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 off 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 station to see what became of the prisoner. From out of this, one spoke up: “Don’t lock that woman up; she is my wife.”
“Eh,” said the sergeant, “and who are you?”