uf BMW._ ,t, hotrid ensplcion , day bed : across 'the the mieduf tbe millionaire, whocus eyes bythis time , bad become 'accustomed. to the moderate light,und looking directly at the women, -God of Heaven, what a sight broke upon his startled vision! "Merciful Heaven!". he exclaimed ) holding his hands before his twos to shut oat the frigbtful sixstaole,"she la dead!" "Yes," " sobbed the boy, ."dead—dead —dead! And when they put Per in the cold grows& I shall be alone--all'alone! There will be no one to care for me , then!" While he was thus wildly lamenting, the little girl had placed her Powl upon the rude table, and witk the tears standd ing in her mild: eyes. had advunced to ward him. • Kneeling beside him as the. despairing svords left his lips, she threw her little white arms around his neck, and murmured, in.a tone of mingle pa- : thos and gentle reproach: "No one, ,did you say, Charley? No, one at allf" - Instantly the, boy, checked his Violent firiecand lookintrup through his ,tears, he replied, as he effectienaudy , pressed her hand: ~ "Oh, I forgot you, Maggie—l forgot you, bat you ninen:t Plame me., I, was' thinking of nothing but her: It will be ,so very, very tuird to see them take her Sy this time Mr. Seymour had recov ered somewhat from the first shook which , his feelings bad sustained, and approach- ing• close to the eorptua, he began Ito pe ruse the features attentively. A thrill. of horror shook his frame anew as he did so, for notwithstanding the , change which death had made, he felt morally certain he had seen the face before under different circumstances. "What is your name boy?" he asked, . PUT?), 111 , 12GRT . GAZ Erne 7 SAIVRDAY, AMA WAR? . a excitedly, torning.toward the sorrowing lad. The boy was sittbborn,'and would not answer, but his ltttle companion replied: ."His name is Charley Hollister, sir." - "It is she, and we have met again at last, but'under what terrible Ilrentn stances! Oh. what a frightful, frightful death for her to die!" He spoke truly. ' It was a frightful death, for the woman had died f star %a don! Starvation in the midst of plenty! Eager to appease the frightful cravings of hunger she bad seized the loaf and torn from it a mouthful, but even as she essayed to masticate it the fatal reaction took place, death seized her in the effort, and Pile who bad once tasted the sweets of affluence, now, sat there, the victim of cruel want, a stiffened corpse, grim, ganit and ghastly.. Casting a look at the children, who, in their great grief had not noticed his agi tation, the millionaire rushed from the house and took his way toward the Cor oner's office. An inquest was held upon the body of a wretched and—except by the weeping boy she had left behind her—apparently unknown woman—the Coroner's jury, composed of men who had suddenly been taken from their business and forced into the service, had promptly and without striving hard, to find out who or what she was, returned a verdict that Mary - Hollister, the unknown wo man aforesaid, had come to her, death by starvation—a: wealthy 'lad :exemplary citizen hid seen.the poor victim Of cruel want decently laid to rest in Greenwood Cemetery, all .the expenses attending the funeral having been paid out of his ownicket—and four persons laid as. sembd hi the room adjoining the one in which Mary Hollister died, to talk over the sad event. These were Charles Hollister, the son of the deceased wo man; e little girl, Maggie; Mrs. Bridget Mullins, a washerwoman of unmistaka bly Celtic origin; and Mr. Philip Ferry, known in thebeighborhood as "Phil, the Philosopher." "And so the fine gentleman has offer ed to find a place for you, has he, Char ley, dear ?" asked the widow, addressing the deceased woman's son. ' The poor boy, who, absorbed in his deep grief, sat in an out.of-the-way cor ner, did not hear her, and little Maggie, once more became Ms month-piece. "Don't speak to him now, Mrs. Mal lins, please don't," pleaded the little creature—"he feels so bad he don't want, to talk. I know all about it, an I'll an swer your questions! Mr. Seymour has offered to find a place for Charley—l heard him." The conversation was interrupted by a knock at the-door which was opened by Mrs. Muffins, and a tall, billions-looking man, of a sinister expression of counte nance, wriggled his way into the room. "Eels!" whispered the philosopher, musingly, as soon as his eyes rested on the new comer—"l can see 'em sticking out all over. Slippery and tricky—twist him self into any shape be pleases and adroit ly make his escape through the smallest kind of a hole. Every hair on his head— to, be sure there is'nt many of them— is n eel, and if an eel's eye was magni fied to the size of his with a proper lens, I'll venture to say you could'nt tell one from the other." The idividual concerning whom Phil Ferry thus soliloquized, looked sharply around at the group for a moment or two, without speaking, and then turning his aze towards the window, he said: "Pa she's gone at last, eb?" "She is, Dc.cther McNab," replied Mrs. - Mullins. "she is, poor crayther! Heaven rest her sowl." "And the boy, what will become of him now?" asked the man while a greedy look lightbd np bis dull, gray eyes—"l hear that a rich man—a Mr. Seymour— has offered to take charge of him. Is tbat se?" "I believe it Is," answered Mrs. Mul liws, "but divil a much mesilf knows about it. But, don't throuble the boy— - poor little :Illy, the thribulaaldn is keen on him—ask Maggle—she knows." - "Oh, yes, Maggie! My dear little Mag. giefexclaimed the doctor, with affected tenderness, as he approached the child,— "she will tell me all about it. She will come and live with me now, I guess. Sha.won't want to stay here after they taker, away . her. playmaie. Won't. YOu come with Maggie?" - "No, won't,' • exclaimed the ,Child, with a shudder, and at the same time she crept close to Mrs. Mullins, and seized tightly hold of that good worrienisepron, as though she feared the doctor might seize her forclhiyund bear her off. • , "And why not, my dear?" asked the doctor with great blindness. 66Bettense don't like you," replied the child, with great eandor—“l'd rather go and live in that dark dungeon where my father died 'than to go home with you. I.'m afraid of you!? "Now, that is hard, isn't it, Mrs..?dul- Unlit?": said the doctor, appealingly. "That is really hard. I attended that littbi girl's father professionally all through his many fits or sickness with out charging him one cent, and now when I want to continue ,my kind:3ms by giving her a home, she won't come near ma. ' I dare say the boy is just like ° her. I attended hie mother profession. ally, also,' without receiving any pecuni ary recompense,save a few trinkets, and . I don't, eupposa he has any, more grati tnde.than Mamie 'haa. Will you come and learn, to be a doctor, • Charley?" he. uontinued,,addresaing the, boy. allo,.not with you," "sententiously .an swered the grief-stricken youth. turning, tear.swollen eyes upon the WUXI . • "No," said Maggie, "Charley and I, will go together. ,WhereYer, he goes,: d will go. If Mr. Seymour takes him, I will beg Mrs. Seymour to , take me." Dr. McNab bad_good reasons for, feel. I ing interested in the children, and 'what those - reasons were will 'appear in the course ouratory., It was . one., about a week after the.events Just narrated took place, that Mr. • mid Mrs. Seymbur sat at the break fast- table, the,. gentleman reading the Morning paper and sipping his coffee by turns, .Iwhile the-lady-remained silent,' sprarentlyin deep thoughtaubont some- At length,.throwing down hilt paper and emptying his cup at a draught, Mr. Seymour said, with a sigh: •i i never take- up a 'paper of.lateimy 'dear, that do tot come across the lle - - tailr of some hornble case of destitution -and misery." ; "I - -hatre noticed, Andrew,?!, sald'afra. -Seymour, "that of-late you seem more ithan:usually interested la the sufferings of the.poore My; attentioa, too, bas-been much: attracted to 'nigh:; cum since I heard of your praiseworthy action, iti Sere iceko tbst.unforpmate , ;Whco died of starvation. Although, admit that - youveonduct was commend.. ablo,l -cannot underetand why-yed have taken-web an-interest in her orphan-boy. After superintending :the: ftmeral, - and paying' all the'expenses; you bringlwo destitute - children- here to your own home, one of -them the unfortunate woman's son." • ' Mrs. Seymour paused, in order to give her' husband an opportunity , to say something in explanation, but he re mained silent. and she continued : "And another singular phase - of this most singular matter is, that you seem . less inclined to converse about the boy than you do' about the girl. Without any inquiry upon my part, you told me all you know about the girl, but when I ventured to piestion - ycniccuicerriink the boy, you evinced a palpable 'disincline to converse on the =bleat; and would not give tee the slightest satisfaction. .-Well, ruy.dear," said Mr.. Seymour, apparently with - great reluctance, “it is true thatl haVe all along.tried to avoid this subject. but, as-you force ins to it, I will admitithatthere is a mystery about the boy and his mother—,a mystery which I have reasons of my own for not wishing to explah., anti which could advantage you nothing-, even should Ido so. Let me implore M you, then, as you value our domestic quiet, not to allude to the sub. ject agaih. The boy will be out of the house shortly, and, after he is gone, let us cease to talk of the past. AI spoke to au employing silversmith about him yesteraav, Mr. Barak Jefrr!ea, and Char ley ia to be placed in his care tomorrow. But bow about your little protege, Mag gie? Have you found a place for her yet, or do you mean to adopt her?" "I would willingly adopt her," replied Mrs. Seymour, who saw at once that it would be useless to attempt to penetrate her husband's secret, and who assumed a satisfaction she by no means felt, "if I could reconcile such a course with my conscience, but I fear lam growing too fond of bar, and we should not place our affections upon things of this earth. The -fact that our Heavenly Father, has never blesSed us with children is the best proof that He intended I should devote myself entirely to Hifi service. She is a sweet child, and I am happy in having been able to pluck her as a brand from the I n burning, (this was a favorl ' expression with the lady) but I cannot ake up my mind to amine the entire care of her, and, so I think I will pe mit a'Mrs. Dockett, who kills made a plication to our Society for a little girl to adopt, to take her. .She seems a very pions kind of Woman, and has promi ed to bring Maggie up in the faith." Poor Maggie! she little k ew the fate that awaited her. And he Mrs. Sey mour been aware of it; her philanthropic heart would have thrilled with horror, and she would as soon have thought of placing' the ' helpless little one In the 'keeping of a beast. An hour later, after Mr. Seymour had left the house, to attend to business, Mrs. _Dockett made her appearanoe, wishing to consult with Mrs. Seymour about ta king charge of Maggie. 4.lcLow old did you say she was?" asked Mrs. Dockett, after some preliminary observations had passed between herself and! Mrs. Seymour. is impossible for us to say, exact ly,"kreplled the latter lady, for the child does not know her age. T should sup. pose her, however, to be about nine years old:" "The dear child !" exclaimed Mrs. Duckett, with fervor; "and what is her name, mem?" "Of that we are also ignorant," an swered Mrs. Seymour—"she is a poor little waif, of whose history we have been able to learn but lit tle. About three years ago her father, a, besotted creature, who was not tit to have charge of a doe, much less a tender child. hired a room in the house from which we took her. He died mis- erably in prison not long afterward of delirium tremens, and from that time till we found - her, the little , unfortunate picked up her living by running errands for the tenants. Maggie is the only name by which she is at present known." "The poor darlin', unfortnit little soul!" exclaimed Mrs. Dockett, applying her handkerchief to her eyes.. "Oh, Mrs. Seymour, I must have that childl I feel like I could eat her up now without even seem& of her. I wanted to get some poor little waif, as you call it, without no father or mother, or any friends to care_ for it, and I'm so glad I applted to your blessed, Heavenly Society, you don't . 1 know !" • Had Mrs. Dockett known bow inextri cably interwoven was the past history of that little unfortunate with her own, she -would hot have been so perfectly self-; possessed as - she contemplated taking ,J charge of her. But she did not know it, snit - she-was happy in her Ignorance. 'You will-treat her load respects as if , she were my child, and I had placed her with; you to board, will you?" asked; Mrs.-Seymour, dolighted with the flat tering-allusion which had been made to • th 4 Society. • • , Mrs. Duckett looked up toward. Heav en, as though calling the Sacred Hosts to witness her alncerity, then wiped her eyes energetically, Abe sighed heavily, and then said emphatically : "Won't I, though?" "And, you. will bring her up in the faith?" continued Mrs. Seymour; "you will studiously teach her to renounce the pampa- and vanities of this wicked world and. all • the sinful lusts of the flesh ? You will see to it that she listens only to sound doctrine? • "Mra. Seymour," responded Mrs. Dockett, half reproachfully but ecstati- • cant', "It I thought there was one hair in my head that. wasn't Episoopal, rd haye my head ':Shaved clean on purposie to get rid of that one, and wear a horrid cap the rest of •my days!" Mrs. Seymour-wanted no further proof of her . visitor s , fitness for any work which sbe might, be . called -upon to do, after she bad. given such powerful evi dence of.': , 'the faith that was in her," and so "the second waif" was furnished with smother? The next morning, when the children met : each other in the kitchen, the eyes of each were red with weeping. "We have got to go to different ,places, now, Charley," said . Magg i e, laying ber hand upon his arm, and looking tearful ly into his face. - - "Yes, Maggle,"seplied be, sadly, ! "I am eorry,wp can't be kept. together, but' it is better that we should' do something for ohrselves." • suppose it is," repded the little -I , creature, dejectedly, but I never thought Of parting from yon; Charley." "Never mind," said' the boy; hopeful ly; and A bright smile overspread his flne Ibatures as he spoke. "we shalt see each other often. 'Mr. Seymour has promised • me that already.- He has told me where Mrs: Dockett lives' on Long Island, and, if I Work smart ; -perhaps I shall be al loWed: to visit- you' every - week. Who knowel" ; "Oh, If 1 was only sure of that!" ex clalthed thechild, joyfully. • "Besides, " • continued • the boy, ener getically, -am to learn , a .good • trade, and tam , to have .plenty of over-work. Who can-tellbdw much I may be able to Save ° npt • Why,'L might be able to, pay your board and. buy clothes for you =in' a Tittle while;:and. then you could come and live in the city - where I could see you every dar t Only think of that, Maggie!' • "•Poor children! -.Their- happy anticipa tions, were but ehort4l.v.ed. Tey had al- Ways <been familiar. With iniserv, but there'stA4 a "deeper deep" of Wretched riegiffor'thein stlll. l z ' - • I Mr. Seymour had placed Charles Hot llittre.Vdth the-allverstaith for a fortnight on trial / Istthe' endi of which if all ,parties were satisfied,-he wall 'to be duly apprenticed; butt& boy had not • heed under the charge of his employer ttiveek before he discovered that there was some thing wrong about the man, although the latter tried hard to appear excessively paroot.like and amiable. Among the apprentices who operated in the "beehive," as the shop was termed by Mr: Jeffries, was a little, pale-faced. consumptlYo4ooking boy, about the age of Charles Hollister. who at once attrac ted the` attention and excited the coin- miseratitin of tbe newly-entered appren tice; irhci felt a secretsatisfaction when he was Ipfcirthed'ihat the boy in whosiname Vas Richard-Manners, was to be'his room=mate. The two boys be came fast friends the very first night that they slept together, and they grew more and more attached to each other as their intimacy became' closer. The first etibrt of the , new apprentice, naturally enough, was to gather from his companion tome idea of his employer and his fellow apprentices; but, strange ly enough, the boy would never allow himself to be drawn Into conversation on that subject. He would talk freely enough on any oth- , r theme, but the mo ment the shop was mentioned, he was dumb; nor could all the ingenuity , of young Hollister put him off his guard. • It was the night before the one upon which the probationary fortnight of the new apprentice would expire, and he and his room-mate had retired to their room. i Hollister was the first to throw his clothes off and jump into bed, and as he lay there watering his room-mate, he could not help noticing the look of pain ful anxiety which rested upon the fee . - tures of the latter. The boy was never at any time disposed to be mirthful; but now hislace wore a look which plainly spoke of some especial source of regret, and before getting into bed, he, contrary to his usual custom, carefully ooked un der it, and around the.room, and finally, he opened the bed-room door and looked out into the entry. "What's the matter. Dick?" said Hol lister, When the latter had at length stretched himself out at his side. "You ain't afraid of burglars, are you?" "No;" replied the boy, in a. whisper, "Wuss'en that." "What is it, then?" asked Hollister. "Come, speak out, don't be alarmed!" "Hush b-h !" whispered the boy, trem bling as he spoke; "don't speak so loud— he might hear you." , "And who is he?" asked Hollister:with out altering his tone. . ) "I won't talk to you Charley," replied the boy, in a whisper so low as to be almost Mendable, "if you don't speak lower. I know he is around,somewhere, and I tell you be will hear you." "Well then," whispered Hollister, who, willing to gratify the lad, brought his voice down to the lowest pitch. "I will speak low; and now tell me who is that he you are so much afraid of ?" "The Boss!" replied the boy, in .a frightened tone; "and you'd be afraid too, if you knew him as well as I do." ' "Well, I don't like hint very much myself, Dick," replied Hollister; "but I don't see anything in him tb be frighten ed at, and I don't see as we've much to complain about: He uses us prettywell. We've got plenty to eat, and to drink, and to wear, and don't have to work very tl 2l i n r4 o . l ' l, yes," whispered ick, signifi cantly, "that's 'cos he's go a new boy on trial. We aliens do have a high old time whenever a new boy comes, but we have to pay up for it afterward. It seems to me almost as if you were my brother, Charley, and I will say this much to you, if I die for it—don't you be bound to him!" "What are you whispering about there, ! , Richard?" broke in the shrill voice of the king-bee from the entry outside; "I am afraid I will have to curtail your sleeping hours; you've got too much time for sleeping—you have!" "I knew he was around!" whispered the little unfortunate. "Oh! won't I catch it for this?" And turning his back 1 to his companion, he refused to say an other word. , _ The boy's warning was not without its effect upon the mind of voung Hollister; but, having once resolved upon his course of action, he was not easily to be swerved therefrom; and before closing his eyes in sleep he determined to carry out his original purpose, let what world happen—which he subsequently did; but he had not been lin indented apprentice forty-eight hours when he bitterly re gretted not having taken his little .room mate's advice. From the moment the documents were signed which placed Charles Hollister beneath the entire control. of Mr. Jef fries for seven yeark, the demeanor -of the latter toward his apprentices under went so complete a change, that the newly bound lad, although prepared to witness _something of the kind from what Dick Manners had said, was greatly astonished. Ignorant of the world, and thoroughly artless and honest himself, he never imagined that any one could exercise ouch perfect • hypocrisy. During the whole fortnight while he was on trial, he had 'noticed that the boys were treated with great consideration. All this was changed, h?wever.i as 8001 1 SS the neophyte became ,a full-fledged "bee" —then tasks were imposed upon then'. starred apprentices the completion of which took them from twelveto sixteen hairs per day,'and they were cotopelled to submit daily to a thousand - harrowing pieces' ofinjustice which were calcula ted to,wound the pridei and lacerate the feelings of any boy possessing the slight est spirt. It was on the morning' of the second day of young Hollister's - apprenticeship, and he was busily employed at the' side of Dick Manners, under whose tuition be had temporarilybeen placed, when Mr. Barak Jeffries entered the "beehive," and. as WWI his wont; began the exercise of his daily tortures. - Walking from one to another of : his apprentices, be be stowed upon each as he paseed along some bitinginuendo or sdme - eutting re mark which admitted of no-reply, till at length she sf... behind Dick Mariners, who Mt hispre .11COalthciugh be did not see - him, and • shuddered as he con tinued his work without looking up. "Richard?" squeaked the immaculate proprietor of thel"bee-hive." • At the sound of his voloe both boys looked up, - add Hollister noticed that the tyrant held in his hand 11 - • raw-hide, which till then he had' kept , concealed behind him. "Richard!" repeated Jeffries; "you did not finish soldering them 'ere thimbles last night." • ;: . t "No, "No, eir," replied the boy, apprehent sively, "if you please, eir,'l.couldn't." "Cou'dn't;,' °sidelined Mr. Jeffries, as suming a look _of offended dignity. "couldn't, sir? DO,you mean to tell me to my ftice that I have 'imposed a task upon one of•-.my boyiwhich he Couldn't perform?' y am • grieved. I rarely. am grieved, Richard Manners„ to iind that yyou are eight aprd case -- skit a very hard case - in spite of all my talkin' to •you;• and Advising bt you, and 'per-, stilidln! of lon Ito do better. - - • I Can't alt low slob' coniddct in •mr•tbeehive,l'islr;, and although >I 1M ready to shed leant when I think' r dedn' of - MI shall bare: to punish yorieeverely again. It's:Very-• tryin' to A magi of' my tensibilltles,'but shall hirve to do it; I can't help myself, it's a dooty wet I•oWe to' you and your Mether, and to myself ' • • • He took the Nor trenibling-ladc-by the shciulderi as he spekel," and. elevated his Whip•in the air; tint before hshati struck 'a blew, Hollister, who • was et first ren 'dered dumb by surprise; exclaimed, im ploringly ' - • • "Oh, don't whip' him,' Mr. Jeffries! Please, don't,: air I know' he tried his best to finish his stint, for it was three o'clock this morning before hegot to bed. Besides, err, he's sick. He conidn't get to sleep for coughing, for an hour after he laid down?' Mr. Jeffries dropped his uplifted arm and stood gazing at the new apprentice , with a lOok. of perfect amazement. "Is it possible that I can be in my right senses?"he exclaimed at length, have I acted as principal of the theehive' up to this late day, to have a fresh-made apprentice a-given of me advice. Mas- ' ter Hollister, you have committed a very grave I.:tense. sir—an offense sir, which nothitr but your ceofiuty rules and regularons could induce ine to oyerlook. I will forgive you this time, sir, but look out in futur' how you yen tile to speak afore you're spoken to. As for this 'ere boy, I can't forgive hirn—i. I wish I could—l , shall have to aive him some wholesome punishment, and I shall much against my wishes. be obliged to report his outrageous conduct to his mother!" This last sentence was one of Mr Barak Jeffries' master strokes in the exercise of orture. It pierced like a sharp knife he heart of the boy, and the fiend knew t would when he uttered it. Mrs. Man- - - ners, the boy's mother, was a widow, , and he •was her only son—the child of her old age. She idolized him, almost, and before she anpren ticed him to the monster of the "bee hive," she fondly hoped that he would grow up respected by his fellow men and ' a blessing to her—the pride of her heart arid the staff of her declining years. But alt her anticipations were crushed as soon as communication was established between herself and Barak Jeffries, who pictured her poor boy as a very monster of disobedience and ingratitude juve nile fiend, in whose character it would be hard to discover one redeeming trait. The poor women'did not wish to be lieve these terrible stories; but when they came from a man of such unques tionable respectability as Barak Jeffries —a man who dwelt upon her son's short cominge with apparent reluctance, how could she refrain from conjuring him by the memory of his dead father, not to add the * sin of falsehood to his other misdeeds by denying the charges which were alleged against him? -Oh how many tender hearts have been broken, and how many sterner ones ren dered ealloz s and dead to all 'feeling by the devilish skill of Barak Jeffries? how many thieves and assassins, and desper ate ruffians have received the bent of their dispositions from such establish ments as the "bee-hive?" No cry of pain escaped the lips of Richard Manners, as the fiend who held him in his grasp proceeded to shower upon him a succession of heavy blows. He did not strive to get away, although the assault increased in violence with his passiveness,and the vital fluid stained his shirt as the instrument of torture lacerated his flesh, for his heart was bleeding too, and the pain which he felt there was greater than even his physical suffering. ITe was thinking of his mother and of the punishment so oft repeated, which. his cruel tyrant had threatened to inflict upon her. Bat there was one who felt every blow which descended upon the hack of the helpless boy as keenly as though it had been inflicted upon him self._Of a just and generous, but im pettius and fiery nature, his young spirit chafed under such an exhibition of manifest cruelty and injustice. Trac table and mild to a degree under the power of kindness, he was a very demon when excited by wrong and oppression. A boy in years he was at heart a man, and fear had no part In his composition. From the moment that Barak Jeffries struck the first blow he bad dropped his tools, and stood looking on like one sud denly stricken dumb by stirpise. As the punishment progressed, however, his dark eyes assumed an expression of fe rocity, hia broad chest rose and fell with the tumultuous passion which agitated It, and the large veins upon hisneck and forehead swelled nearly to bursting, and at length suddenly' rushing at Jeffries, he jerked the whip'from his hand, threw it into the farther corner of the room, and in a voice husky with emotion, shrieked out: “Stop!” and selzinra large hammer the boy wielded it aloft and aimed a wicked blow at the head et his master. The continuation of this truthful and deeply , interesting narrative will be found in a serial story, entitled 6 .31 AG GIE, THE CIiARITY CBILD,” 'pub lished in No. 11 of the NEW YORK WEEKLY, NOW READY. 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