Twenty tales by twenty women: From real life in ChicagoAnonymous
General
Twenty tales by twenty women: From real life in Chicago
Anonymous
Chicago (Ill.) -- Moral conditions; Prostitution -- Illinois -- Chicago
“Yes; that is all on account of Lannie. He seemed to know the condition
of Mr. Penway’s finances, and it was a tract of land that Mr. Penway
was forced to sell that Lannie bought. He built mills, homes for the
men, a comfortable home for my parents on his land, and when the crash
came, transferred them to it. Then he came to the city and arranged with
an attorney that I should have an annuity and I must accept it, the
conditions being that if I refused my mother and father would be asked to
relinquish their home. He bought this house, he pays the bills and I dare
not refuse until my parents have gone to their home above.”
“Not quite the same am I. My inner being
Reasons and knows that all is for the best.
Yet vague regrets stir always in my breast,
As my soul’s eyes turn sadly backward, seeing
The vanished self that evermore must be
This side of what we call eternity,
Not quite the same.”
TALE THREE.
A STORY OF THE CHICAGO GHETTO.
PUNISHMENT.
“Nor custom, nor example, nor vast numbers
Of such as do offend, make less the sin;
For each particular crime a strict account
Will be exacted; and that comfort, which
The damn’d pretend, follows in misery,
Takes nothing from their torments; every one
Must suffer in himself the measure of his wickedness.”
—_Massinger._
The wind howled, then carrying with it bits of paper, flurries of snow
and great quantities of smoke and soot, it seemed to sink into the
darkness with a dismal moan, which resembled the wailing of some great
wild beast in search of its mate.
Shops with their dim lights, which looked like tiny sparks clinging
to a black wall, lined the street; tin signs creaked and crashed like
miniature thunder; small pieces of shutters flopped against the sides of
the weather beaten houses, only to swing into the breeze with each fresh
gust, there to quiver on their rusty hinges until a weird, screeching,
grating sound denoted that age and elements were victors and one more
piece of some antiquated structure had cast anchor and would soon be used
to infuse warmth into the body of some poor, unfortunate dweller in the
immediate vicinity. The uncertainty of the board walks in this locality
caused the pedestrian, whose lot it was to venture here for the first
time, to use great care in setting down and picking up his feet.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account