Author. 
 
 Title 
 
 Class 
 
 Book,. 
 
 3521& 
 
 Imprint. 
 
pi^i v&&3h 
 
 THE 
 
 BLIND WIDOW, 
 
 ^ 3 m ^ams^T 
 
 WRITTEN FOR THE 
 
 Evangelical Magazine 
 
 Gospel Advocate. 
 
 : . :r , ^^ 
 
 BY MRS. JULIA H. A SCOTT, 
 Towanda, Pa. ? ' 
 
 HUDSON ; 
 
 PRINTED BY ASHBEL STODDAUD- 
 
 183? 
 
THE BLIND WIDOW AND HER FAMILY. 
 
 It is a pleasant thing to cast, occasionally, 
 life's little cares and perplexities aside, and let 
 oppressed memory fill up her beautiful casket - 
 with the gem-like reminiscences of early years. 
 She brings us the impression of many a bngJvt 
 form, now mouldering in earth — she recalls to us 
 many a thrilling scene of the long, long past, 
 whose very remembrance sends the warm blood 
 to the heart, and we awake and look round us for 
 the performers of those generous deeds — those 
 high and princely acts, which were, in early man- 
 hood, the themes of our admiration; forgetting 
 the partiality of change for our fair earth's love- 
 liest features, and that the north wind scatters 
 not more readily the frail flowers of Summer, 
 than does change the cherished blossoms of 
 humanity. But they leave (thank Heaven!) their 
 memory, and we linger with melancholy fondness 
 upon the Christian fortitude, the self-denial, the 
 pure, impartial benevolence, until, from these, 
 we go back to the holy principles from whence 
 they emanated, and lose ourselves in contempla- 
 ting the religion which taught those blessed ones 
 to gather smiles at the fountain of tears, and 
 overcome the temptations of this world by the 
 low-voiced spirit of pious love. 
 
 I was but a child when Mrs. Hamilton became 
 a widow; but I was permitted to attend her hus- 
 band's funeral, and can never forget the small 
 group of darkly clad forms that clustered round 
 his grave, nor how, with childish curiosity, I 
 caught the hand of one of the little orphans, and 
 
 • 
 
gazed rudely into his (ace, to see if he were cry- 
 in»\ Nor can I forget how I turned away and 
 wept, when I saw the Widow, with clasped hands, 
 raise her sightless eyes to heaven, and heard the 
 deep sobbings of the eldest daughter and son, 
 who had led their blind mother" to the grave. I 
 wept, but with infantile selfishness ; for 1 reflect- 
 ed, what if it were our own dear father who was 
 dead, how would Charles and Harriet cry, and 
 how bad we should all feel if our poor mother 
 could not see. Such were the natural sugges- 
 tions of simple, childish feeling; and so deeply 
 does the pen of early impression engrave its 
 characters on the tablets of the immortal mind, 
 tli at the little scene just described, though of no 
 particular importance to myself, shines forth to 
 recollection as vividly as if but a yesterday's 
 transaction, although many long years have since 
 gone by. But to my narrative. 
 
 Mr. Hamilton married with very good pros- 
 pects in life. I mean in humble life. He was 
 the owner of a small dvy goods shop in one of 
 our Southern cities, and his well known honesty 
 and persevering business habits, rendered it 
 probable that he would arrive, if not at opulence, 
 to at least respectable independence. I3ut who, 
 alas! may calculate on the certainty of any hu- 
 man event? Mr. Hamilton had the misfortune 
 to render himself unpopular among his friends, 
 by the open and earnest advocacy of a system of 
 religion (Universal ism) which was deemed, in 
 those days, the root of incalculable evils, and the 
 very kernel of heresy. This was an offence not 
 to be tolerated, and it injured his business mate- 
 rially. He had, beside, one failing, (for it is 
 conceded that Universalists have some failings 
 
4 
 although, in view of their doctrines, one would 
 almost deem the thing impossible) which was not 
 at all calculated to win the smiles of father Mam- 
 mon ; namely, a benevolence of heart, which 
 always caused him to shed tear for tear with the 
 unfortunate, and to open freely his purse for their 
 relief. 
 
 Notwithstanding,' te however, the unpopularity 
 and too-far-carried effects of his religion, there 
 was little doubt of his having obtained a compe- 
 tency, but for the breaking out of a fire which 
 resulted in the destruction of his shop, and nearly 
 all its uninsured effects. This was an almost 
 overwhelming disaster, as it reduced him to the 
 necessity of accepting an offer of clerkship in a 
 large mercantile establishment, the proprietor of 
 which, a Mr. Ward, enjoyed no very enviable 
 reputation. This man had been recently excom- 
 municated from some Christian church, the doc- 
 trines of which he continued to advocate, long 
 after his expulsion, for the purpose, it was said, 
 of furthering the more easily, his dark intrigues, 
 under the fair covering of piety. But we will 
 leave his character to develope itself in the course 
 of these details. 
 
 Long and faithfully had Mr. Hamilton labored 
 in the service of "Merchant Ward," as he was 
 called; the avails of that labor barely affording 
 his family a subsistence, including the expense 
 of educating his two eldest children — the first, a 
 beautiful daughter of seventeen, and a son two 
 years younger; when he was taken away by sud- 
 den and severe sickness from the active scenes 
 of life, leaving his afflicted wife and five children 
 to struggle unprotected through a cold, uncharita- 
 ble world ! 
 
5 
 It was with a heavy heart that Widow Hamil- 
 ton returned from the funeral to her humble 
 home. 'The one clear voice' was not thereto 
 welcome her; neither the kind hand which had 
 often, since the developement of that dreadful 
 disease, called cataract of the eye, been extended 
 to direct her uncertain steps. The pale mourner 
 sank for a moment, overcome with painful emo- 
 tions, but the many sweet consolations of the 
 faith whose hopes had brightened her whole life, 
 and sustained her husband in the hour of death, 
 sent down their precious encouragements to her 
 heart, and gave her peace. 'Thou art not an 
 orphan, my little James,' cried she, clasping her 
 youngest son fondly in her arms. • Neither are 
 ye fatherless,' she continued, drawing closely 
 together her little bevy of bereaved ones, 'the 
 Father of the fatherless is yours. He watches 
 you, and will spread his mantle of love over you, 
 and ye shall not be hurt. He watches you, and 
 will gather, in due time, your immortal spirits, 
 with the whole world's purified intelligences, to 
 bloom like sweet flowers, as it were, in his own 
 bright garden forever ! The storm of adversity, 
 'tis true, is gathering darkly above your heads; 
 but remember the injunctions of the dear parent 
 that is gone, and trust in your Saviour. Let your 
 hearts go up to him in frequent prayer, and be- 
 lieve me, Oh my precious, sorrowing ones ! believe 
 me, he will bless you— he will bless youP Oh, 
 who could have seen the grateful tears of those 
 affectionate children as they caught the inspiring 
 words of their pious mother— who could have felt 
 their young, innocent hearts beating warmly with 
 high, devotional resolves — who could have'heard 
 their fervent aspirations to Him who once took 
 
6 
 
 such as themselves to his bosom, and blessed 
 them — who could have seen and felt all this, and 
 said, This is the spirit of Antichrist ? Or, rather, 
 who could have witnessed these things, and re- 
 frained from saying, This is the light which must 
 ultimately dawn upon every one that coineth into 
 the world ? 
 
 The death of Mr. Hamilton, it will of course 
 be supposed, from his extremely small income, 
 left his family in \evy depressed circumstances. 
 The expenses incurred in his sickness and burial, 
 were considerable; and the Widow found herself 
 under the immediate necessity of disposing of her 
 pleasant home, and removing to miserable lodg- 
 ings, in a narrow by-street, in order to save the 
 additional cost of high rent. Here, with the 
 assistance of her eldest son, Robert — who, at his 
 father's decease, was taken into the establishment 
 of Merchant Ward — the slight avails of Marian's 
 sewing, and her own small jobs of knitting, 
 (being the only work her afflicted situation al- 
 lowed her to do,) she contrived to live, although 
 the strictest and most ingenious economy was 
 necessary to keep them from a state of actual 
 pauperism. But no complaint was made, and 
 when they were all seated around their scant 
 evening fire — for Robert staid with them at nights 
 — the closest observer could not have detected a 
 single cloud upon their smiling faces, nor heard 
 a sentence from their lips, betokening aught but 
 the most peaceful serenity. And when the long 
 evening's sweet and cheerful conversation was 
 over, they all joined in singing a family hymn, 
 which was succeeded by the low-voiced mother 
 in prayer and thanksgiving, and the young mem- 
 bers of that holy family sought their pillows with 
 
7 
 the seeds of eternal life spreading beautifully 
 their warm roots through the soul's deep avenues. 
 But the hour of temptation was at hand, for one, 
 at leasts of their number; and wily were the 
 snares of the enemy, laid to entrap his victim. 
 
 Merchant Ward had, during the lifetime of 
 Mr. Hamilton, tried e\e\y art in his power to 
 obtain the services of that excellent man in some 
 of his dishonest schemes. He commenced by 
 endeavoring to sap Mr. Hamilton's religious 
 principles; thinking that by converting him to 
 his own partial system — by doing away the paren- 
 tal relationship between man and his Maker — he 
 might destroy that love for his fellow-creatures, 
 which had ever induced Mr. Hamilton to con- 
 sider their interest as his own. But it was of no 
 use, and of this the crafty merchant was soon 
 convinced, and therefore changed the form of his 
 attack. He next attempted to confound princi- 
 ple with interest and necessity — to erase those 
 nice distinctions between virtue and the form 
 thereof, and lead his victim blindfolded, as it 
 were, into * by and forbidden paths.' The prac- 
 tised eve of James Hamilton, however, detected 
 all his subtleties and scorned them; as, also, his 
 delicately managed hints at bribery; and the 
 vexed and baffled merchant would have discarded 
 him, but for the reflection, that he could find no 
 one to fill his place. Of the young and inexperi- 
 enced son, however, he hoped different things — 
 and many were the guarded lectures to which the 
 unsuspecting young man was obliged to listen, 
 often wondering to what such things tended. 
 
 It was late one stormy evening, when, in a 
 dark and unfrequented street, some one touched 
 Robert's arm, and the voice of Merchant Ward 
 
8 
 sounded in his ear. * Robert, 5 said he, * I forgot, 
 to-day, to speak with you on a subject of some 
 importance. But I presume 't will do just as 
 well now, as this spot seems to be perfectly pri- 
 vate. You recollect, I dare say, Col. Hartley's 
 giving me a check on the Mobile Bank, a few 
 days since, while in the store?' 'I recollect, 
 Sir,' replied Robert, after a moment's musing, 
 'seeing him sign a check; but I thought it was 
 on a Bank in this city.' ■ No, no, 't was Mobile. 
 Don't you know he spoke of its permanency ,and also 
 mentioned his extensive interest in it?' S He did ; 
 but I have still an impression that the check rela- 
 ted to a Bank here. 9 ' No doubt you have, but a 
 moment's reflection must convince you of your 
 mistake. 'Tis a subject of considerable conse- 
 quence to me, and it will, I assure you, be greatly 
 to your advantage to remember right — for should 
 the matter be called in question, as report says 
 it will, I shall depend on you to evidence the 
 facts of the case. The thing is undoubtedly 
 coming to your memory?' 
 
 1 No, Sir,' answered Robert, after some pause, 
 • my mind is quite confused on the subject, and 
 reflection only seems to confirm my first impres- 
 sions. 5 
 
 'Well, it is very strange,' muttered the mer- 
 chant, inwardly provoked to find the lad's memory 
 so perversely pertinacious — * 'tis \evy strange you 
 should get things so mixed up. You remember 
 the Colonel's mentioning, particularly, the Mobile 
 Bank — you recollect his signing the check ; and 
 / remember that said check related to said Bank. 
 You will, therefore, I presume, have no objection 
 to telling the good jury of the court, should one 
 be called, that you saw Colonel Hartley give me 
 
9 
 a Mubiie check, remembering, all the time, that 
 in performing this little act of friendship, or 1 
 un*ht say, duty, you are materially benefiting 
 yourself.' 
 
 * I will, most cheerfully, tell them all I know 
 about it,' rejoined Robert, ' for I should be glad 
 to oblige you ; but I would not, for worlds, testify 
 to a circumstance, of the truth of which I am not 
 perfectly positive.' 
 
 'Port!' replied the merchant, 'there can be no 
 harm in it, at all — you have my word for its truth, 
 and you have got it all yourself, except the little 
 minutia. Beside, it that exquisite conscience of 
 yours should ever trouble you, a priest will ab- 
 solve it. Or, you may repent on Protestant 
 principles, and be none the worse. And then,' 
 he continued, in a soft insinuating tone, (feeling 
 the arm he had taken endeavoring to withdraw 
 itself,) * the reward you shall receive will make 
 your family independent, and the day may come 
 that will see you a partner in my establishment. 
 Only think, Robert, a partner with Merchant 
 Ward!' 
 
 Robert Hamilton was, by no means, destitute 
 of ambition ; and we will not say that his heart 
 did not beat quicker at the thought of seeing his 
 dear mother, and her little ones, in a more com- 
 fortable situation; or of being, himself, at some 
 future period, in independent circumstances. 
 But whatever his thoughts may have been, they 
 glided by, like shadows across the dial plate, 
 without marring the pure polish of pious virtue. 
 
 • You have certainly mistaken my character,' 
 
 said he, slowly, but firmly — his fine youthful 
 
 form expanding into manliness, as the tide of 
 
 indignant blood rushed impetuously through his 
 
 2w 
 
10 
 swelling veins — 'you have mistaken my charac- 
 ter; for, young as I am, I have learned to love 
 and keep my heavenly Father's commandments. 
 And sooner shall this body be consumed by hun- 
 ger — sooner shall this tongue be torn out by the 
 roots, than it shall infringe one little hair's breadth 
 upon the law which says, Thou shalt not bear false 
 witness against thy neighbor. - 
 
 * Then, may these curses fall upon thee/ shout- 
 ed the enraged merchant, his voice almost choked 
 with the hoarseness of immoderate ^passion— - 
 ■ may these curses, and worse than these, fall 
 upon thee, baser son of a base father! Ay, and 
 they shall, if L have any influence over thy desti- 
 ny. Presume not, henceforth, to set thy foot 
 within my door, but beware. Thou hast goaded 
 the lion and may test his strength !' 
 
 1 Say, rather,' said a deep voice near them, ' he 
 has disturbed the viper, and may feel his fangs. 1 ' 
 
 And at that moment two human figures passed 
 them, but slowly, as if to witness the result of the 
 conference. The merchant turned upon his heel, 
 without another word, and Robert hastened home 
 to relieve the anxiety of those who, he knew, 
 must be wondering at his long absence. 
 
 ' What ails you, Robert?' said his little sister 
 Rose, as the light fell upon his face at the door — 
 ' what ails Robert, Marian ?' 
 
 'You are very pale, my brother,' said Marian, 
 laying aside her work — 'I hope nothing has hap- 
 pened.' 
 
 'Are you sick r' added the anxious voice of 
 Mrs. Hamilton. 
 
 'No, mother, I am only a little melancholy. I 
 have been strongly tempted to-night, and ' 
 
 'And you resisted'— half exclaimed, half in- 
 quired the Widow, hurriedly. 
 
n 
 
 ' Yes, mother, I did.' 
 
 1 Thank God ! thank God !' came from the full 
 heart of Mrs. Hamilton. 
 
 1 I did resist,' continued Robert, 'but Heaven 
 knows whether it may not be the ruin of us all.' 
 
 'Fear not that, my beloved child,' she replied, 
 clasping her hands affectionately round his neck, 
 • thou hast foiled thy most bitter enemy ; and 
 dearer, far dearer art thou to me, with thy pure, 
 unspotted heart, than if thou hadst returned laden 
 with the spoils of many conquered nations. Fear 
 not— but trust in Him who never forsakes the in- 
 nocent, and thou shalt ever find cause to rejoice !' 
 The circumstances of his meeting with Mer- 
 chant Ward were soon related by Robert, with 
 ihe exception of what had excited in his mind a 
 suspicion of forgery. This tie carefully sup- 
 pressed, and after a few brief and charitable 
 comments, the evening passed away, as if nothing 
 had happened. 
 
 It was but a few days after this, that, as Robert 
 was strolling through the city, hoping to find 
 some employment he met John Surrey, a former 
 companion, of nearly his own age, who was living 
 with Merchant Ward, and with whom Robert 
 had associated on terms of affectionate intimacy. 
 1 We were all sorry to lose you, Robert,' said 
 John, grasping his hand, 'and [ guess master '11 
 be sorry, too, some day— and this brings me to a 
 secret, which I want you should promise to keep 
 for me.' ,, 
 
 'I do not like secrets, John,' replied Robert, 
 \ they are very apt to make mischief.' 
 
 ' That is because they are not well kept. This 
 will hurt nobody, unless it is told, and 1 hope you 
 will not refuse to gratify me in so small a matter.' 
 
12 
 
 4 Why, certainly not, 9 rejoined the warm-heart- 
 ed, unsuspecting boy, * if it can do no harm.' 
 
 * You promise, then,' said the other, J not to 
 reveal what I an) going to tell you P 
 
 ' I do.' 
 
 ' Well, then, here it is ; the very eyetooth of 
 old hardhearted Ward ;' and he took from his 
 pocket an elegant gold repeater, suspended by a 
 chain of great value. Robert drew back with a 
 look of painful astonishment. 
 
 'It cannot be possible, John,' said he, 'that 
 you have really — really — ' 
 
 ' That I have really learned hocus pocus, you 
 would say, Bob. There is nothing truer, I assure 
 you ; and master is undoubtedly looking for it, 
 by this time. Now, he will suspect me, in the 
 start, and 1 want fow to keep it for me till the fuss 
 is over, and then you shall have half it is worth.' 
 
 s Oh, foolish, ruined boy!' exclaimed Robert, 
 'what have you done? Did you not know that a 
 greater eye than Merchant Ward's was upon 
 you ? And that you might as well attempt to 
 escape the shaft of death, as the thunderbolt retri- 
 bution of thy God ? Go back to Mr. Ward, John ; 
 confess before him, and your heavenly Father, 
 your fault; and you may yet obtain mercy. But 
 ask not me to become a partaker in your wicked- 
 ness.' 
 
 'Am I an idiot, Robert,' answered the boy, 
 sullenly, ' that you expect me to beg forgiveness 
 of a man whose very creed is revenge J — But I 
 see you are not disposed to befriend me, and I 
 suppose L must stand or fall by myself.' And 
 starting off abruptly, he was out of sight ere 
 Robert could renew the exhortation, which rose 
 with redoubled tenderness to his lips. 
 
13 
 
 It was on the evening succeeding this event, 
 that a loud rap was heard at the door of Widow 
 Hamilton, and on its being opened, two police 
 officers entered, and seizing Robert by the arm, 
 pronounced him their prisoner. 
 
 1 And of wfcrat, gentlemen, am I accused ?' 
 asked he, eyeing them with a look of calm sur- 
 prise. But how was that look changed to one of 
 deep consternation, when, from his outer pocket, 
 one of the officers produced the identical watch 
 which he had seen in the hands of John Surrey ! 
 The whole truth and its fearful consequences 
 flashed upon him at once; and turning away from 
 them, he said in a mournful voice, " mother, I 
 fear it is all over with me. I am caught in the 
 toils of the adversary, and see no chance of es- 
 cape. But pray for me, dear mother ; for, believe 
 me, I am innocent.' And he tore himself from 
 the sobbing group that surrounded him, and 
 accompanied the officers to prison. One moment 
 gave the Widow to tears, and petitioning for 
 Heaven's aid, but the next was for action. Coun- 
 sel must be obtained ; but how, alas, could it be, 
 without that general stimulator to good deeds — 
 money ? Various plans were thought of, and 
 rejected, till at length Marian proposed selling 
 her harp, a present from her dear father, in his 
 prosperous days. A sale was ultimately effected, 
 and the services of a young and inexperienced 
 lawyer, (the only one, however, with whom they 
 were acquainted,) were immediately engaged. 
 
 The trial came on at an early day, a fid Mer- 
 chant Ward and the treacherous Surrey were 
 nearly the first to enter the court-room. The 
 prisoner was soon called, and the spectators were 
 surprised to behold, instead of a dark, heartless 
 
14 
 looking culprit, a lad of frank, open countenance, 
 on which sat an expression of sweet, but melan- 
 choly resignation. 
 
 ■ That does not look like guilt,' exclaimed one, 
 as he passed. 
 
 'It maybe but the hypocrisy of its callous- 
 ness,' was the reply. 
 
 The trial commenced. The evidence of the 
 officers who arrested the prisoner, was first taken, 
 and then arose John Surrey, who detailed very 
 correctly the conversation had between himself 
 and young Hamilton, a few days previous — with 
 which the reader has been already favored — 
 taking care, however, to put his own dark words 
 into the mouth of poor Robert. The case seemed 
 too clear to need any farther investigation, and 
 when the counsel for the defendant commenced 
 cross-examination, his extreme embarrassment 
 showed plainly that he was convinced of his 
 client's guilt. He had asked but two or three 
 faint, irrelevant questions, /when a stern voice, 
 from the farther end of the room, cried, 'Stop!' 
 and a tall, manly figure strode fearlessly through 
 the room, and alter consulting the prisoner a mo- 
 ment, and whispering to his lawyer an emphatic 
 'sit down !' took the latter's place. 
 
 ' 'Tis the People's Lawyer,' said an old gentle- 
 man near Robert, in reply to the question, « Who 
 is he ?' ' 'Tis the People's Lawyer — the best and 
 wealthiest man in the city, and one who never 
 pleads except when he sees oppression preying 
 upon poverty and innocence. Merchant Ward 
 had best look to himself; for, an old man's word 
 for it ! something is going wrong.' 
 
 The People's Lawyer, as he was significantly 
 termed, was a man aged about twenty-eight, pos* 
 
15 
 sessed of superior beauty of person, and it was 
 said of commanding eloquence, which was often 
 successfully employed in the cause of the widow 
 and orphan. He was, therefore, the fear of the 
 oppressor, and the almost idol of the poor and 
 honest. He was master, moreover, of a penetra- 
 tion of mind, which, in some cases, seemed almost 
 intuition. And as his dark eye now glanced upon 
 the face of the witness, it seemed to read his 
 character at once. He gazed for one long mo- 
 ment, sternly and fixedly upon his quailing eye 
 and varying cheek — then raising his right hand, 
 and pointing his forefinger at his very heart, he 
 ctied in a voice that might have startled the con- 
 science of a Nero, — 
 
 ' John Surrey — John Surrey — knowest thou not 
 that the eye of the eternal God is upon thee? 
 Knowest thou not that his pen hath this day writ- 
 ten perjury against thy soul ? And knowest thou 
 not, oh, thrice miserable young man i that he will 
 lay in thy sickening bosom the fiery coilings of 
 that worm which dieth not, but writhes, and 
 writhes, and sends its deadly venom into all the 
 channels of thought, and feeling, and hope, until 
 the poor victim looks down with melancholy long- 
 ing into the gloomy grave, and would give worlds 
 for its cold serenity ? Knowest thou not that 
 peace shall visit thee no more, day nor night, 
 forever, unless thou dost recall the dark words 
 which thou hast this hour spoken? Look at thy 
 victim, deluded boy ! think of his affection and 
 brotherly kindness to thee, and then tell me how 
 thou wilt feel to see his youthful form wasting 
 away under the cruel labor of a State's prison. 
 Tell me how thou wilt feel to see his friends 
 weeping over him, as one dead — ay, worse than 
 
16 
 dead — disgraced — and all fur a few False words 
 of thine. Look, young man, and tell me.' 
 
 The eye of John Surrey turned involuntarily 
 towards the. prisoner's box, and his cheek grew 
 paler, and his lip quivered ; for memory was 
 busy at his heart, lie thought of the unvarying 
 gentleness of that injured friend — of the many 
 little sacrifices he had made for his comfort and 
 gratification ; he thought of their many sweet 
 moments of tender intimacy, when Robert had 
 talked to him of heaven, and called him dear 
 brother, and his own black treachery rose in 
 hideous contrast. Me forgot Merchant Ward 
 and his bribe — he forgot his own danger — he for- 
 got every thing, save present injustice and former 
 love — and rushing forward, and throwing his arms 
 round the neck of Robert Hamilton, he sobbed 
 out a full confession of his own and his Master's 
 base schemes for Robert's ruin, upon his bosom. 
 Twice did the enraged merchant rise— twice did 
 he attempt to speak — but the eye of the People's 
 Lawyer frowned him down, and he was glad to 
 escape unharmed, out of court. 
 
 "Who shall describe t\\^ joy of the little family 
 of Hamiltons, on the evening of Robert's restora- 
 tion to theii\society ? 
 
 •If I could only see your benefactor, the Peo- 
 ple's Lawyer,' said Marian, ' I am sure 1 should 
 quite worship him. And did you not find out 
 where he lives, Robert?' 
 
 'No; in the hurry of the moment, I suppose, 
 he forgot to mention his address. But I remem- 
 ber, perfectly, the few words he spoke to me, on 
 leaving. "Go home," said he, "dear, honest 
 boy, and gladden your friends by your presence. 
 But - come to me, next week, when 1 shall be at 
 

 \? 
 
 home ; for I would like to have Farther conversa- 
 tion with you. Rut, forget not, meanwhile, to 
 return thanks k) your Maker, for the happy ter- 
 mination of jour difficulties." ' 
 
 * Noble, generous soul,' exclaimed Mrs. Ha- 
 milton, Met us not forget his injunction, my 
 children, but return thanks to Him whose hand 
 is so plainly manifest. Let us not cease giving 
 glory, and honor, and praise to his name, forever 
 and ever.' And her two pious children respond- 
 ed, fervently, l Amen.' 
 
 It was while Robert was in prison, that Mrs. 
 Hamilton received a letter from a distant relative, 
 in the city of New-York, offering to procure a lu- 
 crative situation for her son, near him, and request- 
 ing his immediate presence. . This chance was 
 not to be neglected, and Robert accordingly set out 
 the next morning after his release, regretting deep- 
 ly, however, the necessity of leaving his mother and 
 her family in so unprotected a situation, as also his 
 inability to testify his deep gratitude to the Peo- 
 ple's Lawyer, it was not until after her son's 
 departure, that Mrs. Hamilton and her daughter 
 began to reflect upon their almost hopeless pecu- 
 niary circumstances. Robert's traveling expen- 
 ses had taking nearly the last penny that remained 
 of the money received for the harp, and they 
 knew not where to look for more. Their quar- 
 terly rent had become due— their stock of provis- 
 ions was running low — the little ones were 
 almost destitute of clothes— it would be some- 
 time before they could expect remittances from 
 Robert, and, to add to their embarrassment and 
 distress, the youngest child, a fine boy of six 
 years, was taken ill of the disease which termi- 
 nal! his father's existence. The heart of the 
 S xv 
 
IS 
 
 poor widow was sorely tried in these accunruia-- 
 ting difficulties* But she forgot not to look to the 
 true source, for comfort and assis&ifice. Nor did 
 she look in vain. A newspaper aeeidently came 
 into Marian's hands, containing an advertisement 
 by a Mrs. Utowrison, for some neat, original scene- 
 ry paintings to grace her center table. Marian 
 had been acknowledged, while at school, to pos- 
 sess splendid talents for drawing. She .therefore- 
 set immediately about the task, and her anxiety 
 to earn something for the support of her suffering 
 family, seemed to give her a species of inspira- 
 tion. For in a short time, notwithstanding the 
 increasing illness of 'little James, she had succeed- 
 ed in finishing two rich and delicate pieces. 
 
 Taking advantage one evening of her sick 
 brother's hour of sleep, she and Rose set out with 
 beating hearts for the residence of Mrs. Brownson, 
 into winch they were admitted as soon as their 
 errand became known. 
 
 * Send them in here,' exclaimed a shrill, tre- 
 ble voice to the servant wtip announced them, 
 4 I would not go into that cold room to see West, 
 himself 
 
 They were accordingly ushered into a splendid 
 drawing-room, where several young ladies and 
 gentlemen were congregated, i'ov the apparent 
 purpose of abusing father Time with unmeaning 
 prattle. The beautiful cheek of Marian became 
 suffused with the deepest crimson, as she beheld 
 the eye-glass of one of the young ladies, ranging 
 itself in the direction of a faded breadth of her 
 almost threadbare pelisse. But she conquered 
 the feeling of shame and indignation, and walk- 
 ing with a calm, but respectful dignity to the ta- 
 ble where Mrs. Brownson remained sitting, she 
 
19 
 -submitted her paintings for inspection. They 
 were soon handed from one to another, accompa- 
 nied by comments many of which seemed made 
 without the least regard for the feelings of the 
 humble artist. 
 
 4 Well Kitty, what do you think of them? 5 in- 
 quired Mrs. Brown-son of her daiigher; the second 
 time. 
 
 1 Why, ma,' drawled out the silly girl, in a tone 
 of affected contempt, ' 1 think they look very 
 much like my own first attempts. 
 
 • Then your first attempts must have been very 
 beautiful, Miss Brownson,' exclaimed a rich, man- 
 ly voice, ' and your mother had best, by all means, 
 collect them immediately.' 
 
 Marian could not see the speaker, for he sat in 
 the shade; but she felt that there was balm in his 
 words. 
 
 * Well child,' said Mrs. Brownson, in a some- 
 what softened tone, * what do you ask for your 
 paintings? I suppose from your looks, that you 
 need all they are worth, and perhaps charity should 
 add a little more-' 
 
 The color again visited Marian's pale cheek, 
 and a tear stood in her dark, intelligent eye, but 
 remembering that forbearance is one of the great- 
 est of Christian virtues, she replied modestly and 
 calmly, ' I have not priced them, madam, but you 
 may give me what you think they are worth, i 
 wish nothing more.' 
 
 ' If you had only come in the day time,' contin- 
 ued the unfeeling woman, 4 I could have judged 
 better of their merits. Why in the world didn't 
 you get here before dark ? Perhaps, though, you 
 thought some defects in your pictures might be 
 ware easily detected by thus doing.' 
 
£0 
 
 The recollection of her poor mother, and her little 
 brother's distressed situation — of the high hopes which 
 had animated her on her setting out from home— and, 
 above all, the imputation of low trickery in coming at the 
 time she did, sent an arrow to the heart of poor Marian, 
 and she could only falter out, ' I could not leave my sick 
 brother,' ere her feelings burst forth in a torrent of irre- 
 pressible tears, 
 
 ' You need not feel so bad, my dear,' said Mrs. Brown- 
 son, with an awkward attempt to soothe, ' but give me 
 your name and place of residence, and I will send you 
 the pay for these scraps in the morning ■ 
 
 The infojination was given, and Marian was glad to 
 find herself and sister once more in the street. 
 
 4 Where are you going, my pretty misses, in such a hur- 
 ry V asked a vulgar looking creature, staggering up to 
 them. ' I am just in time to be a beau for you'— and he 
 caught hold of Marian's veil. 
 
 A loud shriek was the reply, and in the next instant a 
 powerful arm prostrated the reeling figure upon the pave- 
 ment ; and a voice, which Marian thought she had heard 
 before, begged her not to be frightened, but permit him to 
 protect her home ; an offer which she was glad to accept. 
 The stranger bade her good night, at the threshold, and 
 the agitated girl hastened to inform her mother of her 
 indifferent success. 
 
 It was at an early hour, the next morning, that a gentle 
 rap was heard at the Widow's door, and a young man of 
 very prepossessing appearance, habited in the plain garb 
 of a mechanic, entered, and gave Miss Hamilton a card, 
 containing Mrs. Brownson's compliments, accompanied 
 by a bank note of some considerable amount. 
 
 4 There must be some mistake here,' said Marian, ' I 
 did not expect half so much.' 
 
 1 But she has examined them by daylight,' replied the 
 stranger. 
 
 Marian colored to the very temples — not so much at 
 the remembrance of the ill treatment of the preceding 
 evening, to which the stranger's words recalled her, as at 
 the sound of a voice which it seemed to her she had 
 twice heard before, and which, she all at once recollected 
 to have gone so far as to dream about. The young man 
 perceiving her confusion, and not suspecting, probably, 
 its cause, soon took his departure ; not, however, until he 
 
21 
 
 had obtained permission of Mrs. Hamilton to return with 
 ah eminent physician, a friend of his, to seethe sick boy, 
 who was evidently getting worse. He soon came back 
 with the worthy Doctor, who pronounced the child in 
 very precarious circumstances. From this time the young 
 stranger, whom the Doctor called Mr. Clayton, became 
 a constant visiter at Widow Hamilton's, somewhat to the 
 good lady's surprise. It might, be sure, be from a feel- 
 ing of sympathy at their unprotected situation ; or, from 
 a humane desire to assist in taking care of the sick boy. 
 But Marian's ever-varying cheek told that she suspected 
 a far different story. Besides, his visits continued after 
 little James' recovery. Ay— and long after the restora- 
 tion of Mrs. Hamilton's eyes to the blessed light of hea- 
 ven, by the removal of those painful cataracts Through the 
 skill of Mr. Clayton's eminent physician.' What then 
 could it be ? 
 
 ' We had almost given up looking for you this evening ;' 
 said Mrs. Hamilton, as Horace Clayton seated himself be- 
 tween her and Marian ; « and we were getting melancholy. 
 For you have been with us so long— have ministered so 
 kindly to us in sickness— have mingled so cheerfully in 
 our devotions— that a day seems lost without you. In- 
 deed you seem to fill the place of our dear Robert.' 
 
 4 Would to heaven ! my dear madam,' he replied, ' that 
 you would consider me as another " dear Robert" '—and 
 he glanced significantly at the blushing Marian. ■ Must 
 I speak plainer?' he continued, after a moment's silence 
 — * must I tell you how very— very necessary to my hap. 
 piness is the possession of this inestimable girl V taking 
 in his own, Marian's trembling hand. 
 
 Mrs. Hamilton looked confused. ■ I had not thought 
 of this,' she answered, after a long pause. • Besides you 
 know not what you ask. I am alone, as it were— Robert 
 is a great way off— and how do you suppose I can think 
 of parting with Marian, Mr. Clayton— with Marian?' 
 
 ' Pardon me, my dear madam,' he replied, ■ I was not 
 so cruel as to think of Marian's leaving you. Indeed I 
 could hardly love her, if she were willing to do so, under 
 existing circumstances. My desire is, that we shall all 
 ive together. My provident father made me, in earlv 
 lite, master of two trades, and I have no doubt but we can 
 render ourselves a very comfortable and happy family ' 
 
 J he face of the Widow brightened up, but she would 
 
not consent to tax him with such a burthen, until, from 
 repeated assurances to the contrary, and an appealing- 
 look from Marian, she concluded it to be the best way. 
 
 * But, I forget,' said she, as her eye caught the heartfelt 
 smile that played upon Marian's lip, « there may yet be 
 an impediment to your union. I trust, Mr. Clayton, that 
 you are perfectly acquainted with the liberality of my 
 child's religious sentiments. Her faith, I trust, is firm, - 
 though in a proscribed religion, and you may not covet 
 the honor of having for a wife a decided Universalist.' 
 
 1 This shall .be no objection ;' replied he, gravely ; ' for 
 had my prejudices against this sect been ever so great, 
 the piety of my dear Marian would long since have done 
 them away. No, believe me, this shall never cause dim- 
 culty.' 
 
 The final arrangements were then made. The wedding 
 was to take place in a few weeks, and Marian wrote to 
 Robert, requesting his attendance ; but he returned for 
 answer, that he could not, possibly, leave. The ceremo- 
 ny was therefore performed only in the presence of the 
 
 family at home, Dr. and an invalid lady, to whom 
 
 Marian had rendered many services. The morning was 
 a beautiful one, and as Mrs. Hamilton had not been out 
 since the recovery of her sight, Mr. Clayton proposed her 
 accompanying him and Marian in a short drive to their 
 ' cottage home,' as he romantically termed his place of 
 residence, { that they might judge of its comforts and con- 
 venience,' he said, ' before moving.' 
 
 * And may not I go to-morrow V asked Rose. 
 
 * And I V said Lewellyn. 
 
 ' And I, too ?' said little James. 
 
 ' Yes, dears, you may all go to-morrow,' replied Mr. 
 Clayton, kissing them severally ; and jumping into the 
 hack, they were soon out of sight. 
 
 * You may stop here, driver,' said Mr. Clayton, as they 
 reached an almost princely residence, a short distance 
 from town. 
 
 * And why here, Horace ?' inquired Marian, looking 
 surprised. 
 
 ' Oh,' said he, smiling, * your mother is fatigued by this 
 time, and as I am on very intimate terms with the gentle- 
 man who resides here, I thought we would just take a 
 peep into his bachelor's hall while the horses are resting*' 
 The .ladies accordinglv alighted, 
 
23 
 
 4 What a splendid situation !' exclaimed Mrs. Hamilton, 
 o-azing admiringly upon the spacious marble mansion and 
 its highly-finished* out-houses. 
 
 ' Your friend must be very wealthy, Mr. Clayton.' 
 
 4 He is worth many thousands, madam,' was the reply. 
 
 1 And oh, what beautiful, beautiful scenery !' ejacula- 
 ted Marian, as she looked from the porch upon the far- 
 stretched hills and meadows, through which ran streams 
 of silver beauty. ' Mother, we are in a perfect paradise.' 
 
 They soon entered an elegantly furnished parlor, where 
 Marian found many rich paintings to admire, one of 
 which particularly riveted her fancy. 
 
 * Here mother,' said she, * is a beautiful likeness of our 
 own beloved John Murray. It cannot be possible, Hor- 
 ace, that your friend is a Universalist V 
 
 ' He is,' was the answer, * and his enemies say a very 
 bigoted one ; and if zeal is one of the symptoms of bigot- 
 ry, they may say true, for he displays the most zeal in 
 what the " good people" term a "bad cause" of any one 
 I ever saw.' 
 
 « Oh, how I should like to see him,' said Marian. 
 
 * You shall have the privilege before long,' replied Mr. 
 Clayton, smiling at her eager enthusiasm. * But now, 
 while your mother is viewing his reverence, let us look 
 into the next room.' 
 
 It was a large library ; and Marian was delighted at the 
 array of richly bound books, which met her eye in every di- 
 rection. But what was her pleasure and astonishment, 
 to behold, in a shaded corner of the room, what proved 
 to be a harp — ay, upon examination, the very harp she 
 had some months before, sold, to fee her brother's lawyer ! 
 
 ' What does this mean ?' exclaimed she, almost gasping 
 for breath — ' Is this my very own, own harp ? What can 
 it mean V 
 
 * It means, dearest,' whispered Clayton, affectionately 
 kissing her cheek, 'that my sweet Marian is hencefortli 
 mistress of the place she has so flatteringly called a para- 
 dise, and that her husband, knowing he could not do too 
 much for one so deeply loved, has purchased back her 
 harp, that she may often be reminded of the dear father 
 who gave it, and who is now an angel amoug the blest.* 
 
 * Oh, this is too, too much,' sobbed out the grateful girl 
 upon his bosom. ' If Robert were only here now.' 
 
M 
 ' Robert where,' exclaimed a well-known voice, and in 
 the next moment, the son and brother was in their arms 
 It was a bewildered looking group. Robert gazed a mo- 
 rnent upon Mr. Clayton, then turning to his mother and 
 lister, begged to know what accident had brought them 
 to the house of the ' People's Lawyer' ? 
 
 ' The People's Lawyer ." exclaimed they in a breath. 
 It would be useless to attempt describing the scene 
 which followed this annunciation. It will suffice to say, 
 that Mr. Clayton made an explanation, which showed 
 that he was, unequivocally, 'the People's Lawyer,' who, 
 having accidentally overheard the conversation between 
 Merchant Ward and Robert, and being thereby thoroughly 
 convinced of the honesty of the latter, detei mined to 
 save him, although a stranger. He saw and admired 
 Marian at the house of Mrs. Brownson, and determining 
 that she should love him for himself, alone, he diso-uised 
 himself, as he had often done before, in the dress of a 
 common working man. (to which he seemed entitled, as 
 his father had, through caprice, given him two trades,) 
 and had succeeded in winning the heart of one, whose 
 virtues were the effects of a doctrine dearer to him than 
 his own life. He had written a statement of his situation, 
 under injunctions of secrecy, to Robert's employer, and 
 through him requested Robert's presence at his house at 
 a given hour, on special business, ' which business,' said 
 he, taking him affectionately by the hand, ' is, that you 
 should leave New- York, and make us all happy, by taking 
 up your abode with us, where you shall have abundant 
 opportunity of glorifying, with us, your heavenly Father, 
 by doing good to your fellow-creatures.' 
 
 1 Oh, our God hath dealt very, very bountifully by us, 
 my dear children,' exclaimed Mrs. Hamilton, raising her 
 streaming eyes to heaven 'let us not neglect to acknowledge 
 our heartfelt gratitude at the footstool of his great mercy.' 
 
 And those happy children knelt around their beloved 
 mother, and listened to a prayer as humble, as fervent, as 
 eloquent, as ever fell from human lips. And the pure 
 devotion and piety, inspired by the belief of, and trust in, 
 God's impartial, universal grace — thus tested by adversi- 
 ty, suffering, and temptation — continued brightly to glow, 
 and give light to all around in the hour of prosperity, en- 
 joyment, and triumph. 
 
|M»&: 0F CONG RESS 
 
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