ournal. Our constant pursuit of this girl did tend, I
think, to keep her from utter ruin.

She fell no lower; and subsequently connected herself with one of the
charitable institutions, where she is living a virtuous life.

CHAPTER XIV.

SCENES AMONG THE POOR.

EFFECTS OF DRUNKENNESS. (FROM OUR JOURNAL.)

"It sometimes seems in our Industrial Schools as if each wretched,
blear-eyed, half-starved, filthy little girl was a living monument of
the curses of Intemperance. The rags, the disease, the ignorance, the
sunny looks darkened, the old faces on young shoulders, are not
necessarily the pitiable effects of overwhelming circumstances. The
young creatures are not always cursed by poverty principally, but by the
ungoverned appetites, bad habits and vices of their parents. On 'Dutch
Hill' one can hardly enter a shanty where is a sober family. The women
all drink; the men work, and then carouse. The hard earnings go off in
alcohol. No savings are laid up for the winter. The children are ragged
and unprotected, and, but for the Industrial School, uneducated. It is
sometimes the saddest sight to see a neat little shanty grow day by day
more filthy; the furniture sold, the windows broken, the children
looking more thin and hungry, the parents falling out of honest
work--all the slow effects of ungoverned passion for liquor.

"I entered, yesterday, a little hut on the 'Hill,' where a middle-aged
woman lived, whom I knew. She was sitting near the door, weeping
violently. I asked her the reason, and, after a little time, she told
me. Her eldest daughter, a girl of twenty, had just been in drunk, and
had struck her over the eye; and when her mother was looking at her
bruise in the glass, she had dashed her fist through the glass.

'"There was no safety there, the mother said, when she came in. If they
were away she would burst open the doors and break the furniture, and
cut her sewing-work to pieces. 'She is a devil, sir, when she's in
liquor!' _Three times_ the mother had had her arrested and sent to
Blackwell's Island; 'but somehow, sir, she's always worse when she comes
out, and I niver heard her use bad words till she'd been there.

"'Now, God knows where she lives--they say it's in a bad house; and it's
I who am afraid she's gittin' Tommy, her broder, into the same way, for
he doesn't come home now. O God! _I might as well be in hell!_' Nothing
ca