Daily national era. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1854, 1854-01-17
For tho National Era.
THE GRINDING HEEL.

Have you ever seen the blushng petal of a
rose, crushed, and bruised beneath some heed
less foot? Have you seen the pale and delicate
lily trampled and soled in the dust And has
your fancy ever endowed these emblems OF
dwellings with thought and feeling2 Have you
sympathized with their fancied suffering--with
their death-agony2 Did you see in those fair
flowers the freshness and beauty Of youth
and in the heel that bruised their tiny veins
and vessels, and forced the sap Of life out Of
them, the hard heel Of poverty grinding and
torturing the very e-blood from the breaking
hearts Of its victims? Did you see all this and
did your mind travel from the realms of fancy
to the rough and thorny path Of being strug.
Cling for a mere EXISTENCE Did you see the
life crushed from out y a young heart, and hear
choking sighs," and agonizing sobs, till the
fair blushing maiden is changed into the thin,
pale, anxious, care-worn woman? Did you see
her a lnother--her husband drunkard2
Did you see her, weak and trembling, toiling
YEARLY up one flight of stairs, and another,
and another, and still another and another, to
that small attic chamber? Did you see her
unlock the door and entera Her children are
there-they have no nurse; many long and
weary hours in the day they are alone--all
alone--no eye to watch them but God's-that
babe Of less than three summers, and that in.
FAINT OF but few more months Their mother
cannot be with them, for she must be away
earning the bread which is to keep them from
starving in that cheerless garrett No wonder
her cheeks have grown thin and sallow--no
wonder that eye is dim and sunken and those
fingers long and lean. She cannot, with all
her labor, procure the nourishing food she re.
quires, and she stints herself as she eats the
stale loaf that the dear babes may not perish
with hunger.
knew this mother, when she was young and
blooming, before stern poverty had placed his
iron heel upon her, and ground her steadily
and firmly into the dust | knew her, when
her checks were rosy with health, and her eyes
bright, and joyous-when her foot trod lightly,
and care was given to the winds. In an evil
hour she married man Of violent temper, who
looked upon the wine when it was red,o and
loved it more than wife or child. He deserted
her whom he had promised to cherish, and
the little ones who needed his fostering care,
and here they arc in this crowded attic--one
room all their home---what home IL ia neat
and tidy; but how hard that bed, how slight
the covering how poor indeed all the furni-
tnre and how little OF il IL is almost impos-
sible to pay the rent Of that single room, and
yet il must be done. The landlord IN inexor.
able, and il Il is not punctually paid, these suf
fcring ones have the street for their shelter
blue sky the only roof above them.
The IRON Heel is upon them, grinding, grind
ing, grinding their very hearts, and they are
breaking and bleeding, and yielding up their
life, as the rose petal and the lily yielded
theirs.
Maiden when you plight your troth, rcmem.
Der the crushed flower Wine and poverty are
near akin. ANNA HoPE