aged negro, and soon after sent him in a vessel to Guinea, under the care of a humane captain.

As time passed on, the family of this gentleman increased, until, at the expiration of twelve years from the time of his marriage, he could count around his table five daughters and two sons.

Mr. Weldron was devotedly attached to his children ; and his greatest, I had almost said, only visible fault was, a proneness to indulge them to their hurt. His wife was not naturally fond of children; and her patience was soon exhausted, whenever they were wayward or perverse.

Their second daughter, whose name was Anna, was so unfortunate as never to possess the confidence of her mother, but upon the slightest occasion would be severely censured and rebuked by her. Mr. Weldron saw, with pain, the effect the cold treatment of her mother had upon the child, and was led into an opposite error, in striving to save her spirits from depression.

It will readily be supposed that the combined influence of both parents, was exceedingly injurious to the mind of Anna; for, while the unnatural conduct of her mother disheartened, the too great fondness of her father was calculated to cause her, with the proud, independent disposition which she possessed, to regard her mother with something like a feeling of defiance. This feeling grew with her growth, and strengthened with her strength, while she was regarded by her mother with a feeling of jealousy that her own rights were invaded.

On the whole, the children of this family were well taught; and, except the too great partiality of Mr. Weldron for them, there was no fault noticeable in his method

of training them. They were taught to reverence the Sabbath, to obey their parents, to be kind to all, and charitable to the poor; and they were directed to take the Bible as the guide of their life.

Anna had nearly arrived at the age of fourteen, before any event of great importance occurred. At that time, one evening in the month of December, Mr. Weldron informed the family, while seated at the tea-table, that he was going to ride that evening with one of his neighbors to an adjacent town to transact business of importance, which would, probably detain him until a late hour.

The family were so much accustomed to the absence of Mr. Weldron, on business, that they scarcely thought of his leaving them; and when he looked into the nursery and bade them a cheerful good-by, they confidently expected to receive his fond caresses again early on the following morning.

The morning came, and the children arose at the usual hour. After they were ready for breakfast and waiting, expecting every moment to be called, they noticed an expression of sorrow, upon the countenances of two of the servants, whom one of the children saw with surprise standing a short distance from the house, conversing in a whisper, and occasionally looking earnestly down the road, in the direction of the town of M, the place to which Mr. Weldron had gone, the preceding night.

This excited the curiosity of all the children, who went immediately into the kitchen to inquire the cause of their unusual appearance. Anna asked the servants why they all looked so sad; but each one she addressed turned away from her, giving an evasive answer. She then went

to the apartment in which her parents usually slept, but found it unoccupied, and the appearance of the room was such as to lead her to suppose that it had been unoccupied during the preceding night.

Filled with anxious apprehension, Anna returned to the kitchen, saying, imploringly, 'Do tell me if anything dreadful has happened?' She then, without waiting for a reply, asked why her mother was absent, for,' continued the child, if she had only gone away to watch, as she expected to go last night, she would have returned before now?'

The servant told her that her mother did go out to watch with a sick child.

'But where,' inquired the girl, 'did my father stay during the night? he expected to have returned rather late you know.'

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'I know it my dear,' replied the other, but people cannot always do as they intend to,' then with feelings of emotion, which she struggled hard, yet vainly, to suppress, added, 'you will know soon enough if anything unpleasant has taken place.'

The servant then conducted all the children to the room where their breakfast was in readiness. They sat down, but little if any food was tasted by the eldest of them, as their anxiety deprived them of any disposition to eat. After the children left the table, they went into the sitting-room, where they found assembled several neighbors and friends, who sat conversing together, in a low and pensive tone.

When the children entered the room, they were regarded by these friends with an expression of countenance

that bespoke sympathy. The eldest two understood its meaning, and Anna inquired of one of the gentlemen present if any accident had befallen her father. The individual whom she addressed was affected, and it was some moments ere he could command his voice to speak.

At length he said, taking Anna affectionately by the hand, Your father was thrown from his horse while riding towards home last night and badly hurt.'

'Will he die, or is he already dead?' quickly interrogated the distressed daughter.

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'I fear,' replied the gentleman, that you must part with your beloved parent, Anna!'

'Have you seen him?' asked she eagerly.

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Yes,' replied her sympathizing friend with much hesitation, and he is no more.'

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To describe the agony of feeling evinced by these children, upon hearing this mournful intelligence, would be impossible; language would fail us in attempting to do

So.

Anna felt, more keenly than the others, that she had lost a friend that would never be replaced.

As the children sat weeping, and most of them sobbing audibly, Anna looked for a moment out of the window in the direction in which her father was to be brought home. Her attention was immediately arrested by seeing a procession of sleighs coming towards the house.

In one of the sleighs Anna saw the remains of her idolized parent laying wrapped in his cloak. She shrieked at the sight, and fell fainting upon the floor. When she recovered, her irreparable loss again came to mind, and again caused her to faint. It was some time ere she

entirely recovered from the effect which the sight she had witnessed, had produced upon her agitated nerves.

In the mean time the corpse of Mr. Weldron had been placed in the parlor, and clad in the habiliments of death. His companion sat in silence, surrounded by her fatherless children.

She had heard the overwhelming intelligence that her husband had been thrown from his horse and fatally wounded, while at the house of a friend, whither she had gone to attend the sick, the preceding night. A messenger had been immediately despatched from the house into which Mr. Weldron had been carried, to inform Mrs. Weldron, as gently as possible, of the calamity.

The person sent, not finding her at home, made known his errand to the servants, and was accompanied by one of them to the place where she was. Upon hearing the sad tidings, Mrs. Weldron was almost distracted, and hastened to the house in which lay the lifeless body of her husband. She remained there until a jury had been called to examine the body; after which she accompanied it, with a large number of weeping friends, to her own home.

Many more neighbors and friends assembled in this house of mourning, endeavoring to afford some feeble consolation to those so deeply afflicted; and they did afford the sweetest solace that earth can give. These mourners

felt that there was power in sympathy to prevent them from sinking in the depths of despondency.

O, there is a charm in the refined, tenderly expressed pity of friends, that is unrivalled in this vale of sorrow and