"Any information will be gratefully received." Yes, any information will be gratefully received by the author of this book, which he can use effectually to awaken aged parents to the fact, that each one of these girls who wander the streets at midnight, or who fill up the dens of infamy that line whole blocks of some of the best streets in this city, is somebody's child; some "mysterious disappearance," that has caused deep affliction, and will cause more, for she is now influencing others to disappear from the path of rectitude, in the same way that she did. Perhaps, yea, it is probable, more than probable, that Miss G. C---- has been inveigled into one of these dens where worse than cannibals live, for they only eat the body, while these destroy the soul. How long would a house be permitted to stand, where human flesh was served up as a banquet for those who delighted to feast upon such dainty food? A house where young girls were driven in by force or fascination, to be cooked and eaten by young epicures and gouty gormandizers. How the city's indignation would boil over, and how the storm of wrath would beat upon that house, until there would not be one stone left upon another. Yet how calmly that same public sleeps on by the side of a thousand worse houses, where victims are worse than cooked and eaten every day--they are roasted alive. How coldly parents will read that "mysterious disappearance;" they will never think that girl has been destroyed by cannibals, far worse are here--they belong to savage life. How carelessly, how thoughtlessly mothers will read this page that tells how their daughters may be influenced to ruin themselves, by such unfortunate associations as they must meet with in their walks through the city, while our municipal government permits the streets to be monopolized by the impure, because it is itself just what the echo answered. How I would rejoice if I could make the truth manifest, as regards this matter, that, "to the pure all things are pure." Now, let us walk on. You need not stop to drop anything into the hand of that woman with a child on her lap. True, she looks like a pitiable object, with her opium-drugged infant wrapped in that old blue cloak, but she is not. She is a professional beggar. I have known her these three years. That child is not hers. It is hired for the purpose. It draws a share of the benefit, as it does the sympathy of those who are attracted by that well-put-on, appealing look. That child is kept by a woman who keeps three others "to let." They never grow too big. Laudanum is not the food that infants grow upon. They will die young, and others will be begged, borrowed, or stolen, for the same purpose. There, the sixpence you have given that little child, will go into the till of that "family grocery," before we are a block farther on our way. I know her. It is hardly charity to give to that man; I know him too, and where he lives. "But, he is blind."