ked with me back to the Astor House, and we parted.

I found Dorothy in tears, almost hysterical. Jenny, in her absence, had
stepped from the room for a moment. She had not returned. She could not
be found. I went on the streets, I searched everywhere. I drove to the
open squares, to the Battery. I enlisted the aid of policemen, but they
were none too friendly. I went to the _Tribune_ and inserted an
advertisement. The hotel employees took a hand. But no Jenny. She was
deeply attached to our boy. She could not have willingly wandered away.
She must have been kidnapped.

Dorothy cried herself to sleep. I sat through half the night at the
window, looking out upon Broadway, listening, at last, to the stir and
sounds of dawn. Jenny had been in the Clayton family almost from her
birth; an associate of Mammy's for many years. The affection that
existed between Dorothy and Jenny was intimate and tender. Dorothy
depended upon her for everything. I went to Dorothy and took her in my
arms, trying to console her. She was as deeply affected as if she had
lost a sister. All that day we searched for Jenny. The days went by, and
we did nothing but try to find her. Our loss became the talk of the
hotel. The newspapers took up the story. Where was Jenny; in whose
hands; what fate had she met? Our boy cried for her, and Mrs. Clayton
was inconsolable. But at last we had to move on to Chicago. Was Jenny
kidnapped? We never knew. We only knew that we never saw her again. This
was the sordidness of slavery, its temptation to the meanest passions,
the lowest lusts. The loss of Jenny made me hate it.

CHAPTER XL

I had many business vexations on returning to Chicago. But also the
campaign of 1848 was on, and I was deeply interested in it. I had passed
through the panic of 1837, but I was not then conscious that a labor
movement was on. That panic had stayed it, for a mason or a carpenter
was glad of work in those hard days. Then prosperity had revived and now
it was in full tide due to a world condition; but in America also due to
expansion and railroad building. Mr. Van Buren, in 1840, then being
President, and seeking, as his enemies said, to influence the labor
vote, had issued an executive order to the effect that laborers and
mechanics need work but ten hours a day. Soon after this the bricklayers
of Pittsburgh formed a union, the journeyman tailors of Washington
opened a shop of their own; the workingmen of Philadelphia got in