that she should come to New York for a while, to be under the care
of Dr. Elliott, a well known oculist. It did not occur to me that there was
any thing improper in a mother's making such a request; but Mrs. Hobbs was
very angry, and refused to let her go. Situated as I was, it was not
politic to insist upon it. I made no complaint, but I longed to be entirely
free to act a mother's part towards my children. The next time I went over
to Brooklyn, Mrs. Hobbs, as if to apologize for her anger, told me she had
employed her own physician to attend to Ellen's eyes, and that she had
refused my request because she did not consider it safe to trust her in New
York. I accepted the explanation in silence; but she had told me that my
child _belonged_ to her daughter, and I suspected that her real motive was
a fear of my conveying her property away from her. Perhaps I did her
injustice; but my knowledge of Southerners made it difficult for me to feel
otherwise.

Sweet and bitter were mixed in the cup of my life, and I was thankful that
it had ceased to be entirely bitter. I loved Mrs. Bruce's babe. When it
laughed and crowed in my face, and twined its little tender arms
confidingly about my neck, it made me think of the time when Benny and
Ellen were babies, and my wounded heart was soothed. One bright morning, as
I stood at the window, tossing baby in my arms, my attention was attracted
by a young man in sailor's dress, who was closely observing every house as
he passed. I looked at him earnestly. Could it be my brother William? It
_must_ be he--and yet, how changed! I placed the baby safely, flew down
stairs, opened the front door, beckoned to the sailor, and in less than a
minute I was clasped in my brother's arms. How much we had to tell each
other! How we laughed, and how we cried, over each other's adventures! I
took him to Brooklyn, and again saw him with Ellen, the dear child whom he
had loved and tended so carefully, while I was shut up in my miserable den.
He staid in New York a week. His old feelings of affection for me and Ellen
were as lively as ever. There are no bonds so strong as those which are
formed by suffering together.

XXXIV. The Old Enemy Again.

My young mistress, Miss Emily Flint, did not return any answer to my letter
requesting her to consent to my being sold. But after a while, I received a
reply, which purported to be written by her younger brother. In order
rightly to enjoy the contents of this