Columbus Democrat. [volume] (Columbus, Miss.) 18??-18??, 1838-07-07

On her own good mans and, poor soul, she might
well he proud of him, for finer lad L.eTe was not
10 the country round.
Unfortunately thu son was tempted, during year
81 scarcity and agricultural hardship, To enter INTO
The service ofone Of the small craft that pied on
neighbOring river. lie had not been long m this
employ when he was enuapped by press gangand
carried oil 10 sea. HIS parents received td,ncs Of
hrs 'eizure, bat beyond that they could learn moth
ny II was the laSs of their main prop. The ia
her who was already inlirm, grew hearlesS and
melancholy, and sunk into his grave. The widow
eft lonely in bcr age aud feehleneSs, could no lon
ger support herself, and came upon the parish Sui
there was kind Of feeling toward her throughout
Tie villa n, and certain respect as being one e the
oldest inhabitants. As M one applied for the cot
tage, in which she had passed many happy DAYS,
she was permitted tn remain IN il. where She lived
solitary and almost helpless. The few wants vi nature
were chiefly supplied from the scanly productions
Of her little garden, which Tire ncIghbofs now and
then cultivate for her.
II was but few days before the time at which
these circumstances were told me- that she was ga
her.ng some Vegetables for repas,, when ohe
heard the cottage door, which faced the garden,
suddenly open. A stranger came out and seemed
to be looking eagerly and wildly around He was
dressed in a seamanS clothes, was omanciated and
CHASTITY pae, and bore the air Of one broken BY sick
ness and bardShips. He saw her and FASTENED to-
wards her but his steps were FAINT and ALTERING, be
sank on ais knees before her, and sobbed like g child
The poor woman gazod upon him with a vacant
and w,nderng eyc-'0h my deaf, dear molhcrl
don't you know your son? your poor boy George 7
II was indeed the wreck Of her once noble lad who,
shattered by wounds, by sickness, and foreign I'M
prsonment had, at length, dragged his wasted
lt0hS homeWard, TO repose among the scenes Of his
childhood.
| VII not attempt TO detail the particulars Of such
meeting where loy and sorrow were so complete
' blended sill he was alive he was come home
he might vet live To comfort and cherish her old age
Nature, however, was exhausted in him and if
any thing had been wanting 10 finish the WORK Of
fate, the desolution OF his native cottage would have
been sufficient He stretched himself on the pallet
on which his widowed mother had passed many
sIcepleSS night, and never rose from il again.
The villagers, when they heard that George So
ncrs had returned, crowded to see him, Offering cv
ry comfort and assistance that their humbe means
Afforded, lie was too weak, however, to tak-hc
co,ld only look his thanks. His mother was his
constant attendant; and he seemed unwilling 10 be
hel)ed by any other hand.
There is something IN sickness, that breaks down
the pride Of manhood that soflcns the heart, and
brRgs it back To the feelings ofinlnncy. Who that
dependency, who that has plncd on n weary bed,
IN the neglect and loneliness of foreign iand, has
not thought OF the mother that looked on his child
hood, that smoothed his pillow and administered to
hs hepleSsness Oh there is an endenring ten
derness III the love OF mother 10 a son, that tran.
scends all other Elections Oi the heart. II is neither
to be chilled by sclhhness, nor dauned by danger
nor weakened by worthlessness, nor stihed by in
gratitude. She will sacrifice every comfort To hi
convenience she will surrender every pleasure Il
his enjoyment; she will glory in his fame, and eXul
in his prosperity; and if misfortune overtake him
he will be the deyrer TO her from his msiortuneS
and il disgrace settle upon his name, she will still
love and cherish him in spite Of his disgrace ant
II all the world beside cast him of, she will be al tht
world 10 him.
Poor George SomCrs had known what il was Il
be III sickness and none TO soothe lonely and in
prison and none TO visit him. He could not endure
her from ms sight; Al she moved away his eye would
follow her. She would set Tor hours by his bed
watching him as he slept Sometimes he would
start from igYcrsh dream, and look anxlously uI
until he saw her bending over him when he would
take her hand lay il on his bosom, and fall asleer
with the tranquility of Child. In this way he died
My first impulse on hearing this humble tale o
aihction was 10 visit the cottage ofthe mourDer
and administer pccuniary assistance, and if posi-.
bic, comfort. found. however IN inquiry, that the
good feeling of the villagers had prompted them l1
do every thing that the case admitted aud as the
poor know best how to console each others sorrows
did not venture 10 lntrudc.
The next Sunday morning was at the village
church; When, TO my surprise, | saw the poor old
woman lettering down the aisle TO her accustomed
seat on the steps oil the altar
She had made an effort 10 put on sometime ike
mourning Tor her son, and nothing could be more
touching than this struggle between pons s1ectiap
aud utter poverty black ribbon or so, inded
black handkerchief aid one or two more such hum
bic attempts to express by outward signs that grie
that passes show. When looked round upon tie
stored monuments, the stately hatchmen,s the cod
marble pOmp with which grandeur mourned mag
nlcenty over departed pride, and turned to THIS
poor widow, bowed down by age aud sorrow at the
altar OF her God, ard offering up tie prayers aud
praises Of pous though broken heart iell that
this living monument Of real grief was worth them
all.
related tic story 10 some Of the wealthy mem
bers ottbc congregation, and they were moved by
II, They exericd themselves to render her situation
more comfortable, and TO tighten her affections. II
was however bat smoothing a few steps TO the
grave. In the course OF Sunday or two after, She
was missed from her usual seat At church, and he
fore had left the neighborhood heard, with feel
ing Of satisfaction, that she had quietly breathed her
last and had gone TO rfoln those she loved, IN that
world where sorrow IS never known, and friends Ire
never parted.
Smithsonian Legaey-A letter from friend
in London informs us that the Hon. Richard Rush
has obtained an absolute decree for the Smithso-
Man Request, aud that the money has been paid
to him. II amounts 10 upwards Of a hundred
thousand pounds sterling. Mr.. Rush was to
have embarked on his return in the coutse Of the
month, bringing with him the money thus be.
queathej for the purpose Of education in the Uni
ted States. twas supposed that the matter would
have been the cause of tedious Chanccry suit,
but it appears from the intelligence that it has
been terminated with very little deay.-Penn.
Cost d "a iVatch.-D dfing the war of 1896, a
sailor went into a waichmaker's in the city, and