Litchfield enquirer., 1854-03-09
The volce of ,he slop shlrt.

' was Httie Dundic, neatly pacReO and lying on the counter. The shop was old and weather stained. but tho man that Kept 1t, he was old and sin-stained. The hollow in his face looked out as if mercy bad there lain her length and died and Ii there ever was kindliness in his eye, il was before he let his soul on life lease to avaIice. We said there was little bundle neatly packed. lying there, but there was something else: a bony, bluish knot,y veined, famished looking hand [ woman's hand. It seemed as if the blood had never generous tending 10 thest poor veins or if it had, hunger kept i back.
 Under ragged green veil face peer ed out that was pinched and homely enone of your beauty in distress was hers the bitterness at her heart had wrenched all confines away. and she stood there, a suffering. miserable. slop. shop slave. Before the woman had spoken. stran> ger entered. At the sound of her voice he stayed his steps, for the concentration of years of agony. meted out hour by hour, moment by moment. tick by tick of the clock. seemed infused in that ho!. low. sepulchral voice.
 ''And you won't pay me 2
 Not cent, rung out sharply. like the twaDg of rusty wire; 't'other shirt was spoiled for custom you apghter make half dozen more for no,hin. But my baby was dying while I was finishing that, and the tears blinded me till I cut the button. holes too big. buried my poor baby; thank God for taking it from misery; and that's what I want the money for,'
 Cant help it; don't whine at me i; think l can bury all the poor babies in creation 2
 The woman threw down her veil and turned to go; and as she reached lbe door, she exclaimed in shrili tone, You are warm here. and your children are warm at home; my childlen are starv> ing. and freezing, and dying;' and with an unearthly shriek, she burst from the shop. and plunged on. battling with the fierce wind.
 The stranger who had witnessed all this, bought the shirt; but with it he bought the memory of that wretched scene. Day and night it had voice for his ear, and vision for his eye.
 He saw ghastly and sinful creatures moving about the wet pavement, but he dared judge them not with mans judg. ment. for he thought of that hollow voice My baby was dying, and the tears blind, ed me ' How knew he but cruel want had driven them 10 crime :?
 The slop shirt! Little do we heed it's voice. It comes to us shining and snowy. No record it bears of the tears that stain> ed its whiteness they are all washed away. It minds us not that the heart. broken sighs of the needy have been dropped tbickly amid its folds. Crowd. ing about t, we see no wan faces of fam ished children. Close--close has it laid with the shroud over the mothel,s faded hopes. It has seen the last coal die out in tue night gloom. About frozen fin. gers has it been wrapped in laps where luxury once nestled has il laid. l. has felt the touch of hands once soft andwhite and covered with jewels it has crowded back the tears in eyes once blue. bright and beautiful; now how cold and dim
 An ' listen we'll to the voice of the slop shirt. Say word at all times and everywhere for the poor sisterhood who live by stitching. No matter whether they were bred in palace. or never saw better than the walls of the hovel they are Gods children. held under the lash of mans hard bondage. Be piiiful. then, whenever you hear the voice of the slop shirt.