Windham County Democrat. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1836-1853, 1853-10-05
From the New York Tribune.
HOT CORN; OR LIFE IN THE CITY.

HOT CORN; OR LIFE IN THE CITY
"Hor Corn! Here's your nice Hot Corn,
smoking hot, smoking hot, just from the pot r
Hour after hour last evening, as we sat over the
desk, this cry came up in soft plantive voice
under our window, which told us OF one OF the
wavs of the poor to exc out the means of subsist-
ence in this overburdened, ll-fed and worse LODI
ged home of misery-of so many without means,
who are constantly crowding into the dirtest pur-
leus of this notorious dirty city, where they are
EXPOSED to the daily chance Of death from some
sudden outbreaking epidemic like that now desc
lating the same kind of streets in New Orleans
and swallowing up its thousands of victims from
the same class of poverty-stricken, uncomtortaby-
provided-for human beings, who know not how,
or have not the power to flee to the healthy hills
and green fields of the country. Here they live,
barely live, in holes almost as hot ms the hot corn,
the cry of which rung in our ears from dark until
midnight.
"Hot corn, hot corn here's your nice hot corn
rose up in faint, child-like voice, which seemed
to have been aroused by the sound of our step as
we were about entering the Park, while the City
Hall clock told the hour when ghosts 90 forth up
on their midnight rambles. We started as tho
a spirit had given us rap, for the sound seemed
10 come out of one of the iron posts which stand
as sentinels over the main entrance, forbiddlng all
vehicles to enter unless the driver takes the trou-
BILE to pull up and tumble out OF the way one OF
the aforesaid posts, which is not often DONE be-
cause one of them, if not always, is often out Of
its place. giving free ingress to the court yard, or
livery stable grounds of the City Hall, which, in
consideration of the growth of few miserable
dusty brown trees and doubtful colored grass
patches, we call 'fhe Park"
Looking over the post we discovered the owner
of the hot corn cry, in the person of an emacaed
little girl about twelve years old, whose dirty
frock was nearly the color Of the rusty iron, and
whose face, hands and feet, naturally white and
delicate, were grimmed with dirt until nearly of
the same color. There were two white streaks
running from the soft white blue eyes, that told Of
the hot scadng tears that were coursing over that
naturally beautiful face.
"Some corn, SIR lisped the little sufferer, as
she saw we had stopped to look at her, hardly
daring to speak to one who did not address her in
rough tones of command, such as "give me some
corn, you little VOLTS whelp, or name still more
opprobrious both to herself and mother Seeing
we had no look of contempt for her, she said pit
eously, "pease buy some corn, SIR
"No, my dear, we don't wish any it is not very
healthy in such warm weather as this, and cspe-
cially so late at night.
"Oh dear, then, what shall I do ?"
"Why, 90 home. 1t past midnight and such
little girls as you ought not to be in the streets Of
this bad city at this time of night"
81 can't so homeland l am so tired and sleepy.
Oh dear"
"Cannot go home. Why not 7"
"Oh, sir, my mother will whip me if go home
without selling all my corn. Oh, sir, do buy one
ear, and then l shall have only two left, and am
sure she might let little sis and me eat them for
have had nothing TO eat since morning, only one
apple the man gave me, and part of one he threw
away. / could have stole turnip at the grocery
when l went to get-to get something in the pitch
er for mother, but dare not. | did use to steal,
but Mr. Pease says it is naughty to STEAL and /
don't want to be naughty, indeed l don't and I
don't want to be bad girl, like Lizzie Smith, and
she is only two years older than me, if she does
dress fne cause Mr.. Pease says she will be Just
like old drunken Kate, one of these days. Oh,
dear, now there goes man and did not cry hot
corn, what shall / do ?"
"Do! There, that is what you shall do" as
we dashed the corn in the gutter. "Go home (;
tell your mother you have sold it all, and here is
the money"
"wont that be a lie, sir? Mr.. Pease says we
must not tell lies"
mo, my dear that won't be a lie because
have bought it and thrown it away, instead of eat
ing it,"
'But, sir, may 1 eat it then if you don't want
itl"
''No, It's not goo ford you; good bread is better,
and here is a siXpence to buy loaf and here is
another to buy some nice cakes for you and sis.
Now that is your money; don't give it to your
mother, and don't stay out so late again. Go home
earlier, and tell your mother that you cannot keep
awake, and if she is good mother she won't whip
you"
ooh, sir, she is good mother sometimes. But
j am sure the grocery man at the corner is not a
good man or he wouldn't sell mother rum, when
he knows-for Mr.. Pease told him so-that we
poor children were starving. Oh, wish all men
were good men like him, and then my mother
would not drink that nasty liquor and beat and
starve us, cause there would be nobody to sell
her any-and then we should have plenty to eat"
Away she ran down the street toward that reek-
ing centre of filth, poverty and misery, the noted
Five Points of New York.
AS we plodded up Broadway, looking in here
and there upon the palatial splendors of metropo-
Titan "saoons"-we think that is the word for
fashionable upper class grog-shops-we almost in
voluntarily cried shot corn" as we saw the hot
spirits of that grain, under the various guises of
squire gin--od rum-pale brandy-pure port
Heidsick or Lager-bier"-poured down the hot
Threats of men-and alb, yes, of women, too, whose
daughters may some day sit at midnight upon the
cold curbstone crying @hot corn" to gain penny
for the purchase Of drink of the fiery dragon
they are now inviting to a home in their bosoms
whose cry in after years will be "gve, give, give"
and still as unsatsfed as the horse eachs daughter
Again, as we passed up that street, still busy
and thTppged at midnight, as country village at