THE LITTLE CHILDREN.

NZ Truth, Issue 93, 30 March 1907, Page 8

THE LITTLE CHILDREN.

His wife subsequently died m the hospital .from cancer. While she was at the hospital Mrs. Mitchell came to, his shop one mornmg aha saia witness's child would always be a nuisance ana always keep him poor ; and that it haa the same, complaint as its mother. Mrs. Mitchell also tola him if he gave her £10 ana 10s a week she would get ria of the child. for him. She wouM give it opening medicine ana stick a hatpin m its heart. Witness told her never to recognise him any more, ' and never to mention his name. He got m a terrible state, ana was very angry. He haa never since spoken to her. The chiia was with his mother, ana was m a much better state of health." — Clipping from eviaence m Perth (W.A.) Baby Farming Horror.

The little children weep and cry, The little children fail, No hand is near their tears to dry— No breast to hush their wail.

God's sun shines golden day by day, His stars dispel the night ; The little children waste away Or it be dark or light. ■- - '

In noisome rooms and holes they wait The oncoming of Djath, Abandoned to a shocking fate,, And fighting for each breath.

No mother's wondrous love is thine, No father's tender care — Children of curses— and of prayers, Abandoned to dispair 1

The harpy conics — the harpy goes, A monster m the gloom, With cruel words and wicked blowa She stills the noisome room.

The dying infant's helpless wail Palls on a callous ear ; The little children weep and fail — ■ . And there is no help near.

No help? Ah, yes ; there is one aid In this foul murder mart ; For, see 1 one babe at peace is laid, A bat-pin m its heart 1

"How long, O Lota, how long, how long?" Shall justice be denied — Shall triple wrong be heaped on wrong, And devilish arts abide?

The little children ! Helpless — weak, And spotless as the snow ! On their oppressors may God wreak The wrath of man, below I

Vile infamy ! To starve and beat * The pledges of a love, Perchance as pure, and true, and sweet As God's m heaven above I

Yefc the sun shines golden day by day, And earth is glad and free, And no one rises up to say Such horror shall not be 1

Had I but m my hand a sword, As I have but a pen, I would do the vengeance of the Lord On a world of shameless men !

Truth is better than fiction. Nonpareil Cycles for speed and durability cannot be beaten throughout New Zealand. Low prices, easy terms, and large prices allowed on old cycles.— The Nonpareil Cycle and Motor Co., Wellington and Palmerston North.

Rockefeller says the newspapers which have assessed his wealth at £100,000,000 have spoken falsely, and m reality he is only worth a paltry £G0,00O",O0O, which pans out at £4,000,000 per year. Now that the anarchic Socialists know Rockefeller is so poor they may spare Uim s