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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 crowd ; 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 clos'd in death! My [[next page]] Juvenile Letters. 17 My hardships since I will not tell ; But now, no 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 has 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, be- fore I left Boston, I will attempt to give you a short history of our journey, and a description of some of the places we have passed through. We had a pleasant ride in the stage to Prov- idence, where we arrived the dirst night. We lodged B2