Started With Three Girls to Cemetery and All Got Lost.
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Three little black-eyed girls, who could not have been over 6 years old, all garbed in white dresses, in harmony with Easter, were found near Twelfth and Washington streets yesterday afternoon by Sergeant James Jadwin. The officer’s attention was first attracted when he noticed that the fourth member of the company, a boy about 8 years old, was crying.
“We’re all lost,” he managed to tell the officer.
“Yes, we are lost,” said the older of the three girls. “We live way over by Fifth and Harrison streets. We were going to the graveyard to put flowers on the graves, but Jimmie don’t know the way.”
Sergeant Jadwin surmised at once that they were Italian children, though it would have been impossible to have told by their manner of speech. Jimmie cried until the quartette reached the station, where he recognized the locality. The children were soon surrounded by the officers, who were more than amused by the oldest girl’s plain English, and her denunciation of Jimmie.
“He told us he would take us to the graveyard,” she said, her black eyes snapping. “Then he took us away and away,” and she dramatized the description by motioning with the hands the direction which they had taken. “Then, he’s a cry-baby, too,” she continued, “for as soon as he saw he was lost, he began to cry.”
“Can you write your name?” asked James Cummings, the telephone man.
In answer, the child took the officer’s pencil, and, with childish scrawl which was perfectly legible, she wrote the names of the three others, as well as her own name.
“Maggie Saoa” was her own name, she said, as she showed her skill to the officer. Her two companions, she said, were her cousins, Marie and Josie Saoa, who all lived in the same flat at 532 Harrison street. The boy was identified as James Scarcello, who lives at 536 Harrison street. Thee children were taken home by the wagon driver.
Lying on a cot in the insane ward at the general hospital, George Carolmas, a subject of the king of Greece, has for thirty-five days been asleep without interruption except for one day last week. Before being removed from his rooming house, 15 West Fifth street, on March 12, he has slept for four days.
Carolmas came to America from his home in Athens, about eight months ago. He worked on the railroad as a track layer after arriving in Missouri. Like most of the thrifty foreigners, Carolmas saved most of his wages and horded it for the proverbial rainy day. In some way which has not been satisfactorily explained he lost his little savings and brooded over his misfortune.
The Greeks who knew him were aware that Carolmas was brooding over his loss, but little attention was paid until March 8. That morning Carolmas failed to get up and go to work. His landlord knocked on the door of his room several times during the day to awaken him, but failed to receive any response. In the afternoon he entered the room and discovered that his roomer was sound asleep and that speaking to him or shaking him would not waken him. Becoming frightened the Greek landlord summoned Dr. George Ringel of the emergency hospital.