When Mrs Bridges learned her name she said. "That will never do; she got called that as she was left outside the Foundling Home on a Monday, in March....I shall call her Molly."And Molly March she became.I was about to leave the kitchen when I noticed Mrs Bridges eying me questioningly. "Yes, Mrs Bridges?" You know that Molly is a runaway from a Foundling Home, sir?" I nodded, waiting for her to continue. "You know how them poor girls, and boys, are fearfully abused, by men with the base desire. And that was what it was like. Being born. Those first steps from my cell, the bright light, the pain of it. Those hardy slaps on the back by other prisoners, the terrible turmoil of noise and sounds that assaulted my ears. Then the some what brutal treatment we were given when we exited the prison. The guttural speaking warriors who had taken the city, Russians I do believe by their language, were busy looting it and put us to work clearing stone blocked gates. They had us haul dead, already. More

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