Washington telegraph., 1852-05-05

law 1 thought of as little as possible, and
when her image, in sickness and in poverty,
did force itself upon my memory, l quickly
banished it. Oh it was vile in me, it was
infamous, for had long ago Intentionally
ill-treated my poor kinswoman.
Years before the period in question, I
had received letter from my only brother,
"a true hearted sailor, now, alas buried in
the ocean,) informing me that he was deeply
in love with, and about to marry the daugh-
ter of fisherman, who would bring him a
valuable dowry, made up of an excellent
heart, fine person, eyes of the greatest
beauty, and an entire absence of ready
money. To this letter, I replied as fol-
lows
"' You are in love, it appears, and you
would marry foolish girl who has the rare
merit of being poorer than yourself Be
happy with your mermaid if you can, but
between ourselves, you are going to do a
very foolish thing. If not too late, break
it off. Adieu.' This letter was certainly
short but not saceet.
MY sister-in-law was native Of Nor
mandy, which implies, as we all know, that
she was extremely proud and she was be-
sides, virtuous, resolute, and especially head
strong. She never forgot this unfeeling
letter. and at heart she nourished deep
seated contempt for the writer. When,
therefore, her husband perished at sea-
when, without support, without hope for the
future-she found herself reduced to penu-
ary and in sickness, she determined to suffer
every thing, even death itself, rather than
seek my aid and she might have died with
out writing to me, without pardoning me,
but she was not alone in her destitution-
she had a child, lovely little girl, who lay
on the miserable bed with her dying mother,
daily wasting away, and enduring the pangs
of hunger with the resignation of an angel.
My sister-in-law loved her child with a
mothers doting fondness, and she soon saw
that if she would save its life, an effort
| must be made to soften the heart of the cru
ell brother She made the avowal to her
physician, kind-hearted and charitable
man, who had already ascertained that pow
erty was the trst disease to be cured, and
to this end he had contributed his small, but
insufficient aid, for he was nearly as poor as
his patient.
1t was this excellent man who took up
on himself the task of writing to me, and
on my arrival at Marseilles he was waiting
for me in the coach office yard. AS had
not replied to his letter, he had presumed,
in the simplicity of his heart, that l would
of course come. Generous hearts are al
ways thus influenced; they judge from them
selves, and believe in goodness. He has
tened to meet me, saying, "you have lost
no time, my dear sir; you foresaw that de-
lay would be equivalent to sentence of
DEATH God will reward you for the good
act This unmerited praise was bitter, but
l had not the magnanimity to say it was un-
deserved.
my first visit, which had determined
should be to the manager Of the theatre,
was made to my sister-in-law l found her
in the miserable garret of a dilapidated
house, situated in narrow street. with not
even ray of sunshine to cheer her lonely
hours. Near the bed, with it's scanty cov-
ering was a little girl-she had large and
lustrous eyes, arched eyebrows already
finely formed her hair profuse and in
careless ringlets, SO beautiful in childhood,
encircled regular features, full Of intelli-
gence, and stamped with that serious resig-
nation which early suffering gives to the
countenance Oh! how sweet was that
child, even then, and how eloquently her
thin pale cheek pleaded for her! [ gazed
upon her in silence-I began to feel that
there is in childhood an irresistible attrac-
ton, fascination which we feel and ac-
knowledge, although our hearts may have
been for a lifetime closed to every benevo-
lent or tender emotion.
81 longed to clasp the dear child in my
arms, but sordid avarice whispered, If yol
suffer yoatr heart to be touched qcith pity
gou are lost i, [ felt that [ should incur
obligations which during my whole life l
had studied to avoid. l should be compell-
ed to relieve effectually the accusing misery
which surrounded me. Like one who sees
an abyss at his feet I recoiled at the
thought. The benevolent physician could
not comprehend by detestable selfshness,
and he believed my strange demeanor the
effect of pity. The cold hesitation of a
miser at the sight of suffering he would
avoid, would fly from, he supposed it the
emotion of a softened heart. A melancholy
smile irritated his features. Approaching
me more closely, he pressed my hands in
his warmth, and said, The sight of SO
much misery, 1 see, affects you deeply. In
our profession, if we but do our duty, we
must become but too familiar with such
scenes you, however, are the only physi-
clan wanted here-let us 60 nearer We
went closer to the bedside. I was in a
cold sweat, for shame was at work at my
heart, and my mean and sordid subterfuges
tortured me.
"When my sister-in-law saw me so near
her bedside, she rose with difficulty, and sat
up in the bed, leaning upon the physician s
arm. There was visible in her countenance