The Lancaster ledger. [volume] (Lancaster, S.C.) 1852-1905, 1854-01-04
THE LANCASTER Ledger.

I
steps again, or will ,hro. your corn in
tho gutter"
Are these the word to work reform!
They are such rs fall every day and night
upon the ear ofjust such specimens of the
young sprouts Of humanity that vegctatc
and grow brief summer in the city,
dying in some of the chill winters Of neg
lect, that come over their tender years
biightiHg. freezing, killing. How little of
the gold, Cerberus guards, would serve
to warm these two young children into
useful life. How little those who guard
or use ii, care for those they drive un.
fellingly away from their door stsps-for
wha.a They have made it place Of
convenience for their nightly trade
Tired Of walking, carrying heavy pail
between them--hcavy to them--it would
he light, and were it all gold, compared
with that within--they have sat them.
selves down, and just u..er~1 one brief
cry of" Hot corn, herer's your nice hot
corn" when they are roughly ordered to
''clear out, you dirty bIats." Yes, they
are dirty, poor; and miserable children Of
drunken father-who made them so!
No matter. They are so, and little has
that gold done to make them otherwise.
"Clear out--got off these steps, or will
kick you off,"
They did so, and went over to the other
side Of Brodway, and clung to that strong
iron fence ard looked up TIRES hundred
feet along that spre which points to
heaven from Trinity church. Did they
think Of tlfe half million of dollars there
piled up, to tell the world Of the wealth
Of New York city! No, they thought Of
the poor, wretched room, to them their
only home, n little way dawn Rector treet
scarcely a stones throw from, this great
pile, in house, owned and rented TO its
poor occupants by that great land mono
poly, the Rectory of this great church.
There is history about these two chill.
dren and their parents, which you may
read BY and 10y. We cannot stop, now.
Let us walk on.-Iron shutters-bolteJ,
barred, and strong locked doors, what
piles Of treasure lie just within.
AT Maiden lane on the right, and Court
landt street on the left, moro omnibuscs
come up, crowding their way into an al.
ready overfull "Bradway."
Oh. what 4 scream. 1t is woman's
serene. A cry Of anguish-of horror,
that ehilledithe blood. 1t comes from tho
apple woman at the corner, and yet she is
not hurt. No one is neay her, the crowd
is rushing to the centre Of the street,
What for! An omnibus has run over n
drunken man. This is always enough to
excite the sympathy Of woman, and make
her cry out rs with pain. 1t is p,ip, the
wost Of pain; it comes from blow upon
the heart; worse than that, in this case,
for the man is her husband. He had
just left her. where he has been torment
ing her for IN hour, begging, coaxing,
pleading. promising, that il she would 60
directly home and go to bed, as soon rs
he got something to eat. "Somctl,ing to
drink" No. Upon his worl, hc would
not tuch another drop the blessed night.
She well knew that the corner grocery,
where he would stop to buy the loaf Of
bread; which lie promised 10 share with
the two children, kept row Of glistening
glass and decanters upon the same shelf
with til, loavcs. "Thc staff Of lifc,' and
life's destroyer, side by side. She knew
the temptation t which he would lie sub.
jccted, she knew he could not resist, she
knew the vampire who dealt in life and
death, would suck up that shilling, il with
it came the hearts blood Of him, her, and
their two children. She knew her hus-
band, he could not resist tho temptation.
Once sober and he could keep SO, il the
means II intoxication were kept out ofhis
sight Once drunk and he woul- keep SO
rs long rs ho could obtain shilling TO
pay for the poison. His last resource was
to beg from his wifo's scaniy profits. by
which she mainly supported the family
who often went suppcrless to bed, for the
rent must be paid. Landlords are in
exorable. Hers worth so many millions
that the income Was source of great care
how il should be disposed Of Her rent
was coming due, and every shilling looked
to her Of tenfold value tonight. Her
children are in the street, filling the night
arc with an appealing cry, Hot corn.
hot corn, who'll buy my nice hot corni"
hes husband was begging for one moro
shilling TO waste-worse than waste--to