Mary Ware's Promised LandJohnston, Annie F. (Annie Fellows)
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Mary Ware's Promised Land
Johnston, Annie F. (Annie Fellows)
Young women -- Juvenile fiction
"As she spoke the nasty, greasy contents of a
dishpan came splashing over the railing of the
porch above us, into the court where we were
standing, and we barely escaped being drenched
with it. A few drops did reach me, and when I
expressed my disgust most forcibly, Mrs. Blythe
said apologetically, 'Don't blame the poor
woman. She has no other place to throw it. The
landlord won't provide drains and there is no
law to make him do it. And up-stairs, I am
going to show you three rooms _without
windows_, where people live and eat and sleep
by lamplight, without a ray of sunshine or a
breath of fresh air. All that they get of
either air or light must filter through other
stale, overcrowded rooms. And if you wonder, as
I did, why the landlords do not cut windows in
these dark rooms, and mend the leaky roofs and
the dangerous stairways, you'll find the answer
is the same. There is no law to make them do
it. The houses bring good rents as they stand,
and the public is not awake to the fact that
these places in their midst are responsible for
the greater part of infection and disease that
menace the whole town. That is the cause I am
giving myself to, and the cause that I want to
make yours also. We must wake up the State. We
must make them pass a law that will wipe out
these plague spots already existing and prevent
the growth of any more. A law that will allow
no renter to make money off a house that is not
decent to shelter human beings.'
"That is a sample of the places she showed me,
places where the plaster was off the walls in
great patches, and the paper hung in greasy
tatters, and where we encountered so many
nauseating sights and smells that by the time
we were back at her house I didn't have any
appetite for lunch. She told me that it
affected her that way too, at first, and it got
so that a procession of white-faced, wailing
babies began to appear to her in the dead of
night and cry for her to help them; to give
them a chance to breathe in the stifling
midnight, a chance to claim their birthright of
clean water and air and sun. And she added,
'When you get to seeing things at night you're
ready for work.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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