Hope, the kind and ever attendant angel of the distressed, for more than a week seemed ready to depart; but at the end of that time, a faint desire to return to her native city began to grow into a resolution, and by the time a second week had passed away, she had fully resolved to set out upon the journey.

But she had only twenty dollars, after disposing of the few things their rapacious creditor had left them, and with this she had to go a journey of nearly five hundred miles, with three children, the oldest about twelve years of age.  But when once her mind is made up, there are few things a resolute mother will not undertake for her children.

By persevering in her applications, day after day, to the wagoners on the national road, she at length so far prevailed on one of them as to let her and her children ride as far as Zanesville, for the trifle of a dollar or two, in his wagon.

In the true spirit of success, she looked only at the present difficulty, reserving thought and attention for all succeeding difficulties, whenever they might come.  In this spirit she cut herself loose from her place in the west, and started for—­utterly unable to say how she should ever reach the desired spot.

For the first day or two, the wagoner held no conversation with her; he had been unable to resist the promptings of his kind feelings in favour of one who had asked him for aid, although he had much rather not have given her a place in his wagon.  By degrees, however, his temper changed, and he occasionally asked a question, or made a passing remark; and by the time he had reached Zanesville, he had become so interested in her case, that he refused to take the stipulated price, and kindly offered to carry her as far as Wheeling, and to—­, if he found it to his interest to go there.

The way thus providentially opened for her, few obstacles remained, and in the course of a few weeks she found herself again in the home of her childhood, the dear spot that had lived in her memory, green and inviting, for years.

But how changed was the poor sufferer!  But a very few dollars of her money was left.  The fatigue of travel. ling so long and in so uncomfortable a manner, had gradually shaken the props of a feeble body; and by the time she looked again upon the old, familiar places, her form was drooping with sickness.

Slowly she descended from the wagon, received her children, one by one, from the hands of the wagoner, thanked him with a tearful look, and tottered away.  But where could she go?  She had neither home, nor money, nor friends—­was sick and faint.  Years before, she had tripped lightly along the very street through which she now dragged her weary limbs.  She even passed by the same house, and heard the light laughter of thoughtless voices, from the same window from which she had once looked forth in earlier years, a joyful and light-hearted creature.  How familiar did that dear spot seem! but how agonizing the contrast that forced itself upon her!  Little did the merry maiden who looked out upon the pale mother, with drooping form and soiled garments, who gazed up so earnestly towards her, imagine, that but a few years before, that poor creature looked forth from that same window, a glad-hearted girl.