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16  Juvenile Letters.

Yet I was once a mother's pride,
And my brave father's hope and joy;
But in the Nile's proud fight he died, 
And I am now an ORPHAN BOY!

Poor foolish child, how pleas'd was I,
When news of Nelson's victory came!
Along the crowded streets to fly;
And see the lighted windows flame.

To force me home my mother sought;
She could not bear to see my joy:
For with my father's life 'twas bought
And made me a poor ORPHAN BOY.

The people's shouts were long and loud;
My mother shudd'ring clos'd her ears:
"Rejoice, rejoice," still cried the croud;
My mother answered with her tears!

"Oh! why do tears steal down your cheek,"
Cried I, "While others shout for joy!"
She kiss'd me; and in accents weak,
She call'd me her poor ORPHAN BOY!

"What is an ORPHAN BOY?" I said;
When suddenly she gasp'd for breath,
And her eyes clos'd! I shriek'd for aid:
But ah! her eyes were closed in death!
My


Juvenile Letters.  17

My hardships since I will not tell; 
But now, now more a parent's joy,
Ah, Lady, I have learn'd too well
What 'tis to be an ORPHAN BOY!

Oh, were I by your bounty fed!
Nay, gentle Lady, do not chide;
Trust me, I mean to earn my bread;
The sailor's ORPHAN BOY had pride.

Lady, you weep;--what is't you say?
You'll give me clothing, food, employ!
Look down, dear parents, look and see
Your happy, happy ORPHAN BOY!


LETTER VIII.
From Miss SOPHRONIA BELLMONT to Miss CAROLINE COURTLAND
New-York, May 15, 1801.

DEAR FRIEND,

According to my promise, before I left Boston, I will attempt to give you a short history of our journey, and a description of some of the placed we have passed through.

We have had a pleasant ride in the stage of Providence, where we arrived the first night. We
B2 lodged

Transcription Notes:
---------- Reopened for Editing 2023-05-29 09:58:24