Hannibal journal. (Hannibal, Mo.) 1852-1853, 1853-09-08
From the New York Tribune
HOT CORN.

story under this title, detailing some of the
suffcrngs which crime and misery bring up.
on the poor of this city, and hinted at tn,
cause. That story is not yet finished. The
next night after the interview with thai
neglected, Ill used little girl, the same plain.
tive cry OF "Hot corn, hot corn, here is voul
nice hot corn" came up through our open
window, on the midng ht air, while the rain
came dripping down from the overcharged
Slouds IN Just sufficient quantities to wet the
thin single garment of the owner Of that
sweet young voice, without giving her an ac-
cePtaole excuse for leaving her post before her
hard task was completed. At length the voice
grew faint, and then ceased, and then we knew
that exhausted nature slept that tender house
plant was exposed to the chilling influence of a
night rain; that an innocent little girl had the
curb-stone for bed and an iron post for a pill
low; that by and by she would awaken, not
invgorate1 with refreshing slumber, but poi
soned with the sleep-nhaled miasma of the filth
reeking gutter at her feet, which may be
breathed with i,npunity awake, but like the
malaria OF our Southern coast, is death to the
sleeper. Not soothed by dreamy conscious.
ness of hearing mothers voice, tuning the soft
lullaby of
Hush, my child, lie still and sumber;"
but starting like sentinel upon a savage from
tier post, with aarr, at having slept; shivering
with night air ~ fear, and finally compelled
to 60 home tremUnng like culprit, 10 hear the
hard words OF a mother; yes a mother but,
oh! what mslher cursing her for not per-
forming an impossiDility; because exhausted
nature slept because her child had not made
profit which would have enabled her more
freely TO indulge in the soul and ody-destroying
vice of drunk IN Iuhic, sba bad fnllaT
from an estate when "my carriage" was one Of
the " household words" which used to greet
the young ears of that poor little DEATH stricken,
neglected street sufferer.
1t was past midnight when she awoke, and
found herself with a desperate effort Just able
to reach the bottom of the ricketty stairs which
led to her home. We shall not go up now. In
little while, reader, you shall see where live
the city poor.
Tired, worn with the daily toil--for such is
the work Of an editor who caters for the appc-
tites of his morning readers-we were not pre-
sent the next night to note the absence of that
cry from its accustomed spot but the next, and
the 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
across the park, or wormed its way from some
cracked-fddle voice down the street, up and
around the corner; or out Of some dark alley
with broken English accent, that sounded al
most as much like "lager bier" as 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 eVtravagant city, at this season, that cry
goes up, nightly proclaiming one of the habits
Of this late-supper-eatiug people.
Yes, we missed that cry. " Hot corn" was
no longer like the music of stringed instru-
ment to wearied man, for the treble string
was broken, and, to us, :he harmony spoiled.
What was that to us? 1t was but one of the
ten thousand, Just as miserable, 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 manifestations half as strong as some of
the nincompoops of this world would have their
iong.eared listeners think, yet we do believe
there is spirit in man, not yet made manifest,
which makes us yearn after co-eXis!ing 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
spirit Of "the first, third or sixth sphere" that
prompted us as we left our desk one evening, TO
20 down among the abodes of the poor, with
Feeling Of certainty that we should see or hear
something Of the lost voice, for that spirit led
on; perhaps it was the spirit of curiosity; no
matter, it led, and we followed in the route we
had seen that little one go belore-it was our on
" one-we knew no name-had no number,
nor knew no one that knew whom we were GO
ing to find. Yes, We knew that good Mission
arv, and sho mad told US OF the good words which
he had spoken but would we know her from
the hundreds just like her? Perhaps. 1t will
cost nothing Q inquire We went down centre
st. with light heart; we turned into CroSs-st
with step buoyed by hope; we stood at the
corner OF Little Water-st. aud looked around in.
quiringly of the spirit and mentally said, which
way now'" The answer was faI-of scream
of despair. We stood still with an open ear,
for the sound of prayer, followed by sweet
hymn OF praise Of 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 unseer, ,gpide whispered
4'ask him." II were curious question to ask
astranger in such strange place, particularly
one like him, haggard with over much care,
toll or mental labor. Prematureiy old, his days
shortened by over-work in young years, as his
earSowcd face and almost phrensiedeye hurried
tt.weises as we see ths fash Of fhs msn lamp is
inished if he undertakes to sell meat from c
seased animal. In word, freedom, properly J
fined, is not unbrdsd lcentiousness not the
ivilege of doing whatever man peases, re-
my. That man hH who has done fRore' to reform
that den of crime, the Five Points of New
York, than all the Municipal Authorities of this
Police-hunting, and Prison-punishing City