Monmouth weekly herald. [volume] (Freehold, N.J.) 1854-1860, 1855-02-14
VAL And BUSINESS DRECT0RS AIM TO ASE TO NSRUCT 70 BEN

us within the Narrows, when steamboat
hove In sight to take US to the city. We
had been telegraphed, and all expected
| friends. The poor widow, who hal been
invited, as a mark of respect, to take her
place, when she chose, on the quarter
deck, came to me, and asked If did not
think her brother might be on board ? [
told her that perhaps he did not know
when she was coming; but when the boat
drew alongside, and she looked hurriedly
over the mass Of strange faces, she appear
ed much disappointed. l suggested to
her that she might not know him after an
absence OF SO many years. Oh, yes |"
said she, in surprise. He was a brave
lad, and as handsome as. We ever saw.
Poor fellow the day before he went away,
he took out of his earnings, and bought
me this ring. Isn't it very pretty ?" Il
could not deny the beauty of brothers
gift, plain as it was, though it doubtless
shone as brightly in her eyes as if it were
set with diamonds. AS the news-boats
came round us when we entered the har-
Dor, the simple hearted woman was on
the lookout for her brave lad" in each
of them, little thinking that by this time
ne was grown into care-worn man.
1t was night-fall when the ship rounded
to the wharf; and the officers of customs
forbade us to remove our luggage until
the next morning. Before / left the yes
sci, | looked about, among the hurry and
confusion, for the friendless woman and
her children; and it was some time before
| found her, sitting in one corner of the
dark Storage, with one of her children
sleeping in her lap, and the elder weeping
in sympathy with her mothers grief by
her side. She had hitherto borne her
trials with wonderful composure; but the
sense of her utter forlornness in strange
land, with no one to care for her or her
fatherless children, was too much for her
broken spirit, and she sobbed aloud /
could do nothing for her; I could only
get promise from the captain To sec that
some temporary provision should be made
for her, ii no friends appeared and | STEP
ped ashore more thankful | trust than
before, for the home to which / was COM
ing.
Some will read this simple narrative,
perhaps, and feel an increased sympathy
for the suffering condition of the English
poor, which, even under such circumstan-
ces, makes them seek an asylum three
thousand miles across the sea. Some will
see in it only beautiful exhibition of fe-
male consistency and attitude But there
is deeper moral STILL 1t only nnfolds
another page in that great record of sin,
and sorrow, and shame, caused by the
damning vice of intemperance. 1t is but
a story of everyday life. The contrast
between the happy peasant girl in her
lvied cottage and the desolate widow,
homeless and forsaken, weeping at night
over her fatherless children in a strange
land, is a contrast that is presented on al
most every page of that accursed volume.
Many sad record, indeed, has been wash
ed out by the tears of timely repentance;
but the volume Is not yet full While the
thirst for gain shall prompt man to PAN
der to his brothers appetites, and while
an absurd custom maintains its cruel ty-I
ranny, there are many dark pages yet to
be written.
1t was a great relief to me- next morn
ing, on going down to the ship, to hear
that a well-clad, honest-looking fellow
had presented himself at the gangway as
her brother, and had taken her to his own
home. What has become Of her since, I
have no means of knowing.