The workingman's advocate. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1864-1877, 1870-12-31


you what were my feelings on receiving
your letter, which communicated to me th'
, tidings that you also had been forced to fie'
from our fsther's house. It's perhaps sin
full in me to do so, but | cannot avoid hat
ing the woman whom our father would hav'
|, ms to call mother; not on account OF be-
conduct to me (though it was cruel enough
for always despised for--but, o JacObini
it was because she she was SO unlike ou
+ mother, whom remember better than yot
can, and whom | suppose you will new re
ssmble as she lives in my momory-for al
who saw you SAID, you were her picture |;
bat it is.because of her cruelty to you tha
hate her. The thought that you have
been compelled to fly more than three hun
dred miles from our fathers house, and thai
your only nope is becoming the servant Of
our equals Sister, when | received your
letter and read this, it cost me sleepless
night | cried like a child-and sailors d.
not shed tears for trifies. Yea, though | an
no Catholic, / prayed thai our mother
spirit might watch over you and protect
you, nav sister! But ! cannot endure the
thought Of your being shnenisf fsasAe tesss
Of any one. With this, therefore, you will
receive draft for fl00 upon the agents
Of my owners, payable at sight. The mo
meut that you get it cashed, leave service,
or shall be angry
"But now, my own sister. | have some
thing else to tell you Of You know that
our dear mother had a brother c2lled
James, and after ahom you were uAmed
He went to sea when but a boy, and was
not again heard Of 1t was runored, and
believed, that he and his sbipmates were
taken by pirates, and that they became
part of them. The story was not true.
Fig hteen months ago, | was in Bengal, and
had dealings with q merchant, who, hearing
the Scottish or rather the Border accent on
my tongue, asked me from whence | came.
informed him and he then, with degree
of curiosity, inquired who was my kther,
who my mother When ! spoke Of our
father-I remember him WE'LL be said,
wat Ken-why, he was my school and
class -fellowp But when | told him Of our
mother, ana who she was, there was vIsi-
BILE paleness on his sunburnt face sweat
stood in drops upon bis brow, he gasPed IN
his eagerness TO hear me, and exclaimed
Y Youth youth does yonr mother live Il
Oh, me- | answered and the tears gushed
into my eyes, sister. Come to me come
to me my sisters child ! lie cried. and he
threw his arms around my neck. Jacobih
il was our uncls-Our mothers brother
And when | bad told him all, and how and /,
why had left the house, and spoke Of you
and of your being named after him-If
live. said he, for two years more, | shall
see my little niece, my namesake-she
shall be my daughter He had been many
years a prisoner, and on obtaining his liber-
ty became a sorl Of secretary to a nabob in
India. lie had written repeatedly to his
parents but he received no answer, for ere
then they were dead aud his sister eur
mother-he knew not whether she lived,
where she was, or by what name she might
be found. lie is now a widOwer, and has
an only son, nearly my age. Our cousin,
Jacobini, is a noble, kindbcarted fellow. |
should have loved him though be bad been
no relative Of mine, from the moment be-
came acquainted with MN. Ills name is
William, and before this reaches you, he
will be in London where you sre; for, when
| last left Bengal, be was preparing to go
to London, to be thoroughly instructed in
the rules of business He was to be in the
house Of one Mr. L, in Throgmorton
street. By lnquiring there, you will easily
find him and the moment you receive thi 8
call upon him-he will rejoice in having
found you--he will protect you until see
you, which will be in the course of next
year; for, after again going to Bengal, I
have a voyage to make to England and
our uncle has promised to accompany me.
Therefore, within twelve months, we shall
meet again. Remember me to my cousin
when you find him, which you will easily
do. You nay show him this letter, and
when he has seen it, | am sure you will find
in him a warm and a steadfast friend, and
one who will not endure the degradation of
your remaining an hour in a state Of servi-
tude
"Farwell, dear and only sister, until we
meet and if you ever bear from our father,
tell him that | yet live, that | think Of him,
aud love him-Out, o Jacobini, the ac0mdn
that rules his house, renders it impossible
that can again enter it. Write to him
that shall meet him in London next year,
but he must not bring her. Again, fare
well, dear sister-wait upon our cousin with
this letter it will be an agreeable surprise
and | am, ever, your affectionate broth
er,
FRANCIS KERR"
Such was the letter which Jacobini re
ceived from her brother But il would be
a vain task to describe her feelings, on its
persual. From it she found that her lover
and cousin-he whom she did love though
she showed it not, and whom she sought
to avoid-was one and the same person.
She was commanded to show the letter tC
him
"To him !" said Jacobini 81 cannot "
And yet while she so said she wept with
joy. She went not to him-nor needed
she for, as was his wont, within aa hour
he threw himself in her way-for be watch
ed her every moment, She had never spok-
en- to him unkindly (for it was net in heI
nature, but always coldly. She had the
letter in her hand, and she was weeping over
it when be saw her.
"Why does my Jacobin weep?" he said:
''if aught distresses you, why refuse the
friendship and the hand Of one who is ready
to bear your SORROWS and protect you ?"
civilian" she said. falterincly-and il
was the first time that she had called him BY
that name-''read, read this And she pu,
the letter intoU his hand.
He took this eyes eagerly glanced
over it; but before he bad finished it, be
flung his arms round her neck, and ex
claimed-my cousin ?--my Jscobini =
mine !"
I