Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1855-10-25
With a womnn,s tendsrnesh her henrt

/
came, who was NONE other than the woman
quietly, and in that soft, sweet voice of wo-
mar which none can resist, inquire if she
stood in need, or was she i'll, or was her sor.
row such that it could be relievedl A por-
! tion of the railing neat US was vacant, and
towards that, and almost at our side, these
two women came to converse. The stranger
was a fair, handsome girl OF about seventeen
years, neatly bu, coarssly dressed with shoes
not only well worn, but heavy and unsbted
as much for her sex as for the season. The
poor girl in honest simplicity, and with an
earnestness which despair alone could impart,
related her history uninterrupted by a single
observation from her companion but often
accompanied, by,,tears Of both. We have not
space Cor it at length, and we will give it,
changing its order just enough to enable
us to state it briefly.
She said that she was Born in Boston,
she had no brother or sister new; she remem-
bered that she had a sister the Oldest whose
name was Lizzie; that sister, years ago, a.
ganst her fathers will, had married ,and with
her husband, having been banished the
fathers sight, had gone off, and had not been
heard of snce-no doubt was Cead. At the
time ! f her sisters marriage, her parents
were wealthy; the pride which drove away
Lizzie had brought silent regrets, and after a
while came melancholy compl, inugs by the
mothers sighirg for the embrace of her first
born. These soon led to anger and crimina-
tons at home, and diss patton by the father
abroad. Losses came upon Them, and at last
gathering the few worldly goods they posses
sed, they left the proud city of their birth
and, settled, five years ago, upon land pnr-
chased from the Government in Wisconsin.
Her brothers, some older and some younger
than herself, one by one dropped and died;
and soon the mother, called in agony upon
her long exiled daughter, joined her boys in a
happier cline.
None were now left but the father and
this poor girl. He too was humbled, and
stricken by that slow but certain disease
which lights up the cheek, and fires the eye
with the biillancy OF health, even when its
victim is on the confines ofeterni,y; he would
sit and tell to his surviving child the acts Of
win ling love, and sacrificing devotion, which
had made his Lizzie the very subject of life
lie would talk of her sweet smiles, and her
happy disposition, until memory would lead
him to the hour when he bid her epart, and
not let him see her face again. His decline
was rapio, and this lone child saw the frs,
flower which the warmth of Spring had called
from the sol; of her mother's grave, disturbed.
uprooted, and thrown aside, that his ashes
mi hit minge with those of the mother of his
children. '..t'a - .'
At his death he charged her to pay off, as
far as she might be able, the debts incurred
to procure the necessaries of life; the land,
which for want of culture, had not incre ased
in value, was sold, and left her but few dol
lars. These she expended in rearing some
boards to mark the spot where had beenburied
one otter another, her beloved kindred. She
heard Of Chicago. She heard that this city
there were office where strangers wishing
employment could find work. She had on
foot travelled many miles, until she reached
Milwaukee, and thence by the kindness of a
poor sailor, who had seen her Cay after dav
upon the dock, watching the steamer depart,
had inq tired and ascertaned that she wished
to come hither, but had not the money. He
brought her to Chicago on his own vessel, land
and had told her that by crossing the bridge
she could find one of those places where
situations were givento worthy applicants
Such was her stUry. She had mentioned
no ngme except that Of father, mother, and
the endearing expectations of brother
George, Willie. etc Both of the women
were crying bitterly. The fashionable dress.
ed lady turned her face toward the river, that
her tears at such crowded and unusual place
might not be observed, She requested us to
take her two boys-George and Willie, she
called them--by the hand to keep them from
dang r, and then putting her arm around the
neck of the poor, triendless, wandering orphan
stranger, said, "You are my own sister, an
LIZZIE" ....
These two beings, children of the same
parents, how different have been their paths
and how deep thtir sufferings! We hav,
| seen them together in "Lizzie's" carriage
driving along Lake street. Thoy are doubt
less as happy as their bereavements, relieves
only by the consciousness of duty faithfully
performed, can permit. But while the suffer
ing of that father ard mother may be family
known oy the story oi lhe oauShter, "ha
mnsl have been the mental agony of tina
other daughter, unkindy banished from he
mothers side, and driven ont into the worl'
without latler's blessing! What have beer
her grief when her letters, written from
prosperous city from the house OF her wealth!
and king husband, telling them of her success
and of the birth OF her children, were un
noticed and unanswered! She must have fel
indeed that the hearts of that father an
mother, her sister and brothers must hav
Deen hardened against her. We will say NJ
more. That scene will live in our memory
while we can remember the holy love o
father, mother, and kindred.
n A DISCOV cry.
A - al ihirfann nranaaifiana Ia nnin1