Eastern times., 1855-11-08

companion, but often accompaniedby the tears
of both. We have not space for 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 no,o; she remembered
that she had sister, the Oldest, whose name
was Lizzie that sister, years age, against her
fathers will, had married, and with her hus-
band, having been banished the fathers sight,
had gone off, and had not been heard of since
mo doubt was dead. At the time of her sis
ter's marriage her parents were wealthy; the
pride which drove Lizzie away had brought
silent regrets, and after while came melan-
choly complainings by the mother, signing for
the embrace of her first born. These soon led
to anger and ordinations at home, and dssi-
patien by the father abroad. Losses came up
on them, and at last, gathering the few worldly
goods they possessed, they left the proud city
of their birth, and settled FIVE years ago, upon
land purchased of the government, in Wiscon-
sin. Her brothers, some older, and some
younger than herself, one by one drooped>and
died and soon the mother, calling in agony
upon her long exied daughter, joined her boys
in happier cline. None were now left but
the father and this poor girl. He 100 was
humbled, and stricken by that slow but certain
disease which lights up the cheek, and fires
the eye with the brillancy of health, even
when its victim is on the confines of eternity :;
he would sit and tell TO his surviving child the
acts of winning love, and sacrificing devotion,
which had made his Lizzie the very object Of
his life. He would talk of her sweet smiles,
and her happy disposition, until memory would
lead HIM TO the hour when he babe her depart
and not let him see her face again. His de-
cline was rapid, and this lone child saw the
first flowers which the warmth of spring had
called from the soil of her mothers grave, dis
turbed, uprooted and thrown aside, that his
ashes might mingle with those of the mother
of his children. 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 increased in value, was sold, and left her
but few dollars. These she expended in
rearing some boards to mark the spot where
she had seen buried, one after another, her be-
loved kindred. She had heard of Chic1go-
She had heard that in this city, there were Of
fees where strangers wishing employment,
could find work. She had on foot travelled
many miles, until she had reached Milwaukee,
and thence by the kindness of poor sailor,
who had seen her day after day on the dock,
watching the steamers depart, had inquired
and ascertained that she wished to come hither
but had not the money. He brought her to
Chicago on his own vessel, and had told her
that by crossing the bridge, she could find one
of those places, where situations were given
to worthy applicants.
Such was her story. She had mentioned
no name but that of father, mother, and the
endearing appellations of brother George
'Willie,' &c. Both of the women were cry
ing bitterly. The fashonaby dressed lady
turned her face towards the river, that her
tears, at such crowded and unusual place,
might not be observed. She requested US to
take her boys-George and Willie as she
called them-by the hand, TO keep them from
danger, and then, putting her arm around the
neck of the poor, friendless, wandering orphan
stranger, said, You are my own sister. lam
Lizzie