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THE POOR OF LONDON.
THE KINDNESS SHOWN TO ONE
ANOTHER IN MISFORTUNE.
Practical Help In Sickneftg and Bereave*
meat—Adopting Children—A Sister In
Misfortuue — A Dead Comrade’s Pet.
Kindness to Animals.
It Is not only In their perhaps thriftless
almsgiving that tho poor show their sym
pathy wjth their own order. They show
it In thdir practical help 1 in times of sick
ness and bereavement; they show it in
their readiness to share their scanty food
and shelter with the hungry and the homo
less; they show It In the way in which
they tako other people’s troubles upon
their already overburdened backs; and in
the wa iy they frequently sacrifice their
timo an d their money in endeavoring to
! nit their poor brothers and sisters who
lave been pushed down in legs. tho battle of
life onco moro upon their
The poor live so closely together that
they know a good deal of each other’s cir ,
cumstancos, and naturally tho ladies are
the first to find out each other’s business.
So it comes that the poor woman living
with her husband and family in one room
knows that the people in trio next room
are without food. She and her husband
go short and send in half their loaf to
their starving with neighbors, and left she sends in
the teapot the leaves In it, and
she fills It up with hot water. This, at
least, gives the recipient a warm drink,
whatever tho particular flavor of it
may bo.
Ono remarkable way In which the poor
show their kindness of heart is in adopt¬
ing children. It frequently happens In
neighborhoods where tho laboring and
criminal classes herd together that a with fam
ily of children may bo suddenly left
out father or mother Father ^ets “put
away” and mother, in her grief and de
spair, goes to drown her sorrow at the
public house, and sometimes ends by fall
ing herself into the clutches of the law
Such cases as this occur over and over
again, and in five cases out of tpn the
children are taken care of, washed and
dressed and fed by some poor mother liv
ing In the same house, who herself has a
largo ingly family All this is done ungrudg¬ such
and as a “duty.” If you ask a
woman what prompted her to burden her
self with the maintenance of another
woman’s family wonderful she will tell the you there She
was nothing in act.
supposes us some neighbor ’ud do tho
same by her young ’tins if ever sho was in
trouble."
A poor, unfortunate others girl, living her In a ten¬
ement house with of unhappy
class, fell seriously 111 Tlio landlord
wanted her sent to the workhouse. Tho
other girls said. “No. not if they knew
it ” These poor creatures pawned all the
clothes they could spare in order to pay
for a clever doctor—for her ease was a
complicated ono—and her all the they doctor clubbed ordered to¬
gether and got
lier They relieved each other at tho sick
bed and took it in turns to nurse her day
and night, and they made her stop at
homo when sho was bettor for over six
weeks, as the doctor said there would still
bo a risk In her going out, during all of
which time they paid her rent and every
expense Incurred by her illness, though to
do it they had to deny themselves not
only any comfort but almost any neces¬
sary of life Bravo girls thoso ami good
girts have IIow different would their lives
been, perhaps, hud they known in
their homes such loyo and devotion as
they showered upon their sisters in. mis¬
fortune.
The poor man who loses his wife finds
plenty of sympathy and practical help
among his poor neighbors. Somo good th
soul comes in at onco and sees to
young children for him if he has uono old
enough to look after tho others. The
baby not infrequently finds a new mother
to take it to her breast, and oven the
man’s comfort is not overlooked. Mrs.
Jones will run In for half an hour while
lie is away at work, and tiny up his place
for him, and Mrs. Brown will pop across
the road and ge his tea ready for him
against ho comes home. There are some
charming little idylls of tho courts and
alloys which aro waiting to bo told—ten
der proso poems, fragrant with the self
sacrifice ami Uie heroisms of the poor and
the lowly; but they must be told from
the beginning 1 to the end. To eut them
down into a bald narrative of incidents
would be to rob them of all their grace
and charm.
The sympathy of the poor shows itself
sometimes in a tender regard for some¬
thing which has been tho pet of a dead
coni rude or neighbor. Some little time
back, a hawker in the East End lay dying,
lie was a widower and childless, but he
lad one companion—a faithful, loving
ittlo dog, who had lived with him for
many years. As tho poor fellow lay on
his death bed, tho little dog stretched it
^elf out beside him, and every now and
hen licked the weak, thin hand that
rested lovingly upon its little head. Tho
>ld hawker’s mind was tortured as to
.vliat would be his faithful companion’s
futo after ho had gone to his grave;
;o one day ho sent for a mate, and ho
;aid to him: when I’m gc one,
uko my little Fan, and let her li a vo
t homo with you till she dies, will
* 011 , mate? I shall dio happy if I know
is she'll havo a friend to take care
>f her after I’m dead.” Jim, a street
hawker of dolls, gripped his friend’s hand
and said: “Yes, mate; I’ll tako her, and
promise you as she shall be as comfort¬
able as l ean make her.”
This kindness to animals is by no means
a rare trait among tho poor. I have seen
a lean and hungry lad many a time shar¬
ing his scanty meal of bread and butter
with a stray cur in tho slums, and I know
mo common" lodging house cat, who died
in the kitchen amid the tears and sobs of
the rough men and women, who clustered
around to see their pet breathe its last.—
George it. Sims in Philadelphia Times,
Bosses of tb« Civil War.
The extent of these losses will bo bet¬
tor understood if compared with somo of
tho extraordinary cases cited in the his¬
tories of other wars. Take, for instance,
the charge of the Light Brigade at Balak
lava—the charge of the Six Hundred.
Lord Cardigan took 673 officers and men
aito that action; they lost 113 killed and
184 wounded; total, 247, or 86.7 per cent.
The heaviest loss in tho late Franco
Prussiun war occurred at Mars-la-Tour,
In the Sixteenth German infantry (Third
Westphalian), which lost 49 percent. But
i ho One Hundred and Forty first Penn¬
sylvania lost 76 per cent: at Gettysburg,
while regimental losses of GO per cent,
were frequent occurrences in both Union
and Confederate armies. In the war for
tho Union there were scores of regiments,
unknown or forgotten in history, whose
percentage of killed and wounded in cer
tain actions would far exceed that of tho
much praised Light Brigade; and nobody
blundered cither.—Col. W. F. Fox in Tk#
Century
Schools and Schoolhouses.
There are today in the five states (of
Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Michigan and Wis
cousin) moro than 50,000 schoolhouses in
wliich schools are maintained from three
to tin months every year. The value of
thoso buildings, with tho grounds, is con
sidcrably over $80,000,000, which is more
than one-half that of all other public
school property in tho Union. Nearly
3,000,000 of children the public annually schools; receive while in
struetion in
more tlmu 85,000 teachers, a large num
her of whom havo been trained especially
for their work, aro employed as their in
structors. Tho total amount expended
each year for tho support of these schools
somewhat exceeds $32,000,000, or moro
than eight dollars for each child of school
ago within tho states. As to the charac¬
ter of the instruction given, it is sufficient
to say that it is nowhere excelled.—James
Baldwin iu Scribner’s Magazine.
It Makes a Difference.
Husband (all ready for the theatre)—I
declare, dear, it's raining bard.
Wife (buttoning her gloves)—W"ell
what’s a little rain? One would think
from your tone of voice that we were
about starting for church.—Harper’s
Bazar.
vitalized ' ,tunzc “ bv by a a r*u»v * ai»y.
When a house has onco been well vital
i*ed by » baby, or a succession of them, it
is like a Faure’s battery, charged off will,
electricity, it does not give it hut. very
slowly. It is never an empty home after
A Lesson In Etiquette.
A y mng man stood in a doorway on
Saturday evening Another young “Hello, man
and Mary!” a called young the woman passed. who stood,
the young mail
loudly, to companion of tho young
man who walked That young man
stopped walking, deposited his girl in an
other doorway, came back to the other
young man, and gave him an unmerciful
beating “Wlmt did you do that for?”
demanded tho vanquished one as soon as
he had a chance to speak “You insulted
the lady I was with,” was the reply “I
didn’t do anything but say ‘Hello. Mary!’
and, anyway, don’t you know that she’s
my Sister?” “Yes, I know that, hut you
had no right to attract attention to heron
a crowded street by hollering at her Do
you suppose that the crowd know that
you are the brother? What would they
think of a girl thus rudely accosted?” It
was a severe lesson in street etiquette.—
Buffalo Exuress.
A Newspaper Man’s Vacation.
Several newspaper men were speaking
of how generous the proprietors of their
papers were in granting them vacations,
when a fellow named Skaggs remarked;
i i Yes, I worked for one of thoso fellows
once. I asked him one day if he would
give mo a vacation. lie replied that the
granting of my request would give him
great pleasure. I went away and stayed
three weeks.”
“Well,” some one remarked, “was there
anything wrong about that?” Oh, The
“About the vacation? no.
vacation was all right, but the proprietor
made it too long. When I went back he
told me to let it run on. That was five
years ago, and it is still running on. Very
kind in him, I must say, but one trouble
arose. lie stopped my pay.”—Arkansaw
Traveler.
In a Scotch Railway Station.
[Scene—Scotch railway station. Ticket
collector, in making his collection, finds
an old gentleman fumbling in his pockets
please? for his ticket. Old Gentleman—I’m ] Ticket Collector—Tickets just lookin’
for it. Ticket Collector—Well, I’ll look
in again in a few minutes. See and have
shortly; it ready then Ticket collector returns still
but tho old gentleman is
hunting —Why for it. Ticket Collector (suddenly)
you have it in your mouth, man!
Old Gentleman (giving him tlio ticket)—
Oh, so I hael Here you aro! Another
Gentleman in. tho carriage, as.the train
moves on, to first gentleman—I’m afraid
you’re losing your memory, sir. Old Gen¬
tleman—Nae fear o’ that; nac fear o’ that!
Tlio ticket was a fornicht auld, and I wis
jist sookin’ the date aff’t! Tableau.—Tho
Argonaut.
Whore It Got Its Name.
11 Many persons have wondered how doing
a vel y S alu P got to he called “dancing
racquet.” Mrs. Simmons, a well
known young lady of W ashington, com
P^sed a few years ago a galop and-was at
a ^ oss *° S* vo ^ a J iam0 ; One aa y* being
disturbed by children in the room, she
called out: “Don’t make such a racket,”
which was caught up and repeated by the
children as they went out. It occurred
her that it was a good name for her
#®ce, and so, with a touch of French, she
called it the “Racquet Galop,’ and over
‘*-00,000 copies of it have been sold. Phil
adelphia Times,
Didn’t <»nite Understand It.
Johann Schnell, a new messenger in the
navy tremely department at Washington, is ex
nervous regarding a telephone,
never He having seen one until a few days
ago. was obliged to answer a call
from the instrument recently, and his in
coherent answers exasperated the speakei
at the other end of the line. “You must
have been drinking,” Schnell heard the
angry individual exclaim. “No, 1
haven’t,” said the messenger, gently.
“It must bo tho strong tobacco I am
chewing World. that you smell.”—New York
Norfolk. Ya., claims the distinction of
beimr f * the world’s fear greatest fi)0 r>eannt market
“ di ses every ^fwhiehTreCTownn of 2 000 bushels
^
® ‘ *
” '
*
A Trick of Coin Tossing.
A man walked into an uptown saloo:
the other day and called for a glass o
beer. He fished a new silver dollar fror
his pocket, spun If^ on the counter, ant
offered to bet the baitender the beer tha
it would turn up heads. The bartende:
took the bet and won it, for tails were u]
when the coin settled. A well dressec
countryman by the bar looked Interested
and the man exclaimed pettishly dollar. that hi
would call the next spin for a
“Done," said the countryman. Thi
man spun the dollar, called tails anc
won
“Mere luck,” said the countryman, dis¬
gustedly, “or else a trick. I’ll go you an¬
other dollar on it if you let me spin It.”
The man assented, and the countryman
spun the dollar. The man called tails,
and tails appeared. As the countryman,
with an exclamation, turned to go, the
man said, in a patronizing call it four tone: times out of
“I bet I can
five. ”
“Five dollars on it,” said the country¬
man, hotly. the with the
The man put up money
bartender, and, as the countryman spun
the dollar, called tails five successive
times The dollar settled tails four times,
and the man pocketed the bet. Then he
said.
“Look here, greeny, since I’ve Won
seven of your dollars and don’t expect tell to
work this city again very soon, I’ll
you something you didn’t know. When
you spin a coin the side that has the
heaviest markings will settle at the bot¬
tom nine times out of ten, perfectly provided level. tho
surface you spin on is
With a new silver dollar you’ll win by
calling tails just nine times in ten on the
long run. Other coins don’t have such a
difference in weight between the mold
ings of the two sides, and ain’t so certain,
and in old silver dollars the difference is
lessened by the wearing off of the inscrip
tions. You stick to new silver dollars,
work it gently, and you’ll have your $7
back before night. Good day.”—New York
Sun.
flow to Make Good Koumiss.
The Bashkirs are renowned for their
skill in making koumiss, or fermented
mares’ milk, which is now extensively
consumed by patients suffering from dys¬
peptic ft and wasting diseases, and so easy is
of digestion that invalids d drink ten,
fifteen, and occasionally even twenty
champagne bottles a day, while a Bashkir
is able to overcome a couple of gallons at
a sitting, and in a hour or two to be ready
for more To insure good koumiss it is
essential that the mares be of the steppo
breed, and fed on steppe pasture They
are milked from four to eight times a day,
the foal being kept apart from the mother,
and allowed to suck only in the night¬
time. The mare will not give her milk,
however, unless at the time of milking
her foal is brought to her side, when
is the joy of reunion that after sundry
acts of loving and smelling itself and kissing, her
the maternal feeling shows nipples by
sometimes giving milk from both
at once.
Milking ip done by the Bashkir women
who, taking a position close to the hind
legs of the mare, rest on one knee, and on
the other support a pail directly under the
udder, pulling at each nipple in turn, and
receiving from three to* four pints each
time of milking To make koumiss the
milk is beaten up in a churn (but not suffi¬
ciently to produce butter), and by fermen¬
tation is converted after twenty-four
hours into weak koumiss, from which con
dition after twelve hours more it passes
into a medium degree of strength, whilst
strong koumiss is produced by assiduous
agitation of the milk for two or three days,
and it is then said to be sli Ightly intoxica¬
ting.—Henry Lansdeil, D. nt in Harper’s
Magazine.
A Cure for Scandal.
Mrs. Duseuberry—What queer ways
they have in some Morocco countries! the This paper
says that in when women
talk scandal their lips are rubbed with
cayenne pepper. odd indeed.
Mr. Dusenberry—An Where custom
(Half an hour later.) are you
going, my dear?
Mrs. Dusenberry—To the sewing circle.
Let me see; I've got my scissors, thread,
thimble
per?—Detroit Mr. Dusenberry—And the cayenne pep¬
Free Press.
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