Anti-slavery bugle. [volume] (New-Lisbon, Ohio) 1845-1861, 1848-04-28

tHilh' 'HN ouu lulN' H"S''' NhS H"lN n'lu E'h
tie beholder Of happiness in which she could
Mt entirely participate, although she could
not quite shut the sense OF it from her heart,
one whose breathings were of stilled regret
more than of active joy, of fear, surprise,
and thoughts Of tears shed recently, and to
be shed again too soon, rather than of plea
sure in tho rude and novel liveliuess of the
scene. 1t was foolish, very foolish, he knew;
it was vain and useless; yet something, it
seemed To be IA whisper in his heart, told
him it might be. Should he knock; and
pray. not ia the name of humanity, but OF
Heaven that put divinity in it, for the chart
ty of a kind answer to one fond and silly
question, Should he risk the sharp ~repulse,
and trust for his excuse to those beautiful
sympalhies, to those exquisite emotions of
nature, which linking the old TO the young,
parents and children, IN that common dwell
ling, were converting it into a temple OF con-
cord, charity, and love
Such were his thoughts; though they
wore, as they awoke within him, IL homelie
garb. He sat down on the doorstep 20 wait.
After a time, a coach came for some of the
children he saw them, one by one, but they
were strangers. Half a dozen went, aud
then more. He scanned their features as
though he half-hoped to see some face he
knew. At last all were gone. The fancy
that even into that fold Of luxury Compared
with his own home amongst that gay and
fortunate flock, one shorn lamb might have
strayed and found shelter, was indeed idle.
The door closed, driving the shivering old
man upon that desolate prospect and despai-
ring task, from which he had been thus at
tracted by sudden peals Of childish laughter,
and the associations 10 which they had given
rise.
Now once more he journeyed onward. =
d = He bent his steps (the clock war
ming him it was near daybreak) to his wretch
ed home, in one of the poorest districts OF
Westminster. Advanced but a little way,
he stopped to make one fnal trial with the
friendly chalk, the last piece Of which was
now IT duced to a size so small, that it was
with difficulty he could hold it.. 1t crumbled
away before he could finish the few words.
" y = When once more the long-dart-
ing rays of a lantern were turned upon him,
a strong hand had dragged him over the mass
Of rubbish, and hurried him, spent and eX-
h%austed, to the nearest station-house.
The next morning he was carried rather
than led before a magistrate. The charge a
gainSt him was established he had been
detected chalking on walls and doors, and
qualifying himself for the House of Corec-
ton. Thither he was about to be commit
ted, when it occurred to the magisterial mind
that the culprit might have been writing trea-
son on the walls.
Il don't think it was treason said one of
the constables '%'cause he don't seem quite
right in his mind. He complains of his ha-
wing lost his little child his grand-chiId
least-ways.' y = u y His story was
told in a few simple words.
The child's mother, his only daughter, had
deserted him before she was seventeen years
old. A vicious life ended in a miserable
death but in the midst of that vice and mis-
cry grew into being that delicate flower of
humanity, which he had hoped so long as
he drew Heavens breath, to guard from the
rude storms. of the world. More, lar more
than a daughter TO him, was that hapless and
Innocent being. AS the child of his child,
she seemed to bear a double life, and TO claim
a double love. Scant even 10 extreme pow
erty were his means he was too feeble TO
pursue his occupation as a day-labofer, yet
her wants he contriyed to supply. And one
day lately, while he had been employed out
of doors, the fair, prattling, sweet-tempered
girl, who was 10 him not more a thing that
he should protect with his life than an angel
watching over and sanctifying it, suddenly
disappeared. The dodgers in the house had
seen her playing in the sunshine at the door;
then a neighbor observed her at the end Of
the court listening to some musicians;' and
another noticed her looking into a picture
shop two streets of; Beyond this there was
no intelligence. She might have wandered
into the wilderness of streets, been kldnap-
ped, or crushed under wagon-wheels.
The old man was too miserably poor to
pay for the printing of hand-bills; and for
three long nights had he paced the streets of
the city, east and west, c~halking on the walls
the statement Of his loss, the name of the lit
lie wanderer, and a description of her person.
He described the eyes and hair of his belo-
we'd granddaughter;
Lost, a little girl, named Mary Rose, six
years old, had on a green spotted trock blue
|, eyes, and light soft hair, long, and curled
on the neck tall, and speaks quick, with a
r sweet voice. Wandered from her grandfath-
er, Green Arbour court &c.
! Such were the words, though not so spelt.
| ] know not how the incident may effect 9TH
t ers it may seem very trifing; but to me it
= appeared not undeservlng a place among
t those chronicles of real life that record what
is most profound and beautiful in natural af-
lection. What a heart of love had that old
man and how impolent such words-.blue
, eyes, soft curled hair and sweet voice =
q to speak the sense of beauty that made part
= of its overlooking fondness. How impossi-
. BILE by such phrases to make the stranger see
: In the lost child, the image of loneliness on
which his soul hung until the earthly be-
came as something heavenly What a life
time OF anxiety and dread must have been
compressed into these three nights and DAYS,
SO spent in threading the endless maze of
y London!
Everywhere but to his home he had gone;
! there he scarcely dared to go; the dark. 81.
!, lent, empty room looked like a grave that
had been dug for him. And thithcr, as to a
grave, when dismissed by the magistrates,
. repaired to find, that had he returned soon.