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she speaks of herself at all, which is
very seldom. Her mother-heart yearns
unspeakably after them and her eyes fail
with looking towards the South, over the
dreary interval which separates them from
her. She has saved a considerable sum of
money to buy them, can command more
from her friends, and will sacrifice anything
to see them once again and have their young
lives renew the freshness of her own weary
spirit. It is in this behalf that I address
you,--to realize this hope of hers. She says
you were always kind and good. I can
imagine that her children must be valuable,
in fact invaluable; that any value named
for them must be merely nominal. Therefore
I must trust in your goodness of heart and
in your own the remembrance of any sufferings
you may have had, and in your own hopes of
future happiness to suggest the various arguments
which I could urge for letting this
mother buy her children back to her own bosom.

I am a father — and not a mother — yet
I can well imagine the heartbreaking longings