Wilmington journal. [volume] (Wilmington, N.C.) 1844-1895, 1847-09-24
From the New York Messenger
Sad Changes of Fortune,

DO you give out work here" said voice
so soft, so low, so lady like, that involunta-
rily started and looked up
Do you give out work here p
Not to strangers was the rude reply the
stranger turned and walked away.
left the shop and followed the strange
lady
Passing Thomson's, she paused-went in
hesltated-then turned and came out Inow
saw her FACET was very pale-her hair,
dark as night, was parted on her forehead
her eyes, too, were very black, and here was
wlldness in them that made me shudder-
She passed on up Broadway to Grand street
where she entered miserable looking dwell
ling. paused-should follow further p
She was evidently suffering much | was hap
py-blessed with wealth, and O, now blessed
in husband, children. friends | knocked
the door was opened by cross-ooking wo-
man.
Is there person living here who does
plain sewing" I inquired
i guess not was the reply. There is a
woman up stairs, who used to work, but she
can't get no more to do-and shall turn hel
out Tomorrow
Let me go up said I. as, passing the wo
man with shudder, | assembled the stairs
You can keep on 10 the garrett she scream
ed after me: and so did-and there | saw a
sight, of which, |, the child of affluence, had
never dreamed The lady had thrown off her
hat, and was kneeing by the side of poor
low bed. Her hair had fallen over her shout
ders-she sobbed not, breathed not-but seem
ed motionless, her face buried in the covering
OF the wretched, miserable bed, wherein lay
her husband. He was sleeping. | looked
upon his high, pale forehead, around which
chung masses of damp, brown hair-it was
knit and the pale hand clenched the bedclothes
words broke from his lips cannot pay
you now heard him say. Poor fellow -
Even IN his dreams, his poverty haunted him
| could bear 1t no longer, and knocked gently
at the door. The lady raised her hand, threw
back her long black hair, and gazed wildly
on me. 1t was no time for ceremony; sick
ness, sorrow, want, perhaps starvation, were
before me. came to look for a person to
do plain work. was all could say.
20, give it to me- she sobbed Two days
we have not tasted food and Tomorrow
- She gasped, and tried to finish the
sentence, but could not. She knew that TO-
morrow they would be both homeless and star
wing.
Be comforted you shall want no more =
| kept my word. In a few days she told
me all of days Of happiness in sunny West
Indian Isle, her childhoods home OF the death
of her father and mother, of a cruel sister and
brother-in-law; how she left that home, no.
ping TO find brother in America how she
sought in vain, but found instead, a husband
he too, an Englishman, gentleman, u schol-
ar, had been thrown upon the world. Sym
fhx,lo ~ - Il
all the world to each other, they married. He
procured employment in school; she plain
neede-work. Too close attention TO the du-
ties of his school, long walks, and scanty fare
brought i'll health, and confined him at length
to his bed
The shop from which this poor wife OBJ
tanned work failed, and their resources wa.
cut off, She had looked long, weary days TO
employment, many had none to esve, other:
gave no work to strangers Thus | foun(
them, to comfort them for little time then,
trust, they found a comforter in heaven!
The husband died first; died, placing thu
hand of his poor wife in mine. 1t needed NO
the mute appealing look he gave me. took
her to my own happy home-but it was toe
late
1t is very little time ago, | went one NOR
nlng 10 her room. She had passed restless
night; had dreamed, she said, of her dea
George; she called me her kind and only
friend, begged me TO sit little while beside
her, and looked up so sadly in my face. tina
my own heart seemed well nigh breaking.
left her not again.
| In the still deep night, heard her murmu
Sister Anne, do not speak so harshly to me
0, mamma, why do you leave me" Then a
gain she said, Give me an orange, my sister
| am very faint Her soul was again in he
own sunny home.
Lay me by my George, and God will bles
you,' were her last words to me- led m,
hushed children 10 look upon her sweet pal
face, as she lay in her coffin. They had new
er seen sorrow or death, and then gave then
the first knowledge OF both; then told then
of the sin, the cruelty of those who woun
the strangers heart.