The Manitowoc tribune. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1866-1878, 1871-05-04
ROMANCE OF THE LATE WAR-THE
STORY OF A LITTLE FOUNDING.
From the Revolution.

[ VIENNA, Austria, March ia fair
young American had fed from her fami-
ly in New York, to share the fate of her
| betrothed, who had returned to Ger
many to fight the battles of Vaterland.
When she arrived In Hamburg, where
his friends lived, he had gone to the
front. She went to Berlin. hoping to
gain permission tc go to him, and there
she gave birth to a premature child
her condition, il seems, was not known
to her friends. She had but one thought
and one aim-to again meet him to whom
she had confded her love. Encumber-
ed by her child, she could not do it, limi-
ted as she was in means. The language
| was foreign to her, and she was among
| strangers; and how was the child to be
| disposed of? She read in the not infal-
lible Murray that founding house ex-
listed In Vienna where children were re-
eeived without questions and without
money, and here she came in the cold
est weather, lily prepared for SO long and
bleak journey. She drove from the
station with her child direct to the asy-
lum, there to learn that no foreign child
was taken without paying something like
5000; she had scarcely enough to pay
her return passage and much less than
to deposit that sum with her child. She
then gave herself into the hands of the
police, with the declaration that the
child could not and would not be retain
ed by her. Her youth and beauty and
condition elected no little sympathy for
her, and she found those who befriended
her and who made up the needed sum to
secure for the child place in the asylum.
intended to go and see if could render
Eer any assistance, but the evening paper
told of her departure, and since then
have met those who had seen her, and
have felt much interest to know more of
her history and the fate of the child,
which [ had little doubt was among the
eighty of every hundred of those taken
| into the Founding House who died.
A few days since, [ was, as usual, at
the Children's hospital during the hour
OF prescribing for out-of- door patients,
| when aschild was brought to gaze from
its downy decking and laid upon the
table. After removing its two little
aprons, opened behind, and its blue
! bowed cap-the usual dressing of all chill
| dren here, whether rich or poor-there
| was something so fine in the child s fea-
lures, so unlike the common clay usually
inspected. that the hasty doctor did not
fail to observe it, and he said to the wo-
Ian, lis this your child ?" Rather
hesitatingly, YES" she replied, and
she manifested all the anxiety and ten
derness that mother could for child.
But something impressed me that there
was untold history in the lump before
me, and when the child was taken into
an adjoining loom to be again swaddled
in its bed of down, I followed and asked
If she had not adopted the child, and she
said Eyes, and perhaps you may have
read something about the mother last
winter" and strange enough it was the
same little creature about whom I had
been curious. The adopted mother had
lost all her own children, and applying to
the asylum had received this as her own.
She told me that recently the mother
had written from New Y ork to ascertain
the whereabouts OF the child, and had
expressed desire to obtain it. but"
she added, II will not give it up"
When [ stated the story to the doctor
he could see only selfish motive that
called forth so much apparent love for
the child-a hope to receive a good
prlce-but l was ready and willing to
believe that the mothers heart, left va
cant by the loss of her own little ones,
found the consolation of love in this, her
adopted charge. She came daily. A wet
nurse was advised, and every suggestion
was faithfully carried out; but with
every visit the large blue eyes became
more and more sunken, and the delicate
vein twigs upon the temple more mark
ed, and then she came alone and wept,
and said that little Amelia had been
taken away from her, and I wondered if
few lines telling of her death might
not reach her mothers eye, SO that she
should know that she was cared for low
ingly, that tears Of love fell upon her
peaceful little face, and that in the
church-yard stands a little board cross
bearing the name of "Amelia Allen"
Yours Truly,
MARY STAFFORD.