"SOMEBODY'S DAUGHTERS."

Observer, Volume 7, Issue 339, 6 June 1885, Page 11

"SOMEBODY'S DAUGHTERS."

"During the Church Mission, certain ladies in the East of London arranged to devote their nights to conversation with- the outcasts of their sex ... In many cases their invitation to the Mission House was accepted, and many were persuaded to abandon their evil life. . . It is said there are~B'o',ooo women inLdMonwho arestreetwalkers. ..."

1 Under the gleam of the gas lamps you'll find •> them, Beflaunting their shame in its merciless flare ; Trying to drown all the thoughts which remind them ' That they have ever been" happy and fair. Choking their sighs with loud shouts of forced laughter; Trusting to drams, broodings dark to disperse ; Daring to hope there will be no hereafter, As their sad present they bitterly curse ? But as you look on them grant them your . Pity, ; . . - Think of their suffering 1 more than their sin ; ' • ■ • . ■ Think of their lot in. this. hard-Hearted city, Think of the' terrible toils they are in ! Aye, as they., walk in their brazen-faced shamelessness, Let not their unblushing boldness appal : Try to recall the glad days of their blamelessness — " Somebody's Daughters " they are after all! " Somebody's Daughters !" aye, Sisters and Brothers, Be this your thought as this flesh mart you pace ; E'en as they sin here, perchance their fond mothers, Pray for their souls with hot tears on their face. Hark ! Can you hear the wail of their weeping? As all too weary with watching, alack, Mothers who, maybe, lone vigils are keeping Yearn but to welcome their prodigals back! Think of the days when, their life all before them, Kneeling they prayed at a fond mother's knee ! When too that mother bent lovingly o'er them, Praying" herself they might happiness see. Think of their merriment too and their prattle, When they were yet in the playtime of life ; Ere they, exposed to the stress of its battle, Fell in its tierce and most pitiless strife ! Shut out the scene which the gas-glare discloses, Bidding your mind's eye a moment to roam, Back to the cottage where, bower'd in red roses, Yonder poor girl had her once happy home. ♦ **#*- Take her aside now, and talk of her mother, Speak of the home that in anguish she left ; And bitter sobs all her accents will smother As she tells how of all hope she's bereft. Till as you talk of her casement where roses And white stars of jasmine at day-dawn would peep, She her hot hand over yours tightly closes, And can do nothing but silently weep. " Somebody's Daughters !" then think of them kindly, Let your soft heart by their sorrows be stirred ; Punished perchance for once loving too blindly, Ruined for trusting a villain's false word ! What they are noiv, that is seen but too clearly, Try to imagine then what they have been; Ere that sad step which they pay for so dearly Forced them to flaunt in this terrible scene. Thank God there are those who despite opposition Give our lost sister? that chance to reform, Which they by scores in their wretched condition Readily seize with a gratitude warm. Good has been done, but our streets are still teeming With, those who've lost all their sex holds most dear, And who, while gas lamps at nightfall are gleaming, Vainly their conscience endeavour to sear. Come, let us seek, then, these " Somebody's Daughters," Who in their thousands their shame still display, Trying by draughts of dark Lethe's sweet waters But to remember, poor wretches ! they're 'gay 1 ! Yes, let us strive, then, at least, to persuade them, * No more 'midst vice so repulsive to roam, And give- them, hope and endeavour to aid them-, . New lives to.liv.c.in. their happy, old home ! ,' . • . . \ London Figaro.

How to GfaßT WBtii.— r^Vhich. ia answered in three words— Take American Oo.'s Hop Bittera'^ Eead. . :