He discharged her. Unable to pay her
board, she was turned into the streets. It was a bitter day in January.
For _four days_ she wandered the streets, looking for work--only for
work. 'I envied the boys who shoveled snow from the sidewalks. I would
gladly have done their work for half they got.' Hungry, she pawned her
shawl. When that was gone, she went twenty-four hours without a crumb,
shivering through the streets. At night, she slept in the station-
house--without a bed, thankful for mere shelter. Again and again she
was tempted; but she did not yield. She found work at last, and leads
her cruel life still, patiently and uncomplaining. There was Caroline
G---, who came from the West to New York, fancying the great city would
have plenty of work to give her. She, too, wandered the streets, and
slept at night in the station-house. On the third day--which was the
Christian Sabbath--mercy seemed to have found her. A gentlemanly
appearing person spoke to her, and learning her want, offered to give
her a place as seamstress in his family. He lived a short distance in
the country, he said, and took her to a hotel to stay till next day,
when they would take the cars for his home. The hotel was an elegant
one; the room given her was hung with silk and lace; but she preferred
the hard floor of the station-house, that night, to its luxurious
state--for her 'protector' was a wolf in sheep's clothing.
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