8
THE CHE MAW A AMERICAN
TOO LiITERAJj j
One day a man who was interested in social work j
went into the tenement district, and, wishing to see a j
certain man, but having only a general idea as to
where he lived, approached a small boy for infor
mation. "My boy," he remarked in a kind and gentle tone
to the youngster, "can you show me where Mr.
Schmidtowitz lives?"'
"Yes, sir," was the quick reply of the boy, scent
ing a nickel tip. "Come right with me, sir."
With this the boy entered an adjacent doorway, and
started to climb the difficult stair. Up four flights he
went, the visitor breathlessly following, and finally
paused at an open door.
"This is the floor, sir," said the boy, wistfully
looking for the coin. "Mr. Schmidtowitz lives in
there."
"Looks as if we had stacked up against hard luck,"
remarked the visitor, peering into the room. "Mr.
Schmidtowitz doesn't appear to be here."
"No, sir," was the startling rejoinder of the boy.
"That was him sittin' down on the front door-step
where we came in."
"You ought to be contented and not fret for your
old home," said the mistress as she looked into the
dim eyes of her young Swedish maid. ' ' You are earn
ing good wages, your work is light, every one is kind
to you, and you have plenty of friends here."
"Yas'm," said the girl, "but it is not the place
where I do be that makes me vera homesick; it is the
place where I don't be." Grit.
j