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The morning star and Catholic messenger. (New Orleans [La.]) 1868-1881, February 16, 1868, Morning, Image 1

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Persistent link: http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn86086284/1868-02-16/ed-1/seq-1/

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+ý, r SN ýA JIRI -, PEIUARY 16,1868.ý~ "
ab'P d (t da
tF 'Inohes r of God should be honor ana praise I
. t- ,, ebeen.tm o
hiate (i eart h ta het, i
4 itss a o ide ast
SShell over thoeerthestrquýtaperm
_ of qur hearts thy own mystics bowerh,
an o r star',
.Um R sor oer tswereipd highlo d
... li  -wi'--. meanong4.-. s .......... g -
h.t.b;. r of Waters . earth's m. g.
_ s~sIwth t amA- ' .Id-eaarwer deas ;h,
Wha Chrstn owead thiorecr nd oeiro,
S dthi. ofod s1houl he honor and pris I
M th.itbeen door sat woman, middle-agedt
and [email protected] i~yetul, who was evidently mis
ehlaoue of earth's ie; might have
Wieeneatade of al tone, for andy siofe she
,a'e.. Perhap all her faculties were-e'an
orbedin over the eaofth listening, for she started
r heart ee thyk own letrica boashe ck
__d with the Bowrm of ipbname. om
SMaryu! wha naeme asatdaliy of the mnth is
thldsg ihhadwddirith itasld"Y ra.
.elkbe baarU loves sweetes.t .vu.s.a.
-a hu ried to the bedsthide, butinBstead opf
as g him, exclaimed in a toned rivofer of
What month Margaretwhat monthStar.
.low long have I been sic on.kae of
q~--s , r of ~New
his month oAugust, 15-is Augus
te opeGod door saixt a woman, middlt is te-ged
en tohad-fea hered, who was evidently mis
,ti lisg thedom ile. and wife to threheoor
andg arms aund him and prevted him
romThe hen as very oprsive t the
-ailent' woman at door seemed uncou
sions -of the tishperaturise a might have
-been-made of atone, for any sigiof~~e she
gave.. Perhaps all her faculties were- ab
sorbed in that of listening, for sup the started
ketofeetli and ong them leoti nd -ase sick
"ure I Am I ulre e th name.I'
t ga letter froWhat de of the month is
31je hurried to thobedside, but inlasteod
yanswering him, exclaimed in argaret tone of -
68Why, Dennis, I believe 9ie e~ r has
or Godave saken for t papeeks-r."
She Waturne did you swly itwa, and fmrgaret"
~ierien the siwork-basket that n-ious, ager
toable. -
"Here is ton be ato heendof there is no
'shoe  tioed. e- h
'What month, Margaret-what month?
lmudhow long have I been sick?"
"-You have been in bed six weeks, xad
this is August-. "
a"My- God! six h-oker It is timn for
Ellen tojDe here."
He ihirew the bed-clothes from him, end
his lips grew aole. His wife ithrewher
strog arms around him and prevented him
from springing outof bed.
w)ie you'tlre she is coiningt" slie asked
in a cold, harsh tone, drawing up tho~blan
kets and smoothing them around hs' neck
"Sure! An I sure that I'illringt I
got a letter fromj herjlv m y head
-feýiii7U;il, and she wasto ' ii-the luatof
July.- Get me a paper;,4uick, Margaret!
For God's sake get meg'paper."
She turned slowly .away, and. fumbled
in the work-basket that stood u oa- msUR
up -`a M-< tre t x~Fabeda
"Olk quhe ck er Sriv too
El .lln el - ede to
ay~  ' "- -"--;:>: - - - --
"iOnlytawlinn aar me omeBlrdsu, a1
wit". ... -- i"
Ellen! Ellenmavourneeni"
With a wil:desp.iring :cry, he clasped 14
ds aboveJ is head, s-id rocked him
" is to r mydatAing . Who is -
bring h here to m _Oh, black
istiday fo heras-well as e.'" _
His roans were piteous ;but. -th ught I
no answerin oko sympa__ her cold t
h.ard race.
" Go over the wandsee if O'Neil has a
come home .
He poin wildy to the door, Inshed
her fr with ono-trembhn- ha - -
e hesitated for a moment,- i s5 -iife
g cruel dtoseoing lte rneeaon of E
toward her, whihe me
" My dying-cnrse be on on-.--"
She episg From't-te-be and ruaig -I
acroe he street, soon returned, ftiowed
by O'Neil.
.l-ie sick man was stil uitting a p, hl-sfee
r w .hite and distorid, ahis hands i p tering I
SIdly over the blankets, an his pale lips
imurmuring fond and loving worids.
SEllen, marp r mL - , y own little
darling! Cuashl machrese i'
He baud taii3man's shsev ttipe u po
"O'Nel, we camine front-he same oitry,]
and-msed toae friends. Will you o mae i
hind turf now, and- make me hppy for
w What is it, )enni, my man Sue I
Y I do anything you ask me. Is itI
e priest you want 1"
"No, no. But it is Ellen, my own little
or niece, that has come from across the sea,
and I---itio'able-to go-for her."
he The last words were so sad and'wailing
that O'Neil's fine eyes filled with tears.
"I11 go and bring her to yoni )ennis.
ie Did the ship get-in to-day I"
"' Yes. She was last night.
Northumberla ,-om Liverpool. Go
-k like a friend bring ne my own Ellen,
my own ll girl Gille machre- "
is "Is I a hild, Dennis?" -asked'the young
kindly, only anxious to servehiaslend
and recognize his clii.'go.
r- " No, no. Not a ihild now. It is ten
long years since she sat on my knee-the
as pretty-faced darling--and called me her
rd bestand-kinde oldenle--Noethd
now, OQ'Neil. She must be eighteen or
more. -
;er "How shall I know her" _
H,,l " Know her i Ah, I would know her by
her pretty brown eyes and awdet dimpled
hi month. Know her.! Why ask if her name
- is Ellen Fitzgerald and- Stop O'Neil," for
the young man, as soon as_he heard the
name, had hirried to the door, "'Tell her
tor gently, very gently, that ler uncle is sick
and is- longing for one look from her eyes
nd and one word from her sweet rosy lips- "
O'Neil was -already beyond the',sound of
ier his last words, and the srck man murmured
them to himself.
His wife, silent and stern As-ever, sat by
_d the bead of his bedas ii7tiL.pywn.lJon
u- her own thoughts as the sick man was on
_ to aherMargaret ! Be kind to
ad my own-little niece. You know, by my will,
of I leave you one half of all I'm worth-the
t ! other half to her, n~ on1y ' "•e
one die-c o the other, the survivor re
ed ceives the whole."_
d waisaid slowly, almost indis
tinctly; the-sick man pausing every now and
no then for breath.
" Be kind to her, Margaret. I have been
sin kind to you. The law would give you only
stwdrd- Sf ave yeo one half, so you w
mnit bo'ldaA ud n- to pr. as
m stalmo.- h"
iifsi was i silgnce a the roomy as
Evemi wasw setttlag down upon the fr
t16 bOetsd q 7seem 5ied tat
fffith he by c sali .
" siag'iet i-ssid thideO.ireieo
"I lihavs lived well, but I can't dis sc
out making my pieaibe with God. i you as
go for tpriest". /
"You will b6-alone,-Qianswered mia
low, awe-stiicke toq. ,
s q4.nnot g- to be alone-- .6fkrA te
Imust to him about my poor Ellen-." 'o
- She cauht a shawl, stood for one mo' u
anint,by the beade, giiing down upon the
poor, white face thtlay.so feebly upon the tl
pillow, then without a word, hurried out of R
tIie house in obedience to his commands. fi
ieft alone,the sick man turned his head
slowly rbund until his dim eyes qould catch e
a glimpse of the only picture on the wall, a t4
rude but touching print ofthe thorn-crown- v
ed Saviour. ..- -
As he gazed, memory-caruied him back to b
n.ier yeandwhs red tohi - I
path, of fo tfulnessof God, of 'graces s
-abused -andu ered; and his dim eyes I
lled with contrition loly tears. a
Ssweet Jesus I" heIgneo , , nave mery I
on me, a sinner !" . . "..
-J~ ipeautifal and potent prayer f At its i
utterance, who can.doubt that unseen angsae
round that lonely bed, and minis- Z
to the erufever there. -1
Blessed mother!" spoke the sorrowing
c, "pray for me and for her,my orphan
Well did the-sick man knoW, that in this I
lowly-valley of tears She was indeed the i
Mother of <Mercy, our sweetness 'and our
In the stillness rounfd&dm;, his mij wan
dered away to his own greep Isle; and his I
tender love for his native rand, and keen
regret at leaving her, came ivdli bckto
his thoughts as he moaned: "I am sailing- -
sailing far away from Ireland, far away-from
thes-l me I love-
"O! bid the ship til on. *Wl on and bold mc fast to ie.e,
The waves aroound bathe iris ground, they are sorely
tempting b.' -_ -
The twilight was slowly passing into
- and only the sharp chirp of a cricket
was heard in that sileut room.
Life was struggling - fearfully for the few
moments that yet remained, while its agony
might"have been seenin the large-dropsthat
stlod, icy and profuse, upon the pallid brow.
Only that sweet, sorrowing face pictured on
the wall, looked pityitrgly down upon the
ronely man, while those. itastretched arms
seemed longin o embrace and hold him up.
Now and then,ýhrQugh the stillness, flut
tered the Words: "Jesus dry I JosephP!
at twcrWclcT'i hir chirp upon the earvth s
answered by long and mou-ri-FTuTsigh. -
." How the ocean moans!" he murmured.
The tide of life was indeed breaking fast
upon the shores of the runknown world,
while the imprisoned soul, like aleeble-ves
sel, was struggling with the surging waters,
all uncertain of its fate.
Youth and strength and friends and home
would soon be left behind.
.Hurried steps and whispered voices were
heard outside the door.
Tlii sick man rallied from his stupor, and
wildly groping vith his hands in the dark
ness, he 'call6ialoud: "Ellen TEllen I"
And even as he spoke, darkness settled
over-the vast city i; and it was night.
....-- __ ----.
_ - eUA1'TER_ I
The Northumberland had been several
weeks at sea,. and its band of emigrants had
already passed 3rro a state of noisy grief
to that of sorro "w silent resignation.
Many regretted, when too lade, that they
had ever left their native land, and looked
aprehension toward that_ strange I
country, o n-whose s ores wyr -t
new homes and new associations. Oth'rs'
were elated with the hope of seeing father,
Shusband, or child, who had preceded them
to the new-warkl, whilo the -hearts of all
ie~ivr ide4between'gief for the oldiand
ad aiSty re aw. , Among the Mtle in
-an of emigraiit1 was one woman, who le
seated more destitateand maisesb e, and thi
riendles, than df the others. She was si
-i yeouongt her cheeks were pale and mi
unke d her dark eyes had wild, de
-Sh lhad--ch ~qd. aninfant-, which she kept
o closely folded in her shawl that nb one, re
a yet, had-seen its aec& or heard its tender in
roies. mi
Thepassengers held but little intercourse, to
with her, for having at first repelled all at- pil
ention; she now seemed inclosed by a sense
Offoneliness, so that no one cared to in an
Ipon her sorrows. he
There-was one person, however, among
he exiles, who. felt f-t a sick and lonely Ea
ioman, and who still strove to win her con- to
idence, and comfort her distress. a
Ellen Fitzgerald moved among the i~por m
3migrants witlismile for every joy, and a he
tender word for every sorrow. So gentle na
were her manners, and so winning every y(
word she said, that many of that humble if
band thought she must be of " the quality." gi
But our heroine belonged, like them, to the y4
humble class; only her father had been a
scholar-even n ii-re ,- poe; ainiid sietdin- S
Ierited from him a love for all that is good I"
and beautiful, and all the knowledge that as
he had thojt fltted to hcr sc± andI aunth n
One evening, findingNors seated as usual, d
with herasleaping babe.folded to her breast,
while her dark eyes gized sadly and wildly y
iu upon the unbrpken waters, Ellenasked N
Tier agily to let her hold the child awhile. ti
"I-am are-you must be tired, Nora, for n
you have not the baby out of your arms a
to.day. Come, let me have the little dear, to
for Yoive to-hold the inocent creatures
near my heart." -
There came no answer from the lonely ti
woman before her and Ellen',s heart-was l
toaiched by the sad,fixed look that lhad set` -
tled upon Nora's face. h
" Come, give me the child, Nora. It is. d
notiue, yoi jnow to hold- 6s asi good- -
and quiet as yours. I do not think I have d
-ever heard it cry."- `' - fi
Sheo stooped as she spoke, and tried to tl
draw the infant from its piother's arms, but
Nora repulsed her quickly, saying, in a low c
voice: -
" You-do not know what you asl miss;
The likes of you ought hot to beipeaking ,
to me--my boy has no father !"
-This was m; id very differently from her
usual gloomy , nd defiant manner, butimag
uttered the last words, she burst oit in an
angry tone: f
" Now take the child you will I Let
me see if you will put down your pride to
hold a poor, innocent child."
She held it up -toward Ellen with a threat
cning,_lahin eye ; .but seeing that the
younggirl received it with open arms, aniT
a loving smile, she fell back upon her stoo t
oves ome by Ellen's gentleness, and all
alive to her own bitter shame.
Burying her face in her shawl, she wailed
:-lo-w and piteous cry.
Ellen spoke caressingly to--tlhe baby in
her arms, while her low, mursical 'oice
seemed to soothe the weeping mother ; for
gradually her sobs died away, and after- a
moment's quiet she said :
"I have seen how kipd and good you were
to all- oifpoor people, mi s talking to this
elDins another, and singing for that
poor, sick boy, who will-never teach-the
other side-of the water; but oh, I did not
ink you could have had a kind word for
such a wretched thing as myself."
She looked at her boy, fondly nestled in
Ellen's arms, and the old look e,f pain and
sorrow slowly  t d from her face..
" Have you fricdn Americat" inquired
Ellen, in a kinlly tone.
" I had one sister there ; butbe will not
take we in now."
S! -the deep,; d 'sadness of the poor
wonianms answer !
"What d oou ihtendQ do when you roach
there I" asked Ellen, interested in the sweet
1:.- face that layusmiling in her arms. -
,glanced p, teirrfd and leI"b4 ;
l the same momentshesaw Nolad. l iý
I shining knife from her bosom, while aih
I muttered :
" And when I have his heas' blooI,
will diel" -
t There was -something so determihed, ad .
het so touchingi so boftiblefaady et.ea. -l
Sini the woman's calm aetermninatt oem;a - om
mitanother crime, that Ellen knew not what
3 to say. YIt soothingly, as- to a chil4, and-
pityingly, as to an erring one 4h9 spoke :
, "Nay, Nora, d-you would not add
a another sin, would -~ou,-to your--alroady
heavyburden of sorow ' -
g "Another sin I Who.apeaks tome of sin!
y Even my poor mother pitiedy and forgavgme
- too, before she died; but she said not a word
about the sin. Peter, too, whein hle:drove
r ii- out, said-, his sister Wais-di`greead; but.
a he did didn't speak of sin. Sin! sin !" coati- ..-,
e nued the now excited woman, "what do
y you meaifU- speaking like a priest t Sure, /
e if to be deceived, and abandoned and din'
" graced, and made fricndless, does not make
.e you pity me-----"
a " 1 do pity you, Norn, poor. child ! But
- ySour moither need-not have forgivesn3ou -
d had -there been nothing to forgiye. )C
Lt oek the life'of another; is your own soul
r ready-forjudgmertt- Have ypitaaked par
I; don of him who hear /dagdalen's cry
t, Will theblood -of -othe'sheart resto_
y your own to nad iappines h
,d Nora, Nora; remember our dear Lord ai /
e. to ongpoor erring woman: 'Go, and sin .no
-r more!' Let your future atone for your-p/st,
is and brieng up your boy as AIpe -offe
r, to year GM !" /
It was strange how the poor, d
woman had lost all sense of moral.lig
[y tion; how the sin against virtue ~ii over
is looked in the feeling.of shame-and disgrace
t that- it brought upon her, and -how asher.
hoped to-parehaseo eace plunging into
is. deepercrmi es
d --Ellen.o tl i- must save her fom -
PP despair, for she iuddered as she glanced
from the quiet face of the innocent babe to
0 the distorted, anguished f osf mother.
at Taking Nora's hand, she edh rito the
,w cabin and seated herself beside her.
The-vessel still rocked regularly ftrm
'e' side to side and the waterb Atnued heir
°g monotonous splash against the cabin-lighti.
iocking the baby gently in her 'rms, she
er prayed for words of wisdom and comfort,
g- whetewith to instruct and console the sot
rowing one besi Wir. . -
in " What will become of me " at last burst
from Nora's lips in a .mmrnful cry, while
.t flinging 'her apron over her head,'ind face.
to she rocked to and fro in her agony of shame
and desolation.
Lt- "You have erred# Nora," said Ellen's
he _getle vice, "but you are not to despair!
SGod is good, and "He will help you in your
,T, tri ain i your sorro. TamiurEsytir W - .
all sister will eceive you kindly, and, for your
deand mother's sake, will forgive and love
ed -you now."
" She used to be very fond of me," said
in -thepeer.woman. "1I was the youngeqt, and
ice she called me once her black-eyed Nora, her -
for pride and her beauty."
a \Her voice tia inexpressibly sad and.
touching, as she dwelt upon those early,
:re happy, stainless days.
his "And'- she-isy call you so agai" said
't JElen --"Yil-hiave a new life before you,,
;he Nora; your child to care for and to love." -- -
"ot " Ah me ! ah me !" moaned the poor me-
for ther, as that dismal future rose before her. //
"If God is"with you, Nora, who shall be
in against you? Live for Ilim-and Iis sweet_
End Mother, and if no other womain will look a:.
you,-She will be a friend, and Psiter, aid
red mother, too."
The cabin was so dark now that Ellen.
not could not see Nora's face, Ibut she felt a cold
hand laid on hers, and heard a low, sweet
voice murmur:
"Cod bless you, dearie! I think I see a
ich little light even now. throagh this -gr .
e darkneqs." r re he ol..

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