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Fifteen Years with the Outcast by Mrs. (Mother) Roberts Florence
page 133 of 354 (37%)
window-frames in the second story, but I do not believe there was one
whole pane of glass left.

"This is the place, Mother Roberts," said Callie.

"Surely no human beings dwell in such a terrible place as this,
Callie," I replied.

"You come with me and see for yourself," she rejoined. "Don't you
remember what I told you? I said I would take you to a place you didn't
dream existed. This is the one."

Sure enough. _And this was once her home!_ She opened a disreputable
door, and we climbed a dirty and fearfully rickety stairway; next we
groped our way along a dark passage. "Mind, there's a broken board!
Look out you don't break your ankle," said Callie. She spoke none too
soon. I narrowly escaped an accident. Now we turned a corner and got a
little better light, this disclosing another old partly-broken-down
stairway with nearly all the balustrade gone. Up these we climbed,
hugging, as we did so, the filthy wall, for safety. On reaching the top
she rapped gently an a cracked door, but received no answer. She rapped
louder. Still no answer. Presently some one called from somewhere
below. Then she rapped still louder. This time a man's voice inquired,
"Who's there?" There was the sound of shuffling footsteps, and then the
door opened, disclosing two women, one young, one old, and three men,
all young, but all old-looking, cadaverous, starved, ragged, filthy,
and indescribably loathsome. Furthermore, the odor issuing through that
open doorway was almost intolerable.

Callie knew all, with the exception of the young girl, and called each
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