nd the scorn of the
good do their best, working together.

There was an old mattress that had to be burned, and Maggie dragged it
down with an effort. She took it out in the street, and there set it
on fire. It burned and blazed high in the narrow street. The policeman
saw the sheen in the windows on the opposite side of the way, and saw
the danger of it as he came around the corner. Maggie did not notice
him till he was right behind her. She gave a great start when he spoke
to her.

"I've a good mind to lock you up for this," he said as he stamped out
the fire. "Don't you know it's against the law?"

The negro heard it and saw Maggie stagger toward the door, with her
hand pressed upon her heart, as the policeman went away down the
street. On the threshold she stopped, panting.

"My Gawd, that cop frightened me!" she said, and sat down on the
door-step.

A tenant who came out saw that she was ill, and helped her into the
hall. She gasped once or twice, and then lay back, dead.

Word went around to the Elizabeth Street station, and was sent on from
there with an order for the dead-wagon. Maggie's turn had come for
the ride up the Sound. She was as good as checked for the Potter's
Field, but Pell Street made an effort and came up almost to Maggie's
standard.

Even while the dead-wagon was rattling down the Bowery, one of the
tenants ran all the way to Henry Street, where he had heard that
Maggie's father lived, and brought him to the police station. The old
man wiped his eyes as he gazed upon his child, dead in her sins.

"She had a good home," he said to Captain Young, "but she didn't know
it, and she wouldn't stay. Send her home, and I will bury her with her
mother."

The Potter's Field was cheated out of a victim, and by Pell Street.
But the maelstrom grinds on and on.

SARAH JOYCE'S HUSBANDS

Policeman Muller had run against a boisterous crowd surrounding a
drunken woman at Prince Street and the Bowery. When he joined the
crowd it scattered, but got together again before it had run half a
block, and slunk after him and his prisoner to the Mulberry Street
station. There Sergeant Woodruff learned by questioning the woman that
she was Mary Donovan and had come down from Westchester to have a
holiday. She had had it without a doubt. The Sergeant ordered her to
be locked up for safe-keeping, when, unexpectedly, objection was made.

A small lot of the crowd had picked up courage to come into the
sta