CHAPTER I. A STRANGER COMES TO TOWN.
Tor, a Street Boy of Jerusalem
By Florence Morse Kingsley
CHAPTER I. A STRANGER COMES TO TOWN.
Tor was hungry. Hunger was a common experience in Tor’s short life; he merely tightened the dingy rags about his middle and continued to stare at the group of sparrows quarreling noisily in the red dust of the street. It had occurred to Tor that the life of a sparrow must be vastly pleasanter than that of a boy. “They find plenty to eat,” he told himself enviously, as he hugged his lean little body. With a sudden impulse the child flung a pebble into the midst of the belligerents. The birds shook the dust from their ruffled feathers with noisy clamor of dismay, darted into the bright air, and disappeared far above the tops of the tallest houses.
Tor laughed aloud as a second idea struggled with the first in his clouded brain; then he checked himself thoughtfully, and, winding his rags more closely about him, trotted noiselessly away down the street.
Chelluh, the blind beggar, for more years than one could count on the fingers of both hands the undisputed proprietor of a snug corner just within the Damascus gate, was shaking his brazen cup after his daily custom. The cup rattled bravely, for certain coins had already been dropped therein by the charitable.
“Have mercy, kind lords of Jerusalem; have mercy on the sorrows of one born blind!” chanted the beggar in his whining monotone. “Kind lords, beautiful ladies, only a denarius, I beseech of you, and may the blessings of heaven—” The blind man paused, his quick ear catching the sound of a hesitating footfall amid the hurrying steps which passed in and out at the open gate. “Now may Jove, Jehovah, and all lesser gods be gracious unto thee, noble sir,” he began.
On a sudden this professional plaint broke into a bellow of anger and alarm. “Help! Thieves! Murder!” he cried. “My money—my hard-earned money! Some one has stolen my money!” No one appearing to pay the slightest heed to his outcries, the beggar...
