ir
regret that so little was said about sin and destitution in Boston itself;
and many refused to believe that every pit-fall and snare open in the Old
World gaped as widely here. "You have only the testimony of the girls
themselves," they would reply, when I privately told them what I had not
thought it wise to print. I have never regretted yielding to the motives
which decided me to withhold much that I knew. "If they believe not Moses
and the prophets, neither would they believe though one rose from the
dead," said, of old, the divine voice; and the hearts that were not
touched by what I thought it fit to tell would never have been stirred to
energy by fuller revelations.

In these pages, authenticated by a pure and cultivated woman, who holds a
high position among us, every fact at which I hinted is made plain; and
here no careless talker may challenge the record with impunity. Here, as
in New York, smooth-faced men go on board the emigrant-ship, or the
steerage of the long-expected steamer; here, as there, they make friendly
offers and tell plausible lies, which girls who have never walked the
streets of Berlin at night, nor seen the occupants of a hospital-ward at
the Charite, can hardly be expected to estimate at their just worth. The
stories which I have told of unknown sufferers are here repeated. The
grand-daughter of Krummacher marries a poor shoemaker to save herself from
vice, and poor German Mary drowns herself in the Hudson because she feels
herself a burden on a heartless brother. Better far to sink beneath its
waves than beneath the more remorseless flood which sweeps over all great
cities. Now, when the story of the Water-street cap-makers is told, to be
matched by many another in Boston itself, it is no longer some ignorant,
half-trained stranger who tells the story, but the capable, skilled woman,
who, educated for better things, made tassels and coiffures, and accepted
commissions in embroidery, till the merchants were convinced that here,
indeed, was a woman without reproach. Water-street merchants would do well
to remember hereafter that the possibilities of a Zakrzewska lie hidden in
every oppressed girl, and govern themselves accordingly. Think of this
accomplished woman, able to earn no more than thirty-six cents a day,--a
day sixteen hours long, which finished a dozen caps at three cents each!
What, then, must become of clumsy and inferior work-women? Think of it
long and patiently, till you co