Carroll free press. [volume] (Carrollton [Ohio]) 1834-1861, 1846-09-25
VOLUME 12...NUMBER 50.

him, on whom had lavshed so much deep, un.
dying love, suddenly snatched from me, was too
much. For atme Twas nearly stupified with nv
| overwhelming sorrow; but my helpless condition,
together with that of my child, now dependent on
me alone for support and protection, reused me to
action. Twolongwearyyears lsuppoued edmyself.
andmy childby the adof my needle; butatleng;h
sickness came, and hunger stared me in the face.
believe, under God, | owe my life TO YOU"
What volume of sorrow summed up in few
brief words! And can it be that man is so unior-
giving! IT'S even so. He who expects forgive.
ness at the hands Of his heavenly Father for his
transgressions oitcnreiuses overlook the slight.
est act of disobediencc in his fellow creatures for
getting that he is depriving himself of so much
teryent happiness in refusing TO follow the shining
example Of our persccutcd Saviour. The un-
bounded delight resulting from forgiveness is nat
ural; the forgiven and forgying spirit are equally
benefited by the exercise of trait so cnnobling
to the human heart. Who then will not forgive;
even as they would be forgiven by their Father
in heavenl
While Mrs. Pierce relating hcrtale of grief
another and different scene was enacted in a dis
tant part Of the city. The elegant mansion of
Judge Marston looked dark and lonely, save one
apartment, which was brilliantly lighted. 1t was
a splenddy decorated room-the library of that
solitary old man-but its occupant looked sad and
detected. Volume after volume had been thrown
aside, after vain effort to divert the unmarried
mind with reading, and he now paced the apart
ment with hurried steps. 1t was the anniversary
of the death of his wife, and of the birth of his
cast-otf daughter. No wonder that he was agta-
ted to an intense degree. No wonder that the
bitter waters of memory overwhelmed his soul
from tomtanof agonizing and remorselcss feel
lngs. Every moment his excitement and agita-
ton seemed to increase; he seized his hat and
cane, resolved TO seek relief in the open air.
At that moment the door bell rang violently, and
Mr.. Hargravc was announced.
"Ah," said the Judge, ''never was friend more
truly welcome than you are, Mr.. llargrave.
have been excessively lonely ythiscvening, and was
Just going to try whether walk would not ex-
hllarate my saddened sprits.'
Sand | have come on an errand of mercy; |
am here, Judge Marston, to solicit your aid in be-
half Of u poor suffering woman"
81 am ever ready TO adthe aoorthyunfortunate
Where does the woman you speak of residc!-
Has she husband and children! Do YOU know
any thing of her history? What is her name!"
! These questions were asked in hurried and
agitated manner. A chord of tender feeling had
been touched in the heart of the old man. Might
not she be his beautiful daughter, might not she,
too, be asking charity Of strangers-thc thought
was agony.
"Her name, from motives of delcacy, am un-
willing to disclose. Her history will relate to
you, and then if you desire it will guide you to
the dwelling where hehas tocd day and night to
support herself and her chid her husband hay-
ing been dead something more than two years."
1t was with the utmost difficulty that the Judge
restrained his emotion, while listening to the sim
pie tale we have related. Something whispered
him that the suffering woman-the toiling mother
and grlet-strlcken wldow--was his daughter; the
same bright being who had years before lent so
sweetacharm to his owndesolate and ioyless home.
When Mr. III. had ceased speaking, the Judge
rose from his seat, and said, 81 will 90 with YOU.
! would fam see her of whom you speak, and if
she be worthy, my protection shall be given her."
few minutes suficed to bring them to the
dwelling of Mrs. Pierce. A gentle knock from
Mr.. Hargrave brought little Amy to the door;
Judge Marson started as she stood before him,
radiant with purity and truth, the exact image of
his long lost daughter. 1t required but u glance
for each to recognize each other. One moment
of agonizcd and Mrs. Pierce had thrown
her arms around the neck of the relenting old
man, and thewords "my father'-''my daughter
sent thrill of delight to the heart of each.
"My father, am forgvon!''
"Forgiven, Ellen? Methinks tits who should
ask forgiveness. You were more snned against
than SHINING Henry was every way worthy of
you. Q, have deeply injured you, my daugh-
ter, but feel that | am forgiven. | have many
times longed to clasp you to my heart; but pride
forbade that should recall you, my poor strick-
en- one. This simple act of mutual forgiveness
has impaired to memore happiness than have en-
} Ioyed since that fatal hour IN which banishod
r you from my presence. But you will 90 with me
! now, you and your sweet child, and the gorgeous
house which for eight long years has been to me
dreary as eprison-house, shall become the ark Of
peace and safety to the weary, wandering dove
"4es, my father, | will go with you. And
: though he whom | so idolized has gone to the
sleep which knows no waking, | will try to be
happy in the affection of my father and child"
: The face of Mr. Hargrave was radiant with
r smiles Of gratifed benevoence. He saw Ellen
renstated in the affections and home of her ia.
ther, and went on his way rejoicing.
! A LEGEND OF THE WISSAHIKON.
r BY GEORGE LIPPARD.
S Itwas here in these wilds of the Wissahikon
on the day of the battle, as the MONDAY sun came
r shining through the thckly clustered leaves, tha
= that two men met in deadly conflict near rocI
o that rose like the huge wreck of some primeva
/ world, at least one hundred feet above the wa
t, ters of the Wissahikon.
It The man with the dark brow, and the darke
e grey eye, flashing with deadly light, with muscu
l. lar form, clad in tho blue hunting frock Of tn
o Revouuon-is Continental named Warner
1t His brother was murdered the other night at III
is massacre of the Paoli. That other man, will
/ long black hair, dropping along his cadaverou
e face, is clad in the half military costume Of