



Produced by Benjamin Klein







Jimmie Moore _of_ Bucktown

By Melvin E. Trotter



Chicago

The Winona Publishing Company

MCMIV



Copyright, 1904

by

The Winona Publishing Company

_August._




Contents

    I. The Invasion Begun
   II. "Der Gang"
  III. "The Busted Funeral"
   IV. Jimmie's New Pa
    V. Mrs. Cook's "Opery"
   VI. Mrs. Cook's First Prayer
  VII. Floe
 VIII. Bill's Pension
   IX. "Auntie's Favorite Horse"
    X. Jimmie's Education
   XI. The Meeting in the Market
  XII. Fred Hanks
 XIII. "Fagin's Meetin'"
  XIV. Fred and Doc
   XV. The Picnic
  XVI. Dave Strikes His Gait



Jimmie Moore of Bucktown




CHAPTER I

_The Invasion Begun_


"Please kin yer tell me where is der boss of dis Mishun?"

The superintendent turned sharply about and beheld a boy of
singularly striking appearance. His stature was that of a child
of ten or twelve years and his face that of a worn-out, heart-broken,
disappointed old man. His eyes, set far back in his head under
heavy eyebrows, indicated an almost abnormal development of
the perceptive faculties. In other respects the contour of the
head was not remarkable; but the face was one, once seen, never
to be forgotten. The nose was pointed and pinched, the cheeks
hollow, and the glance of his eye at once appealing and defiant.
There could be no doubt that this boy was a bread winner, and
that the burdens he carried were altogether too heavy for such
young shoulders.

From the ragged cap which he turned nervously in his hands to
the large pair of sharp-pointed ladies' shoes on his feet, every
garment was a misfit. The loss of a button from the neckband
of his blouse-waist permitted it to gap wide open and disclosed
the fact that he wore no underclothing. The day was bitterly
cold; and the boy's shivery look showed how greatly he suffered.

As the superintendent took in all these facts he realized that,
despite his unseemly attire and generally distracted appearance,
the boy was by no means an ordinary character. Down deep in
the dark gray eyes that never wavered under his steady gaze
he saw the making of a man mighty for good or evil.

"I guess I'm the man you want," said Morton, kindly. "Come into
my office."

Leading the way, he was followed by the boy into a small private
office at the back end of the big mission hall. Offering the
lad a seat, he turned to his desk, on which stood two telephones.
In an instant that boy was again upon his feet. Looking with
wide-open eyes, he inquired, "Be yer goin' ter call der bull?
I ain't as't yer fur nuthin'. Me Pa said yer was a good guy
and wouldn't squeal. I mus' go."

Morton intercepted the boy at the door. But it was some time
before he could persuade him that it was not his intention to
turn him over to the police, "the bull," for begging.

"I want to help you," he said. "I'll be your friend, and I won't
squeal on you either."

"Well, be yer Mister Morton?" asked the boy.

"Yes, that's my name," replied the superintendent. "And now
I want you to tell me all about your trouble. Who sent you to
me?"

"Me Pa. He heard your talk on der gospel wagon down at der square.
He don't talk about nuthin' else and he wants yer ter come an'
see him."

"Is he sick?"

"Sure he's sick. He's been in bed ever since Wednesday. Ma says
he's outer his head. Tuesday night he didn't come home home
from work, and Ma says, 'I guess he's drunk ag'in.' We waited
fur him till eleven o'clock and den I couldn't stay awake no
longer. 'Sides, der wood was all burnt up and we had ter go
ter bed ter keep warm. At five in der mornin' Mike Hardy, der
bar-keep' at Fagin's, saw Pa layin' in Rice's wagon box, out
in front of der market. It snowed on Pa, and he was near frozed.
Mike calls Bill Cook and dey brings Pa home. Bill and Pa is
chums; an' Bill gets drunk, too. Ma says dey bot' works fur
Fagin. When dey gits paid dey take all der money straight to
Fagin's and spends it for booze."

"Well, what's your name and where do you live?" interrupted
Morton.

"Me name's Jimmie Moore, and we live down in Bucktown near der
market."

"Go on with your story, sonny," said Morton.

"After dey got him in der house Ma and Bill gits his clothes
off and Bill goes and gets some wood and built a fire. I carried
me mornin' papers, and when I gits back I stayed wit' Pa while
Ma went ter Ransome's house up on der Avenue to do deir washin'.
Pa he slept all day till four in the afternoon, and den he raised
up straight in bed and, lookin' at somethin' in der corner of
der room, said, 'Can't yer see me hand? I raised it twice. Why
don't yer come and git me?' I couldn't see nuthin', but he keeps
on talkin' dat way fur a long time. Den he laid down again and
cried and said he wanted der mishun man ter come and see him.
When Ma gits back she sent me to der barber shop to git Fred
Hanks ter telerphone ter Dr. Possum. He's der city doctor. He
looked at Pa and said he had ammonia. Den Ma she cried, 'cause
she had no money ter git supper for us kids and fer the doctor's
paper, too."

"Pretty soon Mrs. Cook, that's Bill's missus, comes in and she
said she'd help take care of Pa. The neighbors done all dey
could, but we ain't got no money, er no wood, and der rent ain't
paid. We ain't had no fire since yisterday, and dis' mornin'
Ma sits down and cries 'cause der's nothin' for der kids ter
eat. Her and me don't mind, but we got four girl kids that's
hungry all der time. Pa set up in bed and said, 'Go to der mishun
man and tell him I mus' see him.' Ma sent me up ter see if yer
won't come down ter see Pa."

Finding a knitted scarf for the boy to tie about his neck, the
superintendent and Jimmie started for the sick man's bedside.
The section of the city where the Moore family lived, locally
known as Bucktown, contained the only real slums to be found
in the busy and rapidly growing metropolis. It was located on
a low tract of ground between the city market and the river,
and was inhabited chiefly by <DW64>s and very poor white people.

On the way Jimmie continued his story, and the superintendent
tried to tell him about the Father above who loves the poor
and who sent His Son to die that all the world might live and
have access to the unsearchable riches of God. "The only help
that is sure and lasting," he said, "comes from God. He can
find a way out of your trouble for you."

"I don't see how He kin help us," replied the boy. "They won't
give us no help at der city hall, 'cause we ain't been here