The Pittsburgh gazette. (Pittsburgh, Pa.) 1866-1877, February 20, 1869, Image 7

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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: , ,
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:
A Litt Feet Troien Off ! !
Villiainy , Thrder thetVeil of Charity'.
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
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
"'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
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
"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-
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!"
" 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
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
"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,
"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 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
"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
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 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, 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, 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• 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
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
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
lished in No. 11 of the NEW YORK
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