Mrs. W——, however, remained steadfast to her purpose. From this time she daily read the sacred Scriptures, and sought divine illumination at the mercy-seat. The Methodist ministers who had officiated on the plantation among the slaves, and by whose instruction old Peggy had been taught the way to heaven, were invited to visit Mr. W——'s house. The voice of prayer was now frequently heard in that dwelling. Mrs. W—— had already become a decided Christian, and was leading her husband on in the same path, when she was suddenly attacked with a violent fever. From the very commencement she felt that this sickness would be unto death. When it was evident that she was rapidly sinking and could survive but a few hours, she begged her husband to sit down at her bed-side and the children to stand by their father, and then calmly addressed him in substance as follows: "Charles, I told you a year ago I had a strong presentiment that I should not live long. Ever since that time I have been looking forward to this hour. I have a hope in Jesus, which is 'as an anchor to my soul.'—Though I love you and these dear children above all earthly things, I am willing to leave you all in the hands of God and to depart and be with Christ which is far better. But, dear husband, will you not join me in yonder heaven? Will you not bring these dear, precious ones with you there? Oh! then seek the salvation of your soul in the atoning blood of Christ, and train up these children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord." These were her last dying words. The green grass has for more that two years waved over her grave. Before her death the decease of her father had thrown a vast increase of wealth into her husband's hands. But that bereaved husband with all his vast wealth, as he looks upon his motherless children, and upon Jane's grass-covered grave, feels that this world is all an empty show, that we look for happiness in vain beneath the skies.
This was the outline of W——'s story. The hour had already become late before our conversation drew to a close. We each sought our respective berths in the cabin below. When we awoke in the morning, we found ourselves in the immediate vicinity of Albany. We were soon on shore moving up State street. * * * *
CHAPTER XV.
THE IRISH COUPLE.
Albany—The Irish mother—Incidents that occured five years ago—The disappointed emigrants—The Little Falls—Rural retirement.
Fairfield, N. Y., Sept. 22.
Our stopping place in Albany was at Congress Hall, which we reached some time before the sun sent his resplendent beams abroad: the morning was damp and hazy, and upon the whole every thing looked dull and gloomy around us. We were, however, occupying one of the most delightful positions in the place—our inn being located on one corner of the beautiful enclosure in front of the capitol or state-house, whence we could overlook almost the entire city. As I sat down by a window which commanded a view of the state-house park, or square, my travelling companion directed my attention to a female, who with tattered vestments and feeble steps, was pacing backwards and forwards one of the gravelled walks in the verdant enclosure before us. She was carrying in her arms a sickly looking infant, some nine or ten months old, and the whole appearance both of the mother and child, seemed to indicate that they were houseless wanderers, and had passed the night without a shelter. As in her continued walks up and down the gravelled avenue, she occasionally approached near the window where we sat, I saw that she was about middle aged, and had evidently once had a fine and expressive countenance, though the traces of sorrow and grief were now deeply worn there.
We were called to our breakfast: as soon as it was dispatched we hurried away from our hotel to the grand railroad depot, whence we were to take our departure westward. On our way we passed directly by the gravelled walk, where we had seen the poor woman, who had so much excited our sympathy. She now sat on the ground, her infant sleeping in her lap, and herself apparently absorbed in melancholy. She was evidently of Irish extraction, and though her appearance bore evidence of extreme poverty, there were no indications about her of intemperance. I could not but think what a tale of sorrow, of disappointed hopes, and perhaps of cruelly blighted innocence, would that Irish mother's history, if recorded, unfold. My thoughts immediately went back to that beautiful Emerald Isle, over whose green fields I had so recently roamed. Though I had seen some misery there, I had seen much happiness and contentment. I verily believe there is often to be found more real happiness in the mud cottage than in the gilded palace. The Irish have strong and generous feelings, and strong family affection. As I saw that poor Irish mother sitting there upon the ground, so forlorn and desolate, my imagination pictured to me her early home, where she passed her childhood beneath the glad eye of her affectionate parents. They saw her grow up, the pride of their heart, and thought that she would be the solace of their declining years. But the tempter came—she was lured from her home—she passed over the deep waters, and found herself in a foreign land. Her base husband soon showed himself the degraded victim of intemperance, and after a few years deserted her—leaving her houseless, homeless, in poverty, and broken-hearted sorrow. Perhaps in point of fact there were no lines in the history of that poor Irish mother in correspondence with this picture, but I believe, if the real history of many an emigrant from that green isle were known, we should feel more kindly to that people, and the heart and hand of Christian charity would be more frequently open to relieve the destitute among them. I know not where we shall find on earth such noble elements of character as in the Irish race. I confess I have been charmed and filled with admiration with some specimens I have met of Irish Christian gentlemen. I cannot turn my face away from any poor Irishman who asks alms at my door, unless he be manifestly the victim of intemperance, and begs to procure the means of indulgence in this sin. It is true we are sometimes liable to be deceived. Clothes and money are sometimes procured under false pretexts. But even then they may minister to the comfort of the destitute, and if we have given for Christ's sake, we shall not lose our reward.