Library Collections: Document: Full Text

Incidents In The Life Of A Blind Girl

Creator: Mary L. Day (author)
Date: 1859
Publisher: James Young, Baltimore
Source: Available at selected libraries
Figures From This Artifact: Figure 2

Previous Page   Next Page   All Pages 

Page 29:


He told me he had lived in New-York most of the time since parting from us, and was married again, and that he had three children named after us -- which proved he had remembered us, though far from him. He remained in Baltimore two months, then returned home to his family.


Spring had now opened. I was still under treatment for my eyes; they were no better, and it was thought best to dispense with the doctor's further services. Accordingly my bill was settled, and I was relieved the almost daily torture to which I had been subjected.


At this time I received an invitation to visit some relatives in Westminster. It proved a pleasant trip. I made many new friends. On my return Cousin William proposed I should go to New-York and try if any thing could be done to effect a restoration of my sight. Upon his advice, I wrote to Uncle Henry Deems, a resident there, asking him at a stated time to meet me. I started on the twenty-fifth of May. Cousin William could not go with me; but he placed me under charge of a lady travelling that way, a Mrs. Moreton; she was extremely kind and attentive.


We entered into a pleasant conversation, and I found she had known my father and mother. At Philadelphia we were joined by a lady and her little girl, ten years of age. She was quite agreeable, and while with us added much to the pleasure of our journey. On leaving the boat we were literally carried along by the crowd, and it was not until we were seated in the cars our new friend discovered she had lost her purse, containing about fifty dollars. She was much distressed, and so was her little daughter. At the first stopping-place the conductor telegraphed back, but nothing had been heard of the missing purse. A gentleman took his hat and going through the cars, lifted a collection for the lady. One man in his liberality put in a cent; but the gentleman immediately threw it out of the window, saying: "We want no coppers." When he had completed his noble errand, he returned and emptied the hat's contents into the lady's lap. She was too much affected to thank him, but her little girl did so more effectively than words could have done, by taking his hand and kissing it most passionately. Mrs. Moreton inquired his name, but he would only say: "I am from San Francisco."


The lady then gave Mrs. Moreton a sketch of her life. Her husband had died one year previous, and had unfortunately left his property in care of those who had defrauded her of it. To regain it if possible, had been her errand to Baltimore; but the attempt had been unsuccessful, and she was now on her way home to Providence. A thousand-fold seemed magnified the generous deed of the noble Franciscan, when we learned the lost purse and its contents had been toiled for by one who had encountered such heavy misfortunes.


After we had taken the steamboat at Amboy, she went on deck to express her thanks to her friend in need, but he would not admit he deserved or desired any acknowledgment of what he had done; but said he purposed making a second collection on the boat -- this the lady gratefully declined, as she already had recovered a larger amount than she had lost.




"GIRD up your heart with silent fortitude; suffering, yet hoping all things." HEMANS.


"FRIENDSHIP has a power
To soothe affliction in her darkest hour."


"WHAT can we not endure,
When pains are lessened by the hope of cure?"


AFTER a few hours' ride, we landed at New-York. My uncle had been described to me before I left Baltimore; I asked Mrs. Moreton if a gentleman came into the cabin answering to this description, as I repeated it to her, would she speak to him for me. In a few minutes I heard her inquire of some one, "If he were looking for a blind lady?" He said he was, and she presented me to him. He received me with great cordiality, expressing thanks to Mrs. Moreton for her attention to me. She now bade me good-by, extending a pressing invitation to come and visit her, remaining just as long as I would feel inclined. The lady and her little girl also parted from me, kindly wishing me success.


Uncle then took me to his home, the affectionate interest there shown words can not utter. The tenderest anxiety in my behalf was expressed, which I shall ever gratefully recollect.


The morning after my arrival, I went with Uncle Henry to Dr. Stephenson's Infirmary. I had been told he could decide, as soon as he had seen the patient, whether their sight could be restored; my suspense, consequently, was almost overwhelming. Having reached the place whither, it appeared to me, I had come to hear my fate pronounced, so excited was I, it seemed as though I should certainly faint. The doctor came in; observing how overwrought were my feelings, he very considerately forebore telling me how little probability there was I should ever see again.


While seated near us, one patient after an other came to consult him relative to diseases of the eye. Some he would inform they could be cured, but others again, and by far the greater number, he would tell he could do nothing for them. Among these unfortunate ones there was a young woman who, upon learning her case was beyond human skill, sank back in her husband's arms, and I never can forget her groans of agony. Then the piercing screams of a man reached me; he was undergoing an operation in an adjoining room. My heart sank within me, when the doctor arose and taking me by the hand, said to my uncle: "I think we had better take her away from here, or she will be too unnerved to undergo an operation." We retired to a spacious parlor upstairs, where the doctor left us alone. During his absence, Uncle tried to cheer me, begging me to exercise, as much fortitude as I could. The doctor soon returned, accompanied by a Mrs. Sherwood, the lady of the house; she was about forty years of age, her once handsome face bore traces of care and sorrow. Her manner was winning and gentle, very motherly and soothing.

Previous Page   Next Page

Pages:  1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20  21  22  23  24  25  26  27  28  29  30  31  32  33  34  35  36  37  38  39  40    All Pages