HOME INDUSTRIES AND HOME HEROISM.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume XXXXII, Issue 104, 22 June 1900, Page 4

HOME INDUSTRIES AND HOME HEROISM.

(Thomas Holmes in Contemporary Review.) ( Continued.) But let us go still lower down among those "■ whose steps lead down to hell," and see humanity glorified! On one of the bitterest winter days I can remember, a number of women sat in the female prisoners' waiting-room in one of our police-courts. It was a make-, j shift sort of place—the roomaiffid "the 1 cells, made of boarding- but for sat two young women, who were by no means strangers to the place. Fairly dressed, but coarse and degraded, they lived , upon the streets. There was no beauty about them, and, truth to tell, they I were equally ready to drink, fight, or steal, and to decent ears their language was not nice. Beside them sat a young woman of a different stamp, but the same occupation. Her big eyes were closed, her head was leaning against the boards, and it was patent to any one that death was upon her. She was nicely dressed and of refined appearance; not a slum girl. Opposite to them sat a fearsome thing, all disease and dirt, that had been a woman. She had been found dead-drunk in the street and taken on an ambulance to the police-station, The other three were found dru»k and disorderly at 1 a.m. " Look at that, lassies I" I said to the strong coarse'girls, pointing to the "ghoul." They looked and shuddered. "Look at this!" and I pointed to their poor dying friend. " Which will you be ?" They looked uncomfortable, but did not answer. " Come! I will send you away from London, and you shall begin a new life." "And what is to become of her?" I was asked. "I will take her to the infirmary." " No, thank you, we can look after her ourselves." One by one before the magistrate they were fined lOs., or seven days. And the two coarse girls paid their fines and went out into the wintry street. But the " thi*)g " and the delicate one had no money, and were placed in a cell. Now, this particular wooden cell had a charm about it that the rest of the cells lacked. A street artist had been one of its occupants but a short time before, and had whiled away some of his time with the aid of crayons, and the good old motto " Nil Desperandum," in old English capitals and startling colours, smiled upon every one who entered. When I went to the cell to speak to the sick woman I found underneath the motto two words freshly written, " Deus Misereatur." I knew who had written them. But while I was speaking to her the gaoler came for her ; her fine had been paid. There in the gaoler's office stood the two coarse girls; cold as it was they were without their jackets, for they had left them at nearest pawnshop to raise their friend's fine.' I took them into a refreshment house, i and gave them a warm breakfast, and I told them that they had done a deed of heavenly charity and made the angels smile. I renewed my offer, and begged that I might be allowed to care for the sickly one. But no; they meant to see the last of her. I watched them in the street that cold wintry mornjng, two jacketless girls, one on each side of the dying one, supporting her. I saw them pass into a haunt of vice, and I knew they would be faithful unto death. In less than a month's time there was a funeral from that house, and though it was not the time of flowers there was a good display, and in a cab behind the hearse rode the two coarse girls, each holding a wreath, and each newly dressed in mourning. How had they got their new clothing? Five shillings down and half-a-crown a week to the " tallyman." How had they paid for the funeral, kept their friend, paid the doctor? By selling themselves, by hunting drunken men and possibly by robbing them, by the help of other "unfortunates," and by getting into debt. And I had no word of condemnation as I watched them pass along, only a lump in my throat, a dimness in my eyes, and thankfulness in my heart. I had visited a house of refinement, I had seen a well-dressed mother, and had pleaded for an erring but dying girl. " I must consider her sisters," was the only reply I obtained ; money was offered for the girl's needs, but as motherly love and sisterly sympathy were denied I declined it, and left it to the outcasts to tend the dying and to bury the dead. And the two, what of them ? They are older, they are coarser, they are often before the Court, when policemen tell of their bad conduct and worse language, and sometimes they go to prison. Their mourning has long since worn out or been torn to shreds, but the " tallyman " has been paid in full. " Deus misereatur," The mills of our mercantile god grind exceeding small, and spnre neither old women nor young children. If they had more justice they would require less charity. Yet deep down in the human heart lies the germ of better things. " _,lan to man is dear." In f-pite of competition, in spite of the, 'greed for wealth, in spite of idle pleasure, in spite of grossness and wickedness, " Tliou shalt love' thy neighbour" is still a natural law. And the poor often live up to it. Again and again we have known a collier go down into thedeadlv gas on the off chance of saving a comrade whom yesterday he was ready to light for a pot of beer. Again and again we read of men losing their lives in the vain endeavour t'> save others. Brave fel- j lows! you say. No braver than others, j for we are all built that way ; there is ' but one human heart. | TIIE END.