I saw Mrs Davis and the young Leary. It was an interesting child--a boy, and bore no resemblance to the father, that I could perceive. Had it done so, I should have hated it; and so did I declare myself in the presence of its grandmother. In reply to this avowal, the old lady informed me that Mrs Leary and I held a different opinion upon the point of the child's resemblance: for she thought it a perfect image of its father, and that was the reason why she was so dotingly fond of it! "Thank God!" said the grandmother, "that I myself think as you do. No. The child has no resemblance to its unworthy father. I am happy in thinking, that in every feature of its face it is like its mother--my own unfortunate child. I could not love it were it not for that; but now I don't know what I should do without it. God has surely sent us this little creature, as some compensation for the loss we sustained by being deprived of our dear daughter!" The grief of the bereaved mother could not be witnessed without pain; and leaving her with the child in her arms, I withdrew. Volume Two, Chapter XV. A MEETING WITH A LONG-LOST MOTHER. From Mrs Davis I had obtained my mother's address; and I went at once in search of the place. Passing along the street, to which I had been directed, I saw a small, but neat-looking shop, with the words "_Mrs Leary, Milliner and Dress-Maker_" painted over the door. I had journeyed far in search of my mother; I had just arrived from a long voyage--which it had taken three ships to enable me to complete. The weariness of spirit, and impatience caused by the delay, had been a source of much misery to me; but now that the object of my search was found--and there was nothing further to do than enter the house and greet my long-lost relatives-- strange enough, I felt as if there was no more need for haste! Instead of at once stepping into the house, I passed nearly an hour in the street--pacing up and down it, altogether undetermined how to act. During that hour my thoughts were busy, both with the past and future: for I knew that in the interview I was about to hold with my mother, topics must come into our conversation of a peculiar kind, and such as required the most serious reflection on my part, before making myself known to her. Should I make her acquainted with the ignominious termination of Mr Leary's career; and by that means endeavour to put an end to her strange infatuation for him? If what Mrs Davis had told me regarding her should turn out to be true, I almost felt as if I could no longer regard her as a mother. Indeed, when I reflected on her affection for such a wretch as Leary, I could not help some risings of regret, that I should have lost so much time, and endured so many hardships, in search of a relative who could be guilty of such incurable folly.