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Ebook has 503 lines and 20496 words, and 11 pages

THE LITTLE RAG PICKER.

EDDY AND HIS FISHES.

WILLIE'S GRAVE.

THE SUBSTITUTE.

THE HOSPITAL.

JOHNNY'S FRETTING.

The Little Rag Picker.

THE RAG AND COAL FIELD.

"DADDY, isn't it almost time to go home?" called out little six-year-old Dilly Hogan. "Daddy, I'm tired, I am; I want to go home and see mammy."

Her father, or Bill Hogan as he was called by his companions, was a man, with a hard, stern face. He heard his little girl, no doubt, for she was on the ground, close to his feet; but he made no answer.

I suppose you will want to know what poor Dilly had been doing to tire her so. Had she been throwing ball, or rolling hoop, or jumping rope? No.

Had she been playing with her dollies, putting on and taking off their best dresses, until she was tired with play? Oh, no!

Dilly knew nothing of these amusements, except as she sometimes saw children playing in the streets, or a little miss carrying a large dolly almost as smartly dressed as herself.

What was Dilly doing then? Why, she was a rag and coal picker. As soon as she was out of bed in the morning, she had some Indian porridge or a piece of dry bread, or sometimes a potato, and then she started off with her father, mother, and brothers, to pick rags, old paper, or coal.

Perhaps you have never heard of a coal field, and so I will tell you about it. Near almost all large cities some place is set apart where the rubbish gathered from the streets is carried. Persons who live in nice houses do not like to have old coal, broken crockery, or rags lying around their small yards, and so they gather all these things into barrels or boxes, and men go round with carts and take them away. These they carry and empty all over the great field kept for the purpose; and here men, women, and children go and gather up what they please.

This is a hard way to get a living, but the poor people who worked at it were glad to do anything to keep them from starving. The first man or woman who went into the field had the right to make choice of the place where he would work; so he walked quickly over the ground to see if one place looked better than another; and then he set himself to work, knowing that whatever he found would be his own.

Here old cinders, broken crockery, decayed potatoes or pumpkins, were thrown into the same heap with dirty house-cloths, old paper, or any kind of rubbish.

Some of the men who worked hero lived a few miles out of town, and were able to make a better living by keeping a horse and cart, and carrying away for sale so much of the coal as their neighbors wished to sell.

Here it was that poor Dilly had worked for ten long hours. Do you wonder she was tired? Oh, how she longed to jump up and run about, for her limbs ached from being bent under her. When she stopped just for a moment to look about, her father said, "Mind your work, Dilly!" or "Child, let other folks alone, and mind your own business!"

Then the little girl bent over her basket, her face growing every moment more sad, and wondering whether she should have to pick coal every day of her life.

To make the best of it, this was a bad school for Dilly to be brought up in, for she heard men, women, and even children swearing around her; and very often persons quarrelling about the lots they had marked out.

But there was one reason why the child was very anxious to go home. Only the night before God had sent her a baby brother, and she was just allowed to take a peep at him, as he lay on the straw pallet by her mother, before her father called her to go to work.

At last her father halloed to a man going by with an old shaky cart, to draw up and take his coal.

Dilly sprang to her feet, jumping with joy.

"Do keep still, can't ye?" cried Pat, her brother, in a surly tone.

"And what for would ye grudge the child the little comfort she has?" said Bill Hogan, turning toward his son in a threatening manner.

"And aren't ye glad to go home and see the baby, Pat?" inquired the child, laying her hand caressingly on his arm.

The boy shook her off without replying, and presently, her father having received the small sum due him for coal and junk, started to leave the field.

All around them the rag pickers were crying out for the carts, impatient to be gone, and Dilly, passing some children of her acquaintance, in a glad tone said, "I've got a baby, I have!"

When they were near the street where they lived, Bill Hogan stopped at a grocer's to buy some meal and a loaf of bread. He wanted to buy an ounce of tea for his sick wife, but after looking at the few coppers left in his hand, turned with a sigh from the counter.

In a few minutes they were at their own door. Dilly pulled her hand from her father, and darted up the rickety stairs.

"I want to see my baby!" she exclaimed, in an eager tone.

"Hush, child, the poor little cratur's slaping," said the mother softly.

Mrs. Hogan was sitting up on the straw, leaning against the side of the wall, trying to mend an old shirt for her husband. Her face was very pale, and as Bill and Pat came up the stairs, she cast a wishful glance at them. It said as plainly as looks could speak, "I am hungry. Have you brought me anything?"

The man did not reply, but calling Pat to pick up a few sticks, he took the only kettle in their possession, and went to a neighboring pump for some water.

When he returned, Dilly was on her knees by the bed, making the room ring with her merry laugh, as she touched by turns the soft cheeks and the rosy fingers of the baby boy.

"Will ye have a piece of the loaf now?" inquired Bill.

"Have ye enough for all?" she asked, with motherly anxiety.

He sighed as he broke a piece and put it into her hand.

Half an hour later the porridge was ready, and Dilly reluctantly left the baby to eat her portion. What was her delight to see a beautiful china cup in her father's hand, and to hear him say, "There, Dilly, I found that to-day among the old rubbish, and I saved it for you."

"It's always for Dilly ye're saving," muttered Pat sullenly.

"Get ye off to bed," said his father sternly, "I've enough to bear without your grumblings."

The next day when they reached the field, they found two women quarrelling about a lot which both of them had chosen; but without making any effort to settle their difficulty, Mr. Hogan called his children to follow him and went off to the farther end of the field. The lot he chose happened to be a very poor one, and long before night he had cleaned it of everything that was valuable.

Leaning his head on his hands he sighed heavily.

"We must all starve together," he said again and again. "There is no use in trying any longer. Now there's another mouth to feed, and winter coming on, there is nothing for us but to die."

Dilly heard her father and began to cry, but presently she went close to him, put her arms around his neck and laid her warm cheek against his.

If Dilly had been taught as you have, my little reader, she could have whispered words of comfort in his ear. She could have told him that God would take care of them, that he watches the sparrows, and gives the young ravens their food, and surely he will not forget the creatures he has made to love and serve him.

But though our little rag picker was a warm-hearted, loving child, she knew nothing about God, nor about the dear Saviour, who came into the world. So she only put her arms round him and said, "I love ye, daddy, I do."

Even this made the man feel much better. His face grew soft as he gazed at her, and his breast heaved as he said--

"After all, Dilly, I'd be worse off without ye; and now as we can't do any more here to-day, we will go home."

Leaving Pat to watch by their rags and coal till the carts came round, they walked briskly on, for the man had determined to take advantage of the opportunity and go through a street where a partly-burned house was being pulled down, in hope of getting some half-burned sticks of wood.

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