The Madisonian. [volume] (Washington City [i.e. Washington, D.C.]) 1837-1845, 1839-04-27
-. rae FACTORY GIRL.


w.. our li,.Ie factry girl is nine years
IA. ~ 4 no longer child; she - dwarf
~ woman. Her infancy was passed in pr
,,;.a nulino want; from the first, almost an
,,,,,sadsd hing. LEFT days and days alone. the
mother denied the enjoyment oil ma'erna,
sympathies by sharpest penury tine memo
hat a, the hearths uf the poor, now chiiis,
now blghls, and now makes stony hard the
human heart by kren necessity Of outdoor
toll for the infant mouth at home. God knows
how the child learned 10 walk! A short
time. and another baby engrosses the few
hours may, half hours) stolen from work to
lavish on the last horn and then, another
helpless squalid thing; and then, another;
and then, onr little factory gill becomes
nurse, and, at six years old, hugs in her lean
arms, her half-naked iaiterdemalion brother.
She has mol strength TO carry him, meagre as
he is, hut shuilies and stumbles with nun
along the street and now she sits IN door
ways; and now in lanes aud alleys her infant
mind receives the seeds of future ihings; II
things of goodness, blessed change; II
otherwise, the u,nhinking viriuous ihrnw up
their eyes aud marvel al the wrong! And
thus the child passes nine years OF infant
life. What an infancy! Lean and wl'hered.
and care-worn, Eyes. care-worn! her baby
countenance made dull and colorless by the
miserable aspects every where surrounding
her.) she seems as If she had never been
younger; nay. more, that years could hardly
make her look more old, there is within her
face Of babyhood 70 deep stamp Of sad ma
turity. All the better yearnings Of the heart
the peace, the sporiivuness, born and
Astounding at the hearihs Of competence
what has she known Of these Life to her
has been joyless, selfish, hungry, peevish
thing. Her hume has been the homo OF grind
ing want; at her Preside, man, the lord Of
creation, has been scrf to the lowest ncces-
sites, and not always silent and unrepining
one. How often is the brutal husband and
the reckless father the horrid handiwork OF
misery alone! Of oil the violence, the
cruelty, inflicted on each other hy the miser-
ably poor, how much of il is but the wild
ouburst OF in,olerable self suffering And
our little factory girl has seen this and the
shadow Of the. evil has fallen upon her face.
Let us, however, accompany tho child to
the factory. What bitter season! How
the wind howls--with what dash the sleet
is flung against the windows! The earth is
frozen hard as iron, and the wind cuts blight
ingly; snow is on the ground II Is i've
o'clock on a January morning. The child IS
up, aud with its scanty covering pulled about
il, descends shivering 10 the street. Poor
little wench her blood is frozen under her
very finger nails Her f,ot, TOO, flor her
shoes have been patched past further patch
Jag, aud yawn in half dozen places is
CALLED with nasty chilblain, and she imps
most painfully. Her father. bound to the
same factory, lifts her upon hi, back, and
checking an oath. groans from between his
teeth. The girl is nine years old; and, half
clad, in a des"lating January morning, is car
ried-,hrough cold and darkness carricd-to'
work
The girl is now in the factory. From this
moment her childhood utterly ceases; she is
bondswoman ii all the cares Of mature life.
Nine hours day is her allotted time for work;
,ile remainder OF the "a hours 10 be passed
in what in the sports Of youih-in the hap
nv, artless recrediions Of children to whom
even the consciousness Of existence is at
times source Of the keenest pleasure ? An
hour and a half is given Il, breakfast and din
rer, and when we remember the wages earn
ed by the factory girl. sometimes as much as
As 81. per week, and the costlness of the
luxury OF bread, an hour and half for two
meals is surely time sufficient; they might,
we have no doubt, be eaten--ay. boih-in
half the allotted time. There yet remains
many hours-honrs for what ? For the
merest rudiments of education Afer nine
hours nnceasing labor in the cotton factpsy,
how elnstic the mind! how apt for insiruc-
ton! how strong to pour over book how
fitted to receive any impressions that shall
rise its possessor degree above the beast
slaughtered for the shambles! The factory
girl returns home, and what can she do but
sleep! What should she do but seek Oblivion
from the noise, the racking noise Of enSines,
the hell Of sounds which she has all day suf-
ferad! Who would keep her one half hour
from her miserable bed /! Who would lessen
the blessings Of sleep, since sleep may
sometimes bring 10 her at least dreams Of
quiet visions of happiness! What TO her is
reading and writing let her quaf forgellul-
ness.