In that I was disappointed; for when my means gave out, and every endeavor to procure work to feed my children had failed--when I had not a dollar to purchase bread for my innocent babes, I applied for assistance.
None but the most dire necessity would have prompted me to such a step, and, Oh, God! when it was refused--when the paltry pittance I asked for was refused, the hope which I had clung so despairingly to, vanished, and I felt myself indeed a miserable woman.

Piece after piece of furniture went, until all was gone--my clothing was next sold to purchase bread.

The miserable life I led, the hours spent with my children around me crying for bread--the agonizing pangs which rent my mother's heart when I felt I could not comply with their demand--all--all combined to make me an object of abject misery.

But why describe my sufferings?
The balance of my tale is short.

I was forced out of the shelter I occupied because I could not pay the owner his rent.