Out -=Of Mulberry Street

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Out -=Of Mulberry Street = O ut - of M ulber ry St r eet Stori es of t en em ent life in N ew York C ity BY Ja c o b A . Riis Auth r of H ow t he O ther H a lf Lives o , “ ” The C hild ren of t he P r etc oo , . C ri ht 1 8 1 8 8 opy g , 97 , 9 , T HE C EN URY C o By T . " mi les WW? Paw P R E F A C E SINCE I wrote How the Other Half Lives I have been asked many times upon what of I a c basis experience, of fact, built that count of life in New York tenements . These stories contain the answer . They are from the daily grist of the police hopper in Mul I berry street, at which have been grinding for twenty years . They are reprinted from of the columns my newspaper, and from the magazines as a contribution to the di scussion v of of the li es and homes the poor, which in recent years has done much to better their lot, and is yet to do much more when we a ll (fih r have come to understand each e . In of this discussion only facts are value, and fe these stories are true . In the w instances in whi ch I have taken the ordering of events own s e into my hands, it is chiefly their uen c e w I q ith which have interfered . The I facts themselves remain a s found them . J . A . R . 301 ULBERRY S TR M EET . C O N T E N T S MERRY CHRISTMAS IN THE TENEMENTS ’ ’ T WAS LI! A S DOINGS E DUB OUR UES N TH Q , FATHER AND SO ’ AB E S GAME OF JAC K S A LITTLE PIC TURE A DREAM OF THE WOODS A HEA THEN BABY HE KEPT HIS TRYST OHN AV IN ISFIT J G , M ’ IN THE CHILDREN S HOSPITAL ’ NIGGER MARTHA S WAKE A CHIP FROM THE MAELSTROM ’ SARAH J OYOE S HUSBANDS THE CAT TOOK THE KOSHER MEAT FIRE IN THE BARRAOKS A WAR ON THE GOATS ’ ROV ER S LAST FIGHT WHEN THE LETTER CAME CONTENTS THE KID LOST CHILDREN ’ THE SLIPPER - MAKER S FAST PAOLO ’ S AWAKENING ’ THE LITTLE DOLLAR S CHRISTMAS JOURNEY A PROPOSAL ON THE ELEVATED DEATH COMES TO CAT ALLEY WHY IT HAPPENED THE CHRISTENING IN BOTTLE ALLEY IN THE MULBERRY STREET COURT SPOONING IN DYNAMITE ALLEY HEROES WHO FIGHT FIRE OUT OF MULBERRY STRE ET MERRY CHRI STMAS IN THE TENEMENT S a s Wi T w just a sprig Of holly, th scarlet berries showing against the green, stuck on e Of ffi in, by the O ce boys probably, behind the Sign that pointed the wa y up to the edi toria l rooms . There was no reason Why it Should have made me start When I came sud d enly upon it at the turn of the stairs ; but did it . Perhaps it wa s because that dingy l ha l, given over to dust and drafts a llthe days of wa s I the year, the last place in Which ex e ted p c to meet With any Sign Of Christmas ; perhaps it wa s because I myself had nearly forgotten the holiday . Whatever the cause , ui it gave me q te a turn . I stood, and stared at it . It looked dry, almost withered . Probably it had come a a long w y . Not much holly grows about 2 MERRY CHRISTMAS n - Pri ting House Square, except in the col ored supplements, and that is scarcely Of a kind to stir tender memories . Withered and f . I o dry, this did thought, with a twinge of conscience, Of secret little conclaves my l chi dren, Of private views of things hidden of of from mama at the bottom drawers, Wild fli ghts when papa appeared unbidden in hi I the door, w ch had allowed for once to pass unheeded . Absorbed in the business of ffi I of the O ce, had hardly thought Christmas on . coming , until now it was here And this Sprig of holly on the wall that had come to — how remind me, come nobody knew far, - did it grow yet in the beech wood clearings, as it did when I gathered it as a boy, track ” in g through the snow ? Christ- thorn we our called it in Danish tongue . The red ber ries , to our Simple faith, were the drops Of blood that fell from the Saviour’ s brow a s it drooped under i ts cruel crown upon the cross . Back to the long ago wandered my thoughts : to the moss - grown beech in which I cut my name and that Of a little girl with fi yellow curls, of blessed memory, with the rst jack- knife I ever owned ; to the story- book with the little fir - tree that pined because it wa s small, and because the hare jumped over IN THE TENEMENTS 3 ul not it, and wo d be content though the wind s un and the kissed it, and the dews wept over it and told it to rejoice in its young life ; and wa s s o that proud when , in the second year, it the hare had to go round it, because then wa s — knew it getting big, Hans Christian ’ Andersen s story that we loved above all the rest ; for we knew the tree right well, and the hare ; even the tracks it left in the snow we - . ul s ea had seen Ah, those were the Y e tide Domkir ke sons, when the Old shone with a thousand wax candles on Christmas eve ; when all business wa s laid aside to let the world make merry one whole week ; when big red on apples were roasted the stove, and bigger doughnuts were baked Within it for the lon g feast ! Never such had been known Since . d m . Christmas to ay is but a name , a emory A door Slammed below, and let in the noises f o . the street The holly rustled in the draft, “ one out Some going said, A Merry Christ ” ! . mas to you all in a big, hearty voice I awoke from my reverie to fin d myself back in New York With a glad glow at the heart . It wa s n o . was ot true . I had only f rgotten It f m . mysel that had changed, not Christ as wa s r W Old That he e, ith the cheer, the Old - W l the message Of good il , Old royal road to 4 MERRY CHRISTMAS HOW I s een the heart of mankind . Often had its blessed charity, that never corrupts, make light in the hovels of darkness and despair ! how Often watched its Spirit Of self sacrifice who and devotion in those had, besides them i ! selves, noth ng to give and as Often the Sight had made whole my faith in human wa s of . 0 ! nature N Christmas not the past, fi its Spirit not dead . The lad who xed the Sprig Of holly on the stairs knew it ; my r e ’ - porter s note book bore Witness to it . Wit ness Of my contrition for the wrong I did the gentle spirit Of the holiday, here let the book tell the story of on e Christmas in the tene ments of the poor IT is evening in Grand street . The shops east and west are pouring forth their swarms fi of workers . Street and Sidewalk are lled with an eager throng Of young men and i women , chatting ga ly, and elbowing the jam Of holiday Shoppers that linger about the big - stores . The street cars labor along, loaded down to the steps with passengers carrying bundles Of every Size and Odd shape . Along the cur b a string of peddlers hawk penny - toys in push carts with noisy clamor, fearless for once of being moved on by the police . IN THE TENEMENTS Christmas brin gs a two weeks’ respite from - persecution even to the friendless street fakir . From the Window of on e brilli antly lighted store a bevy of mature dolls in dishabille stretch forth their arms appealin gly to a - troop of factory hands passing by . The cha fi Who young men the girls , shriek with laughter and run . The policeman on the cor ner stops beating his hands together to keep a warm, and makes a mock ttempt to catch il them, whereat their shrieks rise shr ler than “ ’ ’ ’ s tockin ll ever . Them s o yourn be the 0 ’ ! death Santa Claus he Shouts after them, n as they dodge . And they, looking back, s ap “ ” fr esh ! saucily, Mind yer business, y But their laughter belies their words . They gin it to ye straight that time, grins the ’ out grocer s clerk, come to snatch a look at the crowds ; and the two swap holiday greet ings . two of At the corner, where opposing tides - travel form an eddy, the line Of push carts de - In bouches down the darker Side street . its gloom their torches burn with a fitful glare that wakes black Shadows among the trusses Of the railroad structure overhead . A woman, with worn shawl drawn tightly about head u dl for and sho lders, bargains with a ped er a 6 MERRY CHRISTMAS ’ monkey on a stick and two cents worth of fli tter - ill- gold .
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