WARNING NOTES TO PARENTS.

Observer, Volume 7, Issue 347, 1 August 1885, Page 3

WARNING NOTES TO PARENTS.

Below we publish a rather lengthy letter from one of the " unfortunates." Our readers will believe us when we state that our sole •object in doing so is the same as that which prompted the girl to write it. It will be found on perusal that it embodies some portion of the history of three or four of the unfortunate girls who belong to the ranks of the demimonde. It is written in language that is in -every way unobjectionable, and the stories have such an unmistakable stamp of probability upon them that we believe them true. The reading of them cannot harm the most •modest maiden ; if she does not know of the toils that are prepared by cunning men to enchain her, it is well that she should. If she d^s not know that she has fallen sisters, no possible harm can result from her becoming cognizant of the fact. Our object, however, is not to instruct the young and innocent, so much as those who have the responsibility of guarding them from the dangers which beset their path. Each of the stories points its -own moral so clearly that for us to enlarge upon them would be a work of supererogation. They should have the effect we desire, of rousing up sluggish parents to a sense of the duty they owe to their offspring*. If any of their daughters fall from either of the causes the letter points out, then they will have themselves to blame. As regards young girls themselves they should learn the lesson that the smallest departure from the path of propriety is fraught with danger. We point out to them that they should never allow, in their intercourse with the opposite sex, any action or speech that they would be ashamed that their mother should see or hear. Make confidants of your mothers, and if they be worthy of the name; there is little fear but

that you will grow up in your different spheres and become an honour to the country that owns you. And remember, manners are very much as woman wills them.

' Dear He Editor, — I hope you will excuse my writing to you, but three or four of us poor girls were reading what you have written in the Observer lately about what is the principal cause of girls falling and becoming in the end what we are. We all agreed with what you said, and have concluded that you are a kind gentleman and have some pity for us, and not like the rest of the world — its women in particular, — who turn away from us as if we were toads. We all know we are wicked, and would gladly leave the life we are leading if we could find anything else to do for a living. We might do so, but other women will not let us ; we no sooner try to get a situation than somebody or the other tells what we have been, and we lose our situations. Nobody seems to have any pity for us. I did not begin to write to tell you this, because you must know it all already. I am writing because we all think that if our stories were told, others would be warned to avoid the danger which we got into, and the suffering that we undergo in consequence. But perhaps you will not like to publish stories coming from the likes of us, but I think you should, as they will do good. We are anxious to do this. We are alwaj's sorry when we meet a new girl who has turned bad. I will commence with my own story : — I was born in Devonshire, and came out to Auckland when I was a little girl. My father was a shop-keeper in the Old Country ; he met with misfortune and came out with mother, my two brothers, and a sister. He went to his old trade and soon started a shop for himself, and is now pretty well off. When I was sixteen he thought I ought to do something to earn a living, and I went to a family as nurse-girl. The lady was verykind to me, and I was quite happy. She unfortunately had a grown-up son. Pie used to talk and laugh with me when his mother was not about. At last he began to kiss me when he met me in the passage. This was the beginning of my fall. One evening when all the family were out he took advantage of me, and afterwards I felt I was in his power. When I could not conceal my evil doing longer, I left the place and went home. My father and mother did not turn me out, but were always throwing it up to me. I could not stand it any longer, and ran away. They took no trouble to look for me, and I became what I am, a miserable outcast. ■* I will now tell you another girl's story. I will call her Jane. She says she was a farmer's daughter, and lived not very -far from Au ikland. She and two of her sisters lived at home, and were as happy as possible. Unfortunately her father and mother used to allow them to go to dances and concerts in the township, which was about three miles from the farm. They had no brothers, so went by themselves. Sometimes some of the young fellows about used to fetch one or the other of them and take them and bring them back. Their parents were foolish enough to allow this, and the girls knew no better, and like all girls liked to be taken by a young man. One evening she met a young fellow who appeared to take a great fancy to her, and she to him. They walked home together and he kissed her at the gate. ""They frequently met afterwards, and what he had once done he repeated on every occasion. This one night led to worse on the road home from a dance. When her father and mother found out about this they forbade her the house, and sent her to Auckland, where they paid for her board and lodging. This ended in her becoming what she is. She says that her sisters were each guilty at different times coming home from dances, but were never found out. They are all married and comfortable now, but they will not acknowledge her.' . * The next one who I will call Sarah ; she is going to write this letter out and put it right for me when I have finished. She can write nicely, as you see. She is the daughter of a well-to-do tradesman in Auckland. Her parents were very strict with her, and would not allow her to go to dances or theatres, and would never let her go out of an evening, except to church or to teameetings. She did not like to be kept under so much, as all the other girls living about went out when they liked. She taught in the Sunday-school and so did one of the assistants in her father's shop, and he was such a ivell-behaved young man that her i father thought her quite safe in his company ; he used to take her to tea-meetings and picnics, when connected with the church. Her father and mother preferred stopping at home to look after the business. This had been going on for some time, till one day on the road home from a picnic he kissed her, he had done so several times during the day whilst playing kiss-in-the-ring and he said there was no more harm in doing it then. They had many opportunities of being out alone together ; they used to start for Sunday-school or a tea-meeting and instead of going would take a walk. Familiarities between them increased as time went on, till at last she fell. He promised to marry her, and they walked together whenever they could- get a chance. When she told the fellow of her state he ran | away to Sydney. Her father and mother j never allowed her in the house afterwards, and in consequence she is what she is.

I will tell you one more story. We will call this one Margaret ; she is the daughter of a merchant not of this city, and she will not tell us where she came from. Her parents are rich and she ran away with a young fellow who promised to marry her. She met him for the first time at a ball, she was introduced to him by her brother, and they took a fancy to each other. The young fellow became a frequent visitor at the house, he wanted to marry her and she was willing, but her father who was proud because he was rich, would not hear of her marrying a poor man, and forbade her to have anything to do with him. They continued to write to each other, and at last she consented to run away with him. They got on a steamer coming to Auckland. He had a little money, and he furnisher 1 a house at Parnell, where J they passed as man and wife. She often pressed him to marry her, but he said if he was to do so people would find out they had not been married before, and all the friends she had made would have nothing more to do with her. She was so fond of him, and he appeared to be of her, that she considered they were as good as married, as tlaey would never separate, and as there were no children it did not matter much. He was employed in an office in Auckland, and got enough to keep them comfortably, but he squandered his money at public houses. They had frequent quarrels in consequence. Without giving her any warning, he disappeared one day, and she has never seen nor heard of him since. She tried for some time to get a living by. sewing; this was very hard work. One! evening she was returning from taking her , work home when she met a well-known man in Auckland. He persuaded her to let him j take a cottage for her in a quiet place. He ; used to visit her frequently at first, but at last tired of her. He is a married man with a family. When he deserted her, there was no other course open than to take to the life she is leading.