Full text of "The Elliott Family, Or, The Trials of New-York Seamstresses"

See other formats

Google

This is a digital copy of a book that was preserved for generations on library shelves before it was carefully scanned by Google as part of a project

to make the world's books discoverable online.

It has survived long enough for the copyright to expire and the book to enter the public domain. A public domain book is one that was never subject

to copyright or whose legal copyright term has expired. Whether a book is in the public domain may vary country to country. Public domain books

are our gateways to the past, representing a wealth of history, culture and knowledge that's often difficult to discover.

Marks, notations and other maiginalia present in the original volume will appear in this file - a reminder of this book's long journey from the

publisher to a library and finally to you.

Usage guidelines

Google is proud to partner with libraries to digitize public domain materials and make them widely accessible. Public domain books belong to the
public and we are merely their custodians. Nevertheless, this work is expensive, so in order to keep providing tliis resource, we liave taken steps to
prevent abuse by commercial parties, including placing technical restrictions on automated querying.
We also ask that you:

+ Make non-commercial use of the files We designed Google Book Search for use by individuals, and we request that you use these files for
personal, non-commercial purposes.

+ Refrain fivm automated querying Do not send automated queries of any sort to Google's system: If you are conducting research on machine
translation, optical character recognition or other areas where access to a large amount of text is helpful, please contact us. We encourage the
use of public domain materials for these purposes and may be able to help.

+ Maintain attributionTht GoogXt "watermark" you see on each file is essential for in forming people about this project and helping them find
additional materials through Google Book Search. Please do not remove it.

+ Keep it legal Whatever your use, remember that you are responsible for ensuring that what you are doing is legal. Do not assume that just
because we believe a book is in the public domain for users in the United States, that the work is also in the public domain for users in other
countries. Whether a book is still in copyright varies from country to country, and we can't offer guidance on whether any specific use of
any specific book is allowed. Please do not assume that a book's appearance in Google Book Search means it can be used in any manner
anywhere in the world. Copyright infringement liabili^ can be quite severe.

About Google Book Search

Google's mission is to organize the world's information and to make it universally accessible and useful. Google Book Search helps readers
discover the world's books while helping authors and publishers reach new audiences. You can search through the full text of this book on the web

at |http: //books .google .com/I

^roi

%e/

^iyrvC(AA. c(jz^^iii/\- i^^

THB

ELLIOTT FAMILY;

OE, THB

TRIALS OF NEW-YORK SEAMSTRESSES. }

BY CHARLES BURDETT,

AUTHOK OF
*' MK7ER TOO LATk/' " TRIALS AND TRIUMPHS," ** TBI ADOPTED

child/' '^zmma or the lost pound," etc.

" One half of this world knows not how the other half Uvea.*'

NEW YORK:
BAKER & SCRIBNER,

146 NaMau.Street, and 36 Park Row.
1850.

Vn.-^^^.

"< I'

PUBLIC LlBisAR/j

152595 \

l^4Ml#^^«^k^k^k#«^

INTEBED ACCORDING TO ACT OF CONGRESS,
Iff THE TEAR ONE THOUSAND EIGHT HUNDRED AND rORTT-FIYE,

BY E. WINCHESTER,

IN THE clerk's OFFICE OF THE DISTRICT COURT FOR THE

SOUTHERN DISTRICT OF NEW-TORK.

STBBBOTrPKD BT JOHN MAC NICOI., XXX ANN-8TMUET.

PREFACE.

I FEEL it due to myself briefly to state the reasons which have
) prompted me to engage in a task of this nature, one more befitting
' and properly belonging to the female writers, whose feelings i
' would naturally assimilate to, and cause them to sympathize with '
• the sufferings of the female operatives of this city.
' I suggested the idea to one or two much libtter fitted for the
) dut^ than myself, but no action was taken by them. I then de-
j termined to assume the respimsible task myself ; and commence 1
j at once the prosecution of inquiries, to the end that I might prc-
) sent nothing but facts. I approached the task with diffidence, for
S I felt that I was out of my proper sphere : but the motives which
/ have prompted me, must prove my apology for that.
} The perusal of a small volume, entitled " The Wrongs of Wo-
J men," by Charlotte Elizabeth, in which the wrongs and sufferings

lo.-

the laboring class of her countrywomen are vividly depicted, left /
( so deep and abiding an impression upon my mind, that my own )
attention and interest were fully awakened to the consideration
of the subject. I observed, however, that her characters were
j drawn exclusivelv from that class to whom toil and nardship seem

Jyi PREFACE. ]

to be a birthright heritage, — from those who, having enjoyed but

few of the comforts of life, were in comparative ignorance of the

, extent of their own privations. '

J In subsequent reflections, I could not fail to acknowledge that '.
( the wrongs and sufferings so faithfully illustrated in the writings }
( of Charlotte Elizabeth belonged not alone to female operatives of /
( the English nation; but report, inquiry, and close observation have ;
j alike borne testimony^ that even in our own midst the same )
grievances existed. Americans, however, have, alas ! their portion (
in the wrongs and oppressions too often heaped upon the class of (
female operatives ; and I did hope that some one of our female
writers, whose talents and experience so well qualified them for
the task, would bring, these wrongs before the public in some /
more tangible shape than had yet been done.

«In the pages which follow, there is no single line which cannot
be su]»stantiated by abundant proof of its truth. Indeed, I fear
that the friends of the operatives will accuse me of not telling
enough ; for in no ccue have I assumed the lowest rate of wages
paid, but invariably that which may be termed the fairest prices.
I have perhaps committed an error in weaving a story with such
a -subject : . but I felt well assured that a dry detail of facts, how-
ever welUauthenticated, would be, if read at all, forgotten too soon
for any advantage to accrue by exciting public sympathy to those
whose advantage I had in view ; and I thought it proper therefore
to endeavor to excite an interest in the characters portrayed,
which I hoped might leave some permanent impression.

I repeat, there is nothing of imagination in this volume. The (
family of Elliotts did reside in this city, but not under that name. )
) Sufferings such as I have detailed were their portion ; and there ^

f PREFACE. VU J
; „_x^„ ^

is not a single street in this great metropolis which cannot famish
a parallel case.

{ In the introduction of the frauds perpetrated in one branch of

i mnnufacture extensively carried on in this citj, Ckip making^ I

( have obtained mj statements from one who suffered all the impo-

) sitions detailed bj the girl whom I have called Miss Edwards, and )

\ much more and worse might also be related to the same effect. /

I My sole object has been, to show to the public the utter inade- :

I quacy of the compensation paid for female labor, taking into con- (

[ sideration the nature of the work, and the time consumed: and \
1 K

\ my hope is, that some means may be devised whereby the condi-

} tion of some thousands of female operatives in this city may be j
\ ameliorated It is idle to say it cannot be done. If public sym- I
) pathy is excited in their behalf, it will be done; and if the ladies of
) New York, ever foremost in ©very good work, will but step forward, |
r with their usual promptness and energy, I cannot doubt that suc-
) cess would crown each effort.

V I have in my possession facts establishing the most outrageous
( frauds and impositions practiced upon the seamstresses ; but
( although truth is stranger than fiction, I have declined to use them i
j at present, for the very fear that they are too monstrous to obtain
«' credence. If this part of the task I have thus taken on myself
( shall meet with public approbation, I shall shortly ask attention
I through another volume, to the condition of another class of ope-
* ratives — those who are compelled to work in shops where from

thirty to two hundred are daily assembled. I shall show the
^' frauds and impositions practiced upon them, the temptations to ^

which they are hourly exposed, and the inevitable consequences ',
\ of such associations. To that end, I shall gladly receive any well (

) VIII PBBFACS.

W'^^ ^^^^^^^M^^^^^^^^^^^^^^B^^^

» ™ ^ ^ — BP -^F- ^ ™

( «a1jieii(icatod statemeBts with reference to this branch of the snb-

ject, and will thankfnllj avail mjself of any information which
will enable me to present each facU as shall exhibit the evils I
hope to see corrected, in their tnte aspects. The motives which
have prompted me to present this volume, must prove the apolo-

' gists for the defects in manner and matter, which are too palpable
to be passed over. It has not been written for the sake of writing,
but with the simple wish, that through the statements it contains,
public attention maj be aroused to the true condition of the
seamstresses of New York ; and some measures promptly adopted,
as well to secure (to them) something like an adequate compensa-
tion for their toil, as to guard and protect them from the frauds

\ and impositions daily practiced on them, and to which female ope-
ratives are always liable.

^ Thx Axtthob.

CLARA ELLIOTT.

CHAPTER I.

In an upper room of a small, but neatly furnished
two story house, in one of the many streets which cross
Broadway, in the city of New- York, a mother and two
daughters are grouped about the sick couch of the hus-
band and father. The white quilt thrown over him,
is scarce more white than the thin, attenuated hands
which are moving in quick and restless action upon it.
The snowy pillow lends a marked contrast to the ghastly,
sallow lineaments of the sufferer, whose frame is ever
and anon convulsed with agony, in the efibrt to draw the
fast-expiring breath. The eyes are fixed and glassy,
lacking all expression, save that of terrible anguish.
The lips, white and covered with froth, which the care-
ful hand of the weeping wife wipes tenderly away, are
colorless, and ever and anon contracted with terrible
pain.
\ The husband and father — ^the kindest and best of
\ both — ^is on his death-bed, and the wife, who has for

fBF ^"^ '^ ■««w^*«^ ««*«*^^«*M* ^^» I \_i ~ \\m ~ i ~ — — III — — — i ~ i I — — — r~iL~*_ i '«^"i^*^^^^^^^ ■ ^^\w0k ^***^ B^

10 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. \

four and twenty years shared in his joys and sorrows —
the wife, who has never known a change in her feelings ;
or affections, from the hour in which, at the altar of God,
she plighted her maiden vows, to the hour in which she
stands by his dying couch — is by the side of the beloved
husband, watching the glimmering of the lamp of life,
as it flickers in its socket.

The daughters, too, who have grown up under his
tender care, who have ever been faithful, dutiful, af-
fectionate children — the daughtersE, whose career from
infancy to girlhood, from joyous girlhood to matured
youth, he has watched, with jealous, affectionate care —
are beside him, longing for one parting word, one look
of kind remembrance, one single last farewell : but in
vain. The eyes can no more return the affectionate
glances which were wont to cheer him on his return J
from his daily toil. The tongue, which never gave ut-
terance to aught save words of love and kindness, can

. no more respond to the greetings of heartfelt welcome,
which ever awaited his return to his cheerful home. )

; All is hushed, and in a few moments the angel of
death will have sounded that summons which all must
obey.

A faint motion of the lips, a quivering of the whole
frame, one long, deep-drawn breath — ^the last expiring

I effort of nature in its struggle with the fell tyrant — and |
the dust has returned to the dust whence it sprang —

. the soul has returned to the great Being who gave it

birth. s

I Mrs. Elliott was a widow ; Clara and Laura Elliott \

THS KLLIOTT FASaL^* 11

were fatherless ; and oh ! how much do those two words
reveal of misery, of agony, of wretchedness ! How
much of awful solemnity is crowded into those two
words — ^the widow and the fatherless !

Mrs. Elliott did not sob, nor shriek, nor swoon, as the
event was not sudden nor unexpected ; fer her husband
had laid upon that bed of sickness for many weary
weeks, suffering more than fiills to the oommon lot of
humanity, from a painful disease, but bearing his pains
and anguish with resignation and fortitude, for he wa»
upheld by a strength greater than his own, and by a
grace which is never refused to those who seek it in sin-
cerity and with faith.

Clara and Laura, who possessed less firmness dian
their mother, though they too had looked forward to
the sad bereavement with trembling fearfulness, could
scarcely realize that the worst had now befallen them,
and their grief was manifested in tears of bitterness,
and sobs, which they could not repress. Mrs. Elliott
carefully drew the sheet over the cold and stiffened
form of him she had loved so well, and sun^moning her
daughters, left the chamber of death.

The news was soon made known to the neighboi^
many of whom came in with tenders of their assistaaee ;
if required, while others came to offer sympathy in their
^ bereavement, and both were gratefully accepted; for
when the heart is bowed down with grief, it readily re-
ceives, and truly appreciates sympathy from feeling
hearts, and willingly suffers itself to be lightened of a
part of its dreary load.

BK —

^^^^^^^^^^^^^

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

In a few hours the hody was encased in its last habili-
ments of death, the snowy shroud, and the narrow cof-
fin, that common receptacle of humanity, held him in its
cold embrace.

On the second day after the death of Mr. Elliott, the
1 house was thronged with friends, assembled to pay the
last tribute of respect to the remains of one who had
ever been eminently worthy of all respect and esteem
while he was among and with them. The solemn tones
of the pious minister of God, impressively urging upon
his hearers the necessity of preparing themselves for a
summons from the same inexorable tyrant, fell upon the
ears of many who vowed inwardly that the lesson should
not be lost upon them — upon some, who forgot it ere the
sounds of his voice had died away — and upon the ears
of others who had their lamps trimmed and filled with
oil, awaiting the coming of the bridegroom, ready at any
moment to go forth and enter with him into the marriage
feast.

A long line of friends follows the body to its last
resting-place; the earth receives the earth, and the
crowd separate, each to return to his respective af-
fairs, and to forget in a few hours the solemn scene in
which he has performed a part.

Mrs. Elliott and her daughters returned to their sad-
dened home, and none accompanied them thither : for
all felt that their grief was too holy and pure to be in-
truded on by offers of comfort or words of consolation at
such a time. Time alone could heal the wound which
{ the arrow of death had left rankling in their bosoms, and

{

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 13

time alone, at once the destroyer and the silent com-
. forter, could restore to theiji the peace and serenity of
which they had been robbed. And while they are
j mourning in the sadness of their hearts, let me briefly
I narrate some of the most material circumstances con-
nected with their history, necessary to a proper appre-
ciation of their characters and feelings.

Mr. Elliott was a mechanic, who had married, almost
as soon as he was out of his time, a girl whose prospects
were not more brilliant or more cheering than his own.
He was industrious, economical and temperate . Possess-
ing a warm heart and an aflectionate disposition, he was
well calculated for domestic happiness, and in the partner
whom he had chosen to share his lot with him, he had
found all he dared to look or hope for.

Mrs. Elliott was the daughter of a worthy man, the
only child, and she had been educated as well as his
means would allow, but with the double purpose of mak-
ing her useful to herself, in case occasion should require,
as well as ornamental in society ; and she was as truly
happy in the love of the honest, hard-working youth
who sought her hand, as she could have been in the
glitter and vain show of wealth, with all its heartlessness
and pride.

He prospered in his affairs, and sought no higher
happiness than was to be found in the society of his
beloved wife and beautiful children, Clara and Laura.
A few years after his marriage, husband and wife were
brought to the knowledge and love of God, and became
hoping, trusting members of the church of Christ, and

..«>

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

acting upon consistent principles, they sought early to
instil the same glorious truths into the hearts of their
children, which had ever brought peace and happiness
to their home and hearts.

Their lives were marked by no event of more than
ordinary occurrence. Mr. Elliott prospered, and secured
friends by his honest and prompt mode of dealing, while
his wife and daughters grew into the hearts of all who
were admitted to their friendship.

Having by frugality and economy amassed a little
money, he had invested it in the house in which he re-
sided, leaving, however, nearly one half its value upon
mortgage with the former owner, from whom he had
purchased it. At the time he was taken sick, he was
in treaty with the original owner, to exchange the house
and lot for a snlall farm in a neighboring county, but
his long-continued illness, and subsequent death, pre-
vented him from completing an arrangement which he
had long cherished at heart ; for he disliked much the
idea of having any incumbrance on his property, and
had purposed to procure the farm free from all indebt-
edness. {

An examination of his affairs, which took place soon !
after his death, showed that, although he was entirely
free from indebtedness to any person, except some very
triviar amounts, he had left nothing in the shape of pro-
perty, except the house in which his family resided, and
which, as I have said, was mortgaged for nearly, if not
more than the half of its value, and the te|*m for which
the mortgage was given had nearly expired.

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 15 J

Mrs. Elliott consulted with a friend, in whom she
placed implicit confidence, and acting under his advice,
made efibrts to dispose of the house, nothing doubting
that the surplus, after paying off the mortgage, would,
if properly invested, enable her, by industry and fru-
gality, to maintain her family in comfortable circum-
stances.

The situation in which she was placed, rendered a
sale absolutely necessary ; and much to her chagrin
and disappointment, the property was disposed of at
what might be almost termed a sacrifice, as not more
than one hundred dollars were lefl for the widow, after
the incumbrance upon the house had been paid off, and
all the necessary expenses of selling, etc., defrayed.

Smaller apartments were immediately hired, and into
them she soon afterward removed, with her two daugh-
ters, intending, as many others were compelled to do,
to support themselves by their industry, not doubting
that with their needles, they could earn a comfortable
subsistence. Clara had learned* the trade of a dress-
maker, and Laura had so often worked at tailors' work
for her father, that she felt confident she would be able,
ill a very short time, to earn a fair livelihood, while
Mrs. Elliott was destined to the charge of their domes-
tic arrangements, and to do all she could to assist the
girls.
I They could not, of course, maintain the same position
( in society which had been accorded to them during the
^ lifetime of their father ; but they did not complain, for \
5 they were too wi.se to grieve at the loss of thf ir summer *,

)

16 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

"«

friends, who could rejoice with them only in their pros-
perity, but who deserted and forsook them at the first
cold breath of adversity ; and as they had never been
educated or taught to rely for pleasure, much less for
happiness, solely on the society of others, the loss of it
caused them but trifling inconvenience, and they lived
cheerfully and contentedly by themselves, and for them-
selves alone, looking for true happiness only in the com-
forts of a religious life, and placing their sole confidence
and trust in the Great Power who ruleth the destinies
of the earth — of its great and rich, as well as its poor
and needy.

— ' • •©

THE ELLIOTT FAMILT. 17

CHAPTER II.

;

In an elegantly furnished parlor, in (Mie of the &shion-
a'ble squares in the upper part of the city, a lady, who
has passed the age which is termed, by courtesy, uncer.
tain, and on w^ose brow and cheek time had left traces !
which no art could entirely conceal — ^though art had
! been called in to replace all that age had taken away of
youth and beauty — ^is seated upon a soft velvet couch,
! languidly giving directions to a servant, who is arrang- I
ing a great variety of ornaments about the room for a
large party to be held that evening. I

Two young ladies, her daughters, are lounging each
upon a sofa, watching the motions of the harassed ser-
vant, and ever and anon turning to hear, and comment /
with flippancy upon the directions which issue from the
lips of their mother. The three are attired in loose
morning dresses, and haye evidently passed the greater
part of the morning hours in arranging them, so as to J
\ present the appearance of being perfectly careless, but )
\ at the same time as becoming as possible. !

\ " There, John, that will do," said the elderly lady, as \
'. John moved for the twentieth time a magnificent cande- j
i labra, which had been purchased for the occasion. ^

J 18 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. )

" Has Mr. Watson sent home that set of China I en- |
gaged yesterday?" |

"Yes, ma'am."

" And the cut glass ?"

"Yes, ma'am."

" Very well, you may go now, and see if the articles
ordered from the confectioner's have come home," and
the obedient John withdrew, leaving the mother and
daughters alone.

" Mother," suddenly exclaimed the youngest of the
young ladies, as if aroused by some sudden thought,
and starting from her recumbent posture, "have you
sent a card to Mr. Robertson ?"

" Mr. Robertson ! Why certainly not. Nobody
knows who Mr. Robertson is. We met him, it is true,
at Doctor B * * * 's, the other night, but I am inclined
to think he was only asked there because the doctor was
a great friend of his father when he was in South Caro-
lina, and could not well avoid asking him."

" I am sure, mother," replied the young lady, who

evidently was bent upon having Mr. Robertson among

the guests of the evening, " I am sure I heard Doctor

B * * * say he was a young man of excellent family,

possessing brilliant talents, and that his acquaintance

would be an acquisition in any circle. Besides, I am ]

: sure he was very attentive to us, and I found him I

} very interesting." j

j " He may do for Doctor B * * * 's circle, but not for (

ours, Euphemia ; so make yourself easy," replied the ^

t mother, imperiously. " He is not a match for either of

THB ELLIOTT FAMILY. 19

my girls, and I want no fortune-hunters running to my
house. So consider that acquaintance as at an end.^'

" Mother," chimed in Maria, the elder daughter, "I
am quite sure you do Mr. Robertson injustice. He is
not a fortune-hunter. Indeed, I do not think he has
ever dreamed of a wife ; for he is just commencing his
profession, and has barely means to support himself."
\ " Well, well, I don't want to hear any more of Mr.
j Robertson. He has not received a card, and will not
I from me, and I doubt not we can manage to get on
S without him for one evening."

A very slight pout was perceptible upon the pretty
lips of the pretty daughters, whose wishes were thus
J firmly overruled, but they knew it was useless to con-
tend with their mother upon such a point, and wisely
forbore making any further allusion to Mr. Robertson.
I Mr. Robertson, who appeared to have so much inter-
( ested the young ladies, was a young gentleman of very
( brilliant talents, as Doctor B * * * had said, who had
moved to New- York to pursue the study of the law.
His father had been immensely wealthy, but unfortunate
speculations ruined him, and at his death, Charles was
left with a slender income, barely sufficient for his sup-
port ; but possessing a strong mind, he did not give way
to useless repinings at the loss of his wealth, and having
determined to carve out a fortune for himself, in the
pursuit of some honorable profession, he had selected
the law as most suited to his temperament and talents.
Doctor B * * *, at whose house the ladies had met him,
was an intimate acquaintance of his father's, and he soon
(ft.

20 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. |

learned to love the saa, not only for the father's sake, but (
for the very many excellent qualities which he was not (
long in discovering that he possessed. Of him it is un- {
necessary to say more at present. i

The ladies, whose brief conversation the reader has (
overheard, deserve a more particular notice. i

Mr. Simmons had commenced life (so far as is known t
to history,) as an errand boy in a lawyer's office, but his
activity attracted the attention of one of his master's
clients, a wholesale merchant, who had taken him into
his employ for his board and clothing, until he could earn
more, promising to advance him as his conduct should
deserve. The advancement, however, did him little good,
for his conduct in his new situation became so displeas-
ing to his employer, that he was compelled to turn him
adrift ; and he was, after wandering about for several
weeks, almost in a state of starvation, picked up by a
poor but charitable tailor, who taught him his trade.

Of his parents he knew nothing, but it is charitable to
presume they were very worthy and respectable peo-
ple. He had not the most indistinct recollection of
them, and therefore any allusion to them could not
cause him any pain, nor was he in any danger of having
their faults or vices — if they had any — ^thrown in his
teeth, as he had no recollection at all of them.
j He managed to stay with his kind master until he had ?
( learned his trade sufficiently well to set up for himself; >
and just when he was beginning to be useful to the man ^ '
who, through motives of charity, had given him food and
shelter, he left him, to carve out a fortune for himself.

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 21

At the age of twenty-three, he fell in with a pretty

seamstress, who worked for the same shop as himself,

and after a very short acquaintance, they were made

man and wife. Her parents (she had the advantage of

! Mr. Simmons, in knowing her parents,) had managed to

! make a livelihood, the father as a shoemaker, and the

|. i mother lending her assistance in the support of the

domestic establishment, by keeping a stand in one of the

i markets, for the sale of fruit, vegetables and flowers.

Ellen, their only child, had none of the advantages of

I education, but she had a strong, masculine mind, and

I made up in boldness what she lacked in information.

j Soon after the marriage of the happy couple, the parents I

j of the young wife set her up in a small fancy store in

I Division-street, while a room over the store served at

I once for a parlor for the family, and a workshop for Mr.
, Simmons, who contrived to get a good share of custom.
{• "Great oaks from little acorns grow," and so it
-proved with Mr. and Mrs. Simmons. In due process
of time, Mr. Simmons opened a shop 'for himself, and
<JVfrs. Simmons gave up the fancy store, to lend him a
helping hand, and to take care of the two daughters, ;
I IVfaria and Euphemia, who had blessed their union.
I The small shop became in time a large one ; then it
\ I was moved into a more fashionable street, and finally,
I \ it was abandoned entirely, Mr. Simmons having gone

iinto the wholesale clothing business, and Mrs. Simmons,
whose parents by this time had died, having cut all her
old associates, had set up for a fine lady, and suffered
no available opportunity to pass without impressing j

a
d

22 THE ELLIOTT FAMILT. \

upon the minds of her daughters, now growing rapidly (
into womanhood, the necessity of forgetting, as much as (
they possibly could, by-gone times, and treating with \
contempt all who were poorer than themselves. ',

They were sent to the most fashionable schools, and \ ■
Mrs. Simmons, who had sense enough to be fully eon- (
scions of her own ignorance, improved herself by taking ,
private lessons from a lady, whose poverty compelled j
her to humble herself before this haughty, purse-proud i
woman. .

Mr. Simmons, at the time of his introduction to the |
reader, has amassed a handsome fortune, lives in splen-
did style, in one of the most fashionable squares in the
city, moves in the best circles, gives magnificent enter-
tainments, and no one inquires who he was or whence
he sprang, while the same convenient neglect is extend-
ed to Mrs. Simmons, to whom the position of a fashion-
able woman is readily conceded, by those not more
wealthy than herself.

The daughters, Maria and Euphemia, are handsome,
dashing, fashionable girls — ^too fashionable entirely, to
I be of the least possible service to themselves, or to any
human being, and too highly accomplished, to be ac-
/ quainted with any useful branch of general education.
They are both marriageable, and both anxious to be
well settled, but both think too highly of birth and )
fashion, to unite themselves to any but one moving in
the same rank of society with themselves. It is hardly )
necessary to say, that they are heartless, and that there i
is not the most remote danger of either marrying beneath (

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

them for love, at least so long as fortune continues to
shower her favors upon them.

The reader must not deem that I have been too severe
in exhibiting this family in their true aspects. They
are seen now in all the pomp and pride of wealth and
station, and accredited birth; and they will be seen
again, moving in another, and, perhaps, more appro-
> priate sphere.

Mr. Simmons was the original owner of the house in
which Mr. Elliott had resided, he having purchased it
from him ; and he it was who had repurchased it, at a
price barely covering his own mortgage, congratulating
himself upon having made so excellent a bargain, but
never for a moment casting a thought upon the widow
and her orphan daughters, who were so suddenly re-
duced from comparative comfort to a bare subsistence,
through his instrumentality.

During the lifetime of Mr. Elliott, he had always,
when they met, treated him with respect ; for even he
could not deny that Mr. Elliott was worthy of it ; but
he knew of no consideration which called upon him to
extend the same civility to the poor widow and her x
daughters, who, in days of old,, he had so often noticed (
as "beautiful and truly interesting girls." Death had \
severed all connection with them, and they were entirely
forgotten by him, except when he chanced to pass the
house they had formerly owned, but which, having re-
verted to himself, was now let to another family, pro-
ducing him a handsome investment for his money.

24 THE ELLIOTT FAMILT.

CHAPTER III.

Mrs. Elliott and her daughters were comfortal
situated, in small but neatly furnished apartments,
one of the streets' on the eastern side of the city. Th
felt the necessity of practicing the strictest economy, a
had accordingly disposed of all their furniture, exa
such as was necessary for the rooms they had tak(
The money realized from this, though small in amou

j added to the trifle left oVer from the sale of the house, v
sufficient tQ keep them for a short time, until some defin
plan could be laid out for the future, or until the gi
could secure employment of some kind ; for they w<
fully aware that they must now rely entirely upon th
own industry.

In a short time, the violence of their grief for 1

I death of the husband and father, wore away ; a

^ though they never ceased to mourn him, they nei
permitted their sorrow for the dead so far to overcoi
them, as to neglect the ordinary and necessary dut
and responsibilities of life.

Mrs. Elliott was the first to urge the necessity of th
seeking work, and Laura was dispatched to the who

) sale clothing establishment of Mr. Simmons, in Pea

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 25

Street, to procure such work as she could do j and pro-
vision was made for Clara, by having a small tin sign
fastened on the front door, signifying that "dress-
making" was performed within.

Laura was received by Mr. Simmons with a coldness
and haughtiness, which rendered her painfully sensible
of the difference in their situations — for he had ever,
during her father's lifetime, treated her with marked
courtesy and kindness. On preferring her request,
•that he would furnish her with work, he replied, very
coldly :

" I never trouble myself with that part of the business.
My foreman, there, will give it out, if he has any. Mr.
Jones," he added, turning to the individual alluded to as
his foreman, " if you have anything ready, you may give
it to this young woman," and he immediately moved
away, to attend upon some customers who entered the
store at that moment. *

Laura turned to the foreman, a sleek, fashionably-
dressed young man, highly perfumed, and wearing a ,
formidable pair of well-curled whiskers, which seemed |
to be the object of his especial care and attention.

He eyed her with a look, which she wished not to in-
terpret into impertinence, for a few moments, and then
asked, in very mild tones, if she had any choice of work.

" None whatever ; anything he chose to give out, she
would make up," was the reply, coldly but civilly given. |

Calling a boy, who was in another part of the store, \
he whispered some directions to him, which he proceed- !
ed to obey, and meanwhile he essayed to open a conver- |

26 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. \

\ sation with Laura. She was, however, obstinately
j silent, replying only in monosyllables; so he set her
j down for a fool, and thrusting a bundle at her, which the )
\ boy had brought to him, he said, as he handed her a little |
^ book : ^

" Here is a book to keep your accounts. We pay off
every fortnight, deducting always for bad work."

Laura took the huge bundle with a heavy heart, but
she gladly made her escape from a place where she was
so rudely treated, and hurried homeward, determined,
however, to say nothing of the vexations and imperti-
nences to which she had been subjected, as she knew it
would only cause pain to her mother and sister.

When she reached home, she opened the bundle,
which she found to contain six pair of coarse satinet
pantaloons. She had not the most remote idea how
much she was to receive for making them, but very
foolishly considered that the remuneration would bear
something like a proportion to the amount of work to be
performed, and the time it would consume. Convinced
in her own mind of this, she commenced her work with
a cheerfulness which was worthy of imitation when her
situation was considered.

As for Clara, her prospects looked really encouraging.
Her sign was scarcely dry, before she was waited upon
by a couple of dashy, showy girls, who wished her to
make up some dresses for them at their own residence ;
and they left the street and number, on receiving Clara's
promise to be punctual in her attendance on the follow-
ing day. .

— ®

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 27

! Having partaken of an early breakfast, she started off,
with a light and happy heart — ^as- light and happy, at
least, as her recent loss would permit— (for she felt a
pride in the thought, that she ipight be able to support
herself )^and rejoicing in the good fortune which had

j befallen her, in thus procuring work, at the first onset of
her career. When she reached the house, she rang the
bell, and the summons was answered by one of her visit-
ors of the previous day, who conducted her into a back
room, where her companion was seated. The material
of which the dress was to be made up was brought out,
and after Clara had been called on to admire and praise
its beauty, the work was commenced, and the time passed \

on very pleasantly until the shades of night drew on, when
she started for home, promising to return the following
day, and finish the dress she had been making, and an-
other one, also, which they wished to have made up.

When the family were seated around the frugal table
set for their evening meal, and after the blessing of God
had been invoked upon it, the conversation naturally
verged toward the occurrences of the day. Laura
glossed over her share of the proceedings, as well, per-
haps, to hide her own mortification at the manner of her
reception by Mr. Simmons, from whom she had expected,
at least, civility, as to avoid narrating that which she
knew would cause her mother and sister unhappiness.

Clara, however, was all life and happiness. " Six
shillings to-day, mother, and six more to-morrow, is a
pretty good beginning. Don't you think it is, Laura ?"

Laura assented, and sighed as she wondered if she had
& —

28 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

made the same amount. She knew she had earned it,

but whether she would receive that much, was something J

yet to be ascertained. j

"Six shillings a day, makes thirty-six shillings a J

; week — four dollars and a half — and four dollars and a (
half for you, Laura, make nine dollars a week ; and if <;
we can continue at that rate, dear mother here need not ^

) do anything but tend the house."

" Ah, Clara, you build very pretty castles, but I am
i afraid you do not make very good calculations," said
her mother, rather seriously. " You have not made al-
lowances for the days you must be without work — nor
for sickness, which you know we are all liable to suffer
— ^nor for the carelessness, to call it by no harsher word,
of those who forget to pay the trifle which you must earn
by such hard labor."

" Ah ! but, mother," said Clara, smiling, " I don't mean
to sew for any but those who pay promptly. I should
like to get Miss Simmons' dresses to make. It would
be a good thing for me to get such custom as that ; it
would make me known, and then I should never want
work."

" But, my daughter, do you look forward ever to

a life of toil ?" inquired Mrs. Elliott, with earnest-
ness.

" Mother," said Clara, seriously, " what else do I dare

look for ? We are poor, and must work ; and though, I

confess, it is not pleasant to look forward to a life spent

in toil, day after day, with nothing to cheer or comfort

one, it is better to meet even that with cheerfulness, and

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 29

make the most of it, than to sigh and pine over our mis-
I fortunes ; for I am sure, crying or pining won't better
our situation."

" That is very true, my dear, and I am glad to see
I you resigned to your fate — for fate, I fear, I must now
\ call it, as I certainly look for no change for the better,
I unless, indeed, some worthy man should marry one of
my girls, and perhaps, for the daughter's sake, he would
give the mother a shelter."

"Oh, mother, dear mother," exclaimed both of her
daughters at once, " we will never leave nor forsake
you. You will always have the first place in our
hearts, and we hope always to be worthy of the same in
your own."

" Who on earth," said Laura, gaily, " would marry a
poor girl now-a-days ? Marry, indeed ! I hope, mother,
you will live to see us both married ; you will reach a
ripe old age, I promise you," and she broke into a
merry laugh. j

" Come, come, Laura," said Clara, " there's many a
true word spoken in jest, so let us drop marriage, and
talk of something more interesting, certainly more im-
portant. I had made out just now a clear income of
nearly five hundred dollars, when you interrupted me.
I am sure we can live in comfort on that."

" Yes ; but, Clara, you are counting my work the
same as your own. I have no idea what I am to receive
^ for these pantaloons," said Laura.

" Receive ! why a dollar a pair, at least. They are
{ coarse common stuff*, and I don't suppose they are worth i

»^

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

much more than a dollar a pair for making, and you
know we cannot expect to get the full value for them.
I have no doubt you will gel a dollar a pair, and you can
make, let me see, how many pairs a week V*

" I don't know ; it is rather heavy work, and I can tell
better when these are done ; and when I carry them
home, we can make our calculations with more accu-
racy, for 1 shall then know how much I shall be paid.
You know Mr. Simmons only pays every fortnight, at
least so the foreman told me."

" For my part,'' said Clara, " as soon as I have finished
the dresses for these ladies, I mean to try and let the
Misses Simmons know that I take in dress-making.
Who knows but they may give me work, for father's
sake, and if I can once get the custom of their friends,
I may consider myself made."

Laura said nothing, but she thought to herself, that
if the daughters resembled the father, Clara's chances
of sympathy or work, for the sake of their dear father,
were very slender. She did not wish to discourage or
dishearten her, however, so she kept her thoughts to
herself, and merely nodded assent.

Early on the following morning, Clara repaired to the
house where she had passed the previous day, and she
sewed so steadily and rapidly, that by night she had
completed all the work they had for her, and had earned
her twelve shillings.

As she was putting on her hat and shawl to return
home, one of the girls said to her :

" You need not wait for the money now ; father will

(

1 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 81

not be home until late, and we will send it to you in the
morning."

Clara would much have preferred to receive the
money at once, as she had made great calculations on
being able to exhibit her first earnings to her mother
! and sister; but seeing no way to avoid the delay, she
thanked them, and left for home.

It was past her usual hour, and the tea-table had
been kept for her; for they could not think of sitting t
down without her. As she entered the room, her (
mother saw, from the expression of her countenance,
that something was wrong, and could not forbear ask-
ing her what had occurred.

'* Why, mother, to tell you the truth," said Clara,
" I was grievously disappointed this evening, in not re-
ceiving my money. I had anticipated so much plea-
sure in presenting to you my first earnings, that the
disappointment affected me more seriously than so
trifling an occurrence ought to have done."

" Ah ! my dear," replied Mrs. Elliott, shaking her
head sadly, " this, I fear, is but the first of our trials.
I have no doubt you will eventually receive your
money, but those who employ are too apt, in the re-
membrance of their own comforts, to forget the neces-
sities of those who are compelled to toil for them."
" Well, well, Clara," said Laura, encouragingly,
I " don't be disheartened. A bad beginning, you know,
/ sometimes makes a very good end ; and if you should
get work from the Misses Simmons, you will, at least,
be sure of your pay when it is done.

^.' v-' "S .

32 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. \

" Come, come, girls," exclaimed Mrs. Elliott, anxious
to dispel the clouds cast over them, "don't think of
this ; it is too trifling an occurrence to affect us so
much. Let us confide in God, and all will yet be well.
Laura here has been at work, steadily, since you left i
the house, and has only finished one pair of the panta- j
loons. I fear she will have to sew much faster, if she \
hopes to earn her own living, or Mr. Simmons will (
have to .pay a larger price than we anticipate." J

A few words more of encouragement from the af-
fectionate mother, and the disappointments of the day
were forgotten.

After tea, Laura resumed her work, while Clara
seated herself, and penned *a very polite note to the
Misses Simmons, informing them that she had com-
menced dress-making, and would thankfully receive
any work they might have for her, either at her house
or their own. This she took herself, and delivered it
to the servant at the door, returning home full of the
most pleasing anticipations — so full, indeed, that she \
actually forgot for the moment the twelve shillings
which she had earned with such hard labor, and which
she had not yet received.

Laura continued at her work until all the family had
retired to rest, notwithstanding the remonstrances of her
mother and sister ; for she was determined to earn her j
share of the week's income, and she felt the necessity }
of completing, if possible, the whole six pair of panta-
loons during the week, although it was now Wednesday
evening. To accomplish this, she must work early and

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

commencing her day's toil at early dawn, and
Qg only when nature, almost exhausted, demanded
36 in sleep.

^^^^

84 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

CHAPTER IV.

The party given by Mrs. Simmons was all tha
anticipated. Her rooms were crowded almost to s
cation, and at every step she was stopped by some
friend, who insisted upon assuring her how very a;
able they found everything, and how magnificent
all the arrangements.

Misses Euphemia and Maria were, of course.
magnets of the evening, and their superabur
vanity was flattered to a surfeit, by the immodi
amount of attention paid to them, and the thousand
tering speeches poured into their willing ears.

In the course of the evening, some one of the gi
during a casual conversation, mentioned that an <
was then in progress, on the part of some philan
pists, for the amelioration of the condition of the
This was a subject upon which Mr. Simmons wa
culiarly at home, as he was well known for the e:
of his donations to very many charitable institutions
due acknowledgment of which always appeared m*
ly in one of the city papers, most widely circulate

" There is," said Mr. Simmons, " entirely too r
\ said about the poor, and an improper sympathy ij

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 36

cited in behalf of a very large class, who not only do
not thank us for it, but who do not deserve the half of
it/'

" And yet/' said the gentleman who started the con-
versation, ** I have seen a vast deal of suffering among
those who are least thought of among our citizens, I mean
the seamstresses. Now, I have seen a mother and daugh-
ter working at tailoYs' work from daylight until mid-
night, to earn three or four shillings a day, and that
was to feed five mouths, and clothe five human bodies,
) besides paying for house-rent and fire, and other neces-
saries."

" Yes," replied Mr. Simmons, elevating himself with
conscious pride, and speaking in tones louder than com-
mon, ** that may be the case with some establishments,
but in mine I always pay such prices as insures to
honest industry a fair reward," and he looked around
the room, as if to say, who dared to doubt him.

" I am glad to hear it," was the response, " for there
are some who scruple not to oppress and beat down the
poor girls who are compelled to work for them, until
they are only preserved from actual starvation by ef-
forts which neither you nor I could think we could
make, under any possible circumstances."

As Mr. Simmons had made this assertion before a
large number of people, it is but fair to infer that he
thought it true, and I have only narrated this brief con-
versation — for much more of a similar nature occur-
red — to show how erroneous are the ideas entertained
on the part of some of the condition of this class of our

36 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

population. Let us see how the facts stand ; and for
that purpose let us return to Laura Elliott.

The week has closed, and a weary week it has been
to her — ^a week of ceaseless, arduous toil ; for she has
endeavored, if possible, to work so as to earn as much
as her sister. By devoting to her work many of the
hours which exhausted nature demanded for repose,
she has managed to finish in five days four pair of the
pantaloons, out of the six which had been given out.

Tying them up in a bundle, and taking her shop-
book with her, she proceeded, on Saturday, just before
dusk, to Mr. Simmons' warehouse, where she met a
great number of females, assembled for the same pur-
pose as herself, viz., to return their work. The sight
of so many pale and anxious countenances affected her
deeply, and she wondered within herself what could
cause such a general appearance of melancholy upon
the countenances of all, young and old, alike. She
saw there, the mother of a large family, thin, pale, and
' apparently ill able to sustain the large bundle she was
i holding, patiently awaiting her turn to have the fore-
) man set down the amount due to her in the shop-book.
I She saw the young girl, too, who had scarce reached
J the morn of youth, and whose days ought to have been
{ passed in cheerful serenity, careworn, sad, and almost
} exhausted. In vain she looked around for one happy,
smiling face : not one was there to greet her eye, and
she turned away from the spirit-broken group with a
sinking heart.

One by one they wero attended to, and at length her

;

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 37

turn came. Trembling with anxiety, to learn how
much she had earned, she placed her bundle on the
coimter, and handed the book to the scented fop who
stood behind it, and she watched him with fearful
eagerness, as he examined her work. It appeared to
satisfy him, for, laying it aside, he took the pen, which
was placed behind his ear, half-buried in his flowing,
well-oiled locks, and making an entry in her book,
handed it to her, without saying a word, and extending
his hand for the next one in turn.

Laura did not look at the entry which had been made
in the book, in the store, but hurried home, and before
taking oflT any of her things, she went to the light, and
opening the book with trembling eagerness, read it.
The entry stood thus :

Four pairs coarse pant's, 81,25

The book fell from her hands, and she burst into an
agony of tears. Five days and nights of ceaseless toil
for the miserable pittance of ten shillings ! She could
not, she would not believe it, and when she had some-
what recovered from the feelings into which the read-
ing of the entry had at first thrown her, she took up the
book again, with the thought it might possibly mean
that it was ten shillings per pair. That idea she soon
abandoned, however, as preposterous, and another burst /
of tears aflTorded some relief to her overcharged heart.

" Ten shillings for five days and nights of such
work as I have done!" she inwardly exclaimed. "Oh
man, thou guardian and protector of our sex, how
faithfully do ye fulfil your trust !" }

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

Th6 entrance of her mother and sister at that moment,
interrupted her train of thought, and with a bitter smile,
she handed to them the book.

" Good Heaven !*' exclaimed Mrs. Elliott; " why we
shall starve at that rate.'*

" Well, mother,'* said Laura, despondingly, " and
who is there to care if we do ? We are now only poor
seamstresses, and so long as we can work — so long as
we have health and strength to use a needle, I dare say
we can get employment sufficient to buy dry bread, and
that is good enough for us."

Clara's heart was too full for words. Deeply did
she sympathize with her sister, for she had herself that
day received a severe check to her happy anticipations.
After going day after day for the twelve shillings she
had earned, she was at last told, and in no very gentle
terms, that her dunning was impertinent, and if it was
repeated, she might look for her money where she could
find it ; it would be sent to her when it was convenient
for them to pay it, and she need give herself no further
trouble.

" Now," said Laura, with bitterness, after Clara had
related her disappointment, " if it had been a man who
had treated you in that manner, I would not have wonder-
ed ; but I must confess I did expect more sympathy from
our own sex. However, we are poor, and must bear it,
and so make the best of it ; and now, what shall we do ? I
cannot, at this rate, make, at4;he most, more than fifteen
shillings a week, and to do that, I must work day and
night, and my health would soon break under it. Let

THE BLLIOTT FAMILY 89 J

me see/^ she added, " that, at the rate I have worked —
fourteen hours each day — is two and a quarter cents an
hour!"

" You must finfeh, Laura," said her mother, " the
remaining two pairs of pantaloons, and when you take
them back, ask the foreman for lighter work. It is
very evident, your health cannot long stand such toil.
Even if you make no more money by the change than
. you can now, the labor may not be so severe ; and
1 you, Clara, I fear your dress-making does not promise
very auspicious results. However, it will not do to be
discouraged so soon. You may fall in with honest peo-
ple, who will not feel insulted if a poor girl should ask
for her hard-earned money."

" Give up ! no indeed," said Clara, rallying, and es-
saying to be gay. " I hope yet to see my name in
) very large letters on some large house in Broadway —
' Madame Elliotte, from Paris.' You know it would not
do to be Miss Elliott, so I put Madame, and then I con-
vert myself into a French woman, by the simple addi-
tion of the letter e. Nothing is easier."

" Yes, very easy to fancy, my dear ; and although
it is practiced every day, I feel that you will never
reach that point. However, I wish you success, and a
full realization of your anticipations."

At this moment the family were startled by a rap at

the door, which, on being opened, admitted a servant

; of Mr. Simmons, who brought a message for Miss El-

i liott to come to the house on Monday morning, to assist

40 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY ^

a dress-maker for the week, as they were going to have
some dresses made up for a summer's jaunt.

Clara could scarcely restrain her joy as the servant
delivered his message, and as soon as he was out of
sight and hearing, she danced about the room, in the
exuberance of her joy.

" There, mother, my fortune, and yours, too, is made.
I have felt all along, if I could only get work from the
Misses Simmons, it would make me known in such a
set, that I must succeed. Oh, how truly thankful I
am. Dear Laura, why don't you give up such kind
of work, and learn dress-making ? I will teach you ;
you can make a great deal more, and the work is not
so hard."

" Thank you, dear," said Laura, sadly. " My taste
is not so good as yours, and I fear I never could be a
good dress-maker. I will try and procure lighter
work, and I may do T)etter at that."

Clara was thrown into such a joyous state by the
message from the Misses Simmons, that she forgot her
twelve shillings, and all the hard feelings the disap-
pointment had occasioned ; and she strove so hard to in-
spire her mother and sister with cheerfulness, that she
succeeded at length, and the remainder of the evening
was passed in joyful anticipations of the future.

The next day, the sabbath, as was their invariable i
custom, they went to the house of God, and unlike very
many females, they went in season. They had no new
hats or dresses to exhibit ; and even had they been so
fortunate as to possess such cherished and attractive

I THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 41 i

) articles, it is due to them to say, they never would have
chosen such a place for their exhibition. They were
in their places early, and not a little were they shocked,

to find that a very great portion of the female part of
the congregration — those who were seated at the great-
j est distance from the preacher, and who, in conse-
quence, had the greatest distance to walk in the face
of those already assembled — did not reach the sacred
temple until the services were well commenced. They
very charitably inferred that some domestic calamity
had detained them so late, and never in their hearts for
a moment attributed it to the love of display, at the
sacrifice even of propriety.

The services of the day were listened to by Mrs.
Elliott and her daughters with attention, and the ad- v
monitions of the preacher received with respect, while
in the fervor and devotion with which they joined in
the prayers, they derived a cheerfulness of spirit, and
serenity of mind, which they knew and felt it was vain
to look for elsewhere than from religion.

The day was passed by them as Christians should
pass it, and at night they retired to their humble

couches, with hearts at peace with God and man, and |
with their hope, trust and confidence more firmly fixed '
on, and more trustfully placed in, the Great Disposer
• of events.

( 42 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

CHAPTER V.

Early on Monday morning, Clara proceeded to the
splendid ipansion of Mr. Simmons, and was at once set
at work by a fashionable dress-maker, whom she found
already there, and who had succeeded in gaining that
stand, and the custom of a certain fashionable set, which
was the present height of Clara's ambition. It is true, J
the Misses Simmons paid no more attention to her, than if
she had not been in the room, except to give, occasion-
ally, in very positive tones, directions respecting the
work, and to interrupt her very frequently, by requir-
ing her to show them the particular mode of doing cer-
tain things.

Their conversation was particularly directed to the
dress-maker, who seemed to know a little of everything,
and everybody's business; and Clara heard there the
history of several families, of whom she had before
known, painted in colors by no means flattering, if half
I told of them was true ; and she was innocent enough to
j suppose that they would not have ventured to use such
( language in reference to them, unless the remarks were
I true.

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 43

Poor Laura, who was dreadfully disheartened, re-
sumed her cheerless work, endeavoring to console her-
self with the reflection, that the next work she would
procure should be more easy, and she trusted, more 1
profitable. By working with great assiduity, she com- I
pleted the remaining two pairs of pantaloons so as to \
; carry them to the store on Tuesday, toward the close J
of the day ; and after they had been examined, and the \
entry made in the book, she ventured to ask, if he could
not give her work which was not so heavy, as she found
her health and strength unequal to her present task.

The foreman stared at her for an instant, with much
the same look as Bumble, the beadle, gave to Oliver
Twist, when he dared to ask for more, and was on the
point of making some impudent reply, when he checked
himself, and with a smile, which he intended to be fas-
cinating, said :

" Why, yes, I will try. Can you make vests ?"

"Oh yes, sir," replied Laura, with something of
eagerness in her manner, for she had made them for
her father in bygone years — " Oh yes, sir ; and T should
prefer them much to sueh heavy work as those panta- ;
loons."

" Well, I will give you half-a-dozen v^sts. We pay
two shillings and sixpence for them — ^the same as the
pantaloons."

Again Laura's heart sank within her. However,
she had asked for the vests, and must take them ; so
she received in silence the bundle which he handed
her, saying, at the same time : )

44 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

" We are very much hurried now, and I wish you to
I finish them as speedily as possible." i

J Laura promised to do her best, and started home- )
! ward, with depressed spirits, for she feared that, with all i
( her industry, she could not earn more than she would i
;. have done by continuing upon the coarse pantaloons, (
{ nor at the expense of less time or labor, although the ^
work would not be so heavy, nor would it tax her health {
and strength so much as sewing on the pantaloons. '

On her way home she met a young girl, whose face
was familiar to her, carrying a bundle also, and she
accosted her, asking if they had not met before.

The girl replied that her name was Edwards, and
reminded Laura that she had lived a near neighbor to
her before the death of Mr. Elliott. i

Laura remembered her then, as a girl who w^s employ- '
ed sewing on caps, and she had often felt her pity excited
when she passed the house where she resided, as she ob-
served her always seated near the window at work.

Misery loves company, and Laura, hoping to derive )
some information from her which might prove of ser- '
vice to herself, invited her to call upon them some !
evening, giving her at the same time her own ad- j
dress. j

" I will come," replied Miss Edwards, " if you will )
let me bring my work with me, for I cannot waste an }
hour for myself or my friends."

" Certainly," replied Laura, and a tear started to J
her eyes, as she reflected upon the similarity of their )
situations ; for she too dared not to waste an hour for )

THE ELLIOTT FAMILT. 45

aD3rthmg, no matter how pleasant or attractive it might
prove

When she reached her home, Laura threw her bun- \
die on the bed, and gave way to a hearty burst of tears,
( which was perhaps excusable when it is considered that
her health already began to decline under the effects of
her dreadful overtasking, and that she was more than
usually excitable and nervous.

" What is the nu^tter, Laura ?" inquired her mother,
who having been out in search of work, entered the room
at that moment, and found Laura in tears. "You must
not give way to these fits of despondency ; it is unwor-
thy of you as a Christian."

" I know it, mother," sobbed Laura, " but I cannot
/ look at the dreary prospect before me with a smile. I see
» nothing but a life of gloomy wretchedness— days and
' nights of ceaseless, ill-requited toil, which must affect my
/ health ; and for i^hat ? — why, perhaps, for two or three
/ shillings each day — just enough to keep starvation from
I the door. Dear mother, is it not enough to make me sad ?"
I " True, my dear child ; but you know that cheerful-
! ness takes away half the tedium of labor. Remember
i the Bible teaches us that whatever we have to do, we
- should perform with zeal and diligence, and also with
a cheerful disposition. It is wrong to give way to these
gloomy forebodings : * Sufficient unto the day, is the evil
thereof.'"

" Well, mother, I will try and be more cheerful, if it
is only for your sake," and Laura wiped her eyes, until
they were red and swollen.
k

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

" See here, Laura,'* said her mother, untying her
bundle ; " look at the work I have procured, and see )
if I too have no cause to grieve. See, here are two /
dozen shirts, coarse it is true, but what do you suppose j
I am to receive for making them ?"

Laura looked at the shirts, and made a calculation in
her mind how long it would take to make one. After a
brief pause, she replied :

" I suppose about three shillingsk— or no, say two and
sixpence."

Mrs. Elliott smiled, but it was a smile full of bitter-
ness, as she replied :

" Ten cents ! Laura." *

" Good Heaven ! mother, you cannot be in earnest ?
Ten cents for making a shirt! Oh, surely, you are
jesting?"

" Daughter, I wisn it were so. Ten cents each I am
to receive for making these shirts ; and judge now if you
have much greater cause to complain than myself, and
yet you see I do not weep, or take on, as you did just

now.

" Forgive me, mother, I will never murmur again ;
but oh ! what hearts must they have to expect such work
from poor weak females for such a miserable sum. Can
they have hearts or feelings ?"

" Dear Laura, I went to a dozen places before I could
get any at all, and nearly every one I asked, paid only
eight cents. The man who let me have these, prides
himself upon paying the highest prices, and delights to

•i

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 47 \

hear it said that the females in his employ cannot com- !
plain of him on that score."
I " And how many can you make in a day ?" asked
Laura.

" I liave never made this kind of shirts, but as they
are coarse, I suppose I can make two at first, and when
I am more accustomed to them, perhaps three a day."
" Thirty cents a day !" sighed Laura ; " and suppose
any of us is taken sick — and I am sure we cannot stand
I this work long, and keep our health — what can we do ?"
I "Again, Laura, I must remind you that 'sufficient
unto the day is the evil thereof,' " was the reply of the
Christian mother. "You think we are badly off, my
dear ; but when the time comes, and it may to us, as well
I as others, that we can obtain no work at all, you will
grieve to think that you have murmured or complained
' because of our present situation. You remember Mrs.
Hammond — do you not, my dear ? Her husband died,
I and left her with three little children, perfectly desti-
tute."

" Yes, I remember her perfectly well," was the reply,
j " Well, as I was returning home with my bundle, I
j met her, but she looked so pale and haggard, ^nd was
( so altered, I never should have recognized her. She
! remembered me, however, and spoke to me. She told
' me she had been out of all work for nearly three months !
i Occasionally she had managed to get some shirts to make,
j at five cents each !"

J " Oh, mother, ^ve cents !" interrupted Laura, depre-
j catingly.

I 48 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

" Yes, my child, five cents, and she was glad to get
them at that, to keep actual starvation away from her- j
self and her little ones. It seems that many of those I
who manufacture, or rather sell shirts, and the like,
have a great stock made up during the winter season
by girls in the country, farmers' daughters, who having/
no particular duties to perform at that season, willingly
make up these coarse shirts for four and five cents a
\ piece ; and thus those who are compelled to make them
\ for a living, must work as cheaply, or get no work at
\ all. She told me that for the past week, she had lived j
on potatoes alone, which she had procured from the j
Aims-House, cooking them with chips, which she was j
allowed to pick up around the carpenters' shops and
ship-yards. One of her children has been sick for some
weeks, and is actually pining away for want of the com-
mon necessaries of life.

" She has a little room at the farthest extremity of a dark
alley, and the only furniture she owns in the world, is
( an old kettle, in which she cooks her potatoes. Every-
thing else, even to her clothing, she has been obliged to
part with, to keep starvation away yet a little longer;
and her bed for herself and children is made of a few
old garments, which she could not sell ; her pillow, a
stick of wood ! And this woman has seen better days,
' as well as ourselves. Oh, my daughter, you must not
give way so readily to these fits of despondency."

" Well, mother, I will not complain any more ; but
it is very plain, that if we intend to live by our needles,
we must think of nothing else. Thank Heaven, there

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 49

is one day of rest, and live or die," added Laura, with
energy, " I will neverdesecrate that. But it is a sad thing
to contemplate : Here we must remain — ever confined
— ever at work— denied all social intercourse — forbid-
den even the necessary enjoyment and relaxation of ex-
ercise — shut out from the world, with nothing to look for
in the future but a life of dreary toil, or a death in the
Aims-House. I wonder," she added, suddenly, as if a
new thought had struck her, "if the employers know how |
hard we do work ? I almost feel that if they did, they
would do something for us. It seems to me they would
pay something like a fair compensation, if they could
but realize the time and labor consumed in earning the
miserable pittance they now pay. What would they
think, were they compelled, as we are, to work for two,
! or at the very utmost, three cents, an hour, and from
twelve to sixteen hours each day ? I toiU think they do
not properly estimate our work, or they would mete to
us, at least, the semblance of justice."

" Hush, hush, Laura," said her mother ; " when you
are older, and have seen a few more of the ways of men,
and the world, you will be wiser than to indulge in such
foolish ideas. Come, we must go to work, and be thank-
ful that we can earn a subsistence at all. The em-
ployers, you may rest assured, will never voluntarily
take any steps to amend our condition, from the fear
that it would operate against their profits."

Mother and daughter commenced their tasks. At first,
they chatted in tones of cheerfulness, but gradually they
ceased, and their work was carried on in silence, inter-

150

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

rupted only by the occasional rustling of the garments
through which they plied their needles.

Clara did not return from the Misses Simmons until
after eight o'clock, and then all work was laid aside, to
prepare their frugal evening meaL ^

" Well, Clara," said Laura to her sister, as they were
laying the table, "I hope all your anticipations have
been realized at Mr. Simmons's."

" Laura," said Clara, pausing in her work, "I ^ould
rather be Clara Elliott, the poor dress-maker, than to be
Miss Simmons, with all her wealth, and all her pride s
and heartlessness."

" Oh, I expected as much," was the reply. " But
how do you like the idea of working for them, and do
you still think their custom will be of such service as
you expected ?"

" As to that, I cannot yet say, for they have paid no
more attention to me than if I had been a cat or a dog;
and I have heard things to-day, which I want to forget
as soon as possible. I am thankful for their work, and
shall be thankful for my money, when I receive it ; so
let us say no more at present of the Misses Sim-

mons.

After the evening meal was concluded, Mrs. Elliott
exhibited to Clara the work she had obtained, and stated
the price she was to receive for it; but she neither
manifested nor expressed any surprise.

" I am sure, mother, that is quite enough for a coarse
shirt ; for how can the employers make money if they
pay more ? No, no, ten cents is a good price. But if —

I THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 61

no, I won't say what I was going to : it was wicked.
Come, let me help you, mother, or you Laura."
< " No, dear ; you have been at work all day, and need
I rest."

( c( 'yyell, and have you not toiled all day, too, I should
j like to know, and who has a better right to help you
I than I have? So, give me some work — ^I can't bear to
be idle."

^* God forgive me for murmuring," said Laura, as she
looked at her sister. " I was wicked to-day, Clara, and \
cried myself almost sick ; but I will never do so again.
I will follow your example, and make the best of it."

" How much do you get for making those vests,
Laura?"

" Two shillings and sixpence."
" Well, I suppose that is enough for them," said Clara,
in the same sarcastic tone in which she had spoken of
the shirts. " Mr. Simmons, I dare say, tells everybody
he gives a dollar apiece for making them, and everybody
believes him. Oh, he is a noble, generous man ! I won-
der what his daughters would say, if they should ever
come down to making shirts at ten cents, pantaloons at
two shillings and sixpence, and vests at the same exor-
bitant price ? Such a thing may happen."

" Hush, hush, Clara," said her mother; "you speak
as if you almost wished it."

" Well, and so I do, and may God forgive me for it.
When I see wealth united to such pride, haughtiness and
heartlessness, I think it but just that they should sufier
some. If the wealthy only knew one half the sufferingB

^•^^*^^^^^^l

52 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. (

of those who toil to make them rich, and had any hearts,
! do you suppose they could not amend our condition?
J They are the only ones who can do it."
f "How, my dear," asked Mrs. Elliott, "could they
improve our condition?"

" By placing the addition to the price of the article,
instead of deducting it from the earnings of the toil-worn
seamstress. Dou you suppose there is a man living,
possessing the ordinary feelings of our nature, who would
not cheerfully pay a shilling or two more, if it was re.
quired, for a shirt, or vest, or any other garment, if he
knew the money he paid went to remunerate the poor
seamstress, who is compelled to subsist — for I don't call
it living — on two or three shillings a day, at the very
utmost — and even that miserable pittance earned by the
most unceasing drudgery ?"

" That is very good theory, Clara ; but most employ-
ers prefer to undersell their neighbors, even though in
order to do it, they must make up the difference to them-
selves from the hard-earned wages of the seamstress.
No, no, my dear, you must change human nature first,
and then you may hope to see justice done to those situat-
ed like ourselves."

" But surely, mother, it does not require that man's
nature should be changed, in order that we should re-
ceive justice at his hands ? It is my firm belief, that
many of those who employ seamstresses, are utterly ig-
norant of the extent of their labors, ard the inadequacy
of the compensation ; and perhaps they are fixed in the
belief, that they have no cause for complaint, for the

THE BLLIOTT FAMILY. 68 {

pie reason, that they do not complain. But I will
harbor so poor an opinion of human nature yet."
^ Well, my dear, you will learn ere long, I fear, that
I must entertain such opinions. But come, let us drop
I subject. It only renders us unhappy and discon-
ted,"

M THE ELLIOTT FAMILT.

CHAPTER VI.

On the evening of Wednesday in the same week, 5
Miss Edwards, the young girl who had been met in the \
street and recognised by Laura, paid her promised
visit ; and, as she had said, brought her work with her,
in order that she might lose no time.

"I suppose," said Laura, as their visitor entered
their humbly furnished room, " I need make no apology
for the appearance of our room. All of our time is ;
occupied with our work, and had we any to spare, I
see no prospect at present of our earning sufficient to
procure any thing further than the common necessaries
of life.

" Truly, you need make none," said Miss Edwards.
" I have been compelled to toil with my needle for my I
subsistence for years, and the most unceasing efforts on {
my part, have not enabled me to lay by a single dollar |
for emergencies. I am, as I must needs be, content to (
subsist, not live, and I never, if I can possibly avoid it, (
suffer myself to anticipate consequences, or to look to i
the future." !

"You have one advantage over us," said Clara. 1

I THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 55

" You have learned your lessons, bitter though they
; may have been — ours are yet to come. I fear we have
j hard tasks before us."

j " I have no desire, I assure you, to discourage you, (
j or say any thing to dishearten you, but you have
J indeed much that is unpleasant yet to learn — if, as Miss
I Laura has said, you rely upon your industry entirely
i for your living. Mine has been a bitter experience,
I dearly bought, although it profits me but little."

" Come, come, Louisa," said Mrs. Elliott, " let us have
\ the benefit of your experience. It may serve us much
j hereafter : and though it is prying into your confidence,
1 perhaps the necessity which urges us to ask it, may ]
i prove a suflScient apology for the liberty."

" I will very cheerfully do so, and not think it any j
liberty in asking," was the reply. " Mine, however, is
an every-day story, but there are few who will believe
! it to be so; and few I fear who can be found to believe
it true ; and very few are there who pass me in the
streets, as I go to and from my house to the shop for \
which I work, who would believe that I toil fourteen
hours every day for less than three shillings. Ay, and
I have worked more hours for less money, and have
hfsen cheated out of that at last."

" Do, that's a good girl," said Clara, whose interest
began to be awakened ; " do tell us all about yourself.
I have oflen noticed you in your window, sewing away
so steadily and so cheerfully, I have set you down as
a wonderfully industrious girl."

" You are not wrong there," said Louisa, laughing, j

56 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. |

" But I make a virtue out of necessity— or rather ne-
cessity impels me to the practice of industry — without
it, I should starve. But, to gratify you, I will, if you ;
wish to hear it, give you the benefit of all my experi-
ence, and at the risk of discouraging you, will tell you
all I have suffered and the impositions practiced on
me. I suppose, though, you don't care for hearing of j
my earlier days ; for they can interest no person but
myself."

" You are much mistaken there," said Mrs. Elliott ;
" we should much like to hear all you choose to relate.
We may, from even your experience, derive lessons
which may prove useful to us."

"It will recall many painful occurrences to me," re-
plied Miss Edwards ; " but I have no right to check
them, as the narration of them may serve a-s a warning
to you, and may save you from being defrauded, as I
have been."

" It is hardly necessary, and would only tire you, to
relate any thing concerning my girlish days ; I will,
therefore, commence at the period when my father
died.

You may not remember my father," she continued,
but he was an old friend of Mr. Elliott, and their
friendship continued firm and unchanged for many
years. Soon after the death of my poor dear mother,
it seemed as if every thing went wrong with father.
First, he lost his situation in the shop where he had
worked ever since he was out of his time, and then his >
health began to fail, and in less than a year from the )

V-

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 67 S

time my mother was laid in her grave, he was laid by
her side, and I was lefl alone in the world. I was then
only fourteen years old, and not very well calculated,
I assure you, to take care of mysel^^for I had been
rather too much petted to be very useful. However,

I Providence threw me in the way of a kind friend, who
was too poor to be of any service to me, except by her
advice and example, both of which were founded on
purely Christian principles, and both of which she freely
bestowed upon me. She was a seamstress, and worked
on the clothing made up in what are termed slop shops ;

! but I won't discourage you by telling now what she
earned, and how hard she worked.

" Of course, I had to do something for my own sup-
port, and as she left it to me to make a selection
of a trade, I chose cap making, as I thought it would
be the easiest for me ; and one day having observed an
advertisement in one of the penny papers of a man who
wanted thirty or forty hands to learn the trade of cap
making, I thought it would be a good chance for me,
for a man who employed so many hands must do a large
business, and would ensure steady work, especially to
those who learned the trade with him.

" I went down town, as directed by the advertise-
ment, and, on entering the shop, found about twenty or

I thirty girls, of all ages, waiting for the same purpose

I which had brought me there. The proprietor of the
establishment was a little keen-eyed man, very Jewish

, in his appearance, but wonderfully polite te every one.

{ He made verv few objections to any of the girls, but re- J

68 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

quired all of them to walk up-stairs, wiiere the fore-
wcHnan would instruct them. There were several

among them who had worked at the business in other
establishments, but none of these suited him, as he said
he had plenty who knew the business, and wished only

I those who desired to learn the trade. I was, of course,
accepted, and was, with the rest sent up-stairs to com-
mence at (Mice.

" I found myself in a large room, around which were
placed a great number of wooden chairs, nearly all of
which were occupied, and having taken off my things, I
prepared to take my first lesson in cap making. The
forewoman was a hard-featured old maid, cross and sour
as vinegar, but admirably suited for the government of
so great a number of mischievous girls. I was not
suffered to remain idle very long, as she soon placed
some work in my hands, and gave me such directions,
I could not well make any mistakes. Every few ;
minutes she would go around the room, looking over the
girls as they worked, and finding fault with almost
every thing. I got along uncommonly well, however,
and only had one scolding the whole day.

" I found the work easy, and was pleased that I had j

. chosen to learn this trade in preference to any other, for I ^
was a very fast sewer, and felt sure that, once acquainted
with the business, I could earn as much as any one in the
shop, besides that I had heard of several girls who could i
make as much as three dollars a week at it, and that, >

j you know, is large wages for a sewing girl. i

y "It was not expected, of course, that we should be ^

k~^^^^ -™ — ^ :-.. ~^«l

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 59 ;

paid any thing for our labor until we had learned the
trade, so I worked on very cheerfully and industriously,
and in about a month I had mastered every branoh of
it, so far as carried on by the establishment, and con-
gratulated myself that I should not much longer be a
burthen to my kind hearted friend, for she had given
me food and shelter, such as she had herself, from mo-
tives of the purest benevolence.

" Yoli may guess of the amount of work done in that
time by us, when I inform you that there were sixty-
three girls at work, each one of whom made from three
to ten caps per day ; so that in the month it required to
learn the trade, Mr. B * * *, for that was the name of

\ the proprietor, had an immense stock of caps of all
kinds made up, and well made too, for every cap not
made to suit the fof^oman, had to be made over again. |

. "Just about the time I was beginning to think we
knew the trade well enough to be paid something for

1_ TIJ"- T» >k * 9k ..^ 0«_A 1 A '

more work at present — ^that he was satisfied with all of
us, and when business commenced again he would give
us the preference, and send for us. He was very sorry
that it was so, but he could not help it.

" This was a stunning blow to alKof us, for we had
expected to be steadily employed for the remainder of
the season, as we had worked so diligently and faith
fully to learn the trade.

" But there was no use of complaining. We had
gone to his establishment to learn the trade, and nothing

our work, Mr. B * * * came up one Saturday aflernoon,
and in his blandest tones informed us that he had no

, 60 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

! more. We had learned it, and that was something ; so
with heavy hearts, we put on our things and started for
our homes.

" In a day or two afterwards I saw an advertisement
similar to the one which had taken me to Mr. B * * *'s,
and I thought I would go down and see if I could not
get work. I went down ; and, on telling my business,
the man behind the counter asked my name and resi- (
I dence, which I gave him readily, thinking myself sure j
of a situation. My surprise was great, however, when
I saw him look at a list he had in his hand, and, after
I examining it a few moments, he said :
i " We have nothing for you."

) "I did not know what to make of this, but determined
/ to look on, and see if I could find any clue to it. Soon
) after another girl, whom I recognised as one who had |
; learned her trade with Mr. B * * * at the same time with i
/ myself, made a similar application, and received the >
same reply, after the list had been examined. Another
and another followed, each of whom had worked there,
and this let me into the secret. Both these establish- |
ments belonged to Mr. B * * *, and the list the man had
in his hand, contained the names of those who had
learned the trade at the same time with myself.

" I saw through it at once. These advertisements, of
course, brought hundreds of girls to his shop seeking
employment, and, under the pretence of teaching them
the trade, he kept them at work for a month or six
weeks, in which time they could make up a very large :
stock. By the time they had either learned the trade, }

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 61

or had began to think they should be paid something, he
always managed to get out of work, and, taking down
the names and residences of those who had worked
there, he discharged them, promising to send for them
when he had work. This list he sent to his other es-
tablishment, and advertised there for girls to learn the
trade ; but none who had worked in one shop ever found
work in the other. In this manner he managed twice or
thrice in each year to get a large stock of caps made up
for nothing, at each of his establishments, while the poor
girls lived in hope that when the busy season came
around again, they would find plenty of work from
him."

" Well," interrupted Laura, " if that is not perfectly
infamous. I did not think there was so much mean-
I ness in existence."

" That is only one plan," rejoined Miss Edwards, half
laughing. " I will tell you another for getting a good
stock made up for nothing. I went home that day with a
heavy heart, and related to my friend the discovery I
had made, but she did not seem at all surprised, as she
had gone through similar trials herself.

" It was not long before I found another advertise-
ment, headed — * Cap makers wanted on trial,' and this
time i felt sure of success. I was a first rate work-
man, and knew I could make caps as well as any one,
so I went to the store named with confidence.

'^ This man was an unmistakable Jew, and not so civil
by half as Mr. B * * *, but that did not surprise me at all,
for I did not expect so much politeness from a man who S

;

62 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

was to pay for my work, as from one who received it
for nothing. I informed him that I had learned my
trade thoroughly, and that I was ready to make a cap
or so on trial ; but he coolly handed me a large bundle,
saying: * There are two dozen there — ^if you make
them up to suit, I will pay the usual price, if not, I
don't give any thing. If you suit I will give you steady
work.'

"I felt so sure of satisfying him, I took my heavy
bundle and trudged home with a light heart. In a week
I had them all done, and well made too, for I had taken
especial pains with them, and I started for the store
with the certain prospect of receiving the sum I had
earned, which was one'^dollar and a quarter.

" On reaching the store, I opened my bundle with
confidence ; but imagine my disappointment when he ^
commenced a scrutiny of my work, which at once j
dampened my hopes. He found more or less fault with
^ every cap, and, without giving mctime to say one word
in my own defence, he wound up, saying: *He could
not think of paying for such work as that, nor could he
trust me with any more, if I could do no better than I
had done.' This was a dreadful blow to me, and I fell
back from the counter, my eyes filled with tears of bit-
ter disappointment, which I could not suppress, and j
I my heart sad within me." i

J " In a few minutes another girl came in with her two )
( dozen caps, for each one had that number given to her .
} on trial. The same scrutiny followed — the same faults )
' were found, and tho same excuse made for giving no

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 68

more work. Now this man had given out two dozen
eaps each to forty-seven girls, all on trial, to be paid
for if they suited ; and, out of the whole number, there
was not one whose work gave satisfaction, or who r^-
\ ceived one cent for her labor. So you see he managed
to get a nice little stock made up for nothing, and, by
' repeating this operation three or five times a-year, the
labor of making up his caps was not very expensive.

" Well, I thought I had learned two or three of the
worst tricks of that trade, and I was fain to be content
with my experience, although it was dearly bought ;
] but I was yet to learn a little more.

" Another advertisement for cap makers attracted my
attention, and this time as they were neither wanted
s to learn the trade, or on trial, I indulged a reasonable
i hope of being able to earn something, and what was
{ more, of being paid.

{ "I went to the store, and, without any difficulty, re-
( ceived a large bundle, containing about four dozen caps,
; for which I was to receive, when made up, one dol-
\ lar, these being a very common article. I did not
\ much like the looks of the establishment or the proprie-
( tor. The store was in a large room oh the second floor,
entirely unfurnished, except a very long counter, and
one or two stools behind it. The proprietor was an
/ easy spoken, civil man, but he did not look much like
the personification of honesty, and as I had been de-
ceived twice already, I thought it but fair to be on the
look out for the third attempt, so I asked ii I should be
])aid as soon as I brought my work home.

S 64 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

" * Certainly, my dear,' was the reply. *Do you
think I would cheat poor girls who have to sew so
hard as you do for their living ? No, no ; short credits
make long friends: only do your work well and I will
do mine.'

" Thus re-assured, I started homewards, quite elated
with the certainty of earning my own living, and with
the sure prospect of prompt payment. I worked faith-
fully the whole week, and by dint of drawing pretty
largely on those hours which ought to have been passed
in sleep, I had my whole number finished by Saturday
evening, and took them to the shop."

•-»^^

@t.

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 65

J CHAPTER VII.

" The proprietor was not there when I went in, but a
boy who received the caps, told me he was quite sick
at home, and in consequence could not get down to pay
the girls off, but would endeavor to come early on Mon-
day morning, and requested all of us to be there before
nine o'clock, as he would then pay us for the work we
had done, and give out more. This was told to all of
us, for we had been urged not to neglect having all the
'. work we took out finished by Saturday night, and I be- |
lieve every one had done so. I must confess, I felt !
rather suspicious, but there was no use in saying any-
thing, so I started homeward, but not so light-hearted as
when I left it, determined, however, not to entertain any
unjust suspicions. |

" On Monday morning, I was at the store by eight !
o^clock, but it was not yet opened, so I waited at the j
door, and soon the other girls came along, one by one, (
until upward of thirty were assembled, waiting the ar-
rival of the proprietor. The gentleman who kept the
store beneath, came out, after our patience was well nigh
exhausted, and after learning the nature of our businesss, !

\ 66 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. j

informed us that the second floor had been rented for one
week only, by the man who recently occupied it, and that
he had paid his rent and delivered the key to him on
Saturday night.

" Thus, for the third time, I was defrauded, and then
I felt perfectly wretched. This man would go and hire
a vacant store, or a large room, in the business part of
the city for a week, generally paying his rent in ad-
vance, and bringing no more stock there than he could
j give out. Then he would advertise for cap-makers, and
was sure of procuring from forty to fifty. To each he
gave out caps according to the quality and the time it
would require to make them up, always urging them to
have their work done by Saturday night.

" Thus, by changing about from one street to another,
and by having two or three other persons connected with
him, who acted at his other stores, (for it would never
f do for him to be caught twice at the trick,) he could
! manage, four or five times a year, to have an immense
! stock made up, very cheaply too, he paying nothing but
his week's rent. I do not mean to say, that these shame-
ful deceptions are practiced by those who are establish-
ed in a respectable business, although some of them have
various methods of getting from the girls the greatest
possible amount of labor, with the least expenditure of
money, such, for instance, as paying them in cents, and
giving only ninety-six for a dollar.
. "These tricks are played by men of no character or
reputation, who would not sufier by a public exposure,
and who are not established in a regular business ; but

^ ™k B.UOTX P^X... 67 i

the poor girls suffer through them, and that is all from

which I wished to warn you.

" I had one or two similar trials afterward, but I was
not quite so shamefully defrauded, so I pass them over,
as I do not think they would afford you either interest
or instruction. But at length I fell in with an honor-
able employer, for whom I have worked steadily ever
since — one who payi3 as much as any other for the same
kind of work, and who has never attempted any of these
shameful practices."

" Well," said Laura, who had been deeply attentive ,
while Miss Edwards was narrating this little sketch of \
the experience she had purchased so dearly, " I did not '
\ think there were men with such principles in existence
— ^I mean, men pretending to be men of business. I
know that in most cases they beat down the wages of
the girls, and oppress them almost to starvation point,
but I did not imagine any could be found such as you
have described, who would rack their brains to devise
so many ways of defrauding those in their employ.
Heaven knows, they receive little enough for their work
as it is."

" Ah, my dear," said Mrs. Elliott, " you have, and
indeed we all have, I fear, very much to learn yet.
And you, too, Clara," she added, turning to her — " Why,
bless me, what are you crying about ?" she exclaimed,
now noticing that Clara's eyes were filled with tears.

" Oh, nothing, mother, nothing," replied Clara, hastily,
and dashing the tears away, which filled her eyes ; " I
i was thinking then of my own trifling disappointments.

S 68 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

)

But no matter, they are passed, and I will not worry any
more about them."

" Ah !" exclaimed Miss Edwards, inquiringly, " you
have suffered some then already ? I knew you would,
as soon as I saw your sign out : there are so many ready
to take advantage of young beginners."

" But," said Clara, anxious to turn the conversation
from herself and her disappointments, ** you say you
have constant employment now : what can you earn a
week ?"

" Why, in very good times, and by working from
fourteen to sixteen hours a day, I can make as much as
two dollars, but the average for the year round is about
one dollar and a half. Much, however, depends on the
' kind of work."

" And how long do you work for that V asked
Laura.

" Never less than twelve, and often fourteen and six-
teen hours a day," was the reply, uttered as if uncon-
scious that anything had been said to excite surprise.

A dead silence followed this reply : it appeared so
monstrous that, for such a miserable pittance, a girl,
young, healthy and industrious, should be compelled to
wear out her very life.

" And how long have you been thus employed ?"

" Four years next October," replied Miss Edwards.
"During that time, thank God, I have never been so
unfortunate as to know a sick day ; but I have never
had a single day of recreation, during these four years, j
; except on Sundays, New- Year's, and on the fourth of [

THB ELLIOTT FAMILY. 60

(

July — ^nor have I ever taken a single holiday, except on
those days."

" Don't you ever go out to see your friends ?"
" Friends ! where is a poor girl who sews for a living,
\ and an orphan, too, to find friends ? I have none. I have
' a few acquaintances, but hardly ever visit them, for my
I time is too precious to waste in paying visits. Day after
\ day, week after week, and month after month, I sit in one
place, and sew from morning to night, and the only exer-
cise I ever take is when I go with my work to the shop,
and return. On Sundays I am too much exhausted to go
out, suid if I was ever so much inclined to go to church, I
could not.''

" And why not ?" asked Mrs. Elliott, in evident sur-
prise.

" You will find out before long yourselves," was the
reply, as a blush tinged the cheek of the speaker ; and
she immediately added, as if desirous of changing the
current of her hearers' thoughts : " It is a lonely, weary
life to lead, but I try to make the best of it. I do not dare to
look to the future, but console myself with the reflection,
that 'sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof,' and try
to be thankful for my present comforts."

" And what would become of you should you be taken
sick ?" inquired Clara, with trembling eagerness.

" If I did not die too soon, I might possibly be sent to
I the hospital, as a sick pauper."

A long pause followed this reply, each one evidently
deeply meditating on what they had heard ; and the
countenances of her hearers showed that her words

■

) 70 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. |

] had taught them how little of hope the future had for j

them. 1

" But," inquired Laura, " do you never have any one (

to come and sit with you ? Do you have nothing day ,

after day, but the cheerless solitude of your room, with ,

nothing to relieve the monotony of your work ? — ^no
friend or acquaintance to beguile the tedium of your
time ?"

" Once in a great while, some one of the girls who
work for the same shop that I do, Will come and bring
her work for half a day ; and sometimes the woman
with whom I board will come and sit a few minutes with
me. Except those, I have no one, and still I would
rather work there alone, than go to the shop and work
among thirty or forty girls, whom one knows not, and
perhaps, there are some whom it is better not to know.'*

" What do you have to pay for your board ?" asked
( Clara.

'' A dollar and a half a week ; that is as cheap as I
can get it now-a-days. But come, I won't tell you any
more to-night. I have already told you too much: I
see you are all out of spirits."

'* No, no, not at all," exclaimed Mrs. Elliott. " We
thank you, I am sure, for your kindness and confidence,
for, in our ignorance, we must have been exposed to
the same frauds as yourself, without the power to
guard against them. Here is Clara, now ; she has been
constantly at work since the day on which she first
commenced dress-making, and she has not as yet re-
ceived one single cent."

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 71

" Why ? Have they not been able to pay for whom
she worked ?"

" Oh yes, I dare say they are all abundantly able to
pay ; but they consider, probably, the amount due to
her so triflmg, it is not worth while speaking of; and

I Clara has already offended some of her customers, by
asking for what she had earned. Her's is a hard case,
but nothing to what you have suffered."

"Ah, that is too often the case with the rich," re-
plied Miss Edwards. " They forget that the sum wliich
to them is a trifle, is to us almost wealth. They know
not how many little necessaries for us are dependent
on the prompt payment of those trifles."

" Well, I have good customers now," said Clara, who
did not much relish to have it known how unsuccessful
she had been.

! "I dare say you have, Miss Clara," said Louise ;
" but the rich are not always the best customers.
Mrs. Flender, the kind friend who took care of me
afler my father's death, has told me that she was once
employed as seamsti'ess in one of the wealthiest fami-

I lies in the city, residing in a splendid mansion in
W Place, where she worked without intermis-
sion from ten to twelve hours each day — and what do
you suppose they paid her ?"

" I suppose six shillings a day," said Clara, who had
estimated the price according to the amount of labor, a

( mode of calculation which after experience taught her

I was quite erroneous.

! " Two shillings, and her board! Clara, and she lost

I 72 THE BLLIOTT FAMILY.

her situation even then, because she would not make up
for nothing some garments for the poor, whi^h Mrs.
R * * * had taken to make up for some charitable
society to which she belonged."*

" There, for goodness' sake, don't tell us any more,"
said Laura, with a shudder. '^I have half a mind to
have a good cry this minute."

" That would be very foolish and very childish, Lau-
ra," said her mother. "I am sure we have reason to
thank Louise for her kindness in telling us of these
things. It may prevent us from being deceived here-
after, and I am confident that neither of you would bear
up as she has done."

" Well, I will go now," said Miss Edwards, rising,
and gathering up her work. " It is growing late, and
we all need rest, I am sure ; so, good night, but don't
think too much on what I have told you, so as to let it
worry you."

" Mother," said Clara, after Miss Edwards had re-
tired, " I have half a mind to give up dress-making. If I
am to be cheated all the time, as I have been heretofore,
out of my hard earnings, I had better give up at once,
and try something else, at which I may at least feel sure
of being paid for my labor."

" No, no, not yet, my child ; you have a good opening
now at Mr. Simmons's. Try and improve that for the
present, and if the worst comes to the worst, you must
give it up, and help us at home. I see no other course.**

* This is an absolute fact, and if necessary the names could be
given.

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

7?^

j '' I think we shall have to make a new calculation as
I to the extent of our earnings," said Clara, after a brief
pause. ^' I believe, according to my last estimate, Lau-
ra and I were to make up about nine dollars a week. !
> With the present prospect, if we get that much for the
I month, we will have cause to be thankful."

^* Yes, indeed," said Laura ; 'Uhese vests I am mak-
I ing cannot bring me in just now over two dollars a week,
at the utmost, for it is new work, comparatively, and I
cannot, therefore, make as many at present as I hope to
do hereafter. It takes me now a whole day of hard work
\ to make one, and the price is two shillings and sixpence.
I That lacks a shilling of the two dollars a week, and win-
ter is coming on besides. Dear me, I fairly shudder to
think of it."

" Hush, hush, dear," said her mother, "do not begin
to look ahead so far already. Remember we are only
/ making experiments now ; we may succeed better by |
I and by. It will never do to be so easily discouraged."
; " Well, mother, we will hope for the best, but it is only
' right to prepare for the worst. I knew we should have
: many difficulties to contend with, and Louise has fairly
I frightened me. But come, it is bed-time now, and I want
to reflect upon what I have heard ; so, good night."
Thus saying, and aflectionately kissing her mother and
) sister, she retired.

" I much fear, Clara," said Mrs. Elliott, when Laura

/ had left the room, "that you will be under the necessity

of abandoning the dress-making, unless you are more

J successful than you have been heretofore. The sum

.ii

74 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. \
^_^_^ ■,.._,-,_,-,_^,__^_,-^-_-^^,-,_,-,_^-._,-._,-._^,-^,-^^ -^^ -,_ -,_^-,_^

which Laura and I can earn, by the most unceasing in-
dustry, is so small, we cannot possibly get on without in- |
curring debt, and I can conceive of nothing which would ;
render us more perfectly miserable than to be in debt, |
under our present circumstances."

'^ I am sure, mother, I shall be too glad to be of any as-
sistance, and you know I only chose dress-making be- ,
' cause I hoped it would prove the most profitable. You ^
cannot feel for my disappointments as sensibly as I do
myself. If I continue to be as unlucky as I have been,
I shall gladly give up dress-making, and commence at
something else, which will insure a certainty of remu-
neration for my labor, however small. But I, too, must
go to bed, for I have worked very steadily to-day, and
am really weary ; so, good night, dear mother, and let
us hope that 'brighter hours will come.' ''

The week was passed by each at their respective
duties. Laura sewed with incessant assiduity upon the
vests, and by Saturday evening had completed six,
which, at the price paid by the humane Mr. Simmons,
who boasted of having always paid such prices, that the
girls who worked for him could make a very comfortable
living, would amount to the sum of one dollar and seven
shillings !

Mrs. Elliott had made fourteen shirts during the
week, and that only by working at the average of
twelve hours each day : this, at ten cents each, would
I bring in, as her share of the week's earnings, only ofnt
^ dollar and forty cents ! But it is true, that when more
\ accustomed to the work, she may make six more. |

THE ELLIOTT FAMILT. 76

Clara had worked for four shillings per day on the 1
dresses of the Misses Simmons ; for, being only an (u- /

nstanty she was told they could not think of giving her \
the full wages paid to a regular dress-maker. How- |
ever, as she felt that the payment of it was sure, she was )
grateful even for that much, and lefl for home, with a (
heart comparatively at ease. It is true, she had not
been paid as yet, but she had not dared to ask for it, for
fear of offending them, although her necessities loudly
called upon her to do so ; while her lady employers were

! too much engaged, in showing off the new made finery
to some very dear friends, who chanced to drop in to-
ward evening, to think of the poor seamstress, who had
toiled so hard for them, and who, for aught they knew,
or cared, might actually suffer for the want of the few

; shillings they owed her.

But presuming that the money from this source will

certainly be paid on the following Monday, let us see

how much the family have earned during the week.

Laura, at fourteen hours per day, has worked eighty-

four hours.

Clara and Mrs. Elliott, each working twelve hours a
day, have toiled through seventy-two hours each, making
in all, two hundred and twenty-eight hours, and their |
earnings show that they have worked for two and !

THBEE-QUARTER CENTS PER HOUR ! (

\ Let those who doubt, make the calculation for them- <
I selves, and let those who deny the truth of what is here (
. stated, take the same trouble as has been taken, to ac- «
I quire the proper information, and they will find no \

TBB ELLIOTT FIHILT.

forced or unnatural statement, nor will they find that i
iinaginatioii has hod any share in painting the above j
picture. '

1HK SILIOTT rAMII.T. 77 i

CHAPTER VIII.

Let us return now to the fiimily of Mr. Sinunons,

for they too must perform their share in pointing the

moral I hope to draw in these pages.

On Saturday evening, soon afler Clara had left the

house, Mr. Simmons returned home from his store, and

entering the room where the new made dresses were

laid out for display, exclaimed :
) '^ Well, I am glad to see you have heen so smart,
I girls, and have got your things made up so soon, for

you must he ready to start hy Monday eveoing, or \

Tuesday morning, at the very utmost."

'' Why, dear pa !" exclaimed both the daughters in

a breath, '^ you must be crazy. We have just got our
I dresses finished, and there are a thousand things yet |

to be purchased ; and then we must pack up, and see |

our friends. Oh ! it is impossible— -it is entirely out of
j the question !"

<< Very well ; I have nothing to say if it is impossi-

ble. Only let me tell you this : Mr. Seabrook, the

rich young Southerner who was with us last summer,
. oame in town this morning, on his road to the Springs,

THB ELLIOTT FAMILY.

and he called on me to know when I proposed starting,
as he said he must go on by Monday or Tuesday at the
farthest, and was very desirous of making one of my
party. I have made him promise to delay his departure
until Tuesday morning, and told him I would put my Ij
wife and daughters under his charge for the journey.
If it is impossible to get ready by that time, why of
course, you will have to wait until I go, and I can't j
say how long business may detain me in the city."

" Father, I declare you talk and act almost foolish-
ly," said Euphemia, in tones certainly not the most af-
fectionate. " The idea of engaging to have all our pre-
parations made at two days' notice for a season at the
Springs is preposterous, and I have a great mind not to
go at all."

" None of your impudence, Miss Phemey," said the
fiither, rather nettled, "or perhaps I may say you shall
not go at all. All I have to say is, if you are not ready
to go with Mr. Seabrook, you lose the best chance you
have ever had — mark my words. What is there you
want which cannot be purchased on Monday ?"

" Come, Phemey," said Maria, coaxingly, " don't get
angry. Let us try our best. We can purchase almost
all we want on Monday, and we can get the rest of the
things at the Springs. Mary, you know, can be pack-
ing up while we are out shopping, all we don't pack up
to-morrow. Come, father, let us have the money, and
I promise we will be ready on Tuesday to gooff in the
morning boat."

The cloud called up by the reply of Miss Euphemia (

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 79

was dispelled from Mr. Simmons's brow, by this ready
acquiescence in his wishes, and he very cheerfully hand-
ed each of his daughters a sum sufficient to purchase
necessaries for a whole family for a year, but which
they were to expend in showy useless finery.

"There," said Clara, "consider it settled that we
leave on Tuesday morning. So, if you see Mr. Sea-
brook again, you may say we are ready. But I sup-
pose he will be here to-morrow ?"

" Yes ; I have asked him to dinner," was the reply.

" How could you do that, Mr. Simmons," said his
wife, with some asperity, " when you know the girls
will require the whole day to fix and pack up, without
having to leave off to dress for dinner ? How could you
be so thoughtless ?"

" Oh ! don't be finding so much fault. Such men as
Mr. Seabrook are not to be caught every day, and I
was not willing to lose so good a chance for the girls
for the sake of a little inconvenience. You must get
on as well as you can, for he is invited, and will be here,
of course."

" Well, go along now, pa, and leave us alone. We
have plenty to do, and a very short time to do it in. I
incline very much to the opinion that very few ladies
ever made ready for a season at the Springs in two
days."

As soon as Mr. Simmons had left the room, the girls [
seated themselves, and entered into a long argument as \
to the best use they could make of the money he had •
given them. It was very difficult to decide what they i

TSO THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

j really did want ; but they finally agreed to start out
on Monday on a shopping excursion, without any defi-
nite object in view, but to leave their purchases to
chance.

; On the following morning, in utter forgetfulness —
and, indeed, without a single thought — ^that it was the
sabbath, they commenced the work of packing up, and
their room soon presented the appearance of a well
stocked store, the various articles of dress and orna-
ment being strewed about in luxurious profusion.

The entire day, with the exception of the time ne-
cessary to dress for dinner, and the hours passed at the J
table, were devoted to the important task of making pre-
parations for their journey, and evening closed upon

them jaded, worried, and fatigued.

On Monday morning, soon after breakfast, they start-
ed out on their shopping excursion, leaving to Mary,
the maid, the task of packing away the articles they
had left out. While she was thus engaged, Clara El-
liott called, in pursuance of the directions given by the
ladies, for the three dollars she had earned during the |
past week, and was told the young ladies were out, and !
had left word for her if they did not send it around on j
Tuesday, she was to call on Wednesday ; and she said
this with a full knowledge that they were to leave town
on Tuesday.

When the Misses Simmons returned home, near the J
hour for dinner, Mary informed them of Clara's call, j
and of the unblushing lie she had told her, for which
they applauded her ingenuity amazingly, remarking (

THE BLLJOTT FAMILY. 81 /

that they had use for all the money their father had ;
given them, and it was very thoughtfully done in
Mary.

"For my part,*' said Euphemia, "if I had been at
I home, I would have told her to wait until I was ready
I to pay her. I never heard any thing like the impu-
dence of some of these sewing girls. They actually
seem afiraid to trust one."

" Never mind," said Maria, " it is just as well as it
is. We will pay her when we come back from the
Springs; and by that time, perhaps, she will have
learned that it is not best to dun too soon."

I am sure the reader can have, or feel no particular
interest in these heartless worldly girls, so I will men->
tion, as briefly as possible, that, by dint of great exer-
tion, and with no little loss of patience and temper, they
managed to be in readiness to start for the Springs on
the Tuesday morning, chaperoned by Mr. Seabrook,
the wealthy Southerner, who was destined to be the
husband of one of them ; and it was settled between
them amicably that whoever should succeed in securing
< him was to be the happy bride, no matter which one
was to be the holder of this grand matrimonial prize— I
and the unsuccessful one was pledged not to feel ag- I
grieved. c

Mrs. Elliott on Saturday evening had carried her I
work home, and received her week's earnings, amount- j
I ing to the sum of one dollar and forty cents, while
, Laura, having two weeks due at the store of Mr. Sim-
( mons, received three dollars and one shilling, together (

82 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

with another bundle of vests to be made up at the same
price.

Mrs. Elliott was not so fortunate in procuring more
work, but was required to return on Monday morning
early, by which time more would be cut out for her.
She did go, and received with her large bundle a gen-
tie hint, that, unless more care was bestowed upon
those than on the last, her employer would feel com-
pelled to cut her down to eight cents.

When she had reached home, Clara had just returned
from her unsuccessful visit to the Misses Simmons,
and her eyes were yet red with the tears of bitter dis-
appointment which she could not repress.

'^ What, Clara," she exclaimed, as her daughter en-
tered the room, " tears again ? Have you been dis-
appointed by the Misses Simmons ?"

^' Yes, mother, I am ashamed to say I have. I did
certainly expect when I had earned my miserable
wages with such hard labor, I should have no difficulty
in being promptly paid by them ; but now I am put off
until Wednesday."

" Only till Wednesday ? I am sure that is not worth
crying about. Come, come, dear, don't give way so
easily under these trifling disappointments."

" Well, I won't — ^there !" said Clara, actually dash-
ing away the tears which had again forced themselves
to her eyes ; " I won't cry again for any of them. I
have done dress-making. My capital is not extensive
enough for me to give such long credit, so I will help

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 83

you on some shirts, and try to earn something toward
our common livelihood."

" I don't see but it is the best thing you can do/*
said her mother, sadly. '' You have worked unceas-
ingly now for two weeks, and I do not see that you are
ever likely to get any thing for it. I have no idea the
Misses Simmons will ever pay you."

" Why, you don't surely think they would cheat
me ?" asked Clara, eagerly.

" Not exactly that, my dear ; but the sum is so small,
they can never be brought to think that you really stand
in need of it ; and, through very heedlessness, they will
find a hundred modes of putting you off. I hope I am
wrong, but I fear "

" Well — ^I will give up the idea of ever getting that,
too, but no more dress-making for me ; so give me one
of your shirts, and I will try what I can earn by making
shirts at ten cents a piece ; that, I believe, is what you
get?"

Before they seated themselves again at work, Mrs.
Elliott undertook to make a calculation of their proba-
ble income and expenses. Let us follow her.

Thus far, that is in two weeks, the sum total of their
earnings received — for Mrs. Elliott had worked only
one week — ^was four dollars and fifty-two cents.

The rent of the two rooms they occupied was two
dollars per week, and they had in this time made just
fifty-two cents over and above the amount of rent, which

1 was payable monthly.

I This was certainly not a very pleasant picture, but i

84 TH£ £LLIOTT FAMILY.

then allowances must be made for one week of idleness to
Mrs. Elliott, and two weeks dead loss to Clara. So let us
see what the next two weeks will produce. Allowing
that Clara could and would earn as much at making
shirts as Mrs. Elliott, their joint earnings for the week
would amount to two dollars and eighty cents, or allow-
ing that each could make one additional shirt, three
dollars.

Laura earned one dollar and seven shillings, and the
whole amount of earnings for the week would amount
to four dollars and seven shillings — for the two weeks,
nine dollars and six shillings : out of this the rent would
take four dollars, leaving five dollars and six shillings
for fuel, raiment, food and necessaries for the whole
three for the two weeks. This was cheerless enough in
truth, but still it might be borne ; and with a full de-
termination to hope for the best, they commenced their .
daily task.

On Wednesday morning, soon after breakfast, Clara

hastened to Call at Mr. Simmons's residence, in the full

confidence that she would find her money ready for her ;

but her surprise was almost too great for expression,

when she saw that the house was closed, and evidently

for the summer. She rang at the bell, however, to be

certain, and had performed this useless operation some

half dozen times, when a servant in the adjoining house !

informed her that she might ring until dooms-day, be-

! fore any one answered in that house, as the family had

I started for the country on Tuesday morning.

I "Are you sure they went on Tuesday?" inquired

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 85

Clara, who had not forgotten what Mary, the maid, had
told her.

" Sure ? To he sure I am : didn't I see them go off
before seven o'clock, bag and baggage V

^' Then that girl told me a wilful lie," she could not
help exclaiming.

'** Maybe it's Mr. Simmons you want ? He ain*t gone
to the country, I know, for I saw him at the house in
the afternoon. You'll find him at his store, I guess,
though he don't live at home when his family is
away."

Clara hesitated an instant, and then determined to go
at once and see Mr. Simmons at his store, feeling sure
that, when he was made acquainted with her circum-
stances and necessities, he would not refuse to pay this
trifling sum for his daughters, and that, too, after it had
been so faithfully earned.

She proceeded at once to the store, where she was
shown into the private office of Mr. Simmons, and to
him she opened the nature of her business, but with
much confusion and hesitation, for it was the first time
she had ever been compelled to apply for money to a
gentleman.

" I dare say it is all correct," said that worthy and
humane gentleman ; '^ but I can really do nothing until
my girls come back. They will return in three months
at the farthest, and then you will receive your
money."

* But, sir," she urged, " although it is a very small
sum to you, it is really of consequence to me, and I^

^-i. ■^•~

86 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

should feel greatly obliged if you will let me have it
now, and not compel me to wait three whole months."

'^ I can see no possible objection, Miss, except that
it would be breaking through the rules by which I con-
duct my business, never to pay a bill, large or small,
until I have ascertained its correctness. Now I do not
doubt your word at all, but as for paying the bill, I
could not think of such a thing, and I am sure three
months is not such a very long time to wait."

" To me, sir, it is an age. But if I have your an- !
swer, I need to say no more. Grood day, sir."

Mr. Simmons returned her salutation with the greatest
conceivable stiffness, and, as soon as she had left the
office, he summoned his foreman.

" James, do you give out work to a Miss Elliott ?"

" Yes, sir," was, of course, the reply. ?

" You will give her no more. That's all."

James was too good a disciplinarian to inquire into
reasons for any orders he received, but he retired in
silence, wondering for a moment what could have
caused Mr. Simmons to take such a kink into his head.
He made a memoranda, however, of the order, and, in
five minutes afterward, the whole subject had passed
from his memory.

Clara returned home, and narrated the occurrences
of the morning, without shedding a tear. Her pride
J was now aroused, and she was determined that she
should not give way to the weakness which only ren-
dered her more wretched. v
\ " Well," she said, "there is an end for good of my

THB ELLIOTT FAMILY.

i dress-making. Two weeks of ceaseless toil for nothing.

I No matter — let it go. * Brighter hours will come/ **
she added, forcing a smile to her &ce, while her heart
was fiercely aching with disappointment.

88 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. j

;

CHAPTER IX.

)

The care-worn, struggling family, have as yet only
tasted the cup of bitterness. The dregs remain to be
quaffed, and the draught is not to be avoided much
longer.

On Thursday morning, while the girls were clearing
away the breakfast-table, Mrs. Elliott, who was seated
at her work by the window, suddenly uttered a deep
groan, and fell from her chair to the floor, in a state of
insensibility. They r8^n to raise her up, and laid her
on the bed, while Clara, without pausing to care for or
think of anything but her dear, suflfering mother, >
snatched up her hood, which was lying on a chair^ ;
and ran out for a physician.

Just as she turned the comer, she saw a gentleman in
a one-horse carriage, and taking it for granted he must
be a physician, she ran into the middle of the street, so
hastily, that he had to turn his horse to avoid running
over her.

" Oh, sir, are you a doctor ?" she asked, in eager^
hurried tones.

" Yes ; what do you want ?"

" Quick, quick — my poor mother !" was all she could

-^ -^"^^i^ '■^''%»

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

i say, but it was enough for him who heard her, for he at
' once drove his horse to the sidewalk, and leaving him
, there in care of a boy, followed Clara into the house.
f As soon as he saw Mrs. Elliott, he shook his head

idespondingly, and that motion conveyed the intelligence
in language not to be misunderstood — ^there was no hope
for the dear mother.
^ " Oh, dear doctor," exclaimed Laura, who was seated
on the bed, holding her mother's drooping head, " do
save her to us. We are not rich, but we will work for
you and pay you ; only save her."

" My dear young ladies, I cannot encourage you.
Your mother may live some time longer, but she will be
utterly helpless. She has had a paralytic stroke."

" Oh Grod, have mercy on us !" exclaimed Clara,
clasping her hands ; " what will become of us ?"

" Do not grieve so ; I will do all that can be done for
your mother," said the kind-hearted physician, " but I
can give you no hope. Let me get near her," added
he, and he proceeded to examine the unfortunate suf-
ferer. Another and more distinct shake of the head,
announced the result of this examination, and writing a
prescription, he gave it to Laura, leaving also ample
directions how she was to be attended to until he saw
) her again.

In the ailemoon of the same day he came again, and
found Mrs. Elliott as he had left her — senseless and im-
movable. She was certainly, though slowly, sinking,
and he felt it his duty to tell the trutn to the weepijng
girls.

) 90 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

It is better," he said; "she could only lie here

' senseless and inanimate. It would be a living death,

in fact ; but she will soon be at rest. There is no use

in my prescribing any more for her now. I will call

again in the morning.'*

On the following morning he called, according to
promise, but there was no alteration which would per-
mit him to encourage the weeping, desponding daugh-
' ters. However, he gave minute directions for every-
thing which could tend to alleviate the sufferings of the
helpless woman, and then left, with the promise of re-
peating his visit daily, although perfectly conscious that
he could render no possible service.

And now commenced the sorest trial they had yet
been called on to endure. Their dearly beloved mother
lay before them in helpless suffering, and all their at-
tention and time were required and cheerfully devoted
to her. Occasionally, when ghe would seem to have
dropped into a quiet sleep, they would take up their
work, and seating themselves by her bedside, sewed on
it until the tears, which they could not suppress, blind-
ed their eyes, or until some sound or motion of the suf-
ferer demanded their attention.
I It was impossible, under these circumstances, that
( they could earn anything, and in the course of the
j week, it became absolutely necessary that money
should be raised, as well to pay the rent of their apart-
ments, as to purchase necessaries for themselves, and
medicines for their beloved parent.

The few articles of jewelry which fhey had coUeoit-

I THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 91 [

ed in happier days, were freely sacrificed, and Clara
took them to a pawn-broker's, receiving for them a sum
approximating to the fourth part of their actual value,
and which was barely sufficient to meet the demands
of the landlord.

Such articles of wearing apparel as could be most
conveniently dispensed with, followed the jewelry, but
they were given up without a sigh, for it was to add to
the comfort of their suffering parent.

For four weary weeks Mrs. Elliott lingered, wmtched
daily with the most untiring fidelity by her loving chil-
dren, who, in their sorrow for her sufferings, forgot all
they were called on to undergo, and cheered by the
hope which at times they loould entertain, that she
might yet be restored to them.

At length the summons went forth, and Mrs. Elliott j
w&s gathered to the dust from whence she sprang,
without having been able to utter one word of comfort,
or to bestow her blessing upon her devoted children.

It would be a thankless task to attempt to portray a
grief so sacred as that which fills the hearts of affec-
tionate children, when relentless death has robbed them
of the dearly loved parent) and that parent too their
only earthly stay and comfort. None can truly sym-
pathise with them in such afHictions, but those who
have been called to mourn a similar loss, and to such
I need not address a single word.

The change which this sad and sudden bereavement
wrought in the condition and prospects of the unhappy
orphans was great, and perhaps it is not too strong a

»■,• ^1— v--

/ 92 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY*

term to use, to call it terrible. They were by this
unlooked for dispensation, left alone in the world, with- \
out one single friend to console or aid them. They ^
were young, and comparatively inexperienced; for
having never been thrown in contact with that cheer- '
less, soulless world, they were consequently unac-
quainted with most of its trials, its temptations, and as
yet, but few of its harrowing disappointments liad they
been called on to experience.

They mourned the lost friend and parent, as the '
children of such a parent would and ever must mourn, j
but their circumstances called upon them for great j
I exertions, and they prayed for strength that they might ^
make them. They could not afford to indulge in symbols
of exterior mourning for their beloved parent, but they
commenced at once laying their plans for future useful-
ness to themselves. Each felt that necessity loudly called
upon them for redoubled exertions, and although the pros- •
pect even with these efforts was dark and dreary, without <
one single ray of hope to cheer the future, they deter-
mined to make them, trusting in God for help.

Their first step was to complete the work which their
mother had taken from the shirt store, but when finish- ,
ed, neither of them knew where she had obtained it. ;
They had not considered it worth their while to inquire
previous to this sad event, and indeed each had been too
much engrossed with their own tasks to think of it at .
all. !'

! This was a most awkward dilemma, and they felt
! Ihat this ignorance might expose them to unjust awd

cruel suspicions : for the poor are almost always ob-
) jects of suspicion. What to do they knew not. Two

I weeks had already elapsed since their mother's death,
and they had vainly sought to find some clue which

\ would enable them to deliver the shirts to the rightful
owner. Chance, however, relieved them in this diffi-
culty, and the sum they received for their work,
enabled them to purchase a few necessary articles, of
which they had been long deprived, and of which they
stood sadly in need.

Laura finished the vests, and took them to Mr. Sim-
mons's store, intending to obtain double the number, in
order that Clara too might work with her, as they con-
cluded they could earn as much while working on them,
as on any other branch of sewing.

The foreman took her bundle, and asking for her pass-
book, made the usual entry, which done, to her surprise,
he handed her the amount due for them, and was turn- i
ing away, when she addressed him, saying :

" If you please, sir, I should like to have a dozen in-
stead of six, as my sister works on them with me."

" We have no more to give out," replied the young
man, in obedience to the orders he had received from
Mr. Simmons.

" I hope, sir," said Laura, thinking that he refused
to give her more work because she had so long delay-
ed bringing these home — " I hope, sir, it is not because

I I have not brought the present work home sooner. In-
I deed I could not help it, for since I took them out^ we

;

94 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

[ have lost our poor mother. That has caused the delay,
sir, but I assure you it shall not occur again."

" We have no more work to give out, miss,'' was the
reply, but uttered with something like civility ; for the
foreman could not avoid seeing that Laura's hat was
trimmed in deep mourning, (the only exterior sign of
her loss she could afford,) and that tears filled her eyes
as she spoke of her bereavement.

"I should like to see Mr. Simmons," meekly asked !
Laura, nothing doubting that there was some misunder- I
standing. " I am sure if he knew how we are situated,
he would not refuse to give^us work." .

"It is not because you have delayed bringing these
home," said the foreman, " but " and he hesitated.

" Well, sir, and why do you refuse me ? Does not
the work suit you ? I am sure I have done my best."

" Oh no, not at all ; but the truth is," and the fore-
man looked actually ashamed as he spoke, for he had
some remnant of humanity in him, " Mr. Simmons left
orders with me to give you no more work, and I have
j no course but to obey."

" I cannot possibly believe that," replied Laura,
quickly ; " I will see Mr. Simmons himself."
I " That you cannot do, unless you go to Saratoga, for

< he lefl the city yesterday."

I " Grood Heaven ! what shall I do ?" exclaimed she, |
in accents of despair. " Why can he have given such
an order ? I will not of course ask you to disobey him,

< but can you recommend me to any other place where I
J may obtain work ?"

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

" I cannot, indeed," said the foreman, emboldened by
the certainty that Laura was really distressed, and not [
i knowing how far he might venture with her in that state }
\ of feeling. But in a moment after, he added: **I do ;
j not mind taking the risk of letting you have work in j
j some other manner, on one condition," and he leered at ;
her with a look which could have but one meaning.

The honest blood mounted to the neck, and cheek and j
brow of the insulted girl, and the veins fairly swelled
J on her forehead, as she gazed upon him for a single
instant, but with a look of such withering contempt,
that the miserable creature actually quailed beneath it, /
and shrank abashed within his debased self. |

S " Oh, well, you need not make such a time about it," /
j he added, quickly, his face crimsoned with shame, but j
) not daring to look at her. " The time may come when ^
j you will be glad to remember my offer. I have no |
) work to give you now." |

( "I would starve before I would accept it from your ;
) hands," proudly replied the insulted girl, turning to ;
; leave the store, as she thought, unnoticed. I

J I say, as she thought ; but one person, whom she had |
j not seen, had noticed her, and had overheard sufficient '
I of what had fallen from her lips, to judge of the nature )
/ of his conversation, and she felt proud of her sex, as she (
! saw the outraged and indignant girl turn to leave the ^
} store. j

i This person was a young lady, Miss Eva Bellamy, j
; who had called at the store to make interest for a young
J girl who had been discharged, or rather to whom work

96 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

) had been also refused, because she was delicate and
( sickly, and was often more tardy in returning her work
•^ than was agreeable to the foreman,
i She had been shown into the private office attached to
i the store, and having been interrupted in the business
] which brought her there, by the entrance of Laura, \
had remained an anxious and attentive listener of their
conversation, and her heart swelled with virtuous in-
dignation, as she heard the proud reply of the insulted
and outraged girl.
I Miss Bellamy, though young, was an ardent, warm-
I hearted philanthropist, and as a member of the Christian
j church, the duties of which she discharged with the
j most zealous fidelity, she was necessarily often thrown in
contact with poverty and distress, in almost every shape
in which they are presented in this great metropolis.
Her heart was filled with tender sympathy for the suf-
ferings and oppression of her sex, and although her
i own means were comparatively limited, she found and
i embraced more opportunities of doing good, and bestow-
I ing happiness and pleasure, than thousands who were
} more fortunately circumstanced, in point of pecuniary
) ability.

; The reader can care but little to know the personal
I appearance of Miss Bellamy, and indeed that was not
I sufficiently strikingtocommand especial notice. But her /
) choicest treasure was in a mind, richly stored with every j
good and virtuous feeling which could adorn the wear- )
er, and confer happiness and joy on all who came within
\ the sphere of its generous, sympathizing influence. She '

(

THE EI,LIOTT FAMILY.

was not formed to attract the gaze or admiration of
every beholder, and indeed none could properly form
any estimate of Eva's qualities, without having come
within the influence of her pure and lovely mind.

As Laura turned to leave the store, Eva involunta-
rily rose, and was moving toward the door, with the same
intention, when the foreman, again all politeness and
fawning, begged her to be re-seated, assuring her that,
now that troublesome girl was gone, he would attend to
her with great pleasure, and if it was in his power, he
would do anything to serve her.

Eva restrained the bitter, cutting remarks which her
heart prompted, and apologizing for the necessity which
compelled her to postpone to a more distant season the
transaction of her own business, hurried out after
Laura.

Laura had only proceeded two or three squares, when
feeling her arm touched gently, she turned suddenly
round, thinking it was the insolent foreman, but her coun-
tenance immediately changed, when she perceived that it
was one of her own sex, and one too, whose appearance
bore the impress of peace, and truth, and virtue.

** I beg your pardon, miss," said Eva, " but I over-
heard your remarks to that insulting villain in Mr.
Simmons's store, and while I feel a pride in the just
rebuke you administered to him, I would gladly make
an effort to avert the consequences which may be en-
tailed upon you. Can I do anything to serve you?''

There was an air of such open frankness, such
candor, such sincerity, in the countenance of the

f^.

■^^^w^-* "s *-^-''

98 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

youthful speaker, Laura could not doubt her, and
without hesitation, she replied, as she wiped the tears
from her eyes :

" In truth it has made me very unhappy. We are now
so situated, that if we are deprived of work for any
length of time, the consequences must be serious. I
do not know how far you can serve me, unless indeed,
you can inform me where I may obtain work.'*

" Well, I think I can do that," said Eva. " There
is no knowing, without trying, how much cme can
do.''

" I shall be but too grateful for the assistance of any
person now. I feel so lost and disheartened, I know not
which way to turn."

'^ May I intrude myself so far upon you, as to ask
leave to accompany you to your home ? I can advise
better with you there." )

<< Most certainly, and I shall be thankful too. We j
need a friend now more than ever before." j

There was something so winning, so attractive, in ^
Eva Bellamy's manner, something so natural, as if (
every word of kindness came fresh from a heart over- !
flowing with it, she insensibly gained Laura's confl- ;
dence, and before they reached her home, Eva was \ ,
partially adquainted with the history of the orphans, j
sufficiently so at least to feel a deep interest in their
feture career.
I When she entered their room, the air of neatness
( which pervaded everything, in spite of the poverty
I which was too apparent to be concealed, attracted her

THB ELLIOTT FAMILT. 90

attention, and she sighed as she thought how sure it was
that a change must ere long come over them.

" Here, Clara," said Laura to her sister, as she en-
tered the apartment, followed by Eva, "is a young
lady — I almost feel like calling her an angel — ^who
has been very kind to me."

Clara looked at Eva for an instant, with some appear,
ance of hesitation, but saw nothing to excite alarm or
distrust. She then advanced, giving her hand frankly,
and saying :

" I am sure I shall be pleased to know you." j

Clara heard with deep emotion the result of her sis- I

ter's visit to Mr. Simmons's store, and as she concluded (

her recital, she said, with a sigh :

" I am afraid, Laura, this is all my work."
" Your work, dear sister — ^how can that be ?"
" Nothing more easy. I went to Mr. Simmcms's
store on the day I heard his &mily had lefl for the \
Springs, and was foolish enough to ask him for pay- |
ment of the small sum his daughters owed me. Doubt-
less I ofiended him, and hence the orders to give you
no more work."

" Oh do not let that annoy you," exclaimed Miss

Bellamy. " Mr. Simmcms is very cruel in some res-

pacts to those in his employ, though I believe he always

pays them promptly, and I have no doubt, in a momen-

, J tary fit of ill-humor, he did give those orders. When }

} you, miss," she said, turning to Laura, "came into the i

\ store to-day, I had just arrived there also, for the pur- j

\ pose of interceding for a poor young girl, who had '•

100 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

worked herself sick in his employ, and because while j

sick she had not returned some work as soon as he (

thought she ought to have done, he discharged her. j

However, now, 1 would not go back there again on any <

account. But come, never mind Mr. Simmons ; let us ;

f think of some one else. I think I know a place where '

I I can get you work, though not so good, nor perhaps so f

! profitable as this you have had." j

j " I tell you what," said Clara, turning to Laura, as |

if she had not heard what Eva had said, " I have a mind
\ to be independent for once, and give Mr. Simmons a
I little of my mind."

I " How would you do that ?" inquired Laura. ^

' " Why, he has gone to the Springs, I understand,
where his wife and daughters are, and I have a mind
to send him my bill for making his daughters' dresses, «
receipted." j

Miss Bellamy had listened attentively to what i
Clara had said, and a flush came to her face, as j
she said : I

" Will you pardon a stranger for interfering at all, but \
really I think that would be in very bad taste, to say j
nothing worse. You may have formed a wrong '.
opinion in regard to Mr. Simmons, as you do not
know the reason of his refusing work to your sister,
although, as I before said, I do not doubt he did give |
such orders, and you may thus offend a gentleman
who certainly has it in his power to serve you."

Clara looked confused as this well-merited rebuke |
was administered, in mild and gentle tones, and at first |

J THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 101

. she thought of being offended, but that passed off in an

I instant, and she replied quickly :

{ " You are right, miss, and I was wrong. I will do

\ no such foolish act. Those three dollars may be very

I acceptable in time to come, and besides insulting Mr.

\ Simmons, I should be doing an injury to myself."
" Come, young ladies," said Miss Bellamy, " I am a
stranger to you, but believe me, not entirely uninterest-
ed. From the moment Miss Laura there, answered so
readily the insult of the contemptible fop at Mr. Sim-
mons's store, I saw trouble brewing, and as I am used
to similar occurrences, I thought I might prove ser-
viceable to you. If it is not taking too great a liberty,
may I ask if you depend entirely on your needles for
support ?"

" Entirely," was the reply.

" Then I am sure you will not refuse to allow me to
search for work for you. I know you cannot afford to
be idle, and I think I know a gentleman who will not
refuse me any reasonable request. I will, therefore,
endeavor to procure work from him, but mind you, it

\ is much more difficult and not so well paid for either,
as the vests."

" We must not stop to choose now," said Clara, "but
will be thankful for anything. This is a hard blow so
soon after our late bereavement " and without finish-
ing the sentence, she burst into tears.

" Pardon me," said Eva, rising, " for intruding upon
your grief — I will retire."

) " Oh no, no," exclaimed Laura. " We have not a '

■:

;

)

102 THS ELLIOTT FAMILY.

friend in the wide world ; do not leave us now that we
need one more than ever.'*

Eva reseated herself, and learned briefly from Laura
a history of the circumstances which had so reduced
them, and every warm feeling ofher kind and generous \
heart was aroused in behalf of the bereaved orphans.

" I must go now and see Mr. Oatman. He, I know,
has a great deal of work done, and you shan't be idle
long. So, good by — cheer up, and remember that the
darkest hour is just before the dawn."

So saying, she departed, leaving the sisters amazed,
yet delighted. They were amazed to see one so young,
so full of kindly, generous sympathy for her sex, little
knowing that from her earliest girlhood Eva Bellamy had
found her chief pleasure in doing good for others, and
they were delighted to have found one who seemed so ,
competent to advise, and so willing to assist them in
this hour of trying difficulty.

Eva's mission of kindness proved successful, for in
less than two hours after her departure, a large bundle
was brought to them, with a note from her. The roll
contained the materials for two dozen of "over-alls,"-
a garment made of coarse twilled cotton, intended for
cartmen, porters, etc., to draw on over their other j
clothes, to save them from dirt and rents. The note j
informed them that they were to receive one shilling a {
pair for making them, and expressed her regret that }
she QQuld not procure any more easy or profitable
work.

Before qonunencing work, Clara and Laura had a )

j Tlii! ELLIOTT FAillLV.

long conversation upon their future prospects, and they
came to the conclusion that it would be impossible for
them to retain the rooms they now occupied, at the same
rate of rent. They, therefore, determined to occupy but
j one room, and to make that, for the present, serve all
: purposes. It was rather a discouraging beginning, |
( but they saw the necessity of the strictest economy, and !
( made up their minds to practice it, without a murmur.

ft.

:^^i^^0^».^^m

104 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

CHAPTER X.

Lauea and her sister had yet some difficulties to \
overcome, which they had not anticipated. They con- i
templated giving up all the rooms they had occupied
during their mother's lifetime, except one, the rent of
which they thought they might manage to pay without
any very great difficulty. There was, however, a i
month's rent of the rooms due to the landlord already,
to meet which they had not a single cent, as the funeral
expenses of their mother had absorbed all the money
they had been able to procure, by pawning every article
they could possibly spare; but they relied upon the
humanity of the landlord to allow them a sufficient time
to earn and save enough to pay him.

The kind physician who had attended their dear
mother with such assiduous care, saw at once their }
situation, and aware of their inability to pay a physi- i
cian's bill without distressing themselves, he positively i
refused to accept of one single cent, assuring them at •
the same time, that if they felt a confidence in him, he i
should feel offended if they did not always call on him \
when a physician's services were required, an act of }

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 105

kindness for which they thanked him from their
hearts.

They commenced their new work with heavy hearts,
and every effort they made to be gay and cheerful,
seemed only to sink them deeper in despair. The
j work was very hard, and as it was new to them for the
j first week, they could only make at the most two
I pairs a day, and even that was not accomplished with,
out the most incessant toil. This was earning two and
a half cents per hour ; they working without cessation
twelve hours a day.
j Their landlord called upon them, to receive his rent,
at the commencement of the ensuing week, and they
then made the proposal to him, to release them from
the other rooms, promising to pay up the back rent as
fast as it could be earned.
I This man had made the money which enabled him
/ to be a landlord by keeping a low retail liquor store,
/ an occupation not tending very much to elevate his
■ character, or to inspire him with the most tender feel-
ings for the sufferings of others.

He listened to their proposal in silence, and when
Clara had ceased speaking, he said, gruffly :
What security am I to have for the rent ?"
We cannot give any but our own word. The rent
\ of the single room will be only one dollar a week, and
j if we do not pay punctually, of course you will have it
^ in your power to turn us out."

" Yes, that is all very well, and lose my rent. No,
no, that won't do ; I must have the back rent paid up j

106 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

___^

at once, and security given for the remainder, or you
must go. I can't afford to let my rooms for nothing,
when I can get plenty of good tenants who will pay."

" But we cannot give security, and surely you will
not turn us out of doors. We can earn the rent each
week, and will pay it promptly.*'

'< Well," said the hrute, '^ suppose you are taken sick,
who is to pay me then V

" We certainly ought to make allowance for that, for
we are all liable to sickness; but in such a case, we
should have to suffer, I suppose." \

" Well, if you can't do any better than that, you j
can't have my rooms any longer. When your mother
was alive, I did n't require security — ^but girls are so
apt to cheat one."

"Never mind, sir; you need not say any more,"
said Clara, proudly ; " we will try and procure other

rooms."

You may do that as soon as you please, only I'll
thank you to pay the back rent."

" That we will do, I assure you, as soon as we can
possibly earn it. We will pay it in weekly instal-
ments."

" And do you suppose I am such a fool as to let you
take this furniture away without paying me ? No, no.
I dare say you would pay me if you had the money,
but as you have n't got it, I can't afford to wait till you
can earn it ; so I must make the best of it, and you
have no right to complain."

So saying, the brutal landlord left them, in a fitltte of

^^^^*^^^^%^'^^ ^ «

.«

[■«%*^*i^

( THE ELLIOTT FAMILY X07

♦

the most painful suspense : for they were utterly ignorant
of the power which the law gave to him over them.

They seated themselves again at their work, but it
was in vain : their eyes so filled with tears, they could
not see a stitch they took, and it was laid aside.

" I wonder, dear sister," said Clara, " what that man
intends to do ? Surely he won't turn us out of doors
now."

" I don't know. He looks as if he wq^}(1 dp anything
for money. However, we shall soon know, I dare say.
How I wish that young lady was here now to advise us.
She seems to be so familiar with everything of this kind,
she eould tell us what to do."

''She is a wonderful girl. She has so much kind-
ness, so much sympathy, so much courage, I declare I
fell fairly in love with her at first sight."

" Here is somebody coming up — ^but it is not Eva,"
said Laura, as a heavy step was heard ascending the
i Btaiirs toward their room, and immediately afler a rap
at the door announced a visitor. In answer to the
^' come in," a tall, hard- featured, coarse-looking man
entered, and with an attempt at civility, said :

'' I am sorry to disturb you, ladies, but the law must
take its course."

At the mention of the word law, the hearts of the or-
I )^ans sank within them. It conveyed to them thousands
of ill-defined terrors, and for an instant they scarcely
seemed to breathe.

" I don't know what you mean by saying the law
must take its course. I am sure we have done nothing

108 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

to offend the law," said Clara, who first found voice to
speak.

"I didn't say you had, but I've got a warrant here

{ to seize this 'ere furniture, and to see you safe out of the

i house."

\ " Grood Heaven !" exclaimed Clara, starting up, "you
do not mean to say that Mr. Ellis has seized our furni-
ture ?"

"No, ma'am, I didn't mean any such a thing; I
mean to say that I do, though, for him, by virtue of this

f 'ere warrant. So I must do my duty."

" Surely you will not take all this furniture for the

I paltry sum we owe him ?" asked Laura, looking aroimd

j upon their neatly furnished room.

"I don't know why I should not. Furniture at auc-

I tion, just now, won't bring much more than a quarter

i of its value ; but that's your misfortune."

" Oh, for Heaven's sake ! sir, don't be so cruel as to »

1 leave us entirely destitute. We will pay the rent as \

) soon as we can possibly earn it."

) " I dare say that is all very correct, miss, but I have

I got no choice. I am ordered to seize on this 'ere fur-

i niture, and seize it I must. But, I tell you what I will
do. You look as if you would n't try to cheat me, so
I'll leave the furniture here till to-morrow morning,

I and perhaps you may be able to raise the money in the

\ meantime. You must promise me you won't try to
get any of it away." I

" Indeed, indeed, we will not ; and although I have j
no hope we shall be able to procure any money, we (

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 109

may find a place where we can go after we are turned
out."

" Well, I will trust you so far ; but mind you, if you
do play me any tricks, it will be all the worse for you,
I tell you. So good-bye ; I will be here again to-mor-
row morning, about this time," and he left them.

A good hearty cry seemed to relieve their hearts,
and after the first feelings of grief had subsided, they
I turned their thoughts to the future. (

" Now," said Laura, " I will go and seek Miss Bel-
lamy. She can advise us how to act, and as she appears
to know so much better than we do about everything,
her advice will be of service to us, and I know she
will cheerfully give it."

" Oh yes, go by all means," said Clara, who felt her
own inability to act in this trying crisis ; " go, by all
means, and ask her to come here in the morning. Who
knows but that constable may impose on us, because
of our very ignorance in such matters. I am sure for
the trifle we owe Mr. Ellis, he ought not to take all our
furniture, and leave us completely destitute."

" I am sure I cannot tell or imagine what he may do,
I am so perfectly ignorant. But I will now go and
seek Miss Bellamy. Perhaps she can help us in our
trouble ; so don't be frightened if I should stay out
rather long."
; So saying, Laura departed in search of the young .
friend on whose advice they relied so much, and after (
a weary search of two hours, returned without having
t succeeded in finding her.

110 THB ELLIOTT FAMILT.

** I am sure I don't know what we shall do. It is
really dreadful to be so imposed on/' exclaimed Clara^
\ when she learned the ill success of her sister's search.
< " Well, we must bear it as well as we can. The
) law can only take away what we have got, and we can
go to work and earn more. For my part, I don't mean
to cry about it any more."

" It is all very well to talk so, Laura ; but what are
we going to do, when all our furniture is gone? Where
are we to sleep ? Where to eat ?"

" Sleep ? eat ? Who #ver heard of poor girls think-
ing about sleeping and eating ?" exclaimed Laura, in {
tones of bitter sarcasm. " No, no, don't let such ideas !
as that distress you ! We require only work ; we can
live on that," she added, with bitterness, while tears
forced themselves to her eyes.
j That night was passed in sleepless worrying, and re-
grets that they had not succeeded in finding Miss Bel- c
! lamy, but they hoped that chance might bring her in |
their neighborhood in the morning, before the constable j
! returned. \

In this, however, they were disappointed, as he was |
punctual to a minute, and Eva had not yet made her ap- \
pearance. s

" Well, girls, I suppose you've got the money forme ?" \
he said, as he made a clumsy obeisance.

" I am very sorry to say we have not," said Laura,
calmly.

" Well, then, my course is plain. I must take the
things and sell them."

^^ You surely will not take all this furniture, for so
trifling a claim as that against us. Mr. Ellis could
never have given any such orders. He is not so cruel
as that."

*' I don't know any thing about Mr. Ellis of his or-
ders. I have got a warrant here to distrain for one '
month's rent and costs, and I rather guess that all this
furniture, if sold in Chatham street, won't more than
pay it. But if there is any left, I will, of course, pay
it over to you. I must, however, do my duty ; so I
suppose I can send them off at once."

" But we can keep our clothes ?" inquired Clara.

"Oh, certainly ; only you must get them out quick, as
I have lost half a day already by trying to oblige you."

The girls saw there was no use of arguing further
with a man who had but the one idea in his head, and
taking their clothes from their only bureau, they laid
them in their trunks, and piece by piece the room was
stripped of every article of furniture, wbioh was rudely
and carelessly piled on a cart, which the constable had
J brought with him.

As the last article was carried off, and the officer of
[' the law had bowed himself out of the room, with " I am
really very sorry for you, girls, but the law must have
its course," the sisters seated themselves on their trunks,
and gave way to a hearty flow of tears.

But even this luxury was denied them long, for they
were interrupted by a knock at the door, and, in reply
to their " come in," « smiling good-natured little woman
I entered.

« m—i^'n^^a^i^it'tu^mt^tm^iiti^^

j 112 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

"Well, my dears," she said, familiarly, "I have
rented these rooms, as Mr. Ellis told me you were leav-
ing ; but if you ain't ready to go yet, just say so, and I
will leave you in them till to-morrow."

" Go !" exclaimed Clara, " where can we go ? Mr.
Ellis has turned us out of doors, and we have no place
to lay our heads. He has stripped us of every article
of furniture, and bids us go."

" And has Mr. Ellis done that ?" inquired the stran-
ger, her little gray eyes flashing.

" He has, indeed," replied Laura, sobbing.

" Then you may stay here just as long as you choose.
I have only got one little child, and don't want all the
rooms, so you can have one, and I've got plenty of fur-
niture, such as it is ; so make your hearts easy on that
score. I've paid my rent in advance, and he can't
hinder me from doing what I choose with my own

rooms."

The sisters expressed their most grateful thanks for
this unexpected act of kindness, which they accepted,
assuring their kind hostess that they would cheerfully j
pay her whatever she might deem proper to ask for
their board.

" Come, come, make your hearts perfectly easy,
girls. I am poor, but poverty has not steeled my heart /
against the distresses of my fellow-creatures. I have j
j- to sew for my living, as I dare say you do, and there is |
no use in our worrying each other. You shall have j
the room for what you can afford to pay, and I will make
you as comfortable as possible. I am sure I should

I THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 113 \

never have another night's rest, if I were to let you go out
of the house without knowing where you were to go, or
which way to turn. Come, my things will be here
right away, and if we work sharp, we can get all
straight by dinner time.'

Mrs. Stewart, for that was the name of this kind little '
woman, bustled about to such good purpose, and the
sisters assisted her so readily, that, as she predicted, the
rooms were in order by dinner time.

Clara and Laura could scarcely realize the change,
so sudden had it been. A few short hours before, and
they were houseless, homeless — without a friend to look
to, and the prospect before them dark indeed. They
felt that Providence had especially interposed in their
behalf, and they poured out in the very fullness of their
hearts their grateful thanks to God for his unceasing
goodness, imploring also grace to be able to submit with
humility and cheerfulness to any dispensation which
the future might bring upon them. The entire day was
occupied by them in assisting Mrs. Stewart, and at
night they retired to rest weary and fatigued, but with
hearts comparatively at ease.

114 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

CHAPTER XI.

Mr. Simmons, with his interesting family, had been
i at the Springs some three or four weeks, living in the
most luxurious and extravagant style, exciting the ad-
miration of some and the envy of others.

It was settled between the amiable sisters that Mr.
Seabrook, the wealthy Southerner, was to be the hus-
band of one of them before the season closed. The
heart had nothing whatever to do with any marriage of
theirs, which they might contract, so that was not to
be counselled. He was wealthy, and what was to
them quite as desirable, was of a most ancient and
aristocratic family ; so he was plied with attentions with
which no man possessed of less than the ordinary share
of common sense could fail to feel flattered. He was
quite at a loss which of the two to choose. He had
made up his mind that one of them was to be his wife, (

)

but it was very difl[icult to decide between them. Day )
after day he was with them on riding, fishing, or pic
nic excursions, and each day his indecision became
more harassing.

One day he had made up his mind to select Euphe- \

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 115

mia, but on the next Maria had been so exceedingly !
fascinating, he was again turned. '

While the future husband of one of the young ladies
was in this unpleasant predicament, Mr. Simmons one
! day received a letter from his head clerk, the contents
of which caused him so much agitation that he could |
I not conceal it, and Mr. Seabrook, who was with him at |
the time, could not forbear asking if he had received
any unpleasant news.

" No— not at all ; rather singular though," was the
reply, given in a hurried and excited manner ; so much
so as to induce the suspicion in the mind of Mr. Sea- j
brook that it was exactly the reverse. And Mr. Sim- (
mons added, ^* But I must go down to the city and in- j
quire into it. Shall I leave my family in your charge^
Mr. Seabrook ?" he inquired, in his blandest tones.

" With the greatest pleasure in the world. I shall
be too happy in having such a charge confided to me," ;
politely replied that gentleman.

By the next conveyance, Mr. Simmons was on the
road to the city, and in no very amiable state of mind.
The letter from his clerk informed him that drafts to a
large amount, drawn by a heavy Southern house in his
favor, had been dishonored, and there was good reason
to apprehend a crash.

Mr. Simmons foresaw that, if this house &iled, his
own ruin was inevitable. For the past few months he )
had been much harassed for money, and this disap- j
pointment would effectually cripple him. He knew |
that prompt and decisive measures alone could save )

Yll6 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. }

him, and he was hastening to the city to put them in •
j operation.

i On reaching the store, he found that he had arrived
i too late. The Southern house was gone past hope, and [
) those who knew his intimate connection with them, !
( foresaw his downfall. Bills were poured in upon him !
j with the most appalling celerity. Friends on whom he J
( had often before relied, were now hard run ; they j
I could afford him no assistance. At least, they said so, '
I and he had the additional mortification of knowing that
it was not true, but that this excuse was only made to
( soften a refusal of the required loan.
! At length one heavy day came, and Mr. Simmons
( was compelled to allow his notes to lie over. The
news of a failure such as his, was not long unknown in
a great commercial city like New- York, and before
j night of that day, every piece of property he owned in j
( the world was attached. j

' Hurriedly he wrote a note to his wife and daughters, j
informing them of his failure, and urging them to se- j
cure Mr. Seabrook, at all hazards. \

I But that gentleman was not so easily secured. He '

suspected from the manner of Mr. Simmons that all was
not right, and had written to a mercantile friend in the ]
city to inform him of the state of his future father-in- '
.' law's affairs. The reply was so perfectly satisfactory j
( that, on the morning after its receipt, he found himself j
' called home by the most alarming intelligence as to the ;
» health of an aged uncle, whose heir he was to be, nor I
( could all the entreaties of Mrs. Simmons, aided by the '

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 117 }

imploring looks of the fascinating daughters, keep him
a single hour, and he departed amid sighs of regret.

The day after his departure, the letter from Mr. Sim-
moos reached its destination, and the news came like a
thunder clap upon them. A council was at once held,

I and, as securing Mr. Seabrook was now impossible, it

j was determined to secure, if possible, some other equally

j eligible match.

} But here again they were checked. The failure of
Mr. Simmons had been publicly announced, and long
before the .mother and daughters had arrange? their
plans, eveiy visitor at the Springs knew of it. The
cold looks of their quondam friends — ^the expressions of
sympathy for their misfortune — ^the ill-concealed sneers
of those who had formerly envied them — added gall to
the bitter draught they had been forced to swallow, and
seeing that Saratoga was no longer the place for them,
they made preparations for leaving.

Here again, however, another unlocked for difficulty
presented itself. They had run up an enormous bill

(

at the expensive hotel where they had resided, and all

the ready money which Mr. Simmons had so freely
lavished on them, had long since been dissipated in
foolish extravagances. The landlord, however, proved
more accommodating than they had anticipated, and \
permitted them to depart, with the assurance that his j
{ bill should be settled immediately upon their reaching
! the city. He had not the least idea he should ever see
j one cent, but he wisely thought that he had better have
I his rooms vacant, than to support upon so poor a pros-

. 118 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

pect of remuneration, so extravagant and trouUesohte ii
family as that of Mr. Simmons's.

Mr. Simmons's failure was, in truth, perfectly ruin-
ous. He had lived up to the very height of his in-
come, and had not assets enough to pay fifty cents on
the dollar. This created much hard feeling against
him among his creditors, who had been disposed at first
to treat him with lenity, but when his books Were ex-
hibited and his personal expenses made known, he was
required to give up every thing to satisfy their de-
mands.

Mrs. Simmons and her daughters could scarcely
realize the change which the short period of two weeks
had made in their circumstances. Reduced suddenly
from wealth to a poverty as chilling as that of their
earliest years, they were utterly unable to bear up
against it. True, wealth had suddenly flowed in upon
them, and as suddenly vanished. True, they had
risen from the humblest walks in life to a rank and
station attained by very few, except by those who have
wealth at their command ; and that, too, by a chain of
circumstances purely fortuitous. But they had grown
proud, haughty and conceited, as they grew rich, and,
as each year added to their importance, they felt it impos-
sible that they could recede. They had never suffered
a thought that poverty was a thing of possible occur-
rence with them to disturb the quiet of their days, and
were, therefore, entirely unprepared for the change.

Nor had they any source of comfort or consolation in j
their own hearts. Each looked upon the other now ;

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 119

with distrust. Each felt that the other was in her
way, and each one was prepared, at any moment, to
sacrifice the other, if, by so doing, she could be again
elevated to the height from which they had been thus
' suddenly precipitated.

Mr. Simmons knew well what he had to do. He
saw around him a family entirely unfitted to be of the
least possible service to him. True, his daughters
had been elegantly educated, and were what the world
terms accomplished. They could play, and sing, and
dance, and, in company could make themselves agreea-
ble. But in their own home they were perfectly use-
less fixtures i of the ordinary domestic duties profoundly (
ignorant, they could be of no service at home, and they
displayed no desire to be useful to themselves or to
others abroad.

Mrs. Simmons felt the sudden revulsion as bitterly
as did either of her daughters ; but she had in earlier
; days been accustomed to poverty, and, with all her
) faults, she loved her husband too well to desire to see
him alone and comfortless now. She knew well the cha-
racters of her children, and had good cause to dread for
them, but she determined to neglect no precaution which
might save them.
^ A small house was taken in the upper part of the <
j city, and Mr. Simmons, having procured a clerkship in (
> a large store at a fair salary, hoped to enjoy compara- !
J tive peace. But he little knew, or remembered that he
') who sows the wind must expect to reap the whirlwind.
I His daughters had been brought up amid the refinements \

)

120 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

J of ease and luxury, ever so readily attained by those
I who have wealth at their command ; and among the j
earliest lessons impressed upon their minds, was a per- |
\ feet and unmitigated contempt for poverty. The idea j
; of feeling for the wants of another was something so \
! strange, it never found a place in their hearts, and as
{ for sympathy with their suffering fellow-creatures, it
was an emotion they had never experienced.

They had, however, some lessons yet to learn, which
were to make ineffaceable impressions on their minds ;
and they were doomed to drink to the dregs of the cup [
they had so often held to the lips of others. They had, j
in the vanity of their hearts, conceived that the atten- (
tions paid to them, and the flatteries so often poured j
/ into their willing ears, were tributes to their worth, to i
) their graces, and to their accomplishments, and while j
j they had ever felt happy in exciting envy in others, by |
} the display which their father's wealth enabled them
to make, they haa never dreamed that Providence
j might reverse the picture, and place them in the posi- i
( tion of those whom they delighted to torment. }

' All the efforts of their father and mother to induce S
them to apply themselves to some useful occupation
proved unavailing, and their time was passed in gad- ^
ding from house to house. (

But the coldness of their reception was such at nearly j
( every place they visited, they could not longer even !
fancy themselves welcome, and could they have heard >
one half of the remarks drawn forth by their visit, shame )
( would have deterred them from repeating it. [

THB ELLIOTT FAMILT. 121

Of all the families with whom in the hour of their
I prosperity they had been on terms of intimacy, not one
) was there but received them with the most freezing
) coldness, and, on one occasion, as they were about
; leaving the house of one who had been one of their
) " dearest friends,*' they overheard the order given —
i" Not at home in future to the Misses Simmons !"
At home, they frittered away their time in useless
repinings, instead of applying themselves to. domestic
employments, and the consequence was they soon be-
came sullen and morose, quarrelling with each other^
impertinent to their parents, and a burthen to them-
selves.
) Mr. Simmons regretted this sad change in his cir-
I cumstances full as much for the sake of his children as
1 for himself, for he was sufficiently a man of the world
to know that, while they were counted wealthy, all
their faults would be overlooked, and they might make
almost any marriage they chose. But as the children
) of a poor man, and with faults so glaring in their cha-
; racters, such as he saw too plainly, he knew that their
S prospects of settlement were poor indeed, and he used
j every effort to impress upon their minds the necessity
of an alteration in their conduct and manners. But
they heeded his advice with contemptuous indifference,
and promised not long to be a burthen to him.

In this manner this unhappy family passed several
) months, their house being daily a scene of wrangling
; and quarrelling, producing a bitterness of feeling which,
\ in the end, extinguished almost every spark of affec-

12$ THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

}

tion, and which severed the hearts of the sisters as c
pletely as though they had been strangers to <
other, or, perhaps, acquaintances of the hour.

But, leaving them for the time, let us return to C
and Laura Elliott, whom we left in the care of the k
hearted Mri. Stewart.

THB ELLIOTT FAMILT. 128

CHAPTER XII

The day after the occurrences detailed in a previous
chapter, while Clara and her sister were seated at their
work, they received an unexpected, hut most welcome
call from Miss Bellamy, who had heen absent from the
city for a few days.

'^ Why, girls,'' said she, as soon as she entered their
! little room, " what have you been doing ? You have
{ changed all your furniture."

Tears started to the eyes of the sisters, as they heard
the remark, but checking them, they proceeded to nar-
rate the circumstances which led to the alteration in the
appearance of their apartment. Eva listened with deep
attention, and her generous heart glowed with kindly
sympathy, as she wept over the trials of the unfortunate
orphans.

" Well," she exclaimed, when the narrative was J
finished, *^ you have one comfort left, of which all the
constables in the world cannot deprive you. You have
God in whom to trust, and he will not desert you, I am ^

Yes, dear Miss Bellamy, and we have in you one

sure."

ft.

124 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

earthly friend, whose generous sympathy has lightened
many heavy hours of their load. We may never be
able to repay your kindness, but we never will forget
it, or cease to remember you in our prayers." (

" You will pain me," replied Eva, ** by speaking

thus. I act ever from the promptings of my own (

heart, and in the consciousness that I perform my {

duty, I have ever derived my highest reward. But (

1 how fare you ? How do you get on with your work ? \

! Have you ascertained yet how much you can make at

S it."

\ " I fear," replied Clara, " that our prospects are not

I the most flattering. At the very most, we cannot make

\\ more than two pairs of these each in a day, and that

gives us only twelve shillings apiece for the week's {

work." I

" I wish I could assist you myself," exclaimed Eva, j

in the fullness of her heart, " but I cannot ; my poor •

. mother is very feeble, and all the time I can spare, I (

must devote to her comfort. Besides, all the duties of j

our little household devolve upon me, and however good }

my will may be, my powers will not permit me to per* j

form more than I now do." {

" We surely could not expect that, Miss Bellamy, j

But do not deprive us of your friendship, your advice, j

and your occasional visits. Besides yourself, there is

no human being whom we may call friend, and our in- 1

experience renders us sadly in need of your assist- i

ance." j

" I would I could do more for you, indeed, than to !

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 125 j

advise ; but do not despair. When you have. seen one-
half the suffering I have been compelled to witness, you
will think your own lot comparatively happy. There
is one sentence I wish to impress deeply upon your
j minds — so deeply, I hope you will never forget it. It
/ is my own motto, and it has supported me through
} many hours of sad, weary, and cheerless anxiety:
I * Brighter hours will come,' Bear this in mind, and if
it brings to your hearts half the peace those precious
words have bestowed on me, when I felt that all was
dark and cheerless, without one ray of hope, you will
submit with cheerfulness to your lot. Believe me,
girls, I have had my sufferings, and though I have not
yet been called on to bear the lot of poverty, I have ex-
perienced that which I would gladly exchange even for
a portion so dreary."

Eva spoke this with a serious, almost solemn earnest-
ness, that told much more than met the ear ; for the
girls could not imagine that one situated as she was,
I blessed in the affection of a mother, enjoying the com-
( forts of a home, and shedding peace, joy and happiness
K on all around her, could have any grief which these
\ few words could assuage. But, alas ! how mysterious
are the workings of the human heart, and how few
there are to whom it is given to read them.

After an hour passed in pleasant sociable chat, in j
which she used every effort to cheer and encourage |
them, Eva left the unfortunate orphans, promising to |
repeat her visit at an early day, but taking care before j
her departure, to impress again and again upon them, (

126 THE ELUOTT FAMILY.

the comfort brought to her heart by the motto of her
life — " Brighter hours mil come.^*

The girls continued at their worH for several weeks
with the most assiduous zeal, but sadly overtasking
themselves, in the hope that they might be able to lay
up something against the approach of the winter season,
which was now rapidly drawing near. But with all
their efforts, they found it impossible to do more than
pay their board, and with the small surplus left from \
each week's earnings, purchase some trifling article of j
absolute necessity, to replace those which the long- |
continued sickness of their mother, and her funeral ex* \
penses, had compelled them to part with. ^

They were cheered, however, once in each week by a
visit from Eva, whose loveliness of temper, and open,
frank-heartedness of manner, had so won their hearts, )
they had learned to love her as a sister, and worthy,
well worthy, did she prove herself of all their aflection.-

! ate regard.

I One bitter day in November, Laura had carried home .
the work finished during the week, and before she
had reached home on her return, a cold, driving sleet
came on, which penetrated through her clothing, un-
suited as it was to the inclemency of the season ; and
in a few hours after reaching home, she was taken siok
with a raging fever.

The kind physician, whose generous aid had been so (
freely and voluntarily extended to them during their !

/ mother's sickness, was at once sent for, and he came |
with as much cheerfulness and alacrity, as though he }

THE liLLIOTT FAMILY. 127

was on a visit to his most wealthy patient, for Ms heart
could make no distinction between rich and poor, where
his skill and services were required to alleviate suffer-
ing.

Laura was in a high fever, and from the looks of the
physician Clara drew unfavorable omens, but he, ob- '
serving the cloud upon her brow, dispelled it, by assur-
ing her that there was no danger to be immediately ap-
prehended. While he was preparing a prescription
for the sufferer, Eva came in, whom he at once recog-
nized — for he had often met her at the residences of hia
poor patients — and turning to Clara, he said :

" You need fear nothing where this young lady is.
I find her everywhere, where suffering is to be alle-
viated, and where kindness and sympathy can &WoTd
consolation. You must be a happy girl, Miss Bellamy,"
added he, turning to Eva, ** for you are always doing
some good to your fellow-creatures."

Eva blushed at this well-merited compliment, for in
the earnest sincerity of her heart, she could never
feel that the performance of the duty imposed by reli-
gion, and which always afforded her great pleasure,
was a proper subject for compliments, and they always
occasioned her real pain, instead of pleasure, as many
too often imagined.

The prescription for Laura was left with Clara, and

/ after the kind doctor had left, Eva discovered from her

} manner that something was amiss, as she appeared

) strangely agitated.

) << Allow me to go out and have ik» pre«|Qriptio9 put

- — — m

I 128 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. (

up,*' she said, rightly divining the cause of her emotion, (

which was, in truth, that she had not the means to pay ]

even for medicine for a sick and suffering sister. j

"Indeed, Miss Bellamy," exclaimed Clara, "I am \

ashamed to say it, but I have not the money to procure '
j It. \

" And why should you be ashamed, Clara ? I am j
sure poverty is no crime, and your paucity of means (
does not arise from indolence, certainly. Give me the
prescription, and don't call me Miss Bellamy again, j
unless you wish to offend me very much."

" Dear, dear Eva, may God bless you, and make you (
as happy as your kindness has made us," exclaimed (
Clara, bursting into tears. )

*' There, there — don't cry — Laura wants something ; i
see to her." So saying, she glided gently out of the (
room, her own eyes suffused with tears, which she (
could not repress. \

I will not weary the reader by detailing the occur- v
I rences of the following four weeks. Laura's illness (
) was most serious, and she required such constant atten- !
» tion, Clara had no time to work. Occasionally she ;!
{ would hastily take up the work before her, and seating j
herself by the bedside of the sufferer, would endeavor •
to sew ; but soon the tears would blind her eyes, as she '
thought upon the future, and before she could again j
collect herself, Laura would require something at her j
hands. !

Eva Bellamy knew the deplorable state of destitution '
to which the orphans were reduced, through the sick- ;

)

THE ELLIOTT FAMILT. 129 \

ness of the one, and the inahility of the other to work ;
but her generous heart was ever as ready to practice
as to render sympathy, and with the most persevering
energy, she went about among her friends, narrating
the sad circumstances in which they were placed, and
receiving from one and from another such contributions
as enabled her to pay their board weekly, and to pro-
vide such necessaries and comforts as Laura^s situation
demanded.

Laura was coniined to her bed for four weeks, and
it was two months before she was enabled again to re-
sume her needle ; but it was evident that sickness had
made an inroad upon her constitution, which time would
tend only to increase. In fact, it could not be concealed
that her health was completely broken up, and her con-
stitution so shattered, that she could not long survive.

She felt conscious of it herself, and it caused her no
pain, except when the remembrance of what her sister
must suffer when left alone came across her mind ; for
she could well imagine how she herself would feel were
she left alone, to struggle with poverty and distress.
Day by day she drooped, and day by day Clara and

Eva watched her fading into her early grave, their
' hearts aching with grief, as they felt they could do
nothing for her.

But the fiat had gone forth, and in a few short weeks
) Laura Elliott was numbered with the dead.

Eva Bellamy had been during the whole of her sick-
ness a daily visitor, adding to the joy which her own
welcome presence inspired, the consolations of that reli-

130 THS BLLIOTT FAMILY.

gion which was all in all to her ; and they had the bliss-
ful pleasure of realizing that the patient sufferer had
departed from a world of sorrows and troubles here, to
enjoy the rest and reward prepared and promised in
Heaven, to those who loved and served the Lord in this
earthly tabernacle.

Soon afker Laura's death, Eva was called to go wiUi ;
her mother into the country, where aha remained fimoh
longer than she had anticipated, and on her return to
the city, she immediately proceeded to Clara's rosidcoace.
Her astonishment, however, was great to find a pile of
ruins, denoting that the building had &llen a prey to
the flames, nor did her persevering efforts to discover
the object of her search, bring her any nearer to the

/ desire of her heart.

Often, very often, would she sit, and sigh, and wonder

) what had been the destiny of the poor orphan, and she
hoped, almost against hope, that the " brighter hoar^'
had come for her.

Mr. Oatman, from whom she had obtained work, on-
til the state of her health compelled her to change the
employment, was applied to, but he could only trace
her to an establishment in Broadway, where he had re-
commended her. All trace of her was lost, and Rva

! could only hope that the trust and confidence in the
goodness of Grod, which was always her own sole re-
liance, had supported the poor girl through life, and if
death had claimed her as his victim, had opened to her

{ an entrance into that kingdom where toils and trouUet

(cease for ever.

■

j THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 181 (

CHAPTER XIII.

Claba felt lonely and weary at heart when she found
herself deprived of the company of Eva, for she had
so linked herself with her own destiny, she looked to
her with the same confidence she would have enter-
tained for a beloved sister.

Her many acts of unobtrusive kindness during the
kmg continued illness of Laura, were remembered with
the most grateful emotions, and she never forgot to
ofier up daily prayers for her happiness, in whatever
sphere her lot might be cast.

The unceasing watchings and attentions rec^uired by
Laura in the last few weeks of her existence had made
sad inroads upon Clara's health, and she felt the ne-
cessity of having some relaxation from her arduous
labors. But how could she enjoy this ? She knew
that the kind-hearted woman with whom she boarded,
could not afford to keep her without promptly receiving
her board, however willing she might be to do so ; for )
she had to struggle hard enough herself to procure a
maintenance for herself and child. She must, there-
fore, work, although die felt more like going to b^r

ner )

182 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

bed, and receiving the attention and kindness which
her weak state of health demanded, than sitting for
twelve and fourteen hours a day at work.

Mr. Oatman, the friend of Eva, continued to provide
for her work, of the same kind as that she had been
engaged upon, but she found it impossible, after a few
week's further trial, to continue at it. Her strength
was inadequate to sew on such heavy material as that I
from which the over-alls were made, and before long
she found herself under the absolute necessity of seek-
ing other employment which should not be so hard, and
the more especially was she urged to this, as her strength
now permitted her to earn, at the utmost, a dollar and a
shilling a week, and this with twelve hours of incessant
toil.

Through the recommendation of this kind-hearted
\ man, and thanks to the kindness of Eva Bellamy, who
had urged him to befriend the unfortunate orphan,
during her absence from the city, she was enabled to
procure some shirts to make up from one of the most ^
fashionable establishments in Broadway, for which she \

was to receive three shillings each. The material

{

being lighter, she felt confident that she could earn
more with less bodily labor, and miserable as was the
price to be paid for her labor on them, she received
them with a grateful heart.

She was, however, not very long in making the dis-
covery that she had not made a change for the better.
The garments were required to be made with great
neatness, and before she had worked one week at them,

^ THE ELLIOTT 1 AMILY. 133 J

• she found that the fine stitching was wearing upon her
j eye-sight. She endeavored to persuade herself that
/ this was only occasioned by working at night, so she !
) determined to rise at an earlier hour in the morning, ^
( and not sew any more at night than was absolutely ne-
i cessary to enable her to earn enough to pay her board.
j For another week she adhered to this change, and, j
\ although she found her eye-sight improved, she felt that j
j her strength was sinking under her dreadful overtask- )
i ing. But what could she do ? She must sew on, or j

• Starve, and with a frame gradually wasting away for '
J the want of exercise and wholesome air — with spirits ;,
( depressed from being cut off from all social intercourse — ;
j with a heart filled with despair, as she trusted herself \
! to look at the dreary prospect before her, she worked )

on.

At length she grew so weak she could no longer sit i
up to sew, but, propping herself up in her humble bed \
\ with pillows, she continued her cheerless task — ^the kind ;
I landlady taking her work to the shop when finished, |
1 and bringing home more as required,
j No one will expect me to paint the feelings of the i
j desolate, broken-hearted orphan, as she pursued in i
< dreary solitude her daily work. At times, memory ]
would bring to her the happy days gone by ; when, !
blessed with every comfort which the care of affectionate ,

\ parents could procure, her life glided on in one stream \
of peaceful happiness. She thought of those earlier \
days with bitterness, but she never dared to indulge the i

^ hope that even their shadows might return to her. She {

\ 184 THS ELLIOTT FAMILY. |

I tried to make her heart believe that " brighter houra"
might come, but as each day passed over, the darkness
seemed to grow more deep and black around her, and J
i she sunk into utter, hopeless despair. {

j She thought of her dear mother, and oh, how she
wished from her heart of hearts that she might have
been spared to her ; not that she too might pass her
days and nights in unrequited toil, but that she might
be cheered by her presence— inspired by her admoni-
tions— encouraged by her sympathy, and blessed by
her alBTection. She checked herself then, for she felt
j that such a mother was far happier now, and she derived }
) some consolation in the reflection that she could not
J much longer be separated from her. j

\ Laura, too, the loving sympathizing sister, who had
gone to join their mother in Heaven, often rose up be-
fore her, and so real did her presence sometimes seem
j to the desolate girl, she almost felt that she had been
I with her in person, and had conununed with her.
\ And Eva Bellamy, the kind, benevolent Eva, whose
sympathy had so often lightened her weary heart of i
half its load. How she did long for her presence once )
I more. She felt that one moment of ccnnmunion with •
I her would re-animate her sinking frame and give her
! renewed strength, for in her presence she could not feel |

desponding. But no— all comfort was denied to her.
\ In the solitude of her cheerless chamber — propped up !
{ in her bed, she pursued her weary task, and found no
peace, no ray of hope, no glimmer of light, save "whaa,
forgetting all the changii^ vanities of earth, abe turned ;

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 135

her thoughts to God and heaven. Then a holy peace-
ful calm would steal over her soul, and, for a time, in
the blissful anticip«itions of the great and endless future,
she fi>rgot the suffering, the misery, the anguish of the
present. Daily her thoughts ascended more frequently
and fervently to God, and at length she was enabled, in
answer to her unceasing prayers, to look forward to the
hour which should end her course on earth, as the only
blessing yet unbestowed on her.

One night, after working rather later than usual, she
laid her task aside, and was preparing to retire for the
( night, when, fancying she perceived a smell of smoke,
I as from wood burning, she called to Mrs. Stewart,
} whose room adjoined her own, for she was too feeble
/ to be capable of any great exertion herself.
) Mrs. Stewart, who had retired, worn out and ex-
hausted with her day's toil, was fast asleep, and had
not awakened. As the smell became more and more
perceptible, Clara's fears gave her strength, and she
opened her door, to examine for herself. A single
glance sufficed to inform her that there was fire some-
i where very near, for she saw volumes of smoke rising
! from the lower floor.

( The urgency of the occasion imparted more than
) usual strength to Clara, and summoning all her ener-
) gies, she aroused Mrs. Stewart effectually, and snatch- \
) ing her child from the cradle where it was asleep, hur- j
ried down stairs, shouting at the top of her feeble voice, J
i in order to alarm the other inmates of the burning build- I
^ ing. She had not been too prompt^ for spf^rcely had she (

J 136 . THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

reached the street, when the flames burst forth from the ^
lower room, and before a general alarm could be given,
the building was wrapped in flames, beyond the hope ]
of preservation, and all the efforts of the generous fire- 1
men were turned to save the adjoining dwellings. }

Without shedding a single tear, Clara, seated on the j
steps of a house opposite, watched the ravages of the
devouring element, as it roared and raged through the )
building, and in a few minues, that which before had j
been her home — cheerless though it was — ^lay before her
a heap of smouldering ruins.

She had been unable to save one single article of her
clothing, and what grieved her yet more, even amid the
horrors of the scene, was the certainty that the work
she had obtained from the shop to make up, had fallen
a prey to the flames.

Tears at length did come to her relief — bitter, scald-
ing tears — and they coursed down her wan cheek, as )
she reflected on her truly desolate situation. Without \
f a shelter to cover her — without a single article of cloth- (
ing, save those she had on, when she made her escape \
from the burning building — without one friend in the j
wide world, save Eva, and she absent from the city, .
where could she turn ? what could she do ? I

Burying her face in her hands, she yielded to her j
K feelings, and prayed that the great God would spare I
her further suffering, and take her to himself. But the
cup destined to be drained by her, was not yet emptied {
I of all its bitterness. How long she remained in this ;
^ position, she knew not, but she was aroused by a gentle

j THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 137

j touch on the arm, and looking up, she saw before her
( one of the city watchmen.

! " Come, I guess it's time for you to go home,'* he said,
j in tones which he intended to be civil, but which grated j
; most harshly upon her feelings. j

( " Home ! sir ? alas, I have now no home. There was j
! my home a few hours ago," and she pointed to the still j
\ smoking ruins. J

! " Well, I guess you'd better go and find your friends,
; then. It won't do^'to be sitting here all night. They
j will give you a home, of course, under these circum- j
stances." '

" I have now no home on earth, and no friend but
God. I am sure, sir, I know not where to go, or whi-
ther to turn." (
" Then you'd better go to the watch-house with me," !
replied the man, whose rough nature was touched by j
her evident distress, and who knew of no other course to
^ advise.

I Clara shrunk back at the mention of the watch-
) house, for every idea she had ever formed of that place }
I was abhorrent, and she could not bear the thought of i
{ being shut up with vagrants, felons, drunkards, and (
} the like. j

) The watchman at once interpreted her feelings, and
i kindly assured her that she should be made perfectly
I comfortable, and would be left alone as much as possi-
I ble. He pointed out the folly of sitting there alone in i
J the night air, and convinced her that she would be none j
I the better off by remaining there, than by going with j

> 138 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. \

V him. Conquering, therefore, her repugnance, she ac- !
' companied the guardian of the night, and true to his \
! promise, he did make her comfortable, and placed her •
i apart from the other inmates, so that except being com- j

pelled to hear what was passing, she was comparatively l

alone.
) In the morning, when the watch was discharged, she
J was told that she had better be going, as the watch-
\ house was about to be closed ; so thanking the men for

the shelter afforded her — for rest she had not enjoyed —

she left.

Faint, weary and hungry, and with scarcely strength

left to walk, she moved on unconsciously, not knowing

whither she was going, nor having any purpose in view.

Her steps led her to the Park, and seeing a large num-
} her of females gathered about the door of a long, yellow
) building, she inquired of one who passed her, stagger- ;
\ ing under a heavy bag, filled with something she could
j not tell what, as to the cause of the gathering.
) The woman stared at her for an instant, as if in won-
{ der at her ignorance, and replied :
" Sure and it's the Alms-House."
Clara had heard of the Aims-House before, and the

blood mounted to her pale cheeks, as she thought that

now she must go there or starve. She soon reached the
\ door, but on looking in, perceived that the large room
j in which the office was held, was densely crowded, so
\ densely, hours must elapse ere her turn could come to j

apply, and as she had not the strength to stand up while |

waiting, she withdrew, and seated herself upon a pile I

THB ELLIOTT FAMILY.

139

of stones near the door, for there was no other place for
her, the door steps even being crowded with applicants,
nearly every one of whom were Irish women.

She saw some of them go down into the large cellar,
and soon afler return laden with a bag, or a basket, full
of potatoes, and she inquired of another woman, who
had taken a seat near her on the stones, if that was all
the relief they received.

" No," was the reply ; "sometimes they give what
they call out-door relief, to those whom they think need

it.

" In what shape V

" Why, two shillings, or perhaps four shillings a
week, in cash, and in winter time, perhaps a half a
load or so of wood during the season."

" Grod help the poor l*^ involuntarily exclaimed Clara.
" But," she added, " do they not admit them into the
I Aims-House, when they really require it ?"

"Oh yes, when it is not too full ; but now they
say it is overflowing, and they can't take in any

more.

< " Then you don't think I can get in ?" was the in-

[ quiry again.

{ "No, I haven't the least idea you can just now.

I However, there's nothing like tr3ring. But there's

I one thing very much against you."

; " And what is that?" asked Clara, in some astonish-

ment.

S " Why, you ain't a foreigner."

: This was a riddle to Clara, and as she did not think

( 140 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

the solution would add much to her information, she \
forbore asking any further questions, and the woman
soon after left her.

For four weary hours did Clara Elliott remain seat-
ed there. Not a morsel of food had passed her lips
since early on the previous evening. She was faint,
weary and broken-hearted, and she longed to lie down
and die.

At length there seemed a chance that she might gain
admittance, and with an effort, for she was fairly stif-
fened by remaining so long seated, she arose from her
seat on the stones, and made her way into the office,
where she found only two or three of the females
in waiting.
\ When they had gone, she moved up to the desk, and
holding by the rail which ran across it for support, she
preferred her request for relief, the blood mounting to
the very roots of her hair, and scalding tears forcing
i themselves from her eyes as she did so.

" What is your name ?" asked a clerk, very gruffly.

" Clara Elliott,'' was the reply.

" Where do you live V

" I have no home, sir."

" Oh, I see," said a portly, well-fed, sleek-looking man
behind the bar, gazing at her over his gold spectacles ; S
"sick, and turned out of doors, eh?" ^

Clara did not understand the full import of this
question, and in the innocence of her heart she replied
to him, though had she understood the insinuation in- ^
tended to be conveyed, she would have died of starva

■^.•'^•' s- "> *-",'* V

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 141

tion at his feet, before a word would have passed her
I lips in answer to such a question :
{ "I am in very feeble health, sir, and was turned out
/ of my home last night by a fire, which destroyed the
j house in which I boarded."

I " Well, what do you expect we can do for you ?"
\ asked the portly gentleman, apparently getting tired of
} the conversation.

\ '' I do not know, sir. I am suffering now from actual
I hunger. I have no home — ^no friends, nor means.''
} " Well, do you want to go up ?"
) " I don't know what you mean, sir," replied Clara,
j and she really did not. The brute had taken it for
/ granted, because Clara was pale and thin, and con-
/ fessed that she was in ill health, that she was one of
{ those unfortunate girls whom despair does sometimes
\ drive to lead a life of sin, in preference to a death by
! starvation, and who sometimes are sent up to the hospi-
) tal, at the public expense.

" I suppose you have never been up before ?" he
asked, as if he well knew that she had, but would deny
it to him.

" Never, sir ; and I don't even know what you mean
by 'going up.' If you can send me where I shall re-
ceive food and shelter, I shall be truly grateful."

" Well," rejoined the inquisitor, who began to feel
that he might be mistaken, " we have no room in the
Aims-House just now. Come next week, on Wednes-
day, (this was Wednesday,) and we shall see what we ;
can do for you." i

142 THE ELLIOTT FAMILT.

___._^^ *

^^ I shall die of starvation before that time, sir/' urged
Clara, whose strength was fast giving way.

" Oh, no danger of that. Folks never starve in New- ]
York ; we take too good care of them for that. Here, j
James, give this girl a quarter, and charge it to the out- |
door account." J

Tho clerk threw a quarter of a dollar to her, and j
said :

''There; go along now; come next week— go
along."

With a bursting heaxt, Clara withdrew from the j
room, and again seating herself on the same pile of j
stones, gave way to a flood of bitter tears. No one, I
however, seemed to take any notice of her, each being
too much occupied with his own aflairs to think of the
suflerings of another; and there she remained, the
generous sum given by the proud city of New- York to
maintain a sick and starving girl for a whole week,
clutched in her emaciated hand.

■« ^^^^^■^^^^^^^ta^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^"^^^ ^^

THB ELLIOTT FAMILY. 148

CHAPTER XIV.

Claju Elliott remained seated on the pile of stones
for a long time, lost in meditation. Thought, however,
brought no comfort to her, and, with an effort, she arose
} and fairly staggered off, for she was so weak and stif-
> fened from long continued abstinence, and from being
\ seated so long on the cold hard stones, it was with the
1^ utmost difficulty she was able to move at all. She
■ stopped at the first baker's shop she reached, and, wi^h
/ a part of the generous gift from the proud city of New-
\ York, whose representative boasted that people never
< starved within her precincts, she purchased some bread,
J which she devoured with a relish to be realized only \
! by those who have, like her, suffered the pangs of hun-
I ger. Having by this frugal, but most acceptable meal,
j gained a little strength, she wended her way toward
\ the scene of the last night's conflagration, and when she
; reached it, the occurrences of that sad night were f
I brought to her mind with such vivid freshness she could '
/ not restrain her tears. |

J Before her lay the ruins of that which, a few short \
\ hours before, had been a home to her — ^humble though |

144 THE ELLIOTT FAJVIILY.

it was. Beneath the smouldering ruins lay the remains

of all she had possessed on earth, and now she was a
houseless wanderer, without clothes, without the means
of procuring shelter, without a friend in the wide world, J
and she looked upon the passing hundreds who went by j
with feelings almost of envy, which must be pardoned,
for the thought came to her heart that each one had a \
home and friends, and the contrast which a few short ,
hours had drawn between herself and them was harrow- j
ing. She remained seated, gazing in silence for some (
time upon the ruin caused by the devastating element, {
when she was aroused by a voice which, before she J
looked up, she recognised as that of the kind-hearted \
Mrs. Stewart. \

" Why, Clara, where have you come from ? I thought \
you were burnt up in the house ; although I was sure j
I saw you go out when you gave the alarm. Where J
have you been ?" she exclaimed, as she gazed upon ■
Clara, her countenance exhibiting real pleasure at the j
unexpected meeting. i

" To the Aims-House V responded Clara, sadly, and j
as she spoke, tears again broke forth. She could say j
no more. Those few words seemed to convey such ideas ;
of hopeless misery, she felt that more were useless. j

" But where have you been all night, I mean ? I ex- j
pect the Aims-House will be our portion yet for good, <
but I hope not. Where did you pass the night V )

" In the watch-house !" ;

*• Good Heavens ! poor Clara," exclaimed the kind- •
^ hearted little woman, whose ideas of a night in the j

1»

) THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 145

J watch-house, even for shelter, were akin to those of
' Clara. " I went in to Mrs. Harris's, round the corner,
i after the house was burned down, and we looked all
( over for you, without being able to find you. But
J come, come in with me, she gave me a place to lie !
down in last night, and I am sure, though she is poor, (
she will not refuse you a shelter too. Every thing I
had in the world was burnt up, and what I am to do,
heaven only knows. But I'll try and not complain."
Clara willingly accompained her friend to the house
she had spoken of. It was situated in the rear of the ,
street, the entrance being through a long dark alley.
) The room occupied by Mrs. Harris was on the second
. floor, the ascent to which was almost impossible, so dark
was the entry, and so dilapidated the stairs leading to
it. However, they managed to effect an entrance, and
sad at heart as was poor Clara, her soul revolted at the
{ thought of remaining in such a place. The room was
small and darkened by the old rags which had been
stuffed into the places left by the broken panes of glass.
On either hand lay a pile of rags, which served as a
bed for the miserable occupant, while a few broken
stools and an old table formed the entire furniture of
the apartment.

" Walk in, walk in," said the occupant of this den,
as Clara and her companion reached the door. " You
are welcome, God knows, to such as I have got."
1 Clara looked at the speaker, who was seated by the
i window on one of the broken stools, sewing upon some

J coarse flannel shirts, but she did not rise from her work.

m- -- .~^- -- .-. .-. -■--. -...--... ....0

146 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. (

She seated herself, and gave way to her feelings in
tears. She knew it was wrong — perhaps sinful, thus
to yield to her grief, but, for her life, she could not re-
press them.

" Come, my dear, don't cry. That won't mend your
situation at all. I have lived in this room, just as you
see it, for two years ; and I have to work so hard to
keep soul and body together, I have no time for grief.
If you are the girl Mrs. Stewart has spoken of, you are
perfectly welcome to stay here as long as you choose."

" Forgive me," said Clara, wiping her eyes, and en-
deavoring to compose herself, " I will try and not
give way to grief again, but I could not help it now.
I see you have work— can you tell me where I can get
some ?"

" Indeed, I don't know ; unless, perhaps, where I pro- ,
cured this. I have been four months before this, without
a stitch. I had two children, but they died a month
ago of actual starvation — for all I could get for them I
had to beg for in the streets. I wandered about day
after day looking for work, but I could not find any,
until last week I got these shirts to make. They give
me eight cents a piece, and I can make ten a week, by
daylight — I cannot work at night, for I can't afford to
get candles. As it is, I only make enough to procure j
food." j

" I shall be thankful even for that," said Clara, " for j
I am entirely destitute — quite as much so as yourself, i
I will go out at once and see if I cannot get some work, |
for I too cannot remain idle." i

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 147

"You had better lie down and jest a while," said I
Mrs. Harris, kindly. Mrs. Stewart has been telling me •

)

about you, and I am glad I can serve you, even by let- I
ting you stay in this miseraole hole. You are welcome
to stay here as long as you choose, unless you can get a
better place. Do lie down, you look as if you could
hardly stand up at all." 1

Clara declined her kind offer of taking rest, and,
having ascertained the number of the store where Mrs.
Harris procured her work, she started off. First, how-

1 ever, she determined to go to the store in Broadway,
where she had obtained the shirts which were destroyed
at the time of the fire ; and she hoped that, notwith-
standing their loss, she would be able to obtain more
from the same place, for she knew it was through no

) fault on her part that they were destroyed.

In that expectation, however, she was grievously dis-
appointed. The proprietor listened to her story with
something of impatience in his manner, and, although

I he could not but be impressed with the truth of her nar-
rative, and with the reality of her destitute situation,
which was fully vouched for by her wretched appear-
ance, he refused to give her any more work.

With a heavy heart she went thence to the store
named by Mrs. Harris, and, on stating her business,
was offered some coarse shirts, dXfive cents each.
She ventured to remonstrate at the inadequacy of the

; pay, and urged that she could not live at that rate ; but
the proprietor cut her short by saying he could get them
madp up by the thousand for the same price in the \

ri48 THE ELLIOTT FAMILT.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^■^^^^

country. This recalled to her mind what her mother
had said, respecting the mode by which some employers
are enabled to have their garments made up at half the
usual prices by girls in the country during the winter,
who have nothing else to do at that season.

The man, seeing her hesitation, was about replacing
( the shirts he had laid before her, but, reflecting that she .
must take these or starve, she took .up the bundle and
departed.

When she re-entered the wretched room which was
I henceforward to be her future abode, she endeavored to
appear more cheerful, and seated herself by the side
of Mrs. Harris, to commence her work.

The exertion, however, of walking so far in her
weakened state, had proved too much for her. Excite-
ment alone had enabled her to keep up thus long, but
nature was now exhausted, and she had scarcely taken
a dozen stitches, when she fell backward to the floor,
\ in a state of insensibility.

i Mrs. Harris could do nothing for her but rub her
I temples and forehead with cold water, for she was too
\ poor to have at command any other restorative, and
' with this she was at length brought back to a state of
\ consciousness. She was utterly unable, from sheer ex-
i haustion, to resume her work, and when Mrs. Harris
{ again insisted upon her lying down and taking some
i rest, she did not now refuse, but threw herself upon
\ the bundle of rags, which had been the resting place
of Mrs. Harris for so many weary months, and was soon
lost in profound sleep.

THE ELLIOTT FAMILT. 149

She slept until a late hour in the morning, and when
she awoke, Mrs. Harris was again seated hy the win-
dow at her work.

" Come, Clara," said the kind-hearted woman, who
could feel for the sufferings of the poor orphan, " here
is some breakfast for you ; get up, and it will give you
strength, poor as it is. I have had no better for the last
twelve months."

The breakfast consisted of a piece of dry bread, and
some salt mackerel, which she was glad to wash down
with some water, drank from an old broken tea-cup,
the only one owned by Mrs. Harris ; and wretched as
such a breakfast was, it did afford some strength.

By working with less assiduity than she had been
wont to use, she gradually gained a little strength, and
in a few days she was comparatively restored. By or-
dinary exertion, she was able to earn sixty cents in a
week at the shirts, and as that would procure food
enough to keep off starvation, she was fain to be con-
tent.
I In this manner, and with the kind Mrs. Harris, she
I lived for four months, never earning more than seventy
\ cents each week, and receiving even that thankfully.

The winter season was now rapidly approaching, and ;
they were actually suffering from cold. An applica-
tion to the Aims-House procured for them half a load
of wood, which they carried into their own room — -for
they dared not leave it exposed where others quite as
poor, but not so conscientious, as themselves, could get
at it. By using this with the greatest economy, and by

;

150 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

filling up the cracks in the doors and sides of their
rooms with rags, they managed to keep themselves from
freezing. And thus they lived, and toiled, and kept
starvation from their door. j

Thus long they had been allowed to occupy the miser- i
able room without paying any rent, but the owner had '

recently sold the lot, and the new landlord had deter-
mined on tearing down the wretched shanties on it, and
erect comfortable buildings in their stead. This rendered J
their removal necessary, and they started offin search of
other apartments, and after many weary days, they found
a room, in one of the streets near the east river, which ]
they were allowed to occupy for Jifty cents a week. !
No where could they procure one at a less rate, and
even at this exorbitant rent, they were glad to have a I
shelter.

Into this new room they removed ; but now another
difficulty presented itself: no more work could be had.
The proprietor of the store for which they had worked,
. had now as large a stock as he wanted made up, prin-
cipally by girls in the country, at rates less than half
those paid to women in the city, and until that was ex-
hausted, he could give them no more.

Day after day, they wandered about, seeking employ-
ment, but in vain, and they were reduced to begging)
from door to door for victuals to keep them from star-i»
vation. A second application to the Aims-House for j
wood was refused, nor could any entreaties induce those !
in authority there, to give them the smallest relief. !
Entreaties to be sent to the Aims-House were disre- .

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 161

garded : it was crowded now, and they had already so
many on the out-door books, their appropriations were

[ nearly exhausted.

I I can follow them no farther, but will only add my
'' amen" to Clara's ejaculation, as she sat on the stones
by the Aims-House : " God help the poor !"

6^ .

ri52 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

CHAPTER XV.

One year makes no very great changes in the face
of nature, and perhaps, as a general rule, does not affect
materially the condition of mankind. But when sick-
ness, poverty and distress are crowding thick and fast
upon us — when gloomy forebodings, or the dark shades
of despair are threatening our way, the year can then
bring changes, which the heart yvould fain not realize.

One year has passerf 'nee Eva Bellamy parted from )
Clara Elliott, and dui ^ that time, though she had (
neglected no opportunity of making inquiries, she had (
not been able to obtain any tidings concerning her. (
Yet was she not forgotten. Eva ceased not to remem- (
ber her in her daily prayers to that kind Providence j
whose protecting power was spread alike over the des-
tinies of both. Clara had been from infancy the child
of many prayers, and now when the voice of parents ^
and sister were hushed in death — when no longer arose, (
morning and evening, their earnest solicitations at the <
) Throne of Grace for her welfare, sympathy and Christian
love in the heart of Eva Bellamy had come to supply \
their place.

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 153

Let US turn to Mr. Simmons, and his family. He !
had taken a large house in the lower part of the city,
for the purpose of establishing a boarding-house, at the
earnest instigation of his daughters, who felt that their
only chance for matrimony now, was to be found in
such an establishment.

The house was well furnished, the rooms were all
filled, and the girls for a time seemed happy in the
change. But it was too great a change for them to
bear in quiet. With the comparative prosperity which
I their father now enjoyed, their visions of ambition grew
/ stronger and stronger, until they began again to enter-
) tain the idea that they were once n.oro on the road to
, the temple of rank and fashion, froni which they had so
\ long been excluded, by reason of their poverty. The
t consequence was, that they adopted such airs as dis-
' gusted the more sensible and worthy of their boarders,
) who might perchance have been attracted by their
! beauty or their accomplishments — for they were both
beautiful and accomplished.

They insisted upon dressing in the most expensive and
fashionable style, and in consequence, their extravagance
f deterred more than one who would have made them good
husbands, from venturing into matrimony with such ex-
travagant and reckless partners. Another consequence j
was, that Mr. Simmons became again involved through
their extravagant expenditures for dress and show.
His furniture was seized, and he was again compelled
to retire to his salary as clerk.

The girls, however, were determined not to submit j

154 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

long to this third change in silence, and they soon after-
ward brought grief and shame upon their parents, by
connecting themselves with men of abandoned princi-
ples, whom they had met in some of their Sunday
jaunts.

Euphemia became the wife, or rather the servant, of
a noted gambler, whose only recommendaticms were a
fine person, a great display of jewelry, and an impu-
dence which nothing could put to blush.

Maria soon followed the example set by her sister,
and was married to the keeper of a billiard saloon,
whose days and nights were passed in one continued
round of reckless dissipation. She scarcely ever saw
him, except on Sundays, and then he was always so
engaged with some of his bar-room friends, she never
had the opportunity of going with him in his excur-
sions.

The reader can readily imagine the consequent
\ misery of their career. Mr. and Mrs. Simmons remain
the same worldly-minded, selfish, calculating couple.
The salary which he receives, enables him to live in
comparative comfort ; and without a thought or care for (
the future, their days glide on in noiseless apathy, which
will only be disturbed by the rushing of the mighty
waters on the sea of eternity, toward which they are so
surely and steadily advancing.

But let us turn to the contemplation of other and more
agreeable changes. What has one year acdbmplished
for good or evil in the career of Eva Bellamy ?
; One lovely moonlight evening, she might have boen )

THE ELLIOTT FAMILV. 155 .

seen walking with a gentleman in the upper part of our )
city. The quiet calmness of the hour, has shed its {
{ softening influence upon the hearts of both, which the \
{ noise and activity around them fails to dispel. So J
( earnestly are they engaged in conversation, they heed
( nothing of the busy scenes through which they pass ;
\ but with the tenderness of mutual love, they are re- \
! calling days gone by, while she unfolds the long pent {
J secrets of her heart — for the time has come when such j
j may find unchecked expression. }

^ She now rests, with all the trusting confidence of a
loving and beloved woman, upon the arm of one to
whom long since her heart was given. Nor had their's
j been a happy love, smiled upon by friends, and blessed
I of Providence. A pressure of most painful circum- I
\ stances had placed a barrier beyond which even ven-
\ turous hope — ^the potent comforter of all the afRict-
{ ed — ^had scarcely dared to look. But one year had
! brought a joyous change. Religion had been Eva's
I only solace and stay, and by the aid of divine grace, I
( she had passed through hours of trial and temptation ^
I of no common order.

{ Her character had been strengthened and elevated
} by the contest ; but these sorrows had passed away,
I and '^ brighter hours had come," when he who had
^ so well appreciated the excellencies of her heart — ^who
had so long in secret adored, might now avow to her,
and to the world, the love which through years of trial
) had been the guiding star of his life — love which had !
whispered words of cheering to his heart, when despair, !

156 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. \

at the unsuccessful struggles of existence, seemed ready
to overwhelm. j

Now all appeared forgotten : Eva's former sad j
thoughtfulness of expression had given place to a {
peaceful calm, produced only by the attainment of the \
heart's dearest, fondest wish ; and as the moon irra- \
diated her fair and saint-like countenance, it seemed to \
be^m with holy light, well assimilating with the purity j
of the heart within. Doubts, fears and anxieties are \
banished. She no longer treads the rough and thorny \
path of life alone, and is looking forward with unalloy- )-
ed joy to the hour which shall make her the bride of
one, whose self-sacrificing devotion so well deserved
the love of the warm-hearted, trusting Eva Bellamy, j

Though they had passed unheedingly on their way,
their course had not been unheeded. At some distance,
following with the uneven steps of weakness and disease, i
was a woman, in whom traces of beauty and better days s
might be marked, through the feeble and ragged appear- j
ance now presented. ,

They had passed, but not noticed her, seated upon a |

stoop, with outstretched hands, hoping to receive a few s
pence, with which she might procure food and shelter s
for the night ; but she had seen and recognized Eva, \
] and hope and affection gave her strength to track the \
\ footsteps of the only being on earth around whom her !
J affection lingered ; but shame or diffidence — which not )
j even poverty could subdue — prevented her addressing j
I Eva ; but she thought to trace her to her home, with the f
I strange hope, not of present relief, for extreme weak- j

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 157

ncss told her it would not be long before the last sad
{ paitinghour must come, but that she might not die alone.
** She will come," said she to herself, "and when dying,
her sweet voice will bless me."
)' Such was the expectation of Clara Elliott — for she it ;
\ was who had followed, unperceived, until she saw Eva
' enter her home. Then tears, sad tears, came to her
relief; the past events of her troubled life were drawn
before her ; again she watched beside the dying bed of
( mother and sister ; again she thought over the days of
• wretchedness, of weary suffering, which since then had
J crushed her heart ; but amid all these gloomy reflec-
^ tions, there came one thought of joy to her broken
heart : though starvation had often threatened — though
unsustained by one word of friendly counsel — ^though
temptations to vice from without assailed in every form,
she had never faltered. Though a thousand times she j
prayed for death, as a means of relief, still no thought ]
of vice, as a resource, had polluted the pure current of \
J her thoughts. She had not proved unworthy of herself,
\ and could yet see Eva with an unstained name.
I She now retraced her steps, and sought her own
wretched abode, with a more cheerful spirit than when
she left. To the poor woman, whose only bed she
shared, she related what had passed, and with that
strange kind of presentiment which sometimes seems to
warn of approaching dissolution, directed her to seek,
in ease of need, the residence of Eva Bellamy, and say,
" Clara asked to see her." .

Oil this same night Eva Bellamy sought her cham- j

[158

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

(

ber, with a heart filled with the repose of present joy,
yet hopes and dreams of the future bade slumber fly
her pillow. She had not yet slept, when her attention
was suddenly arrested, by hearing the inquiry, in a

j strong Irish accent :

" Sure, and is it here that one Miss Eva Bell — amy
is ? A poor crature that's been ailing a long time sint
me, with this bit of paper, to ask if the good lady would
look in upon her. My house isn't far up yonder, and
I'll fetch her the way meself."

Eva took the paper, and read with surprise the name
of "Clara Elliott," traced in such feeble characters,
that she knew she must be very ill. She was soon
ready, and taking a few things she thought might be
necessary, hastened to her former friend.

Upon the way, she gathered from the woman who \
guided her, the few past events of Clara's history,
with which she was unacquainted. They soon enter-
ed the small, still room, where on a bed in one corner
lay the almost expiring Clara. The exertions of the
evening — ^the excitement of feeling she had undergone,
had hastened this event. Eva seized a candle which

( stood near, and approached the bed of the sufferer.

/ One glance sufficed to assure her that Clara Elliott

^ lay there ; and the same glance also told her, the spirit
was fast passing away.

I Replacing the candle, she again drew near, and, |

I bending her face close to that of the hapless girl, she
whispered, gently — "Clara, Eva is with you."

j The sufferer, with an effort, opened her eyes ; that

m — ^ -^-^^ —

THB ELLIOTT FAMILY. 159

beloved voice had been recognized, and a smile of peace
and happiness stole over her wan features.

" Speak to me, dear Clara !" she said, seizing the
hand of the sufferer. " Speak to me ; can I do any
thing for you ?"

Clara returned a look of gratitude and affection — ^her
wish was now fulfilled. Her hand in dying rested
within that of Eva's, her voice blessed her — she did not
die alone, and soflly, gently, did her weary, time-worn
spirit return to the God who gave it being.

" You will be rewarded hereafter, my good woman,"
said Eva, as soon as her emotion would permit her to
speak. " I will soon return again to attend to all things
necessary."

" God bless you, mibs ; I do not wish to be rewarded
for my trouble. I'm poor myself — and it's only the poor
that know how to feel for each other.

Eva soon a,fler left the house, and, upon her return
home, sought and communicated to her betrothed the cir-
cumstances under which she had known Clara and her
sister ; and, as she proceeded, he could not refrain from
raising his thanks to Grod for the inestimable blessing
conferred upon him, in the love of such a woman. The
remains of Clara were decently interred by the side of

I her sister — Eva and her lover alone attending them to

) their last resting place.

\ And thus ended the career of Clara Elliott, and thus

( has ended that of many before her.

ia~

,1 — ■_i-'^i_ir- _

< 160 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

^t may to some seem impossible that such a state of
things can exist in a great city like that of New- York,
and yet it is so. In the preceding pages, the author has
had no occassion to draw upon his imagination for one
single line. Indisputable facts — statements susceptible
of ready proof, and the history of a family, told by one
who knew them, have formed the basis of this little »
J work. The citizens of New- York have long been ac- J
\ customed to read in the papers accounts of the distress (
I which prevails to a great extent among the female
J operatives, but they are read only to be forgotten in
! the next hour ; and it has been in the hope of arousing
the attention of philanthropists to this subject, these
pages have been written.

There is not a street in the city of New-York where j
< more than one family like that of the Elliotts may not
be found, but with one sad exception. Few of these
females, when young, are impressed with those stem
principles of virtue, religion, and morality, which, cling-
ing to them through all their trials and temptations,
enable them to come off victorious in the direful strug-
gle. How few there are who, with nothing of the future
j to look to but a life of unceasing, ill- requited toil — with |
the prospect of abject poverty — sickness, perhaps starva- J
tion, prefer to face even that, relying upon the promises \
i held out in the gospel for strength according to their ')
J need, rather than, after a brief pilgrimage, every step j
] of which sinks them deeper and deeper in sin — sink i
j into an untimely and a dishonored grave. Such of them j
^ whose early religious impressions have been too feebly \

THE ELLIOTT FAMILY. 161

made to be lasting, see only the dark side of the picture.
They see only a life of toil, suffering, oppression, cruelty
and wrong, from those who were given as their guardians
and protectors, and, preferring even a death of shame
when it shall come, to such a life, throw themselves into
the vortex, from which no earthly power serves to res-
cue them,
j How many of those unfortunates who throng our
j streets are driven to their course of life by absolute des-
! titution. How many, placed by their necessities in the
I power of unprincipled men, either employers, overseers,
) or clerks, fall a prey to them. But it may be said they
j earn proportionately as much as men, who toil ten times
I more arduously. A brief calculation will show the
j fallacy of this reasoning.

j Females working on shirts at three shillings each,
j can not make more than three in a week — thus earning
j nine shillings. If they can earn this by working only
j twelve hours in a day, they receive, at the rate of one
i and a half cents per hour. U^ however, it requires
• fourteen hours each day to make the same amount, j
' they earn one and about a quarter of a cent per hour.
Females working on common shirts, at eight cents
each, for that is the actual rate paid, earn twelve shil-
lings per week. At twelve hours per day, they receive
two and one-eighth of a cent per hour ; and at fourteen
hours, one and nineteen-twentieths of a cent.

Those who work on custom vests at five shillings I
each, earn two dollars and a half per week. At twelve j
, hours, they receive three and a half cents j and at four- j

162 THE ELLIOTT FAMILY.

teen hours, nearly three cents per hour. Now the truth
of these calculations can be ascertained by any person \
disposed to inquire into the matter at all ; and will it I
be longer a matter of wonder that there should be some
found, who would prefer the life they are driven to lead
than to wear it out in ceaseless toil, requited at such
rates as those above ?

There is a broad field laid open to the labor of the
philanthropist, and to such the work is commended, as
worthy of all their exertions and all their efforts.

I have made no attempt to appeal to the feelings of
those who may have perused these pages. I have nar-
rated the simple truth, and, I repeat, there is not a street
in New- York which cannot furnish a parallel case.

In the hope that the attention of those who can do
much to ameliorate the condition of the unfortunate
class of females to whom allusion is made, may be
aroused to the task, these pages have been written. !
Much has been said and more written upon this sub-
ject, but no combined effort has yet been made — ^no
step taken which could tend to any available end. A
change in this condition of things can be effected ; and
if, through any thing here written, any alteration, how-
ever slight, shall be made for the better in the prospects
of the female operatives, all the aim of the author will
be attained ; and in the consciousness that an impetus
has been given to the good work, which public feeling
will carry on to consummation, all the satisfaction de«
I sired will be obtained.

/ THB UNP.

..v.'. 13 1954

Internet Archive Audio

Featured

Top

Images

Featured

Top

Software

Featured

Top

Books

Featured

Top

Video

Featured

Top

Mobile Apps

Browser Extensions

Archive-It Subscription

Save Page Now

Full text of "The Elliott Family, Or, The Trials of New-York Seamstresses"

See other formats