Part 1 (1/2)
Hot corn: Life Scenes in New York Ill.u.s.trated.
by Solon Robinson.
INTRODUCTION.
The growing taste for works of this kind--works intended to promote temperance and virtue, to lift up the lowly, to expose to open day the hidden effects produced by Rum, to give narratives of misery suffered by the poor in this city--has induced the Publishers to offer liberal inducements to the author to use his powerful pen, and words of fire, to depict his ”Life Scenes,” and embody them in a volume, which, we are satisfied, will prove one of the most acceptable to the moral portion of the community, ever published. It is a work of high tone, that must do good. The peculiar style of the author is as original as the tales of truth which he narrates. It is unlike that of any other author, and every page is full of fresh interest and thrilling narrative.
As a temperance tale, it has no equal. As such, we hope it may prove but the commencement of a series. As an expose of life among the poor in this city, it will be read with deep and abiding interest, in all parts of this country. It is a work for the fireside of every family; a book that commends itself to the heart.
No one who has read the ”HOT CORN STORIES,” as they appeared in the _Tribune_, but will rejoice to have the opportunity to possess them, and many more like them, all complete and connected, in one handsome volume, such as we now offer.
To a moral and religious public; to all who would promote temperance; to all who would rather see virtue than vice abound; to all who have a heart to feel for other's woes; to all who would have their hearts touched with sympathy for the afflictions of their fellow creatures, ”Life Scenes,” as depicted in this volume, are respectfully commended, by
THE PUBLISHERS.
AUTHOR'S PREFACE.
”Oh, pshaw,” says pretty Miss Impulsive, ”I hate prefaces.” So do I.
n.o.body reads them; that is, n.o.body but a few old fellows with spectacles. I would not write one, only that some folks think a book looks not well without. Well, then, I have written a great deal in my life--travels, tales, songs, temperance stories, some politics, a good deal upon agriculture, much truth, and some fiction, always in the newspapers, never before in a book. I know that many, very many, have read what I have written with pleasure, or else ”this world is awfully given to lying,” for they have said so. Will they read my _book_? That we shall see. If they do, they must not criticise too closely. Remember that some of the most thrilling sketches were written amid the daily scenes and avocations of a city editor's office, for the paper in which they first appeared, without any thought or design on the part of the author of making a book;--that was the thought of the publishers. They read the first sketches, and judged, we hope rightly, if enlarged and embodied in a neat volume, it would be appreciated as one of the best efforts, in this book-making age, to do good.
If they have judged rightly,--if it _does_ have that effect,--if the public _do_ appreciate the volume as they often have my fugitive effusions,--then shall I be rewarded, and they may rest a.s.sured, whenever they buy a volume, that a portion of the purchase money will go to ameliorate the condition of the poor, such as you will become acquainted with, if you follow me in my walks through the city, as depicted in this volume, which I offer most hopingly to all who do not know, and most trustingly to all who do know him, who has so often signed himself
Your old friend,
SOLON ROBINSON.
NEW YORK, _November_, 1853.
HOT CORN.
LIFE SCENES IN NEW YORK ILl.u.s.tRATED.
CHAPTER I.
OUR t.i.tLE.--THE STORY.
”How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature.”
”It is a queer t.i.tle for a book; what can it mean?” is the exclamation of those who open it for the first time.
Visit this city--walk with me from nine o'clock till midnight, through the streets of New York, in the month of August, then read the first interview of the author with little Katy, the Hot Corn girl, and the story of her life, and you will not ask, ”What does it mean?” But you may ask, what does it mean that I see so many squalid-looking women, so many tender children, so many boys, who with well directed labor might work their way to fortune; or crippled men, sitting upon the stone steps along the street crying, ”Hot corn! here's your nice hot corn--smoking hot, smoking hot, just from the pot!” Your heart, if it has not grown callous, will be pained as mine has been at the sights of misery you will meet with, and you will then exclaim, ”What does it mean that I see these things in the very heart of this great commercial city, where wealth, luxury, extravagance, all abound in such profusion? Surely the condition of the people, the ways and wants of the poor, cannot be known, or they would be improved. Why does not somebody write a book ill.u.s.trating these 'Life Scenes in New York,' whose every page shall be a cry, startling as this of 'Hot corn, hot corn!' now pealing in the midnight air?”
So thought I; and so straightway set about the work, with ample material at hand, and more acc.u.mulating at every step. In writing a book, the first thought of the author is, what shall be my t.i.tle? What better could I have than HOT CORN, since that was the inciting cry that waked my pen to action, to paint these life scenes in vivid pictures, for the world to look at and improve?