J ^ UP BROADWAY, AND ITS SEQUEL. fif _ BY ELEANOR KIRK. [NELLIE AMES.] NEW YORK: Carleton, Publisher, Madison Square. LONDON I S. LOW, SON, & CO. MDCCCLXX. Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by GEORGE -W. CARLETON, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York. Stereotyped at THE WOMEN'S PRINTING HOUSE, Eighth Street and Avenue A, New York. "7WE TRUTH, THE WHOLE TRUTH, AND NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH." M107623 UP BROADWAY. CHAPTER I. |O naturally kind-hearted and bertevolelit person can even after years' experience with the beggars, grinders and sweep- ers who crowd the streets of New York become sufficiently inured to destitution and misery to pass, without notice, their pitiful faces and out- stretched hands. Now I, in common with many others, have been acquainted with these appeals for several years, and have not, after continued and systematic fleecing, become so hardened or so sensible that my heart does not ache an hour after, when I have from inability to afford relief, or from a determination to bestow my mite where (7) 8 UP BROADWAY. I am sure it will be well used and appreciated passed without notice. 1 f In a walk from Ifearl to Eighth, the other day orir-afher 9 ii%'a\ QO&femplated walk, for I did not thaVpccasion I decided to speak "to" every "beggar" 'who' accosted me, and discover, if possible, what especial phase of poverty was re- presented by each. Not that my pocket was especially long at that time, or myporte monnaie unusually full, not at all ; but some information might be gained by such a process that could not be obtained in any other manner ; and then, if my search was rewarded by really worthy objects, I could, by the assistance of charitable friends, se^e that they were provided for. I thought to walk a block without being accosted ; but, on the steps of the Central National Bank sat a little woe-begone bundle of rags, which upon rising and advancing toward me, I found to be of the feminine gender. My weakness has always been for this description of sufferers, and, consequently, there was no lack of sympathy. " Well, my dear, what do you want ? " I asked kindly of the little one, whose eyes shone out as UP BROADWAY. 9 bright as stars on a frosty night from the mass of curly, unkempt hair which surrounded a face made prematurely old by this conflict with sin and poverty. "Don't dear me," said she, almost fiercely. "I got enough of that at the Mission. 'Dear child,' ' good child,' ' trust in the Lord, child,' with a bundle of tracts, and no dinner," she con- tinued, ironically. "Where do you live, my child?" I asked this time careful of my adjectives. "I ain't your child, nor nobody's child, nor God's child; and I hadn't anything to do with being made, no more than that old horse had; and nobody need tell me that there is a good Father who loves his children; 'tain't no such thing. Do you suppose, if I was the Lord, I'd starve poor folks to death that I made myself \ " and the eager eyes looked into my face, the desire to reconcile apparent incongruities being stronger, for the moment, than her desire for good. Here was a poser. How could I talk to the suffering child of faith ? How could I tell her that God loveth whom he chasteneth, and that the more she 10 UP BROADWAY. endured, the greater was God's care and affection for her ? So I simply said : " Such things have troubled me a great deal ; but I cannot explain to you, here, what I do think on these subjects. You are suffering; you are hungry and cold ; now tell me about yourself. Perhaps I can do you some good. Have you a father living ?" " No ! " and the eyes took on a wondering look. " I don't think I ever had a father." " And your mother ? " " Oh, I've got one of them ; but she's no good." " No good" said I ; " what do you mean \ " and I tried to put a little sternness into my voice and manner ; but she took no notice. " She stays out all night, and sleeps and cries all day; sometimes she brings home something to eat, and more times the doesn't ; but I tell you" and now her eyes flashed fire "she never for- gets to bring something to drink." "Where do you live?" " Round here in Mulberry street." " Will you take me to your mother ? " " What, with those good clothes on ? I guess UP BROADWAY. 11 not ? " And the strange child laughed merrily as she glanced at my plain street-dress, which was to her purple and fine linen. Upon assuring her that I was not at all afraid, she led the way to her miserable home. " There she is," said the little girl, pointing to a figure lying on a bundle of straw in the corner. " Mother, here is a lady come to see you ; wake up a minute ; " accompanying her words with a brisk shaking. " A lady ! " and the figure, by no means as in- animate as it appeared, arose and confronted me. Such a pair of coal-black eyes, and such a pallid face, I never saw in my life before. No tigress ever looked fiercer and 110 woman more beauti- ful when she discovered I had come in all friend- liness to be of service, if possible. " Don't be angry, mamma," said the girl ; " the lady hasn't got a single tract" " This is no place for you, madam, and it is im- possible for you to do me any good," was her greeting, in clear, ringing tones. " Your little girl is very thinly clad," I ven- tured to remark, glancing significantly at some 12 UP BROADWAY. trumpery hanging round, which was evidently worn by the woman on her midnight rambles. " Then you think the mother dresses better than the child ? " she inquired, smiling disdain- fully. "Those clothes get her all the bread she eats. Now I suppose you understand my profes- sion." " Perfectly," I replied, trying to repress all emotion. "And if you are satisfied with that profession, I have no more to say. But your little girl ? " "Ah, you would like to take her away, I sup- pose ; get her a place at service, maybe is that your game ? But you don't do it, madam," she interrupted, excitedly. " Perhaps you think I don't love her perhaps I don't ; but you just try to wrench her away from me, and then see. Mary, come here." " I am not afraid of this lady, mother. I would like to go with her. I don't like. to stay here all alone nights with rats and mice, and then have you drink out of that bottle all day. Oh, Mrs. ! if you would only get me a suit of boy's clothes somewhere! I could earn lota of money. I'd UP BROADWAY. 13 black gentlemen's boots and nobody'd know ; but I can't do anything with these duds. However came I to be a nasty, good-for-nothing girl, mother ? I tell you, Mrs., boys can do a heap ! " I looked from that child to the parent, noted the same broad foreheads, and intellectual coun- tenances, and wondered if any influence could reclaim the mother and preserve the child. "I do not wish to be impertinent, and pry into affairs which are none of my concern," I ventured, at last, " but I am interested in your history. "Won't you please tell me something of yourself, and how you came here, for I per- ceive you have not always lived in this squalid style." She hesitated a moment. Then, offering me her only stool, said : "I will, and will tell the truth, too. Sit down." CHAPTER II. STRANGE kind of smile illumined the wan features for a moment as she looked into my face, which must have expressed every shade of feeling from that which the countenance of our blessed Saviour indicated to that of shrinking and terror, as the dreadful squalidness of the place, and my apparently un- protected condition, came home to me. " You are not used to such scenes as these," she said. " Do not be in the least alarmed : you are just as safe in this tumble-down old shanty in Five Points as you would be in many places on aristocratic, stylish Fifth avenue. According to my views, there isn't much difference in the crime committed in the two places. "Women there have their paramours and affinities. The man next door courts his neighbor's wife while the other fellow trips the light fantastic with still another (14) UP BROADWAY. 15 man's property. Children are conceived, some of them legitimately, but children are troublesome comforts, and 110 fashionable woman, wishes to be bothered with an increasing family ! So Dr. So- and-so, who lives in close contiguity, and most sumptuously, is called. The result an abortion ; and the murderer pockets his big fee, and keeps on his work of destruction. These babies will all confront their unnatural mothers one of these days in the other country and, madam," clutch- ing my arm with the grip of a mad woman, " I'd rather be Mary Montgomery then than one of these. What do you say ? " " There is no mistake, my dear," said I, endeav- oring to be calm, "that infanticide is one of the most terrible and glaring evils possible to conceive of ; but the scandalous behavior of women in high life does not remove one iota of your sin or mine, or make it any less in the sight of God." " That's so," she continued thoughtfully. " But some way it eases one's soul occasionally to make such comparisons. Think of it as you may, it is a relief, when Mrs. Gen. or Capt. passes one like me, drawing away her skirt as she does 16 UP BROADWAY. % so, as if the slightest touch were contamination, to think, madam, your stock won't be worth as much as mine in the great by-and-by." The woman stopped a moment, closed her eyes, as if to shut out some crushing memories, and the little bundle of rags the child with the sweet and wonderfully intelligent face, crept close to my side. "Say, Mrs.," said she softly, "please to tell me what these things are for," pointing with her little red linger to the miserable surroundings. "What things?" I asked, while the bunch in my throat grew bigger and tears iilled my eyes. "Why is all this badness? and this dreadful cold room ? and these rags, and mother's head- aches and crying? I don't like 'em; they don't agree with me ; and I can't bear these clothes. I never was clean and nice; and what is it all for? Why mayn't I have good things, and why mayn't mother stop staying out nights, and drinking out of that black bottle? /never did nothing to no- body; what does God punish me for?" I have been nonplussed many a time with the questions of my own little ones, but never was my UP BROADWAY. 17 theology so thoroughly squelched before ; and I only answered, " My poor child ! I do not wonder that you ask these questions ; but I am utterly un- able to give you any light." How could I make that poor persecuted babe understand that God loveth whom he chasteneth? No, indeed. I didn't attempt it; for in the heaviest of my own afflictions, that and kindred passages failed to give me the least satisfaction. I make this statement with due reverence, for I honestly believe that God is at the helm, and will bring things out all right one of these days. But why the innocent should suf- fer for the guilty will take more light and grace than I ever expect to attain to in this world to either explain or reconcile. " I w r ant to tell you of myself," said the hollow- eyed woman, breaking in upon a solemn pause, and fondly stroking the little one's curls. "Now, Mary, you go and sit with old Mother Thurston while I talk to this lady." The child obeyed only saying as she went out " Please call me before this lady goes ; I want to see her again." 18 VP BROADWAY. " My name is Mary Montgomery," she contin- ued, looking into her lap. " I was born in Phila- delphia, of American parents, and very respect- able parents, too. They are both dead now, thank God. I was well brought up, well edu- cated, and quite accomplished. These hands," holding up her attenuated lingers, " do not remind one very forcibly of Beethoven's sonatas, or Mo- zart's symphonies, yet they could manage them all once. I wonder if I could play a single tune now? My father and mother never seemed to love me at least as I wanted to be loved. They were never demonstrative. My first impression of my mother was her iciness, and the extreme formality of my father in all matters of social in- tercourse. At seventeen I had never been in the society of young men at all. My father would not consent to an evening party, a dance, or to the least mingling with the terrible class of which he made one. One afternoon, returning from my aunt's, I strayed into Chestnut street and stole an hour's walk, as I had done many times before. As I stood looking into a book-store, I felt that some one stood beside me, and was conscious that a UP BROADWAY. 19 gentleman was examining my features attentively. I turned with the intention of saying something sharp and saucy but his pleasant and respectful expression speedily drove that idea from my mind. Without the least reserve he said : " ' Here we have all the poets, and most daz- zlingly arrayed too. Which of the number do you prefer ? ' enumerating the authors, " It seemed very proper and natural for me to answer him. So after a little conversation con- cerning our favorites, he walked with me until within a block of my house, when I bade him good afternoon. During our conversation, I had given him my name and some idea of my life, and had promised to meet him the next day, in front of the book-store in Chestnut street. A few interviews, and the man had declared his love, and I had confessed mine. It would never do to mention this to my parents. I should have been immediately confined in my own room, with no prospect of ever seeing my lover again during the term of my natural life. So we continued to meet stealthily. At last, he proposed a secret marriage, saying that he would take me to New 20 UP BROADWAY. York, and, after the ceremony was performed, we could plead for the forgiveness and blessing of my parents. I agreed to that also. Oh! I loved him so, that I would have sunk my soul in the lowest depths of the inferno to have given him pleasure! and oh, my God, how I love him this minute ! how I love him ! how I love him ! Excuse me, these exhibitions are not interesting to you," and then continued. " I left my home one day with nothing save the clothes I had on. We took a train to New York then a carriage from the depot to some minister's house and were mar- ried. After that to a hotel, where we remained for a few days, and then my husband took me home. Oh, and wasn't it home ? Everything that money could buy was lavished upon that house ; and as I crept into his arms, after a careful ex- amination of every nook and corner, I thanked God from the bottom of my heart that I had found so good and loving a husband." CHAPTER III. |H! my dear lady," she said, "there never was such happiness since the bliss Adam and Eve enjoyed in the garden of Eden as we experienced for more than a year. My husband often remained away from me all night, telling me that business compelled him ; but he would inyariably make it up by remaining by my side the greater portion of the succeeding day. I had no care, no responsibility. Life was love, and love was life. I ate it, drank it, feasted upon it, revelled in it. In short, I bowed down before my idol and worshipped him. One year passed, and my Mary was born, the little girl who brought you here." " The child of honest wedlock, then ? " I inter- rupted, and without thinking. "Oh don't, madam as I supposed; as I be- lieved;" she replied distractedly. " But wait 22 UP BROADWAY. until I finish. Please don't anticipate, or I shall never have strength enough left to finish the sickening details. She was a darling baby and her father was so fond of her. I used sometimes to grow jealous of the caresses lavished upon her. I used to wonder why my husband never took me to parties, and why we never received com- pany like other families in upper-tendom, and why he always chose the evenings to take me out for a walk or drive, and I would occasionally express to him my astonishment at the way our domestic programme was arranged. lie always replied after this style : < Is my little wife dis- satisfied ? If so, I will invite half New York to entertain her. It is because I love her so, that, buried in my own heart, I desire to satisfy her with what she finds there.' " "We read and sung, and sketched, and petted baby, with no cloud to disturb our serenity. By- and-by it came without a single gust of prepara- tion. My husband generally returned to me about three in the afternoon. One day he was a little later than usual, and just as I was going down to the dining-room to see that everything UP BROADWAY. 23 was in order for dinner, I found that the servant was admitting visitors into the hall. This was so rare that I stopped to see who was coming. u ' Does Mrs. live here ? ' mentioning my name I heard a lady ask in low tones. " < She does, madam ; will you please walk into the parlor'?' the servant replied.