We were called to our breakfast: as soon as it was dispatched we hurried away from our hotel to the grand railroad depot, whence we were to take our departure westward. On our way we passed directly by the gravelled walk, where we had seen the poor woman, who had so much excited our sympathy. She now sat on the ground, her infant sleeping in her lap, and herself apparently absorbed in melancholy. She was evidently of Irish extraction, and though her appearance bore evidence of extreme poverty, there were no indications about her of intemperance. I could not but think what a tale of sorrow, of disappointed hopes, and perhaps of cruelly blighted innocence, would that Irish mother's history, if recorded, unfold. My thoughts immediately went back to that beautiful Emerald Isle, over whose green fields I had so recently roamed. Though I had seen some misery there, I had seen much happiness and contentment. I verily believe there is often to be found more real happiness in the mud cottage than in the gilded palace. The Irish have strong and generous feelings, and strong family affection. As I saw that poor Irish mother sitting there upon the ground, so forlorn and desolate, my imagination pictured to me her early home, where she passed her childhood beneath the glad eye of her affectionate parents. They saw her grow up, the pride of their heart, and thought that she would be the solace of their declining years. But the tempter came--she was lured from her home--she passed over the deep waters, and found herself in a foreign land. Her base husband soon showed himself the degraded victim of intemperance, and after a few years deserted her--leaving her houseless, homeless, in poverty, and broken-hearted sorrow. Perhaps in point of fact there were no lines in the history of that poor Irish mother in correspondence with this picture, but I believe, if the real history of many an emigrant from that green isle were known, we should feel more kindly to that people, and the heart and hand of Christian charity would be more frequently open to relieve the destitute among them. I know not where we shall find on earth such noble elements of character as in the Irish race. I confess I have been charmed and filled with admiration with some specimens I have met of Irish Christian gentlemen. I cannot turn my face away from any poor Irishman who asks alms at my door, unless he be manifestly the victim of intemperance, and begs to procure the means of indulgence in this sin. It is true we are sometimes liable to be deceived. Clothes and money are sometimes procured under false pretexts. But even then they may minister to the comfort of the destitute, and if we have given for Christ's sake, we shall not lose our reward.