Raftsman's journal. [volume] (Clearfield, Pa.) 1854-1948, 1855-11-21
CLEARFIELD. WEDNESDAY. NOV. 81. 1856:

"SiS sHIhSHj iieT eyes SecEheu OoHDle Intlr
natural size, and of deeper color; the mouth
was seemingly swolon, whilst the lips parted
/ slRggishly from the dark crust-coyered teeth.
i With great effort she said; ssOh l am glad
you have come back to me-do try to save
mei' ags4ei sssIs5ss f12e7 sssrt+si
Poor. child. her dark tongue was so thicl,
and dry that her words were scarcely intelligi-
BILE. 1 fel. her pulse: it was very rapid, and
the blood felt thin like water fnthe easily-com-
pressed vein. Death was at its work in the
young and innocent! r,-sas f
! Sending the nurse from the room, quickly
took the young girls hand within my own
stEmily," said to her, '.do You really wish
/ to liver" eyes, yes,'' she distinctly mur-
mere,d 81 am very young-toe youngto die!''
'sThen, dear child, tell me, what. has shocked
your nervous system so terribly--tell me-"
i With strength that startled me, she searci,-
ed under the mattress side, and placed small
note in my hand. 1t was slightly discolored,
| as though by time. L opened it; the date was
over twelve years back. 1t ran
"When you receive this, Mira, my career
viii have ended. By my death You viii inher-
1 it all. Let my unborn child have just legal
/ claim. Your child, Emily take to your
home, as though it were an adopted orphan
Let not her youth be blightcd by the knowl-
edge OF her unblest birth. l forgive you
| Alden for ever.-H. To-
! Ny God! the doomed child was illcgitimate
stopped down and kissed the sufferers fore
! head, and promised l would be father to her.
Come whispered, sscheer up; your moth
| er, if she has sinned, has suffered much for
| your sake-forgive her.
~ do forgive her, she answered; sSbut
could forget myself, unblessed as am? But
must live to know the truth Oh where is
the right owner of all this wealth. Ny mem
ory returns now indistnctly from my early
days; all seems in a cloud; but I remember :
small cottage deep wood, where my mo 9th
| er often came to see me, and a tall woman
who took care of me; then gay carriage took
me to large house; but never went back to
| the wood again. There mother left NE long
! time, and when she came back-Oh, doctor,
can speak no more; do give me something to
strengthen me, and will yet try to live -: -:
A cordial was administered by my own
hands, and in a short time sleep came over
her. Night again closed in; the wind had
gone down as the sun set. Another night Of
cold was ushered in. Woe to thepoor! Woe
to the hungry and freless!
The wretched mother stillretained her room.
BY night-watch and fast, and heart-corroding
memories, her energies had been suddenly
snapped. Pride and passion, so long her friends,
had now deserted hers leaving every heart
agony deeply linegraven on her faded coun-
tenance. In all my life had never seen such
wreck The proud look of self-possession
was gone, snppliant detection filing every fea-
ture the naughty carriage bowed beneath a
weight, as though long years had robbed the
muscles of their strength and plant mould.
Her voice, but of late so charged with rcpress
ed impulse, was low, and every word
spoken with melancholy siowness, that but
too often becomes the forerenner of some
great life-change.
AS | entered late in the evening, l found her
sitting in an easy -char near the fire. A small
private secretare had been brought from the
| library to her chamber; its lid was down, and
as seated myself she took from a package of
tied letters sealed parcel and placed it in
my hand.
'sRead this, docter, at your leisure. Ny
pilgrimage of time is near ended. You will
judge how great my sin, and how severe my
punishment has been. ask no forgiveness,
for there aoiH be none left 10 Jorgire me. But
charity of feeling beg from you; for would
not like to die knowing that you would retain
a severity of thought against one who, how
ever errng, had paid the forfeit by great suf-
fering''
She spoke for some minutes longer, in the
same low, distinct voice. Well 1 knew her
heartwas nigh crushed Isoon left her and
sought her daughters chamber. How still ev-
cry thing seemedl The very candle with its
| long flame parted by the thckened wick-char,
seemed not to flicker as it burnt on !! 1 look
ed at the bed; the sweet girl lay with both
hands crossed upon her bosom, as though in
prayer. An orange blossom had dropped
from her grasp ad lay neglected by her side.
Her life hand never touched it more. j pla-
ced its stem gently back in her palm for
death had claimed her as his bride
| A wild piercing shrek sounded through the
| house the erring mother now knew that she
was alone in the worlds
Whilst the shrouding of the dead took place
l retired to my room in the house, and OPEN
ed the sealed package. I briefly told its tale
of sin and sorrow. How from first love Emily
was the fruit; and how, unknown to all, the
child had been secreted. That about three
years after the birth, she was married to Har-
old Il, whom she never loved and how,
by singular accident, the knowledge Of her