The morning star and Catholic messenger. [volume] (New Orleans [La.]) 1868-1881, 1868-02-16

were divided between grief for the old land |
and anxiety for the new. Among tho little |
band of emigrants was one woman, who |
seemed more destitute, and miserable, and
hiendless. than any of the others. She was
still young but her cheeks were pale and
sunken, and her dark eyes had Q wild, de-
spairing look.
She had a child, an infant, which she kept
so closely folded in her shawl that no one,
as yet, had seen it's face or heard it's tender
voice.
The passengers held but little intercourse
with her, for having at first repealed all at
tention che now seemed inclosed by sense
of loneliness, SO that no one cared to intrude
upon her sorrows.
There was one person, however, among
the e1iles, who felt for the sick and lonely
woman, and who still strovc to win her con-
fidence, and comfort her distress.
Ellen Fitzgerald moved among the poor
cmigrants with a smile for every JOY, and a
tender word for every sorrow. So gentle
| were her manners, and SO winning every
word she said, that many of that humble
band thought she must be of the quality"
But our heroine belonged, like them, to the
humble class; only her father had been a
scholar-even more, poet, and She had IN
herited from him q love for all that is good
and beautiful, and all the knowledge that
I he had thought fitted to her sex and youth
One evening, finding Nora seated as usual,
with her sleeping babe folded to her breast,
while her dark eyes gazed sadly and wildly
out upon the unbroken waters, Ellen asked
her kindly to let her hold the child awhile.
lam sure you must be tired, Nora, for
you have not laid the baby out of your arms
4 to-day. Come, let me have the little dear,
for love to hold the innocent creatures
near my heart"
i There came no answer from tho lonely
woman before her; and Ellen's heart was
tied upon Morals face.
"Come, give me the child, Nora. 1t is
, no trouble, you know, to hold one as good
and quiet as yours. do not think have
/ ever heard it cry
She stopped as she spoke, and tried to
draw the infant from its mothers arms, but
Nora repulsed her quickly, saying, in a low
, voice: -
'Ns' You do not know what you ask, miss.
The likes Of you ought not to be speaking
to me-:ny boy has no father!"
- This was said very differently from her
!. usual gloomy ..1d defiant manner, but mag
ming that Ellen shrank from h. as she
uttered the last words, she burst out in an
. SSow take the child il you will. LIE,
: me see if you will put down your pride tc
hold n poor, innocent child"
, She held it up toward Ellen with threat
ening. flashing eye;z-but seeing that the
: young girl received it with open arms, and
loving smile, she fell back upon her stool
ove4 come by Ellen's gentleness, and al
alive to her own bitter shame.
, BuIying her face in her shawl, she walled
q low and piteous cry.
:, Ellen spoke caressingly to the baby il
her arms, while her low, musical voic'
seemed to soothe the weeping mother; TO
gradually her sobs died away, and after
moments quiet she said:
:, 81 have seen how kind and good you wer
to all, our poor people, niss<=-talking to thi
one, helping another, and singing for tina
a poor, sick boy, who will-never- reach tn
other side of the water; but oh, did no
A think you could have had a kind word 70
such n wretched thing as myself"
Il She looked at her boy, fondly nestled il
d Ellen's arms, and the old look Of pain an
IF sorrow slowly faded from her face.
"Have you Friendship America" inquire
y Ellen, in a kindly tone.
4 chad one sister there but she will no
e take me in now"
d Oh the deep deep sadness of the poo
8 woman,s answer X $50