Part 24 (1/2)
”The horror-stricken girl, frantic with, terror, set about immediately leaving the premises. But she was too valuable a prize to be allowed to escape. The hag into whose clutches she had fallen locked her up in a back bas.e.m.e.nt room, extending under a grate in the yard, and open to the inclemency of the weather, and there she kept her for two days and two nights--the girl not daring to eat or drink any thing during all that time, for fear of being drugged to insensibility and ruin.
”The only sustenance that pa.s.sed that girl's lips for eight and forty hours was the snow that she sc.r.a.ped from the area grating. Nor did she dare to close her eyes in sleep for an instant.
”And while thus imprisoned, constant efforts were made to intimidate or force her to the fate to which the keeper of the place was determined to drive her. For this purpose man after man was sent to her prison.
With some of them a simple statement of the case was sufficient to turn them from their purpose; but against others she had to fight as if for life for that which was to her dearer than life.
”But lack of food and lack of sleep began to tell upon her. Her strength failed, her mind weakened, and it seemed as though her doom was sealed.
”On the third day of Mary's imprisonment Mr. England, who was about to start for Rhode Island, bethought himself of his young countrywoman, and determined to call at the boarding-house in Greenwich street, to see what had become of her. He did so, and was informed that she had engaged as bar-maid in the William street saloon.
”Having knowledge of such places, Mr. England was troubled at this news, and though pressed for time, he determined to call at the saloon and see what kind of hands Mary had fallen into. He went thither, and the moment he entered the place he discovered its character.
”On inquiring of the landlady for Mary, he was told that she had gone to Pennsylvania with her brother, who had come for her two days before.
Something in the woman's manner excited Mr. England's suspicions, and he told her that he thought she was deceiving him, and that Mary was still in the house.
”At this the woman flew into a pa.s.sion, and swore volubly at Mr.
England in several languages. This strengthened his suspicions of foul play, and he grew more peremptory in his manner of speech. While he was contesting the matter with the landlady, one of the girls in waiting pa.s.sed near him, and muttered something which he understood to be a statement that Mary was actually in the house.
”Upon this Mr. England took decided ground, and told the woman that unless she immediately produced the girl, he would go for an officer and have her arrested. This brought her to terms. She gave one of the waitresses a key, and an order in German, in pursuance of which the girl went and unlocked the room in which Mary was confined. As soon as the door was opened Mary came rus.h.i.+ng out, and seeing Mr. England, she flew to him sobbing hysterically, and clinging to his arm--and cried:
”'Take me from this place, Mr. England; take me from this place!'
”After demanding Mary's trunk, which was delivered to him, with all her things, Mr. England immediately took the rescued girl to a place of safety.
”Mary's brother had died, as she soon learned, while she was on her voyage to meet him. But a young New York lawyer saw her and loved her, and wooed her, and won her, and married her, and she is now living, happy and prosperous, in Brooklyn.
”But suppose there had been no Mr. England in the case. Or, suppose Mr.
England had gone to Rhode Island, without stopping to look after this homeless young stranger!
”Why, then, she would have met her wretched doom in that William street den, and been one of the cla.s.s about, whom this article is written.”
CHAPTER x.x.xVI.
THE WICKEDEST MAN IN NEW YORK
In the July number of _Packard's Monthly_, an able and sprightly magazine, published in this city, there appeared an article by Mr.
Oliver Dyer, ent.i.tled ”The Wickedest Man in New York.” It was a lengthy and interesting account of a dance-house, carried on at No. 304 Water street--one of the vilest sections of the city--by one John Allen, and of the proprietor himself. As many of our readers may not have seen this article, we give portions of it, referring them to the magazine for the rest.
The Wickedest Man in New York goes by the name of John Allen. He lives at No. 304 Water street. He keeps a dance-house there. He is about forty-five years old. He is _reputed_ to be worth one hundred thousand dollars, more or less, and is _known_ to be worth over seventy thousand dollars. He has three brothers, who are clergymen--two of them being Presbyterians, and the other a Baptist--and is reported to have once been a minister of the Gospel himself. He is known formerly to have been a school teacher, and is a man of education and fine natural powers; was originally a good man; and is yet a 'good fellow' in many respects. Were it not for his good qualities he never could have attained unto the bad eminence of being the Wickedest Man in New York.
The best bad is always the worst.
Take him for all in all, our Wickedest Man is a phenomenon. He reads the Bible to his dance-house girls, and his favorite papers are the New York _Observer_ and the _Independent_. He takes them regularly, and _reads_ them. We have repeatedly seen them lying on the counter of his bar-room, amid decanters and gla.s.ses, along with the daily _Herald_ and the _Sun_. We have also seen a dozen copies of the _Little Wanderer's Friend_ at a time scattered about his place, for he takes an interest in mission work, and 'goes in' generally for progress for other people.
This Wickedest Man is the only ent.i.ty appertaining to the shady side of New York life which we have been unable to fathom, a.n.a.lyze, and account for. But he is too much for us. Why a human being of his education, natural tastes, force of character, and wealth, should continue to live in a Water street dance-house, and bring up his children in a soul-destroying atmosphere of sin and degradation, is more than we can comprehend.
For the Wickedest Man loves his children. His little five-year-old boy is the apple of his eye, the core of his heart, and the chief object of his wors.h.i.+p. He never misses an opportunity to sound the child's praises, and to show off his accomplishments. And all things considered, the little fellow is truly a wonder. He is crammed full of information on all manner of topics, and is ever ready to respond to his doting father's attempts to make his smartness visible to the naked eye.