.

HUNTING FOR LOST CHILDREN.
The loss of our baggage was only the beginning of our troubles in New York.

With the feather ticks went also the money mother had got from selling the bedsteads and other furniture.

She had nothing with which to buy food and while we were walking the streets we smelt the delicious odor of food from the restaurants and became whining and petulant.

This was the first time mother had ever heard her children crying for bread when she had none to give them.