Chapter I. The Magnet Attracting: A Waif Amid Forces

           

           WhenCarolineMeeberboardedtheafternoontrainforChicago,hertotaloutfitconsistedofasmalltrunk,acheapimitationalligator-skinsatchel,asmalllunchinapaperbox,andayellowleathersnappurse,containingherticket,ascrapofpaperwithhersister’saddressinVanBurenStreet,andfourdollarsinmoney.ItwasinAugust,1889.Shewaseighteenyearsofage,bright,timid,andfulloftheillusionsofignoranceandyouth.Whatevertouchofregretatpartingcharacterisedherthoughts,itwascertainlynotforadvantagesnowbeinggivenup.Agushoftearsathermother’sfarewellkiss,atouchinherthroatwhenthecarsclackedbytheflourmillwhereherfatherworkedbytheday,apatheticsighasthefamiliargreenenvironsofthevillagepassedinreview,andthethreadswhichboundhersolightlytogirlhoodandhomewereirretrievablybroken.

           Tobesuretherewasalwaysthenextstation,whereonemightdescendandreturn.Therewasthegreatcity,boundmorecloselybytheseverytrainswhichcameupdaily.ColumbiaCitywasnotsoveryfaraway,evenonceshewasinChicago.What,pray,isafewhours—afewhundredmiles?Shelookedatthelittleslipbearinghersister’saddressandwondered.Shegazedatthegreenlandscape,nowpassinginswiftreview,untilherswifterthoughtsreplaceditsimpressionwithvagueconjecturesofwhatChicagomightbe.

           Whenagirlleavesherhomeateighteen,shedoesoneoftwothings.Eithershefallsintosavinghandsandbecomesbetter,orsherapidlyassumesthecosmopolitanstandardofvirtueandbecomesworse.

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