The Argosy — page 158: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

143 A HEROINE OF THE GUTTER. It was a day in last July, The hottest day of all, The sun smote from the heavy sky, A sullen brazen ball. The sort of day that makes you think Of fields, and-cooling things to drink. To my mind sunshine tries the slum More than the drizzly days ; Beyond the actual city’s hum Stretch out these grimy ways, Rank, noxious, pitifully bare, Under the searching summer glare. A four-year girl marched down the street, Most self-possessedly proud ; Behind, more curious than discreet, Followed an anxious crowd. She had a halfpenny to spend, And all the gutter must attend. The Neapolitan, whose trade Phes brisk on days like this, Poured the unwilling lemonade Guiltless of faintest fizz. My little heroine stooped to drink, And paused upon the very brink. Three pairs of clutching, greedy paws, Six eyes that gloat for sips, Three noses tilted in applause, Six hopefully-licked lips, All close behind—the treat must pass Round—and returns, an empty glass! My little girl had never heard Of Christian self-denial, She only gazed, without a word, At empty glass and phial, And sighed to see there was ‘“‘no more ”— An unked thing when one is four ! The lemonade flowed after that In streams—for I stood treat ; And grinning Giulio waves his hat Whene’er I cross the street : While sure some Angel treasured up The record of that emptied cup ! COMMICOOOKS.CO©