The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1870-04-22

I 1t is well for U.S. over-confdent, over-ex
ultant, as we are, that the great seethine
bubbling, roaring ocean of the world show
up to our sight, now and then, a stray wal
from its under currents. We see bette
then how slight is humanity; how frai
human life, human love, human interest.
Another combing wave, and perchance our
Dark may be struck, and the next billov
sweep us forever out of sight.
Some of the first serious thoughts of m,
life were connected with one of those waif
OF humanity who come from shadow-la lane
and leave no trace when they slip out O.
existence; and during the years since, time
after time has my path been crossed by
them. Was she ever pretty? Had sht
ever any mother2 How came she there
Such were the questions I asked my child
lsh fancy concerning an old woman who
sometimes came from the district "pool
house" to ask charity of my mother.
knew her only as "Miss Nancy" and, after
all those long years, her figure rises UP
before me as plainly as though it were
but yesterday she sat beside our HEARTH
Tall, but bent with years, always draped in
a long plaid cloak that concealed the pau
per garb beneath; her faded hair covered
with deep bordered white cap, under a
black bonnet trimmed with faded ribbon.
She leaned upon strong cane in walking,
and her step was feeble and slow. She had
seen "better days." but what those better
days had been | never knew | fancied
she had been pretty, because her eyes were
still soft and bright. Beauty and better
days were naught to her now; they had
gone and forgotten her, and friendless,
alone she waited for the wave that should
float her to the other shore and land her
safe "beyond the breakers"
Another picture in fresh and vivid col
ors hangs in the chamber of my childish
memories. A bleak March day the sour
rying clouds making shifting, grotesque
shadows on the ground, and darkening the
broad river, which ever and anon, flashes in
the afternoon sunlight. A short distance
from land vessel lies at anchor with furl-
ed sails On the shore are grouped several
men, lady and some little children, around
a new-made grave. They watch little
boat put off from the vessel; it bears along
black coffin and slowly rows to land. ST.
lently the boat is moored, the coffin lifted
out, and lowered to its place. No funeral
service is read, no prayer offered, but there
Is solemn hush upon all who stand around
the strangers grave. The earth is placed
above him, and they go and leave him to his
long sleep, beside the ever-howing water
his name, his life, the reason of his death,
unknown. BY his own hand he died.
No stone marks the spot, but so plain is all
the scene to me that could now point out
that last resting place of the strange out
cast.
Another weed thrown up across my
path; another waif drifted to the surface
ere the undertow had washed him out of
human sight forever. l am amid other
scenes now, and have left my childhood's
home beside the river. l step into rail
way office for letters; no one is Within
Whilo L wait my oyo 10 attracted to o.
strange heap upon the floor, covered with
a rough blanket. I turn down corner of
the covering, and there lies a CHASTITY corpse.
"Killcd on the track" they say. Good
God! Who was he9 Did any one love
him? Did those lips ever thrill with q
lovers kiss The answer waits till the
secrets of all hearts shall be made known
The inquest, and then another name
less grave is filled. 1t may be that in some
far-otf home wife is pining, and children
are weeping for the husband and farther
who can never come.
Another, and still another two young
men, gently born, kindly nurtured, finely
educated well endowed with wealth and
ability. One by one, father, mother, bro
theirs, sisters drop away into death until
all are gone. Ones wife deserts him, taking
their children with her. The lady of the
others love forsakes him for another. Hy-
dra-headed temptation assails the men,
They stand alone; there is no one to care.
Drink and gaming lower and lower tEev
sink. One dies; he crawls in abiect mis-
cry to a relative of his mother; she takes
him in and makes his last hours as peace
full as she can. His wanton wife, his recreant
children shun him. With an old letter
from his mother, carried about him in
all the wanderings of twenty years sacred
amid all his wickedness-clasped in his
hand, he died, his last wish that the letter
might be buried with him. The other
drifts, drifts, farther out and farther :;
there is no hand to hold him back. He
dies in miserable "poor house." among
gibbering idiots, bowling maniacs, and
other hopeless, friendless, helpless, pur-
poseless, deserted drifts upon life's current.
And yet another comes to the surface !;
floats little space and sinks; a strong,
silent man, no ties and an uncertain name !;
with one overmastering passion, the thirst
for strong drink. A few months of unbri-
died indulgence, and in an instant he is
stricken down and dies without a sign.
Not trace, not line is left to tell whence
he came nor to whom he had been dear.
Long years have gone and no one has
sought hisresting place Or asked for tidings
of his DEATH
A woman's face,-sharp, evil, halfsilly in
its look. woman's form, bent and twis-
ted by toll and neglect A heart and mind
stultitied by Ignorance, brutalized by abuse
Who is she3 Why is she thus2 God
knows. More than forty years ago poor,
! ignorant, old woman was walked from her
midnight sleep by loud knocking at her
cabin door. She opened it, and without
stood stranger, tinely-6ressed man, bear
ing in his arms an infant. In few words
he babe her take and keep the child, and
said that means should be furnished for
its support. Without giving her time for
question or refusal the man placed the
babe in the woman's arms sprang into a
carriage that waited few steps off, and
was gone. For few months the woman
was supplied with sums of money, but they
bore no Signature no cline cou1d In fund