Eastern times., 1855-05-10


osity, loved poor girl, the portionless daugh-
ter of naval officer, whose interested con-
nections and ofiicious friends all opposed the
union, did not he, from across the wide ocean,
send, himself, not merely his appreciation of
the destined marriage, but portion for the
destitute bride, / never saw him. continued
Mrs. Leslie, in lower tone than that which
had been dictated by her enthusiastic recollec-
tion of her benefactor's goodness ; but night
and morning have prayed for him, and night
and morning, do my poor children join in
these prayers; and my dear husband, amongst
his latest words
Did he pray for the uncle who seemed to
have forgotten hint asked the old man, his
voice half stifed with emotion. Look,
Margaret, added he, stripping up his sleeves
and showing deep scar extended diagonaly
across his left arm this scar was received
from the knife with which his furious and
frantic step-father was pursuing William Les
lie. am Michael Norris. You do not dis
dain to acknowledge the cripple who comes to
your door hungry and ragged. Here, too,
said he, taking from his pocket bundle of
papers, are characters that you we'll know
Tearfully, yet joyfully, the warm-hearted
and grateful Margaret returned the embraces
of her venerable kinsman, presented her three
children TO him, one by one, and replied to his
questions as TO their change of circumstances.
1t needed few words TO tell the story
Nothing is more rapid than descent. The
rolling of a stone down hill is true type of
falling fortune. Taking advantage of long
illness with which William Leslie was aflict-
ed, his partner engaged in desperate specula-
tions. They failed. The rash speculator alb
seconded, and William remained bankrupt,
without friend or resource. Honest to the
last, his wife resigned her small settlement to
satisfy the creditors. His debts being paid,
he tried every means of living, and whilst he
had retained his health had supported his fam
lily by persevering industry; but fever, oc-
casioned by over exertion, had come on his
constitution, impaired by anxiety and labor,
ldu utGu uudOIO " ICSiSt tuC dltdCh, dtiu SilCS
that period the wife, who had been the faith
full partner of his cares and his tolls, had at
least so far succeeded as 10 maintain her
children without the assistance Of charity,
whether public or private.
Why not have written TO me when this
bankruptcy took place 2 enquired the uncle.
A lae Ioor I lad hal, he, 1.of, hat
terrible hurricane; in which,
In which, said the old man, filling up,
with stern composure, the sudden pause that,
from mixture Of deicacy and sympathy, had
arrested Margaret Leslie's words in which
the plantation where resided was laid waste,
my house leveled with the ground, and my
wife, with four helpless children, in the ruins !!
In striving to rescue them, this thigh strik-
ing the limb with hazel twig, this thigh
was broken: | owe my preservation to the
gratitude of an emancipated negro; but for
months, for years, all my life, all nature was
a blank before me l have sometimes won
dered how could have survived such blow,
for what purpose l was spared! The doubt
was sinful, and finds its rebuke, its thrice mer-
cinui reUuke. in this piissrui hour. rou neard,
dear Margaret! Poor William heard Of
themr
I'VE were sure that something must have
gone amiss, from receiving no reply TO the let
ter which announced the birth of our boy, and
claimed your promise of standing godfather at
christening. William did not like TO write
again upon such an occasion; it would have
seemed like encroaching upon your too gener-
Gus spirit. But when the news Of that awfu.
hurricane arrived, and Nicholas Hume and the
Collinses made inquiries in London, and as
certained that your plantation, had, indeed,
been amongst those laid waste, then your si-
lence was too well explained | heard this
sad news first, for it arrived during the dread
ful illness which preceded my husband s
bankruptcy. And when he regained so much
breathing time after his own mlsfortunes as to
ask news of you, no tidings could be obtained
all trace of you seemed lost. 0, that he had
lived to see this day! His will be done
But, o, that my poor husband had lived to see
once more the kinsman that he loved SO well =
The old man pressed her hand in speechless
emotion, and Margaret, smiling through her
tears, went on:
you must live with us, dear uncle, and we
shall wait upon you and work for you, and be
happy togelher-as happy as we can be with
out him-after all. My Annie is good girl.
o, such good girl and pretty, is she not
dear uncel And poor Michael, your name
sake, is boy of thousand. We have had
much to be thankful for. Farmer Rogers, the
overseer, whose books my husband kept, (lit-
tie Michael keeps them now, as well, the
farmer says, as his father did,) supplied us
with milk twice day. Mrs. Lacelles, the
rector's wife, employs Annie and me constant
ly in needle work for her large family; and il
we can but keep our pretty cottage-if we can
keep that cottage at whose porch poor Will
liam planted the honey-suckle and the China
rose. and the vine which now covers the thatch
that cottage where we worked and wept to-
gether, and where he died the death of the
righteous, if we can but live together there.
within sight of the turf that covers his dear
remains. / should ask for nothing better on