him freely in the neck. During the latter operation his patient showed for an instant some signs of returning feeling, and this, by the look with which he gazed upon his agonised wife. tempt to describe that look would be attempting that to which no language is equal. I think no pencil could have ever done it, much less a pen. It was one which told that the vision of his past life, concentred, flashed suddenly before him; a life during which she who was his ministering angel had been a victim to cruelty and neglect: there was an intensity of gaze, too, as if he felt that he was looking his last. It was a lingering spark of affection struggling into light through the dark horrors of remorse. Again and again she breathed comfort and reconciliation into his ear. I know not whether her words reached his heart. I fear that with the exception of that one momentary gleam of reality, there was a prostration of power and intellect which denied him such a blessing. I necd not, will not go into fuller detail. He died. the same afternoon, some few hours after he had been brought home. I hired a person to perform the necessary duties to the departed, and to remain with the corpse until I could give orders for its interment. The widow and children I resolved to place with a relative of my own until the funeral should have taken place. I did so. Before taking leave, I begged the heart-broken woman to tell me her family name, that I might write to her friends in America on her behalf. "Friends," said she, "I have none. My mother was my only friend, and she is gone!" "But you have a father?" said I. "I know not," she continued; Most likely he is gone too!" At any rate I will write-" Not to America," she replied; "I have not known for years. died, he left it, I know, never to return." "And his name?" said I, leading her to the point upon which I wished information. His name was-" "Jackson," said the mourner. Why did I start at this single word? Why did my words hurry rapidly on one another as I questioned her as to the Christian name? and why, when I learnt it was Adam-Adam Jackson— did my frame tremble, my countenance change its hue, my heart beat audibly? "Oh, God! said I, inwardly, "if it should be so !". * * * * * * I sent for a coach; and, handing in my still weeping companion, and the little fellow whom I had first seen, desired the man to drive to Mortimer-street. It was the residence of my dying friend. Showing the mother and her child into a room below, I hurried up stairs to his bed-chamber. I had already been absent several hours longer than I had intended. When I drew aside the curtain, the old man turned his eyes towards me; they were deep, sunken, and glassy; his features, angular and emaciated as they had long been, were now perfectly ghastly. I was painfully struck with the advances which death had made towards his victim. My friend looked steadfastly at me for some minutes without any token or sign of recognition. I spoke, and my voice aiding perhaps his fast-failing memory, called me to his recollection. He grasped my hand with a convulsive force, so great that his bony fingers actually gave me pain. "I thought," said he, striving, but ineffectually, to raise himself in bed, "that you had neglected-left me, left me in my last trial. Sit down, and come close to me. I have had a sleep-a long, long sleep, and a dream so horrible, so real, that waking, though it be to die, is happiness! Come closer," he continued, "and I will tell you all. I thought that I saw my long-departed wife; she came to me in sorrow, for our lost, discarded daughter was on her arm. She strove to speak, but could not; again and again she strove, but bitter grief choked her utterance. She took our child by the hand, and led her towards me: but I turned from them. The penitent fell at my feet, I spurned her away. I steeled my heart; but could not close my ears to her supplications. They were the outpourings of a contrite heart; but they touched me not. She spoke in anguish of her little ones-her helpless little ones! and I laughed-laughed at her misery. Still she prayed on; she bathed my feet with tears; she lifted her hands, and would have touched me, but I shrunk from her advances, and heartlessly commanded her to be gone! Her voice was suddenly stilled: I heard no sob, no sigh! I listened: but could not even detect the heavy breathings of sorrow. instant I remained wrapt in gloomy and unrelenting anger. turned to gratify once more the devil that was in me; but she was gone! I sought for and called aloud upon my wife; but she too had departed. For an Here the old man paused; then placing his hand upon my shoulder, so as to bring my half-averted face towards him, " You tremble!" said he, "you tremble, and turn pale !" It was so; in spite of every effort to appear composed, I could not command my feelings. I was about to speak. He put his finger on his lips as enjoining silence, and continued. 66 You are already affected; you will shudder when you have heard me out. I thought that immediately on being left alone I was seized with an icy chillness, which I knew was the touch of death. I looked around for help; but could find none. I prayed for some hand to assist, some voice to comfort me in my dying hour; but I prayed in vain. I heard but the echo of my own lamentations; and was left to go down the grave unheeded and alone." Again he paused; and so great were his excitement and agitation, that I little expected he had strength to resume; but, after some minutes he did so, and in these words: I awoke; but in another world, or rather, when this world had passed away. As I rose from the tomb, but one thought, one feeling possessed me; I was going to be judged! Every thought, word, and action of my life had shared my resurrection, and stood palpably embodied before me a living picture. My last interview with my child was the darkest spot there. I shuddered as I beheld it. I strove, but oh! how vainly, to blot it out! An allconsuming fire was already lighted up within me, in the horrible conviction that this, even in its naked self, would endanger my salvation for ever! Suddenly a sound such as mortal ear had never It was a heard before, burst on the trembling myriads around. sound that filled all creation, calling all those who had ever been to be again, and to wait the word that should bless, or sweep them into endless perdition. Millions upon millions had passed on in judgment; and I thought that tremblingly I approached the throne of grace! Mercy smiled upon me! and I looked with straining eyes after those forgiven spirits who had gone before. I was about to follow, when a witness came against me, at whose presence, conscience stricken, I fell prostrate in despair! My daughter! my spurned and persecuted daughter! No voice of accusation was heard! No look of reproach from her! Yet silent and motion less, dejected and wan, as when I had last beheld her, she told of the early orphanage into which she was stricken by my unnatural desertion! the destitution which my savage vengeance had entailed! I trembled under the weight of these awful charges. I tried to lift my eyes to my child to win her intercession; but I had no power to move them from myself. I tried to speak; my tongue clove to my mouth. How-how could I plead for mercy who had yielded none? Pressed on by thronging crowds yet behind, I advanced as if to enter that blessed path which the happy trod; but suddenly it was barred against me! An angel with frowning aspect waved me aside, among a countless herd as wretched as myself. A cloud passed over us; our souls sank within us; it shut us out for ever from even the glimmerings of hope. I thought that we fell, and fell deeper, and yet deeper, gathering in numbers as we fell! Groans and blasphemies were in my ear; impenetrable darkness above and hell below! I shrieked madly! I was answered but by shrieks! A thousand times I grasped at objects to stay my fall: I clutched them but they yield. ed and helped me not! Hopeless and eternal perdition was before me! One plunge more, and a lake whose waves were of fire-fire inextinguishable, would engulf me for ever! Myriads beheld it too; and now one universal scream of horror, enough to rend twenty worlds, burst upon me!" His Here the old man was so excited with the recital of these imaginary horrors, that I could with difficulty hold him in my arms. frame quivered, his eye glared with unnatural power and brightness. I spoke and soothed him. 46 The sound is now in my ears!" he exclaimed wildly. Almost instantly after, he added, as calmly, "I awoke! I am awake!" and clasping his withered hands together, and raising his eyes to heaven, he said fervently, "I thank thee, God! it was a dream!" Almost immediately afterwards he fell back on his pillow, perfectly exhausted. Anxious as I was to speak to him once more, to ask him but one question-to satisfy my more than surmises, I could notdared not do it, as he then was. I watched, oh! how eagerly, to see his eyes open, his lips move, that I might address myself to him, but he lay in a state of complete stupor: I trembled as I gazed, lest he might never move again. After some little time passed in this state of painful suspense, and still no sign of returning consciousness, I grew more alarmed, lest when he did recover, it might be but for a moment, as I knew to be a not unfrequent case, and that I might have no time to inquire into the striking coincidence, to say the least of it, that had so extraordinarily presented itself to me. With this fear upon my mind, I determined at once upon hurrying down stairs, and satisfying myself in a more direct way than I had at first intended. When I entered the room in which I had left the widow and her child, I found the former sitting on the sofa, her face buried in her hands—the boy was at her feet. As I approached she looked up; immediately on perceiving me she exclaimed, and her voice trembled with grief and agitation, "For God's sake, sir! where am I? Whose house is this?" then seizing a book from the table, she continued, "this book-this old book was my father's; it was his own bible! Here is his name, written years past by my own hand." And turning to the first page, on which was inscribed "Adam Jackson, New York," she held it to my eyes, standing motionless as a statue. Confirmed thus suddenly in the suspicion that had crossed my mind on first hearing her history and name, I was so bewildered, that I knew not what reply to make. I feared to tell her at once that she was under her father's roof, that the same walls enclosed them, lest in her debilitated state, it might prove too much; I could not be evasive, for her whole being seemed to hang on the explanation she waited for. Tortured by my silence, she seized my wrist violently and repeated in a loud and menacing tone, while her wild and haggard look betokened incipient madness, "Whose house is this?" "It is the house," said I mildly, "of Adam Jackson." 66 My father!" she shrieked hysterically, and fell senseless at my feet. After considerable difficulty I restored her to comparative calmness; I was then compelled to explain to her the situation of her parent without disguise, for, at first, she imperatively insisted on seeing him. After this, she assured me she would be governed by my wishes. I led her to the sick chamber. As we entered I pointed to a chair by the bed-side, and she tottered towards it. The slight noise we made disturbed the old man, and in a faint voice he called me by my name. I carefully placed myself between him and his child. "My dear, dear friend!" he began, "I have been some time dying, but I feel the struggle is nearly over." At the sound of her father's voice, the trembling creature by my side sprang from her seat,-she would have rushed into his arms,the curtain was between them, and he was slightly turned from her, so that the movement was unseen; with one hand I forcibly restrained her. She sank down, but a half-suppressed and choking sob, that might have broken her heart, escaped her. "Do not grieve," said he, affectionately pressing my hand, "rather join me in thankful prayer to the Almighty that I have lived thus long -long enough to renounce as I now do, the deadly sin of unrelenting anger against a fellow creature; a sin which I madly hugged even on the brink of the grave!" "Do you understand me?" he continued, speaking with difficulty, "My child! my daughter! God-God bless! as I forgive her!" Had I wished to have delayed longer the meeting between father and child, I could not have done it. With the greatest difficulty I had, up to this moment, restrained the racking impatience of the latter, until I could discover whether or not the old man's dream had effected what I had failed in. Now that it was obvious that it had done so, I drew aside the curtain. On beholding the emaciated form of him from whom she had been so long parted, and who, but a few hours before, she had never thought to behold again, she stood horror-stricken, paralysed by the conflicting feelings that rushed upon her. Her eyes were tearless, all sounds of sorrow hushed; with hands clasped, her head bent forward, her features fixed, her form rigid and apparently breathless, she seemed a statue of despair rather than a thing of life. I trembled for the consequences when she should speak, or he direct his looks towards her. Never, never shall I forget the agony of that moment! He moved! He turned as if again to address me. She, whom with his dying breath he had just blessed, and who was probably at that awful moment the sole object of his thoughts, stood in life, if such indeed it might be called, beside him! His half-closed eye rested upon her! the pupil dilated,-he gazed fixedly but wildly; he struggled to raise himself; I supported him in the attempt. Once or twice I heard a rattling in his throat, as if he strove to speak, but could not; then in a piercing voice, which seemed to have struggled with and for an instant escaped the power that was about to silence it for ever, he exclaimed, "This is no dream! it is my own Ruth !—my daughter!" and flinging open his arms, she, thus startled from her trance, sprang forward and fell upon his bo som. Within a few minutes after this touching scene, I was called to the door of the chamber; I found it was the physician: I took him aside and hurriedly explained to him the events of the last few hours. We then approached the bed: the old man was dead! his arms were extended across his child, whose face was buried in the pillow. On raising her up, a stream of blood rushed from her mouth; a vessel had been ruptured! In less than half an hour her spirit, too, had departed. VOL. I. THE WELCOME BACK. OH! sweet is the hour that brings us home, Where hands are striving as we come To be the first to greet us. When the world has spent its frowns and wrath, And Care been sorely pressing, 'Tis sweet to leave the roving path, And find a fire-side blessing! Oh! joyfully dear is the homeward track, If we are but sure of a welcome back! What do we reck on a dreary way, If we know there are lips to chide our stay, 26 |