The Sunday tatler and Jersey City express. (Jersey City, N.J.) 1883-1886, 1886-09-26

the town. And not till it had sent out its
scribes TO investigate the matter, could
the TATrLER be made to realize how many
of the apparently nice little ladies of the
town have fallen victims to the wiles of
these vlllainous dsspoilers. The town is
full of haunts of vico fitted up for the en-
tertainment of these little creatures. They
know where to go to be received, and Just
how they will be received, and what sselu-
sion will be accorded them. The TATTLKR
met at one of these resorts thirteen year
~old child, who had in her hands loaf of
bread she had been sent out to purchase.
Another of years almost as teRder, carried
a linen wrapper her mother had delegated
her to buy. 81 always like TO hear papa
! say he wants some beer" said another at
another haunt, s'fer I always get it, and it
1giyes me q chance to come here"
They do not belong yet to the common
ran OF bad girls, who make no secret of
their brazen calling. They know nothing
of the value of their virtue; for they set no
price upon it. 1t is little supper-some-
times you may be surprised to know it
reader, only glass of bear, . chance wit
ness song and dance, an invitation to
picnic. an evenings whirl at ball they
expect that trife only in exchange for all
tAC A0fOAo WOfuHA S0A DcStOW vi l4u1s
But vicious appetite for beer and for
liquors marks the older girls whose names
are knswn to the whole community of
rosles. They are II, IS, 10, and 20 years
of age. It is ten o'clock when
they come en- the streets, and as
they pass they are saluted by a crowd Of
Washers looking for opportunities. A little
walk down the street; a sly glance behind; ;
some one parts from the throng ct the
saloon door; one of the women "hooks
up" and the couple disappear around a
corner.
1t is II o'clock now. The streets seem
deserted. Where is the crowd? The ribald
songs that greet the ear from the saloons
tell where. There are side rooms for
mixed drinking parties; and as the glasses
accumulate, they become merry, and the
song and dance, not always over nice, is
Athe result.
1t is o'clock now. The streets are
Wen up to new race. The men and
Nemen rave disappeared into these FESTIVE
PAGES. A solitary female, her uncleanly
elothes clinglng close to her form, is the
only object within the blaze of the blink
ing electric light. Is she waiting for
heartiess hush and who is spending the
money that belongs to his little ones in
rum and riot? No! Two reeliDg fellows,
whose only home is in the saloons, and
whose food is got wholly from the free
lunch counters, hail her as she approaches.
She turns about and becomes one of the
party, and the three march arm ia arm,
supporting each other as they sail up the
street. The night wanes into morning
with slim procession of these hopelessly
abandoned creatures. One little variation
is made when an elderly woman and q
younger step up by the reporter and seize
him BY the arm.
ssMy love-" says the elder.
HES too young for you, ma. says the
younger, as she draws him to her side
EHe's just my size.
The reporter is tired of bis tramp, and,
disguised with the ceaseless round Of vice,
he climbs YEARLY to his Office door.
< Plug Mulraine asleep on the doorstep.
And stnmbles over.