Rensselaer Republican, Volume 17, Number 33, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 April 1885 — Our Little Joe. [ARTICLE]

Our Little Joe.

In a newsboys’ home a visitor observed a child’s high-chair standing in a corner of the dining-room. “Have yon a child here?” he asked the matron. “No. That is ,our little Joe’s,” she said. A sudden silence followed. Even the boys standing near checked their noise and skirmishing for a few minutes. “Who was Joe?” asked the Traitor. “A little fellow,” said the matron, “who came to ns when he was but six years old. He was a hump-back and a cripple, never having grown after he was five. He was a bright, pushing little fellow, and a verv affectionate child. He slept here anti took most of his meals here. That is’ his chair. I I gave it to him. The superintendent said I favored him. Well, I was fond of Joe. -—■■ ■■ “We have a savings bank into which the boys put their pennies or dimes every week. It gives them the habit of economy. Joe began saving when he first came to ns. He would bring his five or ten cents every Saturday, laughing. “ ‘I am saving up to have a home of my own when I am grown up,’ he would say. “He had neither father nor mother, nor any kinsfolk, and I don’t know what was the boy’s idea of a home of his own. He was very happy here—a sort of ruler among the other boys. Yet he went on saving, and always for that purpose. ’ “He ’was never a strong boy, and when he was sixteen a heavy cold he took went to his lnngs. It only needed a day or two to make an end of his poor little body. One day he said to me, just after the clergyman had been with him: “ ‘ That money I’ve saved it will be enough to pay the doctor and buy a coffin for me.’ “ ‘But, Joe,’l said, ‘how about the home of your own ? ’ “He did not answer me at first, and then he smiled, saying, ‘That’s alt right!’ and he held my hand tight. Til have it. That’s all right/ “The next day it was all over. We took Joe’s money and paid the doctor and bought him a coffin. It didn’t need a big one. The boys ciubbed together, giving ten cents each*, and bought him a lovely pillow of white roses, with ‘Our Joe’ upon it. Every boy got a tag of black on his arm to go to the funeral. He had his own home then, sir. But wherever he was, L think the roses pleased him.” She fell behind as we passed on and dusted little Joe’e chair with her apron, setting it reverently apart into a qniet corner.