Bend low, bend low the lofty brow and bring the sack-cloth gown;
Throw dust and ashes on our heads, and through the sinful town;
I think the green earth grows more gray, beneath its golden sun,
Because the good God sits in heaven, and sees such evil done.
--_Edward Renaud._
YIK KEE.
After father died some ten years ago, I found, that for three years we
had been living on credit. I was eighteen, strong and well, but did not
know how to work. In the little back room of the New York tenement house
(by the way, the landlady seized my clothes for our rent) I considered
my future. I had inherited a great faith in relatives, from my father,
so I wrote to seven. I received six polite notes, telling me to go to
work, and the following letter:
JONESBORO, COLORADO--JACKSON'S RANCH.
Dear Nell.--I'm your cousin Jack. Your father once give me
money to come out West. I've took up land, got a comfortable
home, no style or frills, but good folks to live with and
healthy grub. I've got the best wife you ever see and seven
fine youngsters. The city ain't no place for a friendless
girl.
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