The Literary echo, and Pawcatuck advertiser. [volume] (Westerly, R.I.) 1851-1854, 1853-09-29
WESTERLY, r. l., THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 90, 1853.

such is the work of an editor who caters
for the appctites Of his morning readers
we were not present the next night to
note the absence Of that cry from its
accustomed spot; but the next, and
next, and still on we listened in vain
that voice was not there True, the
same hot corn cry, came floating upon
the evening breeze acr, IS the park, or
wormed its way from some cracked
fiddle voice down the street, up and
around the corner; or out Of Il dark
alley with a broken English accent, that
sounded almost as much like 4" lager
bier" us it did like the commodity the
immigrant, struggling to exc out his
precarious existence, wished to sell. All
over this great poverty burdened and
wicked waste extravagant City, at this
season, that cry goes up, nightly pro-
claiming one Of the habits of this late
supper eating people.
Yes, we missed that cry Hot
corn" was no longer like the music of a
stringcd instrument to weary man, for
the treble string was broken, and, to us,
the harmony spoiled.
What was that voice to us? 1t was
but one of the ten thousand, just as mis-
cradle, which may be daily heard where
human misery has its abode. That
voice, as some others have, did not
haunt US, but its absence, in spite of all
reasoning, made us feel uneasy. We
do not believe in spirit manifesto
tons half as strongly as some Of the
nincompoops of this world would have
their long g-earcd listeners think, yet we
do believe there is a spirit, in man, not
yet made manifest which makes US yearn
after co-existing spirits in this sphere
and in this life, and that there is no
need of going beyond it, seeking after
strange idols.
We shall not stop to inquire whether
it was "a spirit of the first or sixth
sphere" that prompted us as we left our
desk one evening, to 90 down among the
abodes Of the poor, with II feeling Of
certainty, that we should see Or hear
something Of the lost voice, for that
spirit led us on; perhaps it was the
spirit of curiosity no matter, it led,
and we followed in the route we had seen
that little one 20 bcfore-it was our only
cue--we knew no name-had no num-
Der, nor knew no one that knew her
whom we were going to find. Yes, we
knew that good Missionary, and she had
told us of the good words which he had
spoken, but would he know her from the
hundred just like her. Perhaps. 1t
will cost nothing to inquire. We went
down Center Street with light heart
we turned into Cross Street with step
buoyed by hope /; we stood at the corner
Of Little Water Street and looked around
inquiringly of the spirit, and mentally
said, (which way now :" The answer
was a far-off scream Of despair We
stood still with an open ear, for the
sound of prayer, followed by sweet
hymn Of praise to God, went up from
the site of the Old Brewery, in which
we joined, thankful that that was no
longer the abode Of all the worst crimes
ever concentrated under one roof. Hark,
a step approaches Our unseen guide
whispered, "ask him" 1t were a
curious question to ask stranger, in
such strange place, particularly like
him, haggard with overmuch care, toll
or mental labor. Frematurely old, his
days shortened by over-work, in young
years, as his furrowed face and almost
phrenzicd eye hurriedly indicates, as we
sec the fash of the lamp upon his dark
visage, as he approaches with that
peculiar American step which impcls
the body forward at railroad speed.
Shall we get out of his way before he
walks over us What if he is crazy {
man; No; the spirit was right-no
false raps here. 1t is that good mis-
sionary The man who has done more
to reform that den of crime, the Five
Points of New York, than all the NUM-
cipal Authorities of this Police-hunting,
and Prison. Furnishing City, where mis-
fortune is deemed crime, or the unfor-
tunate driven to it, by the way they are
treated, instead Of being reformed, or ]