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THE FRIEND OF THE FA MIL Y.
VOLUME 11.
€l)t jfrituii nf Cjjc jfututltj,
A Weekly Southern Newspaper,
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY, BY
EDWARD J. PURSE.
J, E R M S :
Two Dollars a year, in advance, or Two
Fifty if not paid within three months.
SUBSCRIPTIONS RECEIVED FOR SIX MONTHS,
AT ONE DOLLAR, IN ADVANCE.
Three copies tor one year, or one copy
three years, $5 00
•Seven Copies, 10 00
Twelve copies, - -- -- -- 15 00
*** Advertisements to a limited extent,
will be inserted at the rate of 50 cents for a
square ol twelve lines or less, for the first in
sertion, and 30 cents for each subsequent
insertion. Business cards inserted fora year
at Five Dollars.
H?"A liberal discount will be made to Post
Masters who will do us the favor to act as
Agents.
Postmasters are authorized to remit mo
ney to Publishers and all money mailed in
presence of the Postmaster, and duly for
warded bv him, is at our risk.
rF* ah communications to he addressed
((post-paid) to E. J. PURSE,
Savannah, (la.
FALLIG-ANT & TAYLOR,
’CONTRACTORS & BUILDERS,
Shop corner Whitaker and Terry Streets,
• Jan 4 ly SAVANNAH.
W. S. LAWTON & CO.,
Warehouse & Commission Merchants,
MACON, GEORGIA.
LAWTON & DOWELL,
FACTORS Sc COMMISSION MERCHANTS.
No. 210 Bay St. Savannah, Ga.
Tender their Services to their Friends and the
Public nnv 2
W. S. WILLIFORD,
Auction fy Commission Merchant,
MACON, GA.
HU* All kinds of Merchandise and Produce
[except Liquors] received on Consignment.or Pur
chased to Order. 1 yr liov 2
CLASSICAL & ENGLISH SCPIOQL.
No. 159 Browghton-St.
BERNARD MALLON, Principal.
J. 11. LUTHER, A. M., Classical Teacher.
MISS V. JONES, Assistant. nov 9
GEO. M. WILLETT & CO.,
DEALERS IN •
GROCERIES , WINES , LIQUORS ,
TOBACCO, SEGARS, FRUIT, PICKLES,
Preserves , Confectionary, Sy Garden Seeds.
All kind* of Fish and Oysters, when in season.
No. 68 St. Julian and 101 Bryan Streets ,
J P. A. DuroN, ? (Waring’s Building.)
John R. Tkbeau, ( nov A
BOOK AND JOB PRINTING.
GEO. N. NICHOLS,
(Ovens’ Building, opposite the Pulaski House,)
SAVANNAH, GA.
I* prepared to execute all work in his line, with
neatness and despatch, and in a stylo
not to be surpassed.
Prices as reasonable as any other establishment
D the city. ly sept 28
Gk BUTLER,
MASTER BUILDER,
DEALER IN WHITE PINE LUMBER,
York Street, Oglethorpe Square.
B. —He is prepared to put in Iron fronts
in Store*, &>e. ly oct 19
T. R. CLARKE,
FASHIONABLE BOOT MAKER,
Next door to corner Bull and Broughton-sts.
ct io !y
A. PONCE,
Importer and Manufacturer of Segars,
No. 13 Whitaker Street,
Koeps on hand a well selected stock of impoited
fjefirar# ? also Manufactured 1 obacco. Snuff, 1 U”
and all other articles usually kept in bis line .i
business, which he offers on the most reasonable
terms. ly oct
E. T. SHEFTALL,
attorne yat law,
ma y 25 DUBLIN, GEORGIA.
MEDICAL NOTICE.
DOCTOR MOREL. Office No. ir>7 Brough
ton Street. ts mar 23
j D3 MARTIN,
DEALER IN
Fruils, Wines, Liquors, Segars.
rtCKI.ES, TUESERVES and GARDEN SEED.
—: also :
APPLES, ONIONS 4’ POTATOES,
When in season, received fresh by every vessel.
—: ALSO*. —
Oysters put up to order in from. \ to 10 gallon kegs.
Corner es Bay and Whitaker Streets,
JOHN OLIVER,
HOUSE AND SIGN PAINTER,
GILDER, GLAZIER, &c.,
121 Broughtan. Street, n few doors east of
■ ‘ Whitaker Street, Savannah , Ga.
rST All kinds of Paints —Paint Oil, Turpentine,
famish, Glass. Putty, &c., for sale. July 20
EDWARD G. WILSON,
JUSTICE OF THE PEACE,
ponveyancer, Collector, Accountant Copyist,
Office under J. M. Haywood’s.
rF“ Return Day. Wednesday, February 19th.
COLLINS & BULKLEY.
Importers and Dealers in
CROCKERY CHINA <fc GLASS WARE,
FAMILY Hardware, Table. Cutlery, Wood and
WtlVovr Ware, Lamp*, Lanterns, Wicks, &c. f
Also, Camphine and Burning Fluid, I ogether
•with a great variety of Fancy and House I urnish
hing Goods, at Low Prices.
No. 100 Bryan St., Savannah, Ga.
J. P. COLLINS, ?
T. A. BULKLEY. ) nov2
MRS. SILBER,
MILLINER DRESS MAKER
No. 157 CONGRESS STREET,
Has the pleasure of informing the LNs
Rgflp Ladies, that she has returned
from New York with e bcautilul
assortment of Silk Pattern Bonnets, all colors,
Straw, Leghorn, and New Fashioned style of Jens
by Lind Bonnets. French Flowers and Ribbonos,
of the latest styles, and a general assortment ot
Fancy Goods and Trimmings. Also the Latest
Fashion of Silks, Cassimere, Mousline de Lane,
tee-, Ac.
Ininfeii to literatim 1 , from? anil art, tjjc lons jf €f)ipmnrp, <f>Mi Jltaanrij anil tjjr Spins nf tjp intj.
P. JACOES’
SEGAR MANUFACTORY,
No. 27 Bull Street.
1 HE SUBSCRIBER keeps on hand at all times
the nest Brands oi Havana Segars, and is ready
to fdl orders for Country Merchants and others,
as low as any other establishment in the Cit\.
He also Manufactures Segars of various quali
ties, and has on hand the best of Chewing Tobac
co, Snuff, Sc e. Segar holders, Pipes —common
and fancy—Port Monies, Segar Cases, Tobacco,
Pouches, &c. Orders from the Country will be
punctually attended to. nov 2
McARTHOR & MORSE,
Manufacturers and Dealers in
PLAIN, JAPANNED & BLOCK TIN WARE,
lIOLLOYt & ENAMELLED WARE,
STOVES AND COOKING RANGES,
Lead Pipe, Sheet Lead. Copper and Zinc,
STORE, l.‘{ BARNARD STREET.
All kinds of Copper, Tin and Sheet Iron Work,
done in the best manner, ut the shortest notice.
_ B 'TL 2I . lyr
ALLEN & BALL,
FACTORS & COMMISSION MERCHANTS,
No. 112 BAY STREET,
SAVANNAH, GA.
J. M. BALL & CO.,
(Eo mmtSßlon Merchants,
MACON, GEORGIA.
ROBERT A. ALLEN, JAMES M. BALL,
sept 20 ly
N. ELLS,
FASHIONABLE BOOT MAKER,
No. 104 Broughton-st., near the corner of Bull-st.
oct 12 ts
JONES & PAPOT,
Shipwrights, Spar Makers,
AND CAULKERS.
Yard opposite R.& J. Lachlison’s Foundry.
R. H. DARBY,
r TB7’ . SSL AMEi <H£> „
Corner Broughton and Whitaker Streets,
SAVANNAH, GEORGIA.
R. H. D. is prepared to execute all orders for
Making or Catting on reasonable terms,
mar 9 ly
J. S. STURTEVANT,
MASTER BUILDER,
Corner Montgomery and Liberty Sts.
AU orders in his line will be promptly attended
10, and faithfully executed. ly june 1
JOHN V. TARVER,
FACTOR 4- COMMISSION MERCHANT
EXCHANGE WHARF, SAVANNAH, GA.
RABUN & FULTON,
COMMISSION MERCHANTS,
No. 207 Bay Street, Savannah, Ga.
J. XV. RABUN, R. L. FULTON, I. P. WHITEHEAD.
LANIER HOUSE,
BY LANIER & SON,
june 22 Macon, Georgia.
J. HASBROUCK & CO.,
Wholesale and Retail Dealers in
CHINA, GLASS AND EARTHENWARE ,
sept 21 BROUGHTON STREET, SAVANNAH.
S. Y. LEVY,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
Office, No. ISS Bay-Street.
FRANCIS WAVER
IMPORTING & COMMISSION MERCHANT,
No 107 Bay Street, Savannah, Geo.
PHILIP KEAN,
DRAPER AND TAILOR,
AND DEALER IN
READY MADE CLOTHING.
Penfield’s Ranje, No. 98 Bryan Strept,
Store formerly occupied by J. Southwell & Cos.
J. T. JONES,
MANUFACTURER AND DEALER IN
Double & Single Guns. Riiies, &c.,
West .Side of Monument Square.
A SHORT,
MASTER BUILDER,
Will take contracts for Building and Work in
Masonry of every description. Corner of Smith
Broad and Whitaker si rents. may 26
CONTRACTOR AND BUILDER.
The subscriber is prepared to oxeciue with
neatness and despatch all work in the above line.
142 Broughton St. Two Doors West ol I. W.
MORRELL’S Furniture Store.
pine 1 ly I. SOLOMONS. Agent.
CLOTHING,
TIERSON & HE IDT offer for sale CLOTHING,
Wholesale and Retail, at New York juices, No.
10 Whitaker Street. apl ~6
GAS PIPES AND FIXTURES.
STRATTON &. DOBSON,
Having received an assortment of Chandeliers,
Pendants, Brackets and Portable Gas Burners,
respectfully invite the citizens of Savannah to
call at their store. No. 72 St. Julian street, and
examine the same 4t june 1
DR. J. DENNIS,
BOTANIC DRUGGIST,
Next door above L. C. Warren &. Cos,
Augusta, Ga.
Keeps constantly on hand a choice assortment,
selected from the best establishments in the United
States, consisting of Emetics, Cathartics, Diapho
retics, Diuretics, Expectorants. Emmenagosues,
Stimulants, Tonics, Astringents, Nervines, Alka
lies, Alteratives, Rubefacients, and Compounds
tor family use. Composition Powder, No. Six,
Lobelia in its various preparations, Ac., also
Medical Books. may 4
ALFRED HAYWOOD,
CORNER BRYAN AND BARNARD STREETS,
Market Square, Savannah,
Dealer in Choice FRUITS, CANDIES. NI TS,
ORANGES. LEMONS, APPLES, AND PO
TATOES, Wholesale and Retail.
First quality Thunderbolt Oysters, Fish. & c.
Newark refined Champaigne Cider, and Albany
Cream Ale, by the bbl.
Orders from the Country, accompanied
by the cash or City reference, punctually attended
to * ai, g 9
G. M. GRIFFEN,
jfiL HAVING purchased the stock in trade of
thelate M. Eastman, would solicits the con
a#iifrtinued patronage of all the friend of the
establishment. All customers shall be pleased
with goods and satisfied with prices.
GEO. M. GRIFFEN-
N. B. —Watches and Chrometers will receive
the personal attention of Mr. G. as usual,
sept 12
DAGUERREOTYPES. -
P. M. CARY would respectfully give notice to the
public that his Rooms, corner Bryan Street and
Market Square, arc now open, where he will be
happy to wait upon all persons who would have
their pictures well taken. dec 7
Iflrrtrir
From Mrs. Ellis’ Morning Call.
THE WISH OF A WEARY HEART.
Oh ! that I was bu| a little child,
Once more—once more!
Hocked in a boat amongst breakers wild
On a pebbly shore !
Oh! that I might but play with flowers
Os Spring—sweet Spring ;
And lie, and listen, in leafy bowers,
To hear the birds sing.
Oh! that I might, on some breezy hill
Away—away—
Wander, and drink in my deep heart’s fill
Os the golden day.
Oh! that I might forget—forget
The world, and its strife ;
And watch tho bright sun rise, and set,
All my long life.
Oh ! that I might but rest! Sweot rest,
Come back to me !
Why hast thou left me this weary breast,
That pines for thee ?
“ Fool! thou wouldst tire of the breezy hill,
And the lazy hours,
The golden summer would fail to fill
Thy heart with its flowers.
“Fool! thou hast drank, where thou
shouldst have sipped,
Os life’s sweet dream ;
Thou hast bathed, where thou shouldst
have only dipped,
In its troubled stream.
** Thou art sated and weary, because to
thee
Too deep—too deep,
Has been the swoll of the world’s rough
sea,
Where none may sleep.
“ But faint not; the battle will soon bo o’er,
The victory won ;
If straight for a homo on the better shore
Thy course be run.”
frlnlcii Cale.
[From Mrs. Ellis’ Morning Call.
SELF-DECEPTION;
OR, THE HISTORY OF A HUMAN HEART.
Seasons of sorrow, especially
when occasioned by sickness and
death, are those in which everyone
longs to escape from the noise and
the tumult of great cities. Scarce
ly could the advantages of a total
change from this kind of life have
been more cordially embraced by
any human sufferers, than by Ella
More and her mother, after the first
few weeks of mourning had passed
over in their town residence. There
was then no longer anything in Lon
don to claim their attention, or to
awaken interest in their minds; arid
except the meresthousehold remem
brances which still clung about the
heart of the elder Indy, there was
little to call forth affectionate regret
on leaving it for an indefinite pe
riod.
There are, in fact, no people who
take so little root, as the dwellers in
great cities—no doors so easily
closed upon departing steps, as
those which open upon public streets
—no hearthstones about which the
heart hangs so few tendrils, as those ;
which send up the smoke of their
fires to mingle with the dense at
mosphere of a thickly peopled city.
London has, unquestionably, many
charms to those who have breathed
its dust, and trod its ashes,from their
childhood ; but to leave it is always
an escape and its tired denizens are,
for the most part, able to go forth
with fewer regrets than attend the
departure from any other home.
In the present instance, there was
not only little for our travellers to
grieve for in what they left behind
them, but there was much to attract
in the new scenes upon which they
were about to enter. Miss Mason,
a very energetic lady, who knew
everybody —at least, everybody
worth knowing —was already on the
field of action before them, and had
announced the expected arrival of
the widow and her daughter to a
pretty numerous circle of ladies and
gentlemen, who were, most of them,
exceedingly genteel people—ex
ceedingly well-meaning—but at the
same time, exceedingly idle. Miss
Mason, although scrupulously plac
ing first in her list of recommenda
tions, the great worthiness of the wid-
ow, had also spoken of her wealth ,
and, altogether, there had been got
up a very favourable feeling towards
the new comers, amongst the small
but increasing circle of society al
ready occupying a favourite place
of resort on the south-western coast
of England. The settlement of Mrs.
More and her daughter in their new
home, surrounded as it was by every
natural advantage of air and scene
ry, was consequently made under
the most favourable circumstances.
It was made, too, at that pleasant
time of the year when summer first
begins to show symptoms of wan-
SAVANNAH, GA., SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 15, 1851.
ing into autumn ; and when the har
vest season, triumphant over life,
and loveliness, and bloom, flaunts
its gay banners over field and wood,
announcing with all the splendour
of a recent, but a mighty conquest,
that freshness and vigour are al
ready mastered by decay, and that
life has surrendered to the power of
death.
The small and quiet little town
which iormed so great an attraction
as a winter residence, situated in a
lovely valley opening out upon the
sea, was sheltered on either side by
lofty ridges of wooded hill, present
ing many lovely pictures of white
cottages, and villas studding the
prospects on either side. These, on
the first arrival of the Mores, looked
rather dull and lifeless; but they
soon began to fill with strangers from
all parts of the country, who each
in their turn, excited the interest
and curiosity of those who had se
cured a residence before them.
From the very limited range of
her acquaintance with the world,
Ella More was unable to recognise
the faces of any of these new-com
ers. She said she did not wish to
meet with any one whom she had
known before; she hoped her moth
er would make no intimacies; and,
above all things, insisted upon it,
that they ought not, under present
circumstances, to think of visiting
at all. Thus all the endeavours
made by Miss Mason to draw Ella
into company, proved, for a con
siderable length of time, entirely
fruitless. Perhaps *he means she
employed were not the best adapted
to her purpose ; for Miss Mason had
a peculiar fancy for taking attract
ive young ladies under her wing,so
as to be able to lecture them,and ex
hibit them, at the same time.—
Wherever she went, she was sure
to pick up some pretty girl or ano
ther, lo make a pet of, as she called
it; but, in other words, to try her
good influence upon, and so to re
ceive, in her turn, some of the off
shoots of that flattering attention
which youth and beauty are always
sure to command. Classing herself
habitually with such a girl, and
moving about with her like a kind
of double, or shadow, Miss Mason
could say we, with the utmost com
placency, even where admirers of
the other sex were concerned ; and
would sometimes go so far as to
speak of the number, the trouble
some attentions, the folly, or the
fashion of the beaux whom we were
unable to get rid of, though endea
vouring to do so with all our might.
And many were the young ladies
who felt themselves happy to be
admited into partnership with so
useful, so honourable awe ; but Ella
was not of this number. In her
present slate of mind she was
more likely to become a patroness
herself, if that, as Miss Mason seem
ed to think, meant an adviser
against the evils of society, and a
protector from its snares. Ella
was, at present, far more likely to
set up on her own account in this
praiseworthy cause, than to be taken
by the hand, so as to lie involved
in any kind of we. Her tendencies
of character were all, just now, of
an opposite nature. To sit alone in
her own apartment, or to warder
unattended along the sea-shore, ap
peared to be her only enjoyment.
When prevailed upon to accompa
ny iier mother in any of the nu
merous calls .which Mrs. More felt
it her duty, or her pleasure, lo
make, Ella was silent, pensive, and
absorbed. Finding no interest in
the conversation, she lost herself in
dreams, from which she had to be
roused afresh each time that an at
tempt was made to call her atten
tion to present things, or to occupy
a place in her thoughts. When
ever such attempts were made, Ella
started blushed, and looked about
with a very pretty kind of astonish
ment, sometimes smiling at her own
absence of mind; but she soon
hung her head on one side, and
was lost again, waiting to be again
recalled when she was absolutely
wanted.
Mrs. More felt wholly at a. loss
what to make of this new feature,
which she had never before seen
developed by her daughter’s char
acter. Had Ella’s hair turned white
or black, the moiher couH scarcely
have been more surprised. Absent,
and moody, she had never seen her
daughter before, nor entertained an
idea that her lively, glowing, quick
feeling Ella, could sink into such
strange abstraction as now seemed
to have overtaken her. Fond as
Mrs. More had ever been of con
sulting with advisers, she now made
use of her privilege in this way to a
more than wonted extent. So nu
merous, however, were the indi
viduals to whom she applied forad
vice, and so varying and so widely
different the cunstructions they put
upon the case, that the poor widow
was even more deeply involved in
wonder and confusion, after she
had consulted her friends, than be
fore. Miss Mason suggested an at
tachment, as the cause of EL'la’s
absence of mind ; and a hopeless at
tachment soon spread about in the
circle upon which Miss Mason and
her attendant young lady called.—
An attachment seemed the ino.st
probable, or the most pleasing idea
to all; but the mother persisted in
it, that an attachment was not the
cause, inasmuch as her daughter
knew nobody to be attached to.
She had heard little of the circum
stances of her visit in the north,
and, in the absence of sdl indi
vidual association to supply the
vacuum, she even touched once or
twice upon Mr. Stevens himself, as
the only chance her daughter hail
ever been thrown in the wa} r of.
Nothing was easier than to spread
the intelligence of an attachment,
in such au idle unoccupied little
place as the town of C , wiih
its surrounding neighborhood of
elegant cottages, villas, and lodging
houses, all beginning to be filled
with their population of gossiping,
do-nothing, half-poorly, and very
nervous people. Nothing was ea
sier than to get up a mystery there,
and the innocent wonder of the
mol her, with her often-expressed
unconsciousnessof the fact, afforded
ample evidence to many that there
was an attachment, and to some that
there was such an attachment as
there ought not lo be.
Had the desire of Ella’s heart
been to make herself distinguished,
by being constantly the theme of
conversation, she could not have
adopted a more certain method of
accomplishing this end, than by her
lonely walks, her silent musings,
and the general air of abstraction
by which her manners in company
was so peculiarly marked. Per
haps she had never calculated upon
the consequences, when adopting
this new, and to her, unnatural
style of conduct; but, like many
others, who afterwards quarrel with
the world for meddling with their
affairs, she first made herself singu
lar, and then wished people would
not watch her, nor talk about her
—she first wrapped herself in mys
tery, and then wondered why peo
ple should busy themselves in try
ing to penetrate the veil in which it
was her pleasure, just at the pres
ent moment to be clothed. A few
years’ more experience would have
made her acquainted with a fact
very useful to know— that if we do
really wish to be alone amongst the
many— if we do really wish to keep
within ourselves a store of cherish
ed thoughts, which a stranger may
not meddle— if we do really wish
to pass without comment or obser
vation along the peopled ways of
life—we must flnix with society on
its own terms; we must mingle
with mankind simply as one of the
many ; we must converse with
ease on common topics, listen with
the outer ear to every one who
speaks, wear at least a smile when
others laugh, and so fill in with the
current of human life, as to glide
smoothly down the stream, neither
creating a bubble nor an eddy on
their own account. This is the
great secret of not being talked
O t O
about, which all may learn ; and
this also is the great secrelof’ bearing
about with ns an inner life, untouch
ed, unmeddled with, and, sometimes
even unsuspected.
Ella More was far enough from
having arrived at this stage of ex
perience; possibly, she had not yet
arrived at the wish to reach it.—
That absent, lost and starting state
to which some individuals attain,
has, certainly, but ltttle to do with
the cherishing of a deep inner life ;
and this was more properly Ella’s
condition at the present time. She
was not, however, wholy without
method in her meditations, nor
without purpose in her solitary mu
sings. The past was often in her
thoughts, accompanied with a pain
ful remembrance of duties neglect
ed and wrong impulses obeyed.—
These formed the frequent subject
of her silent musings, for it was
self upon which she perpetually
dwelt and pondered; and when
she looked into the future, it was
self still. Self was to begin life
afresh; self wasto become a pattern
of benevolence, and of virtue of
every kind ; self was to visit the
sick, assist the poor, and do every
thing which was good and looked
beautiful in the doing; self owed
nothing to those disagreeable tire
some people who were met with
every day in society , self was not
interested in them, go this very
praiseworthy and disinterested self
went musing about alone, and won
dered bow its benevolent and high
minded purposes could best be
brought to bear upon the circum
stances of th e suffering, or the con
dition of the poor. “Surely,”
thought Ella, “ there must be some
dear old woman in one of those
cottages by the sea, or some old
fisherman, to whom I could read
the bible, ot some sailor with a bro
ken limb. I should like very much
to begin to be kind, and do good
to such people. How much better
that would be, than sipping coffee
and talkin g nonsense in a drawing
room, amongst those one cares
nothing 3ibout.”
It was not long before these be
nevolent emotions found an object
on which to expend themselves.—
Passing one day by the door of a
cottage, £l]a was struck by the ap
pearance of a poor woman who
seemed to be looking intently out
in the direction of the sea, shading
her eyes, at the same time, with
her hand, that she might gaze far
into the distance, unembarrassed by
the glare of the bright sunshine,
which made the whole surface of
the ocean brilliant ns a mirror.—
Struck by the earnestness of her
manner, as tho woman remained
in this fixed attitude, Ella stopped
almost unconsciously by her side,
and she also looked in the same di
rection, using the edge of her open
parasol for the same purpose as
the woman used her hand. There
were certain signs of weariness,
like that which comes after a long
series of disappointments, when
the woman looked awav from the
broad expanse of the ocean to the
fair figure by her side. Ella had a
heart naturally overflowing with
warm sympathies, if she would
have done them justice, and she
asked the poor woman, in a tone of
friendly interest, if she was expect
ing any one home, that she looked
so earnestly upon the sea.
The woman shook her head.—
“There is one very dear to me,”
see said, “upon yon broad waters,
somewhere. It’s fifteen months
now, come Michaelmas, since he
went away—the bravest lad, and
the noblest that ever mothers’ eve
rested on. They told me his ship
would he home some three weeks
since. I know it was spoke some
where out at sea, and all was then
well.”
“ The weather is very still and
fine,” observed Ella.
The poor woman shook her head
again, and answered quietly, in a
lower tone, “Just now, it is;
there’s no doubt about that: but it’s
a treacherous time of year. How
ever, I am not going lo mistrust
Providence. I have been helped
through thus far. and he may come
in to-morrow, or next day, or the
day after that. lam not despair
ing, Miss. I have been helped
through a good deal in my time.—
It would be strange if I should
grow mistrustful as I grow old.—
Would j’ou please to take a seat,
Miss, in my humble place, here.
Many that come to this part are
weakly and soon tire, and our hills
try them very much at first. But
it’s a fine air, Miss—a beautiful
air.”
“ I feel it so,” said Ella, turning
into the cottage, and at the same
time loosening the strings of her
bonnet.
“ Mine is only a poor place,” ob
served the woman, “ but if you
would like to rest a bit, it’s very
quiet, and we have a fine look-out
from the porch. Suppose I put
the chair there for you, Miss, and
you can sit and look out. A finer
sea view nobody could have, and
you can see the ships go by.”
The poor woman, as she said this,
took out a chair from her little sit
ting-room, and having dusted it
with her apron, she placed it for
her visitor just so as to command
the widest and finest view of the
ocean, which rolled at a vast depth
below them, apparently almost be
neath their feet.
“ ft is indeed a fine situation this
of yours,” said Ella.
“ Yes,” replied the woman, “ in
still weather; but it’s somewhat ex
posed in the winter months.”
“And having relations at sea,
* 1 • ~ 7
you feel it more,” observed Ella.
“ No doubt—no doubt,” replied
the woman. Eve sat at iny lire all
night when every blast seemed to
blow through me, and the waves, as
they beat upon the rocks below
there, seemed to shout and scream
like drowning men. Nay, l have
even run out to see, so sure did I
feel that a vessel was on shore.—
And all the time there was nothing
—nothing but wind and waves, and
a high sea booming up into the hol
low caves; for, as I take it, it’s the
echo of those caves that makes the
uproar when the tide swells in.”
“ You grow nervous with living
so much alone,” observed Ella.
“ It may be so, no doubt,” replied
her companion. “ Jt’s lonesome
enough living here, as I do. It’s
lonesome enough sometimes, and
needs a stout heart to bear it. But
I’m not complaining.”
This was the poor woman’s cus
tomary conclusion, even while her
tone and manner indicated feelings
widely different from too e which
she professed. Finding herself,
however, in the pre ; * of one
who seemed disposed only to
sympathise in her gr. but to
listen to her history, the poor wo
man went on, by no means reluc
tantly, to improve her short ac
quaintance with Ella, by relating
to her the story of her life. It was
no uncommon one for the poor, but
striking to the young visitor, in its
many trials, sorrows and privations,
to the simple recital of which she
listened attentively; and when at
last she rose to take her leave, it
was with a promise to return when
ever she had leisure, and perhaps
to bring some book with her, so as
better to beguile the thoughts of the
anxious mother from her long and
fruitless watching of tlie sea.
The history of Mrs. Lane, for that
was the poor woman's name, was a
very simple one. The v idow of a
seafaring man, and the mother of
five sons, all of whom had died bv
shipwreck or other accident, except
the youngest, now upon his vovage
home, she had learned habitually
to anticipate calamitous tidings, on
the return of a vessel; even though
she knew there was an equal pro
bability that it might arrive with a
full freight of joy for her.
Ella More, young as she was, and
wholly inexperienced in tho.-e sor
rows which destroy the natural
buoyancy of a hopeful heart, ven
tured to reason with the mother
against this tendency to sadness
and despondency; and when her
reasoning failed, she ventured to
advise, without, however, being
able to produce any satisfactory re
sult; for while the poor widow ac
knowledged the truth of all she
said, and repeated again and again
her habitual expiessions of trust in
a good Providence, who had never
forsaken her—yet it was evident
that her spirit was perpetually sink
ing within her, under a load of fear
ful apprehensions, which she
could not wholly dissever from her
hopes.
“ hook you,” said she to her
young adviser, one day, “1 do trust
I do believe that all which God
ordains is right, and wiil he ri^ht;
and 1 say as much to myself every
hour of the day. But who knows
that it may not be right for my boy
to be dashed upon some far-off
rock, or seized some monster of
the sea, oi left to hunger amongst
savages in some cannibal island ?
and so I may never look into his
pretty fact again. Ah ! my sweet
young lady, give me comfort for
that, will you V”
Ella was wholly at a loss how to
propose any but the most common
place mode of consolation, under
such a state of feeling. Her sea
son of experience had not come yet
when her ail might hang upon one
beloved object, and that one be in
peril. Her hour had not come yet,
when the right should be acknow
ledged—the well-doing of an Om
nipotent arm confessed; and yet!
—and yet! She was herself only
sporting with the waves on the shore
of that great ocean which she still
bad to cioss. It lay before her
smooth and bright, but deep and
treacherous. Its hollow caves were
moaning in the distance, hut she
heard them not. Its waves were
rolling vast and wide over unfath
omable mysteries, which she had
never thought of solving. Its bound
less waters were swelling upon
shores by her unknown, undream
ed-of yet, Its sunken rocks were
sleeping underneath, and she be
held them not. let over that vast
ocean she, like all other human voy
agers, must go. Has she the well
trimined barque, the sails, the cor
dage, ready V Goes she forth alone ?
of stands a pilot at the helm, guid
ing the course of her light vessel,
keeping it ever onward, and steer
ing directly for the blessed haven ?
There was something in the situa
tion of the lonely widow in her cot
tage on the cliff which interested,
the feelings of Ella More, in a far
higher degree than they were in
terested by what she considered
the common-place acouaintances
amongst whom her mother found
unceasing occupation, of one kind
or another. Mrs. More was by na
ture formed for the little things of
life ; and, what was very cheering
and consolatory under all her trials*
she could feel great upon what in it
self was little . I hus she enjoyed
all the exhilarating influence of a
new fact, or anew development,
even when the fact was a raindrop
NUMBER 49,