The morning call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1878-1895, 1891-06-16
A BROTHER OF GIRLS.
His Name Is Unknown, but His Memoir,
VIII Never Leave Her.

His Name Is Unknown, but His Memory
VIII Never Leave Her.
In this hard old world, so full of accounts
of mans faithlessness, it is pleasant, once
in a while, to run across such an experience
as this, related by a Chicago matron who
was once working girl. Those who have
heard that fine characterization of manly
man, "a brother of girls" will gladly
award the title to the unknown hero of this
story. The narrator says: / was country
school-ma'a am in Vermont, receiving salary
Of S25 month, when | made up my mind
to come to Chicago and learn stenography.
l had sister married and living in a
suburb of the city. She promised to help
me all she could, and l remained with her
until | had finished studying and was ready
for position.
Having obtained the position, discovered
that my limited income would not allow me
to pay car-fare to such a distance as my
sister lived. AS she and her husband were
poor. it was decided that should look for
boarding. place on the west side. | searched
the papers diligently and found the desired
haven on Carroll avenue.
At first l found it very comfortable ana
easy, and enjoyed coming home after long
days work and settling myself to sewing or
reading. But as the days grew shorter and
the nights set in earlier, | felt myself be-
coming afraid to walk the two blocks that
lay between the street-car corner and my
room, and this fear was not diminished any
after man had stopped me one evening
and l had rushed into the house frightened
and breatblesS from running. 1t may be
very silly to one who has never been afraid,
but l suffered cruelty as the car neared my
corner, and several nights | could not fnd
the courage to get off, and remained on the
hIOpE1
only prolonged the distance of the walk.
One fearfully dark aud stormy evening
the car was literally packed and | stood
holding on to strap in the extreme front,
when the loneliness Of my position, my
timidity an d thoughts of an employer out of
hunOr all day 0veIcame me and l began to
cry.
1t seemed as if | could not leave the car
and step into the darkness and storm.
Presently | felt hand touch me, and
voice said:
'What is the matter?"
81 am afraid to go home," | said. | was
10 years old, but felt like baby.
Where do you get OFF," asked the voice.
cat st. Johns place" | replied. and just
then the conductor called out the street, and
pushed my way to the rear platform and
stepped off. AS l did so the young man
who had questioned Inc stepped off also and
said:
Il live up this way, and if you will allow
me | shall see You home"
And ali that winter except the few nights
when lie did not chance to be on my car,
for which | think he must have watched he
saw me home.
| never learned his name or where he
lived nor do think he knew my name. He
never stopped at the door to talk nor pre-
sumed upon his kindness in auy way, and
when the long days came again he disap-
peared entirely. and 1, soon after leaving
the west side, have never seen or heard of
him since
often think OF the incident, though, and
as | grow older it shows up to me in very
beautiful light, as compared with so many
darker colOrs that go to make up the annals
Of evening life in large city.