Letter to the Editor [pp. 76-78]

LETTER TO THE EDITOR.
The following sketch, or skeleton, may show that
this discourse is far more methodical than most
modern sermons:
1. The THREE questions proposed.
2. The answer to the FIRST question.
3. The answer to the SECOND.
4. Practical remarks on the first answer.
5. Do. do. on the second.
6. Answer to the THIRD question.
II. How unsustained are the skepticisms and heresies that base themselves on this discourse! Gibbon, for instance, quotes this passage as identifying
the advent with the destruction of Jerusalem, and
sneers with genuine effect at the interpreters who escape through metaphor and double entendres. Availing itself of the allegorical interpretation, Universalism maintains that there is no other judgment
than the destruction of Jerusalem; and surely, if orthodoxy cannot maintain a universal judgment in
this passage, it may as well, in every other case, surrender. An Antinomian perfectionism has founded on this discourse the doctrine that the judgment
is past-that we are now in eternity-that probation is closed, and the law abolished. Of so many
evils may one instance of false interpretation be
the parent. To all such evils the writer of this
article believes that the exposition here presented,
if clearly understood, would be a decisive antidote.
LETTER TO THE EDITOR.
PROM A FEMALE CORRESPONDENT.
SiR,-Having become a little settled, after my
recent and long voyage across the Atlantic, I have
remembered my promise to send you something
from this side of the water which might be interesting to your readers. I do not know that I can
better accomplish this than ny relating a little story
that was told us one evening, on board the ship, by
the first mate. He was a man of much intelligence,
having traveled a great deal, and observed the world
with a keen eye, and rare judgment. One evening
when the rolling of the vessel precluded the usual
walk upon deck, the passengers, with the captain
and mate, assembled in the cabin, and agreed each
to relate some striking incident that had occurred
under his or her observation. The mate was the
first to begin, and we settled ourselves to listen attentively to his narrative.
"Two years ago," said he, "I was mate of the
packet-ship -, sailing between New York and
Liverpool. It was at the time that the famine in
Ireland was at its height; and our ship, like so
many others which went out from America, was
stored with a large quantity of provisions, to be
landed on the Irish coast. We started on our voyage with a fair wind, and a cabin full of passengers;
but, singularly enough, there were no ladies among
them. Neither did I notice any females in the crowd
of men who had taken their berths in the steerage.
We had been three days at sea, when the captain,
showing me his list of passengers, pointed to the
name of Mary Connelly put down as a steerage
passenger, and asked me if I had seen her. I told
him that I was pretty sure there was no female on
board, but, as it was the second mate's office to
attend to the steerage passengers, I might be mistaken, and would see about it. Accordingly, when
my watch was over, I descended the steep steps
which led into the uncomfortable quarters of the
greater portion of the passengers. It was quite
dark, and I lighted the lantern to enable me to look
around better. About thirty men, all sea-sick, were
lying about on the floor and benches, while at one
side sat half-a-dozen Germans smoking their pipes,
playing cards, and swearing prodigiously. I was
about to turn back, feeling sure that no woman could
be alone among that crew; but, just as I turned, a
short, dry cough, coming from the farther end of
the steerage, sounded upon my ear. I walked to
the spot, and, raising the lantern, saw lying before
me in the berth, a womnan of about twenty-five
years of age, with very bright, black eyes, and features which, doubtless, were once beautiful, but
which were now pale, and sharpened by disease;
for, alas! there was no mistaking that cough, and
the crimson flush upon her cheeks. On seeing me,
she colored deeply, and closed her eyes. I asked
gently if her name was Mary Connelly. She replied, in a low tone of voice, that it was.
"' Are you sick, Mary,' I asked.
"Another painful cough was my answer.
"' Are you married? Have you any relatives or
friends on board?"
"' I am a widow, and alone on board this ship,'
she replied; and then seeing me about to express
my surprise, she quickly added,'Do not ask me
now why I am here. I knew I should be the only
female on board, but I had to come.'
"'Why do you not try and go upon deck?' I
asked;'you would feel better there.'
"' I cannot go alone,' she replied,' and I will not
ask the assistance of any of these men.'
"' I will take you up,' I said;' the sun is shining
brightly above; and the air must be stifling to you
here.'
She accepted my offer, and tried to raise herself
from the berth; but her strength failed her. I put
my arm around her; she was a tall woman,.and yet,
so reduced had she become by sickness, that I carried her upon deck as easily as if she had been an
infant. The captain was much surprised to see
her, and, after awhile, drew from her the particulars of her history.
"Two years before, she had run away from Ireland and her mother, and crossed the ocean to
meet her lover, who had been in America a few
months. They were married in New York, and
lived there the first year very happily; but after
that, James took to drink, and soon treated his
wife very badly. She now began to think of her
mother, whom she had left alone in her old age;
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