The Freemason's Daughter: A Novel — page 289: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

283 THE FREEMASONS DAUGHTER. ‘‘Dear me,” observed the honest manufacturer, looking at the time-piece on the chimney ; “ past twelve o’clock—how very short the evenings get. Come, girls,”’ he added, using an old man’s privilege, and saluting his guests, to the envy of William, who longed to imitate his example; “to bed, or I shall see you with pale cheeks at the breakfast-table to-morrow.” “Good night,” was softly whispered, and the little domestic circle separated to their beds—the lovers to happy dreams, the old couple to that placid slumber which a conscience at peace with time alone bestows. The same day, the good ship, the “‘ Herald,” freighted with emigrants, was bounding on the broad Atlantic, pursuing its course to the poor man’s land of promise —America. Like a human heart, could the characters and feelings of the crowd in the hold have been analysed, there would have been found a strange mixture of good and evil passions—strength and weakness— hopes and regrets—suffering and crime. In a snug corner of the deck might be seen an aged widow, with a smiling face, comfortably clad, reading her Bible. At her years the future had but little promise, that she should leave the home of her youth and the grave of her husband for a foreign land. But her children were there. To see them once more—bless them before she died, gaze upon the grandchildren which had been born to her—old as she was, she braved the perils of the waters, the pain and inconvenience of the hold—the landing would repay it all; for her SS (SO COniiclooecl