{"newspaper_name": "The Wilmingtonian, and Delaware register.", "edition": "01", "page": "p2", "byline": ""}
o,oers area sc years. The poor mother
had been assisted to kneel down at the head
ofit. Her withered hands were clasped. as
if in prayer, but ] could perceive, ny aIee-
Bile rocking Of the body, and convuis'Ve
motion of the lips, that she was gazing on
last relics of her son, with the yearnings OF
a mothers heart.


The service being ealed, preparations
were made to deposite the coffin in the
.arth. There was that bustling stir which
breaks so harshly on the feelings OF grief
and affection: directions given in the cold
tones Of business; the striking OF spades IN
to the sand aud gravel; which, at the grave
of those we love, is, of all sounds the most
whitening. The hustle around seemed to
awaken the mother from wretchcd revere.
She raised her glazed eyes, and looked
about with a faint wildness. As the Ten
approached with cords to lower the coffin
into the grave, she wrung her hands anu
broke into all agony of grief. Inc poor
woman who attended her took her by the
arm, endeavouring to raise her from the
earth, and to whisper something like con-
solation-"Nay, now-nay, now-lon take
1t SO sorely. to heart" She could only
shake her head, and wiring her hands, as one
not to be comforted.


AS they lowered the body into the earth,
the creaking of the cords seemed to agonize
her; but when, OIL some. accidental OBJ
struction, there was jostling OF the Coffin,
all the tenderness of the mother burst forth;
as if any harm conld come to him who was
far beyond the reach of worldly suffering.


could see no morc-my heart swelled IN
my throat--my eyes filled with teaTs--l
felt as if were acting barbarous part III
standing by and gazing idly on this scene OF
maternal anguish. wandered to another
part of the church-yard, where rem aimed
until the funeral train had dispersed.


When saw the mother slowly and pain
fully quitting the grave, leaving behind her
the remains of all that was dear to her on
earth, and returning to silence and desti-
tuition, my heart ached for her. What,
thought l, are the distresscs of the rich! they
have friends to sooth-pleasures to beguile-
a world to divert and dissipate their griets
What are the sorrows of the young r.
Their growing minds soon close above the
wound--ther elastic spirits soon rise be-
meath the pressure-their green and ductie
affections soon twine round new objects
But the sorrows of the poor, who have nc
outward appliances to sooth--the sorrows
of the aged, with whom life at best is but .
wintry day, and who can look for no after
growth of joy--the sorrows of widow aged
solitary, destitute. mourning over an onl.
son, the last solace of her years; these are
indeed sorrows which make us feel the i'm
potency of consolation.


1t was some time before left the church
yard. On my way homeward, met witt
the woman who had acted as comforter
she was just returning from accompanies
the mother to her lonely habitation, and
drew from her some particulars connected
with the affecting scene | had witnessed


The parents Of the deceased had resid
ed in the village from childhood. They hac
inhabited one of the neatest cottages and b.
various rural occupations, and the assistanc
of small garden had supported themselve
credtably and comfortably. and led happ
and blameless life. They had one sor
who had grown up to be the staff and pride c
their age-"Oh, sir'" said the good woma
''he was likely lad, so sweetly tempered
so Kind every one round him, SO dutifu t
his parents! 1t did ones heart good to Sc
him of Sunday, dressed out in his best, $
tall, SO straight, so CHEEKY, supporting hi
old mother to church-for she was alway
fonder of leaning on Georges arm than o
her goodnan's; and, poor soul, she migh
we'll be proud of him, for finer lad ther
was not in the country round"


Unfortunately, the son was tempted, dur
ing year of scarcity and agricultural hard
ship, to enter into the service of one of tn
small craft that piled on neighbourin
river. He had not been long in this EN-
ploy; when he was entrapped by press-gan
and carried off to sea. His parents receiy
ed tidings of his seizure, but beyond thu
they could learn nothing. 1t was the 10,
of their main prop. The father who va
already infrm. grew heartless and mclal
choly, and sunk into his grave. The wiz
ow, left lonely in her age and feeblcnes
could no longer support herself, and cam
upon the parish. Still! there was kin
feeling toward her throughout the viliag
and a certain respect, ,as beirg;onc ofits olde
inhabitants. As no one applied for the CO..
tage in which she had passed SO many haI
py days, she was permitted to remain in i
where she lived solitary and almost hell
less. The few wants of nature were chief
supplied from the scanty productions OF ht
little garden, which the neighbours wou
now and then cultivate for her. 1t ";
but Il few days before the time at which the


circumstances were told me, that she W


gathering some vegetables for her repas
when she heard the cottage door whit
faced the sarden suddenly opened. A stra


ger came cut, and seemed to be looking G


gerly and wildly around. He was dress


in seaman's clothes, was emaciated al
ghastlv pale, and bore the air of one brok


by sickness and hardships. He saw Ii


nnd haetpnnd iowa rfls her hut his stems we