Daily evening star. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1852-1854, 1853-05-30

poor soul /! she feels bad because am to
leave her, l suppose and really could
hardly be more attached to my own mo-
ther."
Happening to go down stairs, as her
foot was on the threshold of the parlor
door, she was arrested by s1nothered sob
bing. Her nurse was standing before the
portrait of Rose, as she was when little
child of five years. ~2.s
80! it's hard, it's hard" she sobbed,
wringing her hands with all the abandon
of grief and me her own mother
And yet I wouldn't spoil her pleasure,
poor child I'd die first-and / wouldn't
bear the pain of my own refusing me-
O! why didn't l die, and be put in the
coffin with you, Dennis why, my Father,
didn't die when did the cruel deed p
But hush, hush didn't | save her pre-
cious life! Havn't Lseen her day by day
all the years after Isn't it blessed Just
to be servant to creature so beautiful
Such proud, glad, happy creature, with
all her wealth, is my own darling; may
the holy angels" z.
Turning, she uttered wild shrek,
for, looking almost ghastly in her sudden
anguish, Rose Ringold stood, as if trans
fixed to marble. But with str6ng ef-
fort, the noble girl checked her pride. cg
Don't be frightened, nurse sit down,
dear nurse she said calmly, so calmly
that her white lips hardly moved: AZ
had dream just now, that was not per-
haps all dream" She shook the curls
from her pale face, pressed her hands to-
gether, and continued
81 have not had such thoughts for
years /; but seemed little, happy child
on the deck Of a vessel. 1t comes to me,
now, all comes back to my heart. The
bright, handsome woman that I called
mother the dear old people who loved
me so the crowds of uncouth, but hon.
est men and women: the last time was
pressed to her heart my cries after ma
ma: my grief for her, lasting days,
weeks, even years my adaptation to
home of splendor, and consequent forget
fullness of child's deep sorrow, Aud
now look at you." she continued with
a sweet smile, taking the trembling hand
in hers, II remember more for to my
inmost heart comes the memory of my
mothers face, changed, yet oh! the sameq
Her eyes were blue and bright; yours
are blue and faded. Her cheek was richly
colored yours is pale and sunken. But
oh / feel you are the same you are my
mother; am your child; why did you
not tell me before 2" And winding her
arms about that neck, as the weary head
laid on her bosom, she whispered; ssdidT Z
you think should be ashamed of you 2
ashamed Of her who bore me! Mother,
you did me injustice were / twice. the
naughty one have been, could not be
so lost to humanity. From this moment
you are, my loved and honoreds parent
Oh! tell me why you have not always,
been so !! l thought some great tie bound
ns." II a 2if'1F' DhS!''2' Sh'
And she was told all-in few and bro 5
ken words, for the mothers heart, .strong
though it was, could hardly bear this
excess of joy. -. -. - .,
When she narrated how like guardian
angel she had hovered about her, bearing
her through disease from which few!
recover, and with her love and care pre-
serving her beauty; guarding her in her
humble capacity from immoral taint, the
whole soul of the daughter melted before
such wonderful heroisln; she could have
bathed her very feet in tears of love and
humiliation. -. e-af-~ ----.~--~-
Sufficient to say that she from that
hour, henceforth, as bride, wife, and
parent, treated her mother with almost
holy veneration; and her husband united
in making her earthly father as happy as
mortal could desire. The little emigrant
lives yet, honored and respected; and in
the most sacred niche for her household
treasures hang clumsy little pair of
child's shoes, and frock, unique, an
cient, and worn with change and age.