Hot corn: Life Scenes in New York IllustratedRobinson, Solon
General
Hot corn: Life Scenes in New York Illustrated
Robinson, Solon
New York (N.Y.) -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Temperance -- Fiction
Good bye, Mrs. May--good bye, Stella. "We may never meet again, but we
never shall forget you, good-hearted little girl, and kind, blessed,
good mother. Thy good works have their reward."
Athalia and her uncle found a house. We have heard of that before, from
Maggie; we shall hear of them again, in some of these shifting "Scenes."
I shall draw the curtain now. It may remain down for one or two or more
years, what does it matter to the reader? It is facts that he wants, he
cares nothing for time, or which scene comes first. If the reader is a
woman, she cares neither for time nor facts, so that the story is good.
What next?
Look in the next chapter.
CHAPTER XIV.
NEW SCENES AND NEW CHARACTERS.
"There is some soul of goodness in things evil, Would man
observingly distil it out."
That was well exemplified in the last chapter. It may be in this. If any
of the readers of these "Scenes" suppose the writer lost sight of the
chance to do good, and the right time to do it, that the death of
"Little Katy," offered, they are quite mistaken. Although he may not be
able to do with his own purse, he has a way of procuring others to do a
part that is so much needed to be done. He found that Katy had an aunt
in the city, who was able to do for her sister, and he took the
preliminary steps to restore the poor, lost sheep to the fold from which
she had strayed. That he should have lost sight of her for a little
while, in the busy whirl of city life, is not surprising. That the
reader has been left in suspense, while he has had many other scenes
before him, the author hopes he will not regret. We do not travel old,
beaten paths, in this volume.
As the subject is new, so is the way of illustrating it. Now, let us
walk on.
"There has been a black woman here twice this evening after you, and she
says, she must have the sight of ye afore she sleeps, any how."
This was a piece of Irish information, which met me as I opened the
door, one night, in rather a melancholy mood, for I was as yet
supperless, tired, sleepy, and about half sick, from breathing fetid air
four or five hours, while visiting the poorest of the city poor, the
denizens of Cow Bay.
Now, it must not be understood that Mrs. McTravers intended to tell me
that the Ethiopian female, who had twice called at my abode, and
declared that "she must have the sight of me before she slept," had the
least desire to gouge out my eyes. On the contrary, she was only anxious
to have a sight of the ugly visage I own, and come within speaking
distance of me.
"What for? What did she want, Mrs. McTravers?"
"Sure, your honor, it's not the likes of me knows what a lady wants with
a lone gentleman at this time o'night."
If I did not swear, I had some very hard thoughts at the blundering
awkwardness of this woman, or her entire inability to convey ideas by
language, so that I could understand them "at this time of night."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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