Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1858-12-21

on trading vessel to Ceylon, IN search of a bet
ter climate. We went to the mountainous re-.
gious of that tropical island, near the city of
Handy, where the air is cool, and to most peo-
pie healthier than other parts Of India. There
we lived many months in comparative quiet,
but fever again overlook her who was the moth
er of your child, and though she fingered long
and suffered much no human means could re-.
store her. Her moral sensibilites became more
acute as she failed in strength, and with the loss
of hope of recovery she became anxiously dis
tressed to secure the restoration of her dear lit
tie child to its bereaved father.
She was incessant in exacting promises from
me that, if lived, E. should be taken or sent
back safely to you From these demands had
no wish to escape My only anxiety was to do
anything in my power to afford small consola.
ton, in the strongest assurances could make,
that her wishes should be carried out although,
after the mother was gone from me forever, the
poor child became dearer to ne. She was all
had LETT. Yet, as | had promised her poor
mother, and as that mother had sacrificed the
world and every ythipg on earth for my sake, l had
not the slightest thought or wish to neglect the
discharge of the responsible, and, to me, fearful
duty During ell her last illness she regretted
having brought the child away; but having
then much hope OF the happiness we might en-
| JOY, and anxious to be less alone in the world,
she could never think of leaving E. behind,
claiming, as her mother, that she had stronger
personal right to a daughter than its father
whom she was about TO leave forever.
After this sad and dreadful time constantly
and anxiousy sought an opportunity to send the
child to you, or her grandfather's family, where
you would eventually obtain her. My object
was TO find some good, trusty woman, or fam
ily going to America but snch chance never
offered, in a single instance.
Before go further, Or into still more painful
results, l beg you will allow me to say that
have spoken of the anxiety of O., and her con-
stant efforts to renew my promise to her, and
which were repeated only two days before her
death, in the hope that you will exercise more
charity towards her memory. Let me trust that
you will do so, and think and feel less severely
towards her. She paid bitter penalty for all
the outrage that was committed upon you. In
her last illness she spoke often feengy and ten.
derly of you, with how much regret need not
say, but wishing to acknowledge to me that you
had always treated her kindly and carefully, aud
that on her and myself alone rested the respon-
sibjity OF that now fatal separation.
You will have perceived ere this that have
yet more to communicate, and of still sadder
character, to you. have written purposely in
the ''past tense" as it were, in order that you
may be less suddenly drawn to the anticipation
of my unhappy narrative, as | cannot write but
once, for obvious reasons. And now comes the
most painful part of my duty.
| hardly dare tell you how cruelty severe the
poor child took the death of her mother. She
never forgot it. Although her own health was
always delicate, and she suffered much, yet from
this time she seemed to become more sensitive,
and grew weaker as she grew older and taller.
But were it not for the concurrence of what is to
follow, should not have attempted to write
you until E. was within your reach, and on the
point of being restored to you-perhaps not e ven
then.
As | before stated, failing to fiud any suitable
opportunity that could trust to take her safe TO
you, at last started with her myself, determined
to risk going to England for the purpose, there
to seek some married pair of emigrants to whom
| could trust her, or employ suitable person to
go with her. She had been very i'll before start
ing, but thought her Sufficiently recovered, and
her physician thought she would risk nothing in
going to sea but unfortunately all my hopes in
this last effort were doomed to the same blight
that has thus far followed Inc. A relapse set in
Ou SOlBH W Scd, duu, IOWCfCl inuOH l ~ 6iS1'SN
it, it was too late to retrace or return. The ship
had been out several days--a week-when we
were met by dreadful gale, such as the Indian
ocean alone can exhibit, and we were driven be-
fore a hurricane tor six days and nights. Most
of the sails, and one of the masts were carried
away, and although nearly shipwrecked were
driven back from 1900 to 1900 miles, when we
found more favorable weather. | mention this
rn chn,u bn,v uttnrlv it Ofm DOw1r
10 help or relieve the poor suffering child. The
effect of the storm was only injurious; and, to
make the sad tale short, this dear charge, whom
was anxious to restore to friends who could
bring her up proper y-to her father, to watch
over her-died in mid ocean, many hundred
miles from any land and there was no alterna-
tive, no hope, but to coutorm to the Gust IN
the necesSity-and much as it pains me TO state
it, the sea became her tomb.
This occurred on the 10Th of July, lS5s. The
uncertainty OF the time required for the passage
of trading vessels, such as this one on which
write, will, | fear, cause much delay before this
reaches you.
might stop here; you may say that l have
tortured you enough; but am not lost to all
sense of propriety feeling or duty, notwithstand-
ing all my sins against You, to say nothing OF
the violation of the most sacred ties OF life
God knows that | feel it deeply and awtully. l
have debated long and arXiously in my own
mind whether | ought to re-open wound in
your heart which can never heal but feeling, as
do severely, that suspense is the oruelest OF all
conditions, that certain evil, even fatality, is
better than hopeless uncertainty, and that this
sad avowal is all | can do--all the reparatloE
can make-I have been induced for these rea-
sons to write. 1t is better that you know 1t
than remain for life in uncertain suspense. An
intelligent English sailor to whom l had shown
some kindness in the far-of and almost savage
land in which have resided for the last year,
has promised to convey this letter to some Eu-
ropean seaport and mail il there. He also has
undertaken to get the two deaths advertised in
some English or American newspaper, so that in
case this letter never reaches you, her friends
may not always remain ignorant Of her fate
now think best to address this to the mcst
probable person can think of to know your
present place of abode. | mean your father,
where he, or some OF your brothers in Wiscon-
sim will be most likely to find it, as | shall en-
close to him, with an urgent request that be will
send it to you, wherever you may be. But
must ever remain in uncertainty as to wbeth
er it ever reaches you, or indeed, whether you
are in the land of the living. AS to my own
family and former friends, | have no wish to
recall myself to their memory. And to poor
Cs. outraged parents DO not dare address my
self.
If this ever meets your eyes, let me beg of you
to believe, however much have outraged your
feelings and bghted your life, ever had tile
strongest regard tor your high moral worth, and
your Integrity and goodness Of heart and the
bitterest reflection ! Eave ever been made to
feel so tar, has been the anguish aud regret OF
having forfeited your former good opinion for
ever and now the ruin have brought upon all,
and the fate that has fallen to me by the decree
of a inst Providence comes heavier and more