The Wide, Wide World. Warner Susan

the tears rising to her eyes, and, sick of the window, turned away. Her eye fell on her trunk; her next thought was of her desk inside of it; and suddenly her heart sprang "I will write to Mamma!" No sooner said than done. The trunk was quickly open, and hasty hands pulled out one thing after another till the desk was reached.

      "But what shall I do?" thought she "there isn't a sign of a table. Oh, what a place! I'll shut my trunk and put it on that. But here are all these things to put back first."

      They were eagerly stowed away; and then kneeling by the side of the trunk, with loving hands Ellen opened her desk. A sheet of paper was drawn from her store, and properly placed before her; the pen dipped in the ink, and at first with a hurried, then with a trembling hand, she wrote, "My dear Mamma." But Ellen's heart had been swelling and swelling with every letter of those three words, and scarcely was the last "a" finished, when the pen was dashed down, and flinging away from the desk, she threw herself on the floor in a passion of grief. It seemed as if she had her mother again in her arms, and was clinging with a death-grasp, not to be parted from her. And then the feeling that she was parted! As much bitter sorrow as a little heart can know was in poor Ellen's now. In her childish despair she wished she could die, and almost thought she should. After a time, however, though not a short time, she rose from the floor and went to her writing again her heart a little eased by weeping, yet the tears kept coming all the time, and she could not quite keep her paper from being blotted. The first sheet was spoiled before she was aware; she took another.

      "MY DEAREST MAMMA,

      "It makes me so glad and so sorry to write to you, that I don't know what to do. I want to see you so much, Mamma, that it seems to me sometimes as if my heart would break. Oh, Mamma, if I could just kiss you once more, I would give anything in the whole world. I can't be happy as long as you are away, and I am afraid I can't be good either; but I will try oh, I will try, Mamma. I have so much to say to you, that I don't know where to begin. I am sure my paper will never hold it. You will want to know about my journey. The first day was on the steamboat, you know. I should have had a dreadful time that day, Mamma, but for something I'll tell you about. I was sitting up on the upper deck, thinking about you, and feeling very badly indeed, when a gentleman came and spoke to me, and asked me what was the matter. Mamma, I can't tell you how kind he was to me. He kept me with him the whole day. He took me all over the boat, and showed me all about a great many things, and he talked to me a great deal. Oh, Mamma, how he talked to me! He read in the Bible to me, and explained it, and he tried to make me a Christian. And oh! Mamma, when he was talking to me, how I wanted to do as he said! and I resolved I would. I did, Mamma, and I have not forgotten it. I will try indeed, but I am afraid it will be very hard, without you or him or anybody else to help me. You couldn't have been kinder yourself, Mamma; he kissed me at night when I bid him good-bye, and I was very sorry indeed. I wish I could see him again. Mamma, I will always love that gentleman, if I never see him again in the world. I wish there was somebody here that I could love, but there is not. You will want to know what sort of a person my aunt Fortune is. I think she is very good-looking, or she would be if her nose was not quite so sharp; but, Mamma, I can't tell you what sort of a feeling I have about her; it seems to me as if she was sharp all over. I am sure her eyes are as sharp as two needles. And she don't walk like other people at least, sometimes. She makes queer little jerks and starts and jumps, and flies about like I don't know what. I am afraid it is not right for me to write so about her; but may I not tell you, Mamma? There's nobody else for me to talk to. I can't like Aunt Fortune much yet, and I am sure she don't like me; but I will try to make her. I have not forgotten what you said to me about that! Oh! dear Mamma, I will try to mind everything you ever said to me in your life. I am afraid you won't like what I have written about Aunt Fortune; but indeed I have done nothing to displease her, and I will try not to. If you were only here, Mamma, I should say it was the loveliest place I ever saw in my life. Perhaps, after all, I shall feel better, and be quite happy by and by; but oh! Mamma, how glad I shall be when I get a letter from you! I shall begin to look for it soon, and I think I shall go out of my wits with joy when it comes. I had the funniest ride down here from Thirlwall that you can think; how do you guess I came? In a cart drawn by oxen! They went so slow, we were an age getting here; but I liked it very much. There was a good-natured man driving the oxen, and he was kind to me; but, Mamma, what do you think? he eats at the table! I know what you would tell me; you would say I must not mind trifles. Well, I will try not, Mamma. Oh! darling mother, I can't think much of anything but you. I think of you the whole time. Who makes tea for you now? Are you better? Are you going to leave New York soon? It seems dreadfully long since I saw you. I am tired, dear Mamma, and cold; and it is getting dark. I must stop. I have a good big room to myself; that is a good thing. I should not like to sleep with Aunt Fortune. Good night, dear Mamma. I wish I could sleep with you once more. Oh! when will that be again, Mamma? Good night. Good night Your affectionate "ELLEN."