BEGGAR BOY'S MEAL

Shannon News, 19 January 1926, Page 4

BEGGAR BOY'S MEAL

STALKING A OAT. In every big town of Eussia the boy orphans of the last revolution in the Caucasus infest the streets. In Moscow they are in their hundreds. None of them seems more than 15. There are no girls. . . It is hard to appreciate why; in ,a country where everyone is equal, these poor little animated scarecrows,* clad in rags insufficient even for the require, nients' of decency, should have to live on offal and sleep on the pavement. We saw one (writes Aiin Gray in the "Daily Mail") who was a leper. He was better dressed than any other beggar we had noticed. But the foul disease had made frightful ravages. His eyes had gone and the ends of his arms were covered up with curi. . ous wrappings, He stood outside Lenin's tomb in the Red Square. He seemed a sinister commentary. it was sunny in the Theatre Square, so it did not matter having to remain in charge of the car outside the par* ticular Government department which was trying, to disentangle the history of our passport visas with the assistance of my? companion—the Driver of Cars. The antics of seven little beggarboys were amusing—at firsti They' were laughing as they played a variant of hide-dnd-seek.. To see anyone laughing or even smiling in Moscow is so rare that the laughter of these children was pleasant indeed. Each clutched his bed—a sack, which also served as a receptacle for loot—in his hand. Round and round they went; then, • tiring, three squatted on their sacks- on the pavement, while the others, having exhausted my possibilities - for went away. Peace reigned in the' corner of tlie square. -:'_'.' s I took 1 my camera from the car, then stopped moving. Something had happened. The beggar boys had risen, separated, "arid were advancing stealthily towards a pile of rubbish in the middle of the square. ' Their quarry was a thin and mangy cat, prowling among the rubbish. J.t saw the boys, and the chase began. The wretched animal made feverish efforts to escape. This way and that it darted. There was no doubt it realised the danger. With a last des. perate effort it sprang clean through the window of the room in which I ' knew the Driver of Cars to be en. gaged in heated argument.

Check to the beggar boys. Moments passed, and then a typist, coming to the window, flung the cat back into the street. At first unobserved, it regained the heap of L rubbish. In a moment, however, the beggar boys were on it. This time the struggle was sharp, short, and furious. Kicking scratching, spitting, miaouing pitiously, it disappeared into a sack. Meal to the beggar boys. The pendant to this story is worthy of record. • Grimalkin's fate sealed, I remembered nay camera. Taking it from the car again I focused the hunters and hastily took a-'snap-shot. I was on the point of taking a second when a loud, angry voice began shouting from a second-floor window of the Government office. I looked up and saw a large official dressed in some kind, of uniform gesticulating fiercely. My interpreter hastily translated., "He says that you are to put your camera away at once—that it :s against the law to ake a photograph of the beggar boys of Moscow." It was then I believed what before seemed hardly to be although my informant had been one who must have known. These beggar boys are driven like cattle from Moscow miles into the country whenever an official delegation of some ' friendly foreign organisation visits the city. Weeks later the survivors creep back.