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A New Version of Very Old Fraud. Finding a Crust on Broadway — One of the Many Tricks of Smart Lazy Men.

      Life was not a summer's dream, but a nightmare of coldness. The street car men were lashing their horses; the drivers on the walks were dancing around and slapping their hands to force a warmth; the present monarch — cold — played liquor-ie tricks with the ears and nose of the temperance advocate as freely and liberally as with his opponent, and everybody was rushing and trying to keep warm. Just as I firmly planted the plates of my French heels in the lovely ice on the corner of Thirty-first street a poorly clad man jostled in front of me, and, stooping, picked up from the pavement a crust of bread!

      I paused, startled. Was it possible that any one in New York was so in want that he needs must eagerly clutch a crust from beneath one's feet? Thus I pondered, as I watched him wipe it on his coat sleeve and eye it greedily. A little shudder swept over me, and as I felt for my purse I began to think where I could get him work, It must be horrible to be hungry on a cold day. However, before I had opened my purse, that one thing, which wrecks so much happiness in this world came to me — doubt. I had traveled Broadway at all hours, seasons and times, and I never yet saw a crust of bread on the pavement. Of course it was not impossible for one to be there, but it was most improbable. The more I thought, which was done quicker than I can write it, the more I became convinced that there was method in the man's display of hunger. At last I thought it would not be a bad idea to watch him and prove to my own satisfaction what I wanted to know. I would follow him and if he ate the crust I could lavish on him the charity that infused my soul before that demon doubt took possession of it.

      After getting the crust hound stepped back of me, and, in order to force him to take the lead, I became very much interested in some strawberries and tomatoes and cucumbers which, dreams of summer, were staring winter in the face from a window. This little act had the desired effect, and the man passed on. I started after, determined to settle the doubt that worried me. I had a chance now to study his appearance. He was clean, so, despite other sins, he was somewhat nearer to Godliness than most of the members of his profession. He wore a reddish mustache and whiskers, and a black slouch hat. He was well built, and doubtless 5 feet 10 or 11 inches in height. He wore a short coat and blue overalls. I noticed that he had a stuffed appearance, as if he was wearing two or more suits, so I decided that he was not suffering from cold.

      He had passed several persons without displaying the crust, and I began to think he was honest and my suspicions unfounded. I had just concluded to speak to him and offer aid when one of my feet started on a toboggan excursion without warning its mate. As I felt it go I murmured mentally: "Good-by, perpendicular," when an outstretched arm helped me to gain my balance. I looked up into a pair of dark eyes and pressed a coat sleeve, while I gratefully expressed my thanks for the service. The smile in those dark eyes still burned in mine when I looked ahead and saw my honest man in search of a livelihood stoop before a richly clad woman, who had a girl with yellow, curly hair by the hand. She stopped as she noticed the act, and I forgot the laughing, dark eyes as I hurried on in time to see the child look up into her face and say pleadingly: "Oh, mamma!"

      The man had also stopped and seemingly was removing dirt from the crust. I noticed his eyes were fixed sharply on the woman. She opened her purse, and the child handed him some silver, which he received with uncovered head and an affecting gesture of a cant sleeve across supposedly bedimmed eyes. No, I did not rush up and warn the unsuspecting woman. I hate scenes; She would not miss the money, and I wanted to see the play to the end.

      I kept close to a window during this little act, and endeavored to make my face speak an admiration I was far from feeling for the display therein. Up Broadway the charitable couple went, and down Broadway the needy man, with me close by. I got closer than I expected, and was nonplussed when he stopped on the curb of the walk. I wondered what my best move was, for I dared not attract his attention by stopping or by passing him. I simply crossed the street. It was in the middle of the block, and the snow was rather deep, but I waded with the best possible grace, for I knew that we must pay for every pleasure. My boots were high, so I considered this amusement cheap.

      I quickly turned my eyes across the street just in time to see the object of my walk step in front of two women and bend to the pavement. I saw his act clearly this time. He did not throw the crust on the pavement, as I had supposed, but kept it in his hand and merely stooped in order to attract their attention, and in arising he deftly displayed the crust in his hand as he brushed it on his sleeve. The women did not look like S. S. T.'s, but they both gave him money.

      The same touching thanks were completed, my professional beggar started on down the avenue, and so did I. Once again my beggar worked his little game on two fat women, but they did not give him anything. The beggar never once dropped the crust before men. Trembling, I saw him go quickly in a crowd and apparently pick up the crust from before the feet of three women. The eldest of the lot crossed to him where he paused an instant on the curb and slipped something into his hand.

      I had just determined to walk up to him and quietly tell him he was watched when he saw me and recognized me, I am sure, from the expression that crossed his face. He knew that I was following him, for he lowered his head and hurried on down Broadway. His look of guilt increased my desire to follow him to his home, but I felt that it would be useless to attempt it, since he knew me.

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Nellie Bly (1864-1922)

in New York World.