Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1850-1854, 1854-08-11
From the Little Pilgrim.
Mittie, the Blind Girl.
BY MARY IRVING.

happy eyes that He has given to drink in
the pleasant sunshine, the beauty of the
flowers, the glory of the rainbow. and the
sweetness of your dear mothers smile!
Listen no to a story of child to whom
He never gave eyes to look upon any of
these beautiful things.
1t was on sunshiny morning-some-
where in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean
that a gentleman, whom sea-sickness
had imprisoned in his state room since
the first roll of the ship, took courage
from cup of coffee and the calmness of
the sea. to crawl upon deck. As he stood
at the head of the narrow stairway, clutch
ing rope to support his tottering steps
he heard glad child's laugh. Looking
up he saw little girl, about five years
old, quiet at her ease, on the turning and
rolling floor, trying to Jump rope" with
a knotted end of ship rigging which had
been given her by an old sailor. The
brisk breeze had frightened her cheeks,
and curled her flowing hair in no very or
DERBY manner Mr.. l.. thought of his
own little daughter over the ocean, and
his eyes filled
Come to me my dear!" he kindly call
ed reaching his hand to the child
She stopped her play, looked up as
though half frightened, half astonished !;
and then began carefully to creep towards
the outstretched hand. He lifted her to
his lap and kissed her coral lips.
"Whose little girl are you" he inquir-
ed.
'rm nobody's little girl" she replied,
in a touching tone. "Only God takes
care of me and sometimes Captain -
"How, where is your mammal"
mamma is Burrampooter, Pm not her
little girl any more" here tear rolled
down her cheek. 'I'm going to New
York" she said ito be uncle's little girl.
But New York is great way off, isn't it
sir?"
"Not very long way my child-you
will soon see your uncle!'
Il can't see, sir" she said, softly.
Mr.. l.. started and looked down into
those bright, dark, intelligent eyes. Alas!
it was too true! they were darkened win
dows, through which the soul could never
look!
"Mittie! hey, Mittie!" called a bluff voice
as the captains vanished hat appeared
from behind the mast. "Eh, birdie, what
new nest have you found"
With start and bound, Mittie Jump
ed into his rough arms, and laid her cheek
upon the shoulder of his shaggy coat
sleeve.
$50 no, shipmate," continued the cap
tain, addressing Mr.. L.. you are aloft at
last. Nothing like stiff nor'wester for
taking the starch out of you landsfolk, :"
and he laughed.
But this little girl, Captain /, how
happens she to be alone on the wide
world of waters?"
Cant say" returned the captain, with
adubious shake of his shining hat, she's
a stray waif that I picked up on the Liv-
erpool docks. Don't know her belong
ings; she was labelled for New York. it
seems. Her name-what'S the balance
of it, sea bird?" he asked.
"Mittie Wythe Hamilton" lispcd the
child, who had already found her way
back to her bit of rope and sat against
the ships railing, tossing up her hands
at every new dash of spray. Il was named
for Uncle Wythe, and he told mamma to
send me-" Her face clouded for an IN
slant, then frightened again in the sun
shine.
Poor blind pet SO far as l can make
out her story from one thing and anoth-
er, she is the child of missionaries in India.
Poor creatures they could not bring her
over themselves and dare say she was
getting no good in that heathenish land,
so it seems they put her in charge of an
English lady. name I've forgotten, who
set out to join her husband somewhere
in Canada. But she sickened and died
before the barque Sally reached England,
and the poor thing was left friendleSs and
helpless. What the captain and mate of
the Sally were thinking of, don't know;
but they put the child on dry land, with
the balance of the passengers and set sail
without so much as looking up a New
York packet Alone in Liverpool, and
it's no place for blind child. sir, to- say
nothing of one that's got eyes-I found
her, amusing herself pretty much as you
see her now, with bits Of chips, at the
corner Of a shipyard! How the creature
had lived, | can't say. Pll believe after
this, shipmate, there's God in the sky,
who as she says, keeps watch over little
children, if He don't over us grown up
sinners! 1t seems she had never wanted
for birth nor a mess. i want to go to
New York she would say to every stran-
ger who spoke to her | couldn't have
left the little thing-but | don't know
where Pm taking her. If can't anchor
her safely, III keep her for first mate of
the Down; hey, sea-bird"
"What could you do with in that ter
rible storm off Cape Clear? | shudder
to recollect that night y
'Well, sir, while you were lying flat on
your back and the rest of us hurrying,
hauling and pulling hither and thither,
working for dear life against the wind
and waves the pretty creature was roll
ing about the cabin floor, clapping her
hands as though she were in apple tree
swing, and found it capital fun. When |
tumbled down to my locker for five min
ute's rest, found her on her knees in
her little night-wrap, saying, Our Faith
err and felt sure no storm would sink
the ship with HER on it!''
IOoE hoIlef VI hllJle. NOW neF nedTI
was wrung at sending her blind, trusting
child from her arms! But her brother
in America had written. telling her that
he would provide for Mittie-poor sight
less Mittie, who could learn little in that
uncivilized world. So, with many tears
and prayers that missionary mother had
packed her Mittie's small trunk and
placed her in the care of a friend-the
English lady before mentioned-to be
transported to our country. What but
a mothers prayer guarded the helpless
darling in her lonely wanderingS7
On arriving in New York, Captain
land Mr.. L--made inquiry