Daily evening star. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1852-1854, 1853-04-11
THE WIDOW AND THE ORPHAN.
BY B. G.. STAPLES.
"From lawless insult to defend
An orphans rights."-Coavper.

From laWIess insult to defend
An orphans rights. .'-Cowper.
Fast fell the rain upon the pavement
without; the ightnings flashed wildly in
the heavens, and the deep thunder rolled
fearfully. Not star was visible in the
blackened canopy on the night when the
orphan Emeline is introduced to our read
ers A dim light burns lazily in the abode
of the young girl, and the embers are fast
dying out on the cold and cheerless hearth.
1t is sad picture which is presented to
the mental vision on looking in upon the
home of the widow and the orphan.
Madam Esling, who lies on rude couch
in the corner of the room, was once q love-
ly woman, but the hand of grief has scared
all that was bright and beautiful, and the
face, once round, is now pale and wan.
But ny story at present relates not so
much to the scenes of the past life, as to
present scenes enacted in their chequered
pathway. l am constrained, therefore, to
content myself with mere recapitulation
of some which dwell in the shadowy past.
Enos Esling, who sleeps in the silence of
the grave, was once possessed of influence
and wealth, but, at an early age, he had
created-by his association with the gay
and frivolous an appetite for spurious
liquors.
Ills hardly necessary to say, he fell!
From the first glass, his course was down
ward, until, bereft of friends, and even the
necessities of life, he died, leaving heart
broken widow and the sweet Emeline.
have said it was fearful night THAT of
Dec, 49, as we find our heroine bending
over her knitting with flushed cheeks.
Yes, and not less cheerless than the cold
hearth-stone was the heart of the poor or
phan. At first, when all around seemed
fraught with misery, tears would gush up
from her hearts recess, and through her
tears would come ray of hope; but not SO
now.
'Alas! alas !" she would oft exclaim,
''for me there is no guardian angel In vain
have strove to soothe my aching heart by
whispering, there still is hope; but that
day has past. Through the dark vista of
the future, [ can see but one doom-but one
fate-and that is starvation %
Start not gentle reader, but look around
you and contemplate the misery, woe and
death on all sides. Many there are, even
In your native place, I care not how small
village it may be- who are worse off, if
inquiry was made, than these.
Emeline arose from her seat; her task
was finished, and she laid it aside. Cross
ing the room to where her mother Law
wrapped in troubled sleep, she impressed
a warm and passionate kiss on feyered
brow; but it was the kiss of despair.
The poor woman started, and opening
her eyes, gazed up into her daughters
pallid face.
"Come to bed, Emeline; you look weak
and worn out. Come, my daughter, and
lie beside your mother tonight, perhaps
for the last time. I am fast failing.
know that shall soon look no more into
that beautiful face, so pale with care and
watching.
'Speak not so, mother. God may still
spare you to me yet little while longer. I
have finished the work Mrs. Dennison sent
me to-day, and on the morrow snail take
it to her,"
With this, the young girl turned and
preparing herself for slumber.
she had quietly sank, overcome