So write as quick as you can, won't you? So
now I am going to put an end to my writing, at present. Notice-when
this you see, remember me, and place me in your mind.
Get me to my home, that's in the far distant west,
To the scenes of my childhood, that I like the best;
There the tall cedars grow, and the bright waters flow,
Where my parents will greet me, white man, let me go!
Let me go to the spot where the cateract plays,
Where oft I have sported in my boyish days;
And there is my poor mother, whose heart ever flows,
At the sight of her poor child, to her let me go, let me go!
'Your only son,
'PETER VAN WAGENER.'
Since the date of the last letter, Isabella has heard no tidings from
her long-absent son, though ardently does her mother's heart long for
such tidings, as her thoughts follow him around the world, in his
perilous vocation, saying within herself-'He is good now, I have no
doubt; I feel sure that he has persevered, and kept the resolve he made
before he left home;-he seemed so different before he went, so
determined to do better.' His letters are inserted here for
preservation, in case they prove the last she ever hears from him in
this world.
FINDING A BROTHER AND SISTER.
When Isabella had obtained the freedom of her son, she remained in
Kingston, where she had been drawn by the judicial process, about a
year, during which time she became a member of the Methodist Church
there: and when she went to New York, she took a letter missive from
that church to the Methodist Church in John street.
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