The New York Herald Newspaper, February 9, 1874, Page 6

; ‘ 8 DESTITUTION. Stories of the Deserving Poor of New York. ACCIDENTAL POVERTY. —— The Horrors of Hard Times Illustrated. —— “I WANTED TO DIE.” The Howard Relief Association Rooms Last Night. SHETCHES OF STATION HOUSE LODGERS. | \ The following description of the condition of some of the poor of this city has been sketched by HsRALD reporters from actual observation. Every case depicted is a real and truthful specimen | taken from the lower strata of our social lite. | Thrifling as some of the details are, they present | | only a section o/ the dark side of our city lie, aud reveal only in a comparatively small way, what has yet to be shown of the terrible distress that is stalking our streets, to-day, and which the re. cent commercial and financial panic has pre- vipitated. ACCIDENTAL POVERTY. Standing on the corner of Twentieth street and | Fifth avenue, n0t far from a fashionable church | and a fashionable club house, last Saturday even- | ‘ang, about ten o'clock, shivered and shook, like an | aspen leaf, with the cold, a vonng man, faint with hunger, hopeless, friendiess, homeless, yet not even yet heartbroken, He was clad, if such aterm ean be used in such a connection, in the thinnest sort of light summer coat, buttoned around his ragged shirt and chest, witbont a vest, in a pair of | Mght summer pantaloons, dirty and torn, and a | pair or boots which were not mates, one being a hgh boot and the other a gaiter, and both being | too large for his feet, and both being alike | Fagged, One out at the side, the other out at the | toes, A foul, filthy and disreputable looking felt hat completed his toilet of misery. Such as he | ‘was, he shivered and shook for several moments, | vainiy soliciting mercy and charity trom the com- | paratively few passers by. Finally he was ap- | proached by a representative of the HERALD, who chanced to be in the vicinity, and to this individual | he unbosomed himseli—what there was left of him to unbosom—and revealed a narrative of possible | and actual suflering, which, common as such nar- | ratives are, was pecullar in its representing with | Acrrible adequacy a certain type of human misery | Row quite often to be met with among the acci- | @ental poor. OUT OF WORK. His name was Theodore Stouiman, and he claimed to be of respectable parentage, jrom St. Louis, where he had a married sister living, He | had been early }nrown on his own resources, and | ‘ad come to New York ten years ago for employ- | ment. Fora year or more he had worked at an ‘umbrella factory in Hester street. His wages were | ten dollars a week, and he generally made from | three to six dollars additional by “over-time.” This | over-time or extra money he always made ita | rule to save, living only on his regular | salary. Finally the umbrejla factory in which | he was employed changed owners, removed to Elm street, and several rollers and cutters, among | ‘whom he was one, were discharged, though he at | the same time received a satisfactory character from his late employers, a document which was shown to the HERALD representative. Not losing heart, Theodore Stoniman, taking his mother’s | Malden Dame, not wishing to be Knowa in his time | Of comparative trouble by those who bad known | hum tn hus time of comparative prosperity, obtained | & Diace as an opener of oysters at No. 783 Sixth avenue, aud subsequently as a fish dealer’s boy at | No. 252 Sixth avenue; but finally there was no | more work for him to do at these places and he was | leit alvogether without work. OUT OF MONEY. He still hat $42 of the money he had saved in his | possession, and on this money he lived as best he could, paying $2 a week for his room on Grand | Bireet aud eating two meals a day at twenty-five | cents for the two, treating himseif, te said, to an | eXtra five cents on a Sunday, and allowing himself twenty-five cents a week tor car fare, ‘Just to save | his boots”—his only pair—wearing one shirt and | two collars and oue handkercluef and one pair of stockings a week, to save washing (ne only had three shirts, five collars, three handkerchieis and two pairs of stockings in the world), and spending about thirty cents a week for newspapers to Tead the advertisements tor help in them, and tospend the days and part of the nignts in | answering them—in vain. At this rate of #5 a ‘week for ail his expenses—board, lodging, wash- ing, car fare, newspapers, &c.—iis mouey only lasted bim about three montos—from October to January of the present year. Then he, utterly penniless, applied to is cousin. a porter at a Broadway hotel, who gave him $10. Tis lasted him till about the first of the present month, When, utterly unable to procure work, though he sought jor it day atter day, week alter we afrer month, Ww ving with- ‘ont ten cents in the wo! of @ssistance from friends or relatives (it being In vain to apply to his connections in St. Louis, even had he been so disposed). The ho dustri frogal, patient, persevering Theodore Stoniman ‘was turned out of his lodging in Grand s the streets, uis landlady keeping ever What he carried on lis back for rent he owed her. OUT ON THE STREETS ALL NIGHT. For three days and three nights—from Tuesday Morning to Friday noon—re wandered up and down the streets of this great city. with- out food, save some crackers and cheese he had contrived to pick up in @ barroom Bere and there and a dish of cold meat and potatoes a kindly old market- ‘woman bad given him on Thursday. He suffered terribly from the cold, especially at nights, as his drawers were only of thin muslin, and as, before remarked, he had no vest; nor could he sleep More than a few minutes at a time, for he had no- ‘where to go at nignt. He could notas yet bear the idea of the station nouses. He had no room. No one would shelter him, taking him, naturally enough, for a tramp, and a thief perhaps, while, Ml he lay down, footsore and weary, on some door- step or hid in some alleyway a policeman would find him and teil him to move on or go to the sta- tion honse. | Finailv he tramped along, more dead than alive, to that place—almost as dreadful asthe grave it. self to the despairing and honest poor—the station house, and asked, with tears of shame in his eyes, for a night’s lodging. He applied at an uptown precinct station house and, toolishly enough—not | ‘wisting to say that he had no nome or habitation | at all--le gave his location as in Hester street, | Where he had formerly worked. “Then go to your | Own stztion house, near Hester street, where you | belong,” sald the oMcer in charge. So the rest of | that night, Friday, he paced the cold, hard streeta | teamster | bert, who can @ snowstorm. we appiied about ten o'clock for sew moments warmth around the stove of a saloon tm the Bowery, but was refused. About two o'clock he crepé in an alleyway near @ hotel, oppo- site the City Hall Park, but was orderea away by the hotel watchman. The rest of the night he passed, he said, “only God knows how, but standing up and walking about in the snow all the tme.” The next morning, however, — not a bit discouraged, poor ‘Theodore applied lor Work, and offered to clean the snow irom the side- | Wajk in front of a residence in Clinton place. The | lady of the nouse offered nim flity cents if he would do the job thoroughly; but, alas! Theodore had no | shovel, and the lady had had two shovels stolen from her, So she would not lend him the third shovel “No; he must find his own tools,” she said, In his despair Theodore took his poor, dirty, thm coat off ms shivering | back, and offered to deposit it with the lady as security for the shovel, but the lady would not consent. Theodore therefore lost that job, nor could he get apy other job next day; 59, having begged at last eight cents and having bought some roils, Theodore Stoulman walked the streets of New York ail night once more. Now this man’s case has been narrated at length because he presents @ complete example of the style of the very Ciass to which we wish to call public atcention in this article—those who are deserving and industrious and work-seeking, and | who in good times can obtain fair prices for hon- est labor, but who, by causes utterly beyond their own control, and without any fault or vice ol their own, are yet made the victims of “aceidental pov- erty” in its Worst iorm. In two cases out of three, probably, poverty 18 but another name for ineif- ciency and misery for vice, but the third cases—and | even a third of the number of cases is a fearfully large number—deserve, as in the instance of this Theodore Stonimaa, all our aid and sympathy. LACKING A DOLLAR. About twenty-lour hours alter the meeting with Mr. Theodore Stoniman a representative of tne HERALD stood at the corner of Clinton place and Fittn avenue, The churctes were just out, and the second Sunday in February was rapidly ha+ ening to its close. Suddenly a hollow-cheeked, sunken-eyed, stooping figure of a man stood be- fore him, and said these simple but startling jour words, ‘For God’s sake—money |" On further inquiry it was found that these terri- bly expressive Words were uttered by Joho Reilly, of No, 34 Cherry street, who has a wife and three children, who have no tood and no fire and no money, and are to be turned out of their room if they do not pay their rent. Reilly has sought work around the docks as 4& ‘longshoreman, and says that he could get a good deal of such work to do, paying him jorty cents an hour day time and eighty cents an hour at night; but the rest of the ‘longsnoremen, he says, ciaim that he has no right to work as one of them unle 88 he joins the society and pays the dues thereof, $1 cash down and $5 in instalments. So far Reilly has not been able to obtain the loan of a $2 bill for that purpose, and for the want of a $1 Dill a family of tour buman beings have been on the verge of starvation for several days. Reilly says that be has had “nearly $1” several times; but, then, the physical wants of himself, his wife and his three children have been 80 pressing that even the large sum of “nearly $1’” has gone in supplying nis tamily’s wants. Mean- while, though he seeks work aud is unabie to find it, his dear ones starve and freeze and he begs. A CLASSICAL TRUCK DRIVER, A little further on and a little later in the even- ing the HERALD representative met with a tall, bony, angular German, with spectacles and only one eye—the left eye being glass. This man’s | name was Karl Gombert, and he was a native of Hamburg. He was of respectable parentage and had been classically educated, had married and come to America to better his condition. He had not been able to obtain employment, and to keep his wife's and his own soul and boay to- gether had, by what he considered avery lucky accident, obtained a job as adriver of a truck wagon for a downtown house—a position for which he was almost ludicrously unfit, as he was highly educated, and had only one eye and was very near-signted, two detects which a good never shoald possess, The in- evitable consequence followed. One day | the classical but near-sighted one-eyed teamster drove his truck into a lady’s carriage; the husband of the lady complained to his employers the next Say and Gombert was at once discharged. Since that time the poor, educated devil has been tn the utmost distress; his wife has (fortunately) dled of a disease brought on by lack of food and clothing, | and the poor, houseless, wifeless, penniless Gom- quote Virgil and Aristophanes, stood on Sunday night in the streets of New York begging the HERALD representative for a few | cents to keep him, for that night at least, out of the station house, But the “accidental poor,” the poor who, though deserving and industrious, have yet been reduced by unavoidable circumstances to poverty, oiten embrace men of a higher social and even mercan- tile grade than the men just described, It hap- pens at this time especially that men who in ordi- mary seasons are above the reach of want and who do a fair business, are now reduced to the direst extremity—an extremity which seems as strange to themselves as it does to others. THE BEGGARED BROKER. Aman, whose name, at his own request, is not | published, met @ representative of the HeRaLp in front of the Hoffman House Sunday, at dusk, and requested @ moment’s conversation with bim. The man was @ “curbstone broker,” so called, a dealer in Wall street commodities, &c., who, al- thongh having no “office,” yet carried om in ordi- nary times a business amounting from $100 to $250 per week. This man, ina voice husky with emo- tion, requested the loan of a few dollars “for a .”? pleading urgent necessity. On being re- fused, he asked, for God’s sake, for $1, “right off,” that his wife and himself might have a roof over their heads that night ana not be compelled to walk the streets or go to the police station. Hear- ing the man talk in this fashion the writer fancied for a moment that the man must be going mad; but, alas, On inquiry it was found that there was sad method in his madness, He had not made a dollar for several weeks, His transactions “on the street” had failen toa minimum since the panic. He was deeply in debt at his boarding house—the Jandlady had turned him and his) wie out that morning. He had sent his wife to a friend’s “to take tea,” but he actually did not know where that night to lay his his bead, nor his wife's head. He had but fifteen cents in his pocket. He had pawned ali of bis own and bis wife’s jewelry and nis watch. “I mast have @ doliar to get some cheap room on the Bow- ery somewhere for Mary and me to-night, till I can tarn round to-morrow, or— The beggared broker could not finish his sentence. There were tears in his eyes; yet he was always considered a | keen and money-making “fellow in his line’ on the street. Nor is his case an altogether exceptional one; any broker or bustness man of extensive acquaint- ance has probably been made cognizant of similar instances lately. The number of PANIC-RUINED CLERKS is fearfully large, Carmel chapel, No. 134 Bowery, has accommodated, within the last few weeks, among others, a former clerk of Clafin & Co., who had a salary of $2,500 per annum, but who in the snow storm of last week was found almost fainting tn the street from cold and hunger and an Enghsh merchant, a correspondent of the house of Morris K. Jessup & Co. This latter | personage came to this country, speculated in cot- ton, lost everything, Was naturally too proud to make his losses known, attempted suicide by drowning, was rescued, and, finally, in the Jast of this city Of @ Rundred thousand houses, home- | stage of misery and despair, brought up at Carmel legs. chapel. ‘The next night, Saturday, he applied to nis own A man named Sellers, once the confidential clerk Station bowse and was told to go to the lodgers’ | of Reed, the Philadelphia jeweller, and afterwarug room, and he went there; but “when J saw what | tp flourishing business for himself, has become the At was and who were init (we use nis owm words) | mest ragged, dilapidated specimen of human Tcouldn't stavd it, Imade up my mind would | miaery imaginable. A clerk who, three months rather die in the streets,” And So from that time | ago, got his $1,500 a year in @ hosiery store on Poor Theodore Stoniman, whatever else ne Aid, | Broadway, is now peddling silicate slates, and Troubled the stwtion houses mo more. Sunday | told the writer that be has only eaten One meal in Might he slept in a cart near the East Kiver, | thirty-six hours and that meai a couple of apples. SURLTERLESS IN THE STORM. A bookkeeper of 8. B. Chittenden, who was paid MORAY DIED he Walked the atraate an taronan | ont voor $2,000. la Dow eatina off the proceeds of / ‘Ms last gold ring, and his wil | the pawnbroker’s, ana expects to be turned out of his room before the middie of the month. Perhaps a sadder case than all, a man not yet middie aged, @ genial, whole-souled gentleman, | well knowa formerly im aristob-atic circles, | and who kept his pleasure yacht and norses, ha ing lost his property in speculation, lost the use of his limbs, and then, by a strange coinciaence, lost all bis friends, and after vainly trying to support Ms wife and four children by writing for the maga- zines is now literally freezing and starving, while | his wife has gone mad with her trouble. So far we have in this article referred only to the male victims of “accidental” poverty, for the obvi- ous reason that they are the ones which, from the Mature of the case, most prominently force them- selves upon the attention of the onserver; but the female victims are quite as numerous, and their cases even more strongly provocative of sympathy. During their recent walks, the representatives of the HERALD have met, alike by day and by night, decent wo- men in*the last stages of distress, too poor to have a home or tood, yet too prond, too feminine as yet, to beg or to seck the shelter of the station houses; too unfamiliar with the modus operandi of misery to Know where to goin their distress; women who have been in some cases delicately reared, and until lately supposed to be beyond the reach of poverty, OUT IN THE SNOW IN SLIPPERS AND NO SHAWL. A woman, young and rather pretty, giving the name 01 Josephine Dean, was met on Saturday night last at the corner of Fourth avenue and Twenty-second street, clad only in alight, almost summer dress, without any shawl or outer cover- ig, and trudging wearily along, with an evident | lack of purpose, and shod only ina thin pair of | | slippers. On her head was an old straw bonnet, and her face was pinched and pale. She accosted noone, but we merely took the liberty of ac- costing her and learned her pitiful story. | She was an English girl, well educated, | and had taught music and French. During the | panic she had lost all ber pupils. She had then played the piano for a week in a music hall in the Bowery, and then had'lost all regular employment. She had tried to earn board and wages as a cham- | bermaid, but was discharged as being unfit (phys- ieally) for her duties. Then she had kept of starvation for a while at the potnt of the needie, and finally had succumbed. She was now ilIiterally @& homeless, clothes- less, foodless, fireless, hopeless wanderer. A TRIO OF MISERY. Other cases of a similar character can be only too readily cited. There are three sisters, Phila- | delphians, now residing in the top floor of a house | and refined ladies, but penniless at present. One had obtained some engraving to do, but was too | much of an invalid to do it; the other had taken in some sewing and embroidery; while a | third obtained a little copying. But work | day and night, as they did, they could not earn enough to live on, and had it not been for the assistance afforded thein by “the Sisters of the Stranger” they would literally have starved or frozen to death. There was no stove in their room, and no bed—only some straw in a corner. They never took their clothes off from Sunday to Sunday, and when found out at last by the charita- ble one of the poor women had laid them down to die. BEGGING IN A VELVET CLOAK. Several instances are known in which respec ta- ble ladies have stayed in bed for days and nights together because they had neither food nor fire, and one woman, a Mrs, Free, a widow, who had pawned everything else in the world but a vel vet | cloak, in which she hid her misery and rags, ab- | solutely stopped a lady going to church and begged from her fifty cents with which to purchase the first food she had eaten for forty-eight hours. THE HONEST POOR WHO HAVE NOT FOOD NOK FIRE , A Mrs. Caidweil, in East Eleventh street, an old widow, with two half grown children, all three out of work, is lying, with her two children, all sick, on some straw ina room without any furniture or fire. A Mrs. Mack, & neighber of hers, with two chil- dren, has lived upon $1 50 for ten days, having been able to earn no more and being too sick to | go out and beg. Last Saturdry she and her family “lived” upon a crust of bread and a cup of tea, Mrs, McNamara, a washerwoman, of No. 420 East | Eleventh street, having lost all her customers by the panic (most of her former patrons now doing | their own washing at home) is for the first time in her honest, hara working life penniless, as are also | a Mrs, Kelly, next door to her, and a Mra. Coyle, | | @ very deserving creature, with two little | children, who are starving. A Mrs. Elizabeth Barnes, a taiJoress, has lost all her work and all hope of money, and is without food or fire, but with three children, in the front basement of No, 426 East Eleventh street, while a Mrs, Magraw, her neighbor, ts similarly situated, only she has four children; and capacious as the HERALD is it could be filled, every column of it, with cases of acci. dental, undeserved poverty of @ similar nature and horror. “The poor we have always with us,” but seldom such poverty as now. | STATION HOUSE LODGERS, beasts atesy oN THE FIRST PRECINCT. ‘This station house is situated in New street, | hear the Stock Excnange, and has not a very large amount of poor situated in its immediate neigh- | borhood. It possesses two rooms on the ground floor in the rear of the cells, capable of holding | each about fifteen people. Last night about fifteen | men and six women found accommodations there. Captain Van Duzer likewise takes empty, and it seldom or never happens that a poor wretch is turned away from this station, if so, it is on account of there being no room, THE SECOND PRECINCT. This station house, situated on Beekman street, has very limited accommodations ior lodgers, The room in which the destitute are received is tn the basement, and is cribbed, cabined and con- fined, As @ rule only women are received, but | Visits his lodgers, men, when appearing really in distress, are not | turned away, but are placed in a cell. In conversation with & HeRkALp reporter last night, Sergeant Blair, who was on duty in the | ing the night. station house, made the following statement:— “The number of women we receive daily is about nine or ten, mostly dissipated unfortunate | wretches—it is very seldom we have acall from a respectable person. Ali our frequenters are old “standards,” who have been frequenting lodging houses for many years, and may be con- sidered to have caved in beyond redemption, It is sad to see these women making | no effort to get out of the clutches of rum; but | they come regularly, and, as I said before, are the same old stock and poor bums, Our little lodging place stinks in spite of what we do to keep it clean with carbolic acid, Captain Caffray does not al- low us to turn away anybody on these terrible nights in spite of our limited accommodation, and preters that the cells should be used, when not used for prisoners, for sheltering the homeless, Police stations are not the places, however, for receiving destitute poor.”” THE TWENTY-SBVENTH PRECINCT. ‘This police station is situated atthe angle of Liberty and Church streets and is under the com- mand oi Captain Leary. In spite of the largeness of the building there is but little accommodation for the homeless poor. There are two rooms down stairs, made up with wooden partitions, one of which is reserved for males and the other for females. Owing to the situation of these rooms gud the doors being locked, out little fresn air finds its way lu, The wooden partitions forta- nately do not reach the ceiling, otherwise the place would be another Black Hole of Calcutta. A re- porter saw in the Women’s room about six poor wretched Jemale outcasts lying on a large boardea space, perfectly level, their heads being naturaily on a level with their feet, They had all thrown their tattered shawis over their leads and appeared to | be slumbering, in spite of their uncomfortable couch. Ail had their boots on, These women, grouped In this pent-up room, looked like sacks of | Merchandise dumped here and tuere, The atmo- Sphere, in spite of opened windows, was fetid and | disagreeable, NINB MEN AND EIGHT NATIONALITIES. Avery curious thing was witnessed in the men’s || | in West Twenty-sixth street. They are educated | | “lodgers” into the cells, provided that they are | men of the following different na- One Swede, One German, One Frenchi One Englishman, As he was leaving the station house Captain Leary remarked :—“We expect a number more to night, who will be turned out of drinking places when they close. If we refuse to take them in they may freeze to death, We take all in we can, But station houses are bad places for our in- digent poor, However, it bas been the custom to receive them here for many years, and will ‘be, I suppose, unless the Legisiature takes action in the matter and provides other accommodation.” THE FIFTH PRECINCT. This comparatively new station house is located in Leonard street, at the distance of about a block from the old station house, Last evening @ re- porter paid a visit to the lodgers’ quarters, male and female. As soon as the door was opened the most foul and suffocating stench was experienced. About fifty’ men were seen in the dim light (for the gas was turned down) huddled = together. Many, evidently suffer- ing from vermin, were scratching themselves with desperate energy. The majority of the men belonged to tne class designated by poiice sergeants as “revolvers,” “standaras” and “old bums.” In the centre of the room was a large stove, whose heat was still further vitlating the putrid air, The majority of the men were awake, sleep in such a place being impossible. Every now and again the maudlin yells of some drunken prisoners in the cells below were heard, causing some of the younger lodgers to smile and say, “I wish I had some of his complaint.” The scene, however, was fairly Dantesque—the misery pressed on nearly every face, the squalid ap- pearance of all, not a good suit of clothes being visible among the number; the extraordi- nary positions assumed by some of the sleepers; some drawn up and contracted, others sprawling at full length; some with their faces placed against their neighbor's ragged boots. ‘Take it ior all in all no more terrible scene can well be seen in this city, and it is a fit picture sor a chamber of horrors, There were about fifty men 1m this vile den, yclept “the lodgers’ room,’’ There were in the females’ room about ten “lodgers,” mostly drunken charwomen, who spend every cent they can command in the purchase of jusid at foul “austilleries.”? : WHAT THE SERGEANT SAYS. In the absence of Captain Petty, Sergeant Deshays stated :—“There are a great many of the lodgers you have seen who are regular visitors here, and pre- fer this kind of life to working at a trade; they prefer getting their nourishment from swill barrels and begging to laboring for their bread like honest men. These old stagers know all the charitable institutions tn the city and live in this fashion. If they are sent up a8 vagrants to the Penitentiary they are soon back again here, THE UNENDURABLE STENCH, Two men have just left the place, because they could not stomach stopping in the lodgers’ room. Their names are, Hadroth, a German cigarmaker, and Charles Raymond, a boatman of this city. Per- haps they will find more suitable quarters in some other station house. Iam of the opinion that every station house should haye two classes of | lodging rooms for men and women—one for the respectable but impovetished class, and the other for the dissipated beings I have just de- scribed to you. A short time ago a New Jersey- man came here one night and said he wanted about forty men to go to work to excavate a road im Jersey, and agreed with about forty of our “regulars that they should go to work the next day, and he would come and fetch them next morning from the station house. How many appeared do you think? Why, only three. The rest were all too lazy and kept away. It goes against my grain to put a respectable man out of luck among all the lousy bummers; but what else can we do as things are arranged? New York is the great emporium of men out of work, who | drift hither from all parts of the Union, hoping to | obtain work, instead of which many starve.’? Thanking him for his courtesy the reporter bade Sergeant Deshays and ms brother officer, Sergeant Thompson, good night. At mianight in the lodgers’ rooms there 1s often hardly stand- ingroom. The lodgers invariably close all win- dows; but it 1s the duty of the police, it would ap- Pear, to cause them to be partially opened. THE SIXTH PRECINCT, This station house is in Franklin street, at a few yards’ distance from the Tombs, and is under the command of Captain Kennedy. In conversa- | tion with Sergeant Douglas, who was on duty at the desk, he said:—“At one o'clock in the morn- ing we often have 100 people in the lodgers’ room. The reporter subsequently visited the place in question and found the atmosphere as disgust- Ingly fetid and sickening as at Captain Petty’s station in Leonard street. There were then about fifty-five men in the room, and how they were able | to breathe witb all the windows closed was a mys- | tery to the reporter. | SAD CASES. Among the cases of interest which came before Sergeant Douglas last night was that of Thomas Kelly, an old man of fifty-five, residing at No. 19 City Hall place, who secmed to be in the last | stages of misery. The poor old man seemed to be suffering great pain, and every now and again would give a protracted moan. The Sergeant sent for the doctor to attend to his case, Another case was that of Charles Hester, a drug- gist, a native of Germany, wno wore a thin sum- mer coat and shivered like an aspen leaf as he begged for shelter. As he arrived early he man- aged to obtain a corner to sleep in, from which he said he would not move during the night, else he | would lose his piace. Many respectable mechan. | ics, out of work, were among the number, THE FOURTH PRECINCT, ‘This station house is located in Oak street. The | lodgers’ rooms are weil ventilated, and on account of this the place has become a favorite place for | the homeless poor. Uaptain Uliman constantly | At his last visit, ne stated, he | caught five lice on his coat, The windows are | kept open partially, and a temperature of about elghty-two degrees is maintained dur- | The Jatrine arrangements are good at this place. About 150 lodgers often sleep | bere, and standing room 18 often difficult to find early in the morning. The place 1s, like other lodging rooms, washed out daily, Captain Uliman says more “bummers”’ than respectable men stop in the station house, Nobody is turned away. The Captain is opposed to receiving lodgers in the sta- tion houses, and thinks other arrangements ought to be made. THE ELEVENTH PRECINCT, Walking through scenes of misery and moderate and sometimes immoderate mirth, a HERALD re- | porter last uight visited the Eleventh precinct station house, ‘ This is locatea over Union Market, at the junc- tion of Second street, avenue D and Houston street. Sergeant Robb said that there were, and had been for some time past, no lodgers but the regular “old bums.” The accommodation for them was certainly not | very inviting. Guard beds, like those in use in the British army, specially designed to keep the slum- berers in @ day's sleep with one eye open, were provided, They are formed of sloping boards of | the hardest kind. They are usually full, | and often, in addition, the very floors @re covered with these unhappy lodgers, | When visited last night the only occupant was | William Kelly, a native-born American, laborer by , occupation and a constant tenant. A harmiess and obliging sort of man, he is allowed to earn a somewhat constant tenure of his lodging by coming | early and lighting the fires, and keeping the ‘‘casu- | als’ in order, There is an aristocracy even among paupers. The female quarters were smaller, but more comiortable. The iumates were of the usual | shiftiess claus. They are afflicted with periodical | attacks of whiskey fever, and revolve with the regularity of the moons of the planet Jupiter. They are humanely allowed many privileges, may wash and dry their clothes— in fact, the station house for too many is @home—such a home! ‘fhere," said the Ser- geant, “is a strong, rugged woman; she can | work and can get work, but she is here constantly ; she drinks like a fish. Their tricks are wonderiul | The proportion of women is about one to ten men.” | it, | ahead of | @ periect battue. Geceivin’. They send out some poor old unforta- nate woman, with @ haudkerchief over her head, looking as innocent as & newborn babe, and she comes and asks permission to go out to fetch a pint of milk. Weill, sue comes back with & pint of something else, frothy aud delusive. It isn’t milk; it’s usually beer.’ A poor seamstress was pointed out asa frequent visitant. She was twenty-eight years old, and might look tt if well fed. She looked fty. The sergeant sald she never had the taintest trace or liquor about her, And She did not look as if she was given that way. Crushed, hopeless misery was on her features. An angelic little girl peered at the reporter a3 he was taking his notes, the child of one of the “round- ers”? Can nothing be done to rescue such a sweet face from the vagabond fate overshadowing her? THE SEVENTEENTH PRECINC? STATICN HOUSE, at the corner of First avenue and Fifth street, ac- cording to Sergeant Cass, at the desk, had its usual complement of nearly fifty “professional lodgers.” It is @ poor district, right among the poorest of our Germans, and nas some notoriety for being the pitce de risistance of the recent Communistic riot at Tompkins square, The Sergeant says the mechanics and clerks thrown out of employ by the prevailing hard times will starve sooner than apply for the shelter of the station house. They wilirather walk the streets all night, fainting with hunger. A few are occa- sionally brought in, with pitiful humanity, by the patrolmen, when almost too far gone to proudly protest. There happened to be none of these very sad Cases last night. At TUE SEVENTH PRECINCT STATION HOUSE, No. 247 Madison street, near East Broadway, there were none but the usual class. The accom- modations seemed as good, or as bad, as usual. Sergeant Oates said that somehow very recently there had been an average falling off to twenty every night from the normal number of about fifty. He couldn’t account tor it, but hoped it was because of brighter times. He thought there ought to be provision made for the wretched poor, fallen trom higher estates, 80 a8 to separate them from the regular “rounder.’? More mechanics and clerks had applied this winter than ever before in the seven years he had been on the police force. The majority, however, of the “respectables” were “young men from the country,” who had been centripetally drawn to the great city in expectation of finding work, and had failed. Their quarters seemed well ventilated, and, not to he too complimentary, considerably the least disgusting of any of those visited. Doorman Williams, a humane man, insisted on taking the “chiel” who “taks notes” through the cells, and incidentally discovered some disconsolate Swedish sailors, arrested for smuggling gin, In bottles, all over their clothes, They came inthe bark Caro- lina; but as to where from, or whom consigned to, or what pier she was lying at, they were profound know-nothings, THE THIRTEENTH PRECINCT station house, at the corner of Delancey and At- torney streets, has no accommodation whatever for lodgers, “Sometimes,” Sergeant Rockman said, “if very respectable or feeble persons ap- plied in exceptionally inclement weather they Were accommodated with a night’s lodging in the cells, if ‘dranks’ or criminals, who have @ pre- scriptive prior right to such a convenience, did not appear in suficient numbers to occupy all the rooms,” At the e TENTH PRECINCD STATION HOUSE. No. 87 Eldridge street, there were seventy-two well known guests and seven new ones, Of these six were of the usual class. One, however, was quite @ distinguished individual, Mr. Thomas ‘itzgerald, aged sixty-five, @ coach driver by profession, has been, according to his own account, for twelve years coachman to ex-Governor Morgan, for eight years to oo old Daniel Drew, for eleven years (at eight dollars @ month, a8 he was careful to particuiar- ize) to Stephen Whitney, of Bowling Green, who has been dead for sourteen years; for two years to Peter Cooper, he was piling up a pedigree of jehucular or vehicular ser- vice that would have made him at least 350 years old, and the reporter moved, seconded and car- ried an adjournment in order. The aged driver was sober, although so romantic. THE NINTH PRECINCT STATION HOUSE, No. 94 Charles street, on the west side, had the most horribly insufficient accommodation of any. There were very few lodgers—seven maie and three female—a sure sign that in the treemasonry of pauperdom it was recorded as an ineligible spot, The stink—it 1s good Anglo-Saxon—was so strong that no milder word can express it. More or less of vile odor pervades all these hotels forthe wretched. The dens were dismally con- tracted, AMr. James Butler, a millwright, com- menced to tell an affecting story Of nis troubles, but was somewhat summarily “choked off” as an “old timer” by the oMicer in attendance. THE FOURTEENTH PRECINCT STATION HOUSE, Mulberry street, near Spring, had little to present ol an abnormal character. Sergeant Polhemus, who claims to be an old Knickerbocker of the F. F.N. Y.'s, gave some very instructive points on economy which should very advantageously be presented on the broader platform of Cooper In- stitute. He held that every man in work should Save something of each day’s pay; that avery little, hardly appreciabie, self-denial would do ‘and that, if done, these — pinclies. in hard times could be defied, The Sergeant said | he had practised what he had preached. He had been @ poor boy, and wasn’t a millionaire yet, but | he had somehow always managed to get a ltttle the world, so as to spite the devil when he twisted things in an untoward tasbion, He thought ali intelligent men would do the same, if they thougnt of it, and that this late season of panics and general smash-up everywhere would stimulate intelligence in this direction. The re- porter agreed with him, There Was one unfortunate here, however, who said he had been in business in Bolivia, Chili and other South American countries, gold digging, contracting, ruuning railroads, and so forth His nume was James L. Morris, aged fifty-three. He was familiar with the geologic aspect of veins of gold, and was not without @ natural vein of humor. He remarked that beautiiul as were the lianas and other creepers of South America, with which ne was familiar, he was aiarined, and indeed disgusted with the creepers of the station houses of North Ameriva, He had reason, Sergeant Poliemas offered bim the hospitality of a cell, which was. gratefully accepted. At the EIGHTH VRECINCT STATION HOUSE, at the corner of Prince and Wooster streets, the howls, yells, blasphemy and screeches of the nymphs du pave, who live, move and have their | indecorous being iu this Quartier Latin of our great cily, were incessant and irrepressible. Ser- geant Lrown had a iorce 01 oificers out in citizens’ clothes, who pervaded their haunts and brought down whole coveys of them. It was But, after ail, this isa digression special ‘ovject ‘ol the present inquiry. The lodgers were, as usual, of the regular “bummer” variety, with one exception, a venerable, White-haired oid Swiss gentieman, aged sixty five, named Jean Martun, who said he had been four years in the country and did business a3 a coal agent. He had been out of funds for a week, but had plenty of money due him, and hoped to be ali right in avery few days. “My story is very simple, sir,” he said. ie occupied cell 15. It was better than the lodging room perhaps; but still a periect Pandemonium among those awiui lost | women, A TALE OF THE PARK HOSPITAL. from te ——_+-_ There was a row of narrow beds stretching from window to window, and some few wrecks of womanhood were lying down upon them, and there were sume others who were sitting up, chewing food in a faint, dreamy way, as if it was a labor, | and nota pleasure, to them, This was the second floor of the Park Hospital in Centre street, and the house physician, Dr, Flunrer, stood by the writer as he looked over the row of wan, weak faces, 80 many pages of misery, want and shame, “This is our worst case—that poor woman on yonder bed,” remarked the doctor; “it isa pitiful story. Her name is Annie Stewart and she was picked up in the street, having taken laudanum to destroy herself, Her story is indeed a sad one, and you shonid hear it.” The poor Woman sat up in the bed, an unbleached cotton robe covering ner shoulders. Her hair was black, but very plentifully mixed with gray and white, “Annie”? said the doctor, “this gentleman wishes to speak to you, and to Know how you came to take laudanum, Tell him the trush,’ he added, “Well,” said the poor woman, “my name is An- | nie Stewart, and I have been married. I am thirty-six years of age, and I have no childron living. Lcame here from Springheld, Mass., three months ago, and it was done at the solicitation of ® cousin who lives In Brooklyn.» “Who gave you the laudanum that you took to kill yourseif ?"? “I got it,” said she, very faintly and wearily, ‘at the drug store of a Mr. Giles, in Sixth avenue. I don’t wish to do those people any harm, please,"’ added she in a tone of utter misery and supplica- tion. “Don’t be afraid, poor woman,” said Dr. Fiabrer. “What caused you to take the Iaudanum?”’ “ab” sald she. “Ahad no home. I was hungry _ and tired, The frat time I took it—that wars few dayssince. I don’t know what day; I can’t teil it, I don’t remember it. The second time I got twenty-fve cents’ worth of laudanum srom the young man, the clerk, and I told him that I wanted to put it in castor oll, fe gave it to me. My cousin lives if Brookiyn, fe ts not married and got me to come here, but he did not vother himself when I came on, Iam a mil'iner and nave efather and mother in Springfeld. My cousin asked me to come to New York, and he wrote in the letter that he woula get me a better situation, where L could make more money. But when I came on he did nothing for me and told me that I would have to help myself, Then I was alone and none wo help me. I have waiked the city night after night through the streets with no iriend. I wanted to die, and death left me alone. I thought it was no use todo anything more, I took the dose of poison.”? “Yousee, sir,” Said the doctor, in a compassion- ate tone, ‘she was found at tie aoorway of No. 6 Fulton street, near the East River, with this litule bottie lying by her side in the snow.” ‘There the doctor exhibitea a small vial, which wag empty, “The poor woman was here already on last Monday. e brough® her from a drag store down Broadway, where she had been taken by some a and she told us that sue was starving and had no iriends or money. There was a gentieman who called aud gave her $2, and when she was alittle stronger Lilet her leave the hospital, Then she was brought back here last night, and I gave Ler ewetics and used the stom ach pump and thus saved ner le.” “Will you go back to Springficid when you get better? the writer asked Uns poor waif of hu- mantty. “Oh, 1 would go now if I had money enough to pay my fure to Springficid on the railroad, M: lather and mother are working people, bu although they are not rich, they are comlortabie and would give me saelter and a good home.?? Biddmg the poor woman be of good neart and that she should have assistance, the writer was taken by Dr. Flubrer to the adjoining male ward, in which @ number of helpiess peop.e were lying in the varions stages of decay and suifering. “This,” he sald, pointing to a middle aged man whose thin blue lips and glassy eyes gave sigos of approaching and rop& dissoiution—“this is a poor one legged soldier who was picked up starving state in the streets. He was wounded in the war and Lam airatd he wilt not live. It was a cage of hunger and Want pure and simple. Tam giving him whiskey and beef broths as stumulants, but nature is fighting against nim. He had noth- ing to eat for days, and ue is too far gone Lam afraid,’ “Where were you wounded—in what battle?’ the writer, asked bending over the wretched wreck of war and starvation. The dying man turoed over slightly, and with a groan and articulating with great dieulty— “In—North—Carolina—coming up aiter Joe— Johnson.” Then he sell buck exhausted and the bed clothes were adjusted to inake hun die 2 little more easily when bis hour came. In the woman’s ward was a little bright eyed chestnut haired girl, five or six years, Who was sit- ting up on her cot, making terrific havoc ona large piece of sirloin steak. She looked at the wiiter witha gaze full oi astonishment, inquiry and wonder, and for ® moment suspended her progress with the large piece oi steak. Said the Doctor “this little cuild was pickea up on the streetnear here. Her mother had fallen upon the child, who only remembers her Christian name, and the mother, being very drunk, would have ‘inevitably suffocated the little girl had not the police taken her off the chiid’s person, The littie girl was very hungry, and we ve nursed her and will take care Of ber as far as our regulations will permit us to do for her. Every night nearly we have cases of desti- tution and hunger, and people are brought in to us who are insensible irom starvation, do the,best we can for them, and yet the hospitat is nov a charity hospital; but what are we todo? It is impossible to aliow these poor people to diein the streets, and accordingly when the’ are found the ambulances convey them hither anc we give them food and nurse them until they are strong enough to leave us, and alter that they Taust go forth to fight the world as best they may. Iftrmly believe that there has been more misery resulting irom want this winter than was ever known before in this great city.” ‘Thanking the physician the writer witndrew, fully impressed with the horrors and wretched- ness which follow in the trata of those children of misfortune, and who are deprived of bread and a place to lay their weary heads, THE “RELIEF? LAST NIGHT. ———$—————— The publication in yesterday’s HERALD of the facts in relation to how the poorare lodged and fed at the rooms of the Howard Relief Associa- ton, at No. 49 Leonard street, caused a tremen- dous rash during all of yesterday and during the early hours of last nignt of the houseless and hungry poor to this lately established piace of reiuge. At elght o’clock last evening over 900 persons had applied, 269 of whom were furnished with lodgings, all that could be accommodated in the limited capacity of the building. It wasa most distressing picture to witness the crowds of poor fellows who gathered in and around the Relief, seeking for a night’s lodg- ing and a meal of victuals. There were young laas and old men, ill-favored and well look- ing, lame, halt, decrepit and blind, many being quite clean and respectable in appearance. Mr. Solomons, a well-known downtown mer- chant, whois one of the Executive Committee of the associa.ion, was present last evening, and per- formed a good deal of work in seeing that the poor sellows had their wants cared for. At twenty min- utes before elgnt o’ciock last evening it was jound necessary to iniorm all who called that the lodg- ings were full and that there were no empty beds, owing to the great and unusual run on the place, In one room there were as many as forty- five persons. At half-past seven o'clock Annie Stewart, whose touching story is iven in this morning’s HERALD, culled and sought fur admission, She was told that there were no accommodations for women and that she would have to go to the Free Dormitory for Women; but she, being in # state of misery bordering on in- sanity owing to her sad misiortunes, Mr. Solo- mons kindly gave her shelter, aud sie was taken to the kitchen and given some bread and soup, which she partook Of sparingly. it seems that Annie reported herself to be strong and well yesterday to Dr. Flubrer at the Park Hospital and Was permitted to leave that tstitation; but it ‘Was evident that she was in an insensivie condi- tion when she reached the Howard Relief Rooms. Her memory is impaired, and she was unable to recollect whither she had come from last or what sne was doing. A HERALD reporter was present and recognized her, having last seen her at the Park Hospital aiter she had attempted to commit suicide by tuking laudanum. This poor woman’s case is one of such terrible wretchedness that it would be @ special mercy to provide.her with a home or some piace of shelter until sae can reach her father and mother in Springfleld, Mass. One | man who applied for lodging last evening waa mormed that he mignt be compeiled to sleep on the stairs, as the piace was very crowded, and he declared that he was thank- ful even tor that and would gladiy accept tne stairs. At nine o’ciock the Kelief closes every evening, and jong after that there were long strings Of applicants waitiug at the door and vainly seeking lor adinissiou. On and alter Tues- day next it 18 the intention of the managers of this institution to prepare large quantities of soup, Which will be distributed daily wo the needy who may apply for food, A DESTITUTE PRINTER. oe Among the interesting cases which came before the Superintendent of the Howard Mission, in the old Leonard street police station, was that of Mr, Baldwin, a printer, ot Cambridge, Mass. He 1s a. remarkably handsome young fellow of about twenty years of age, who lately came on to this city to obtain work on account of the great ae- pression o1 trade existing in Pe aegld He wore @ new alk hat and had excellent clothes, but ap- peared so weak that he could hardly stand. He said that he had been watking the streets tor forty hours and felt chilled through and exhausted. The Superintendent asked nim if he had anything to eat while he had been walking in the streets. The youn; fellow blushed up for an instant and then: said, ‘‘No, sir.” He was then given # good substantial supper and pro- vided witu a good bed. & GOOD SUGGESTION, To rae EpiToR oF THE HERALD:— Last evening my attention was called to a se4. cage of destitution at No, 441 West Fifty-four street—a father, mother, married son, daught t- in-law and six children. None of them have hb 4 work for the past three months. One of tne men has worn his shoes completety off his feet walking the streets looking for employment, ‘They say that many @ day has passed without their havin even a piece of bread, ‘ney are strictly temperate opie, and, although not connected with any church, they appear to be good moral people who have seen better days, but have been so long out of employment that tucy have been brought tthe verge Ol Btarvation. Tiisis butone of the any worthy cases that have come to my knowled, } a9 visitor to the poor in tae Twenty-second ¥ ard. ty the society with which Tam connect +d I do all that I can to assist these worthy case 4 people who would prefer to work than beg. not some of our large hearted people, who 4 syimpatalze with the poor in their hours of se: in visit t they c ir me trial, devote one or two hours @ di and assisting them, and doing wi! toward relieving the sufferings of these women and children, THOMAS J.