But here comes the captain muffled up. He brings with him a poor
sickly-looking woman, begs the ladies' pardon, and bids her sit down by
the stove and warm herself. He then tells the passengers her painful
story. The night before, in New York, this woman came on board, from
one of the Philadelphia boats, bringing with her a bed and a child. On
being spoken to by the captain, she informed him that she was on her
way from St. Louis to her home in Massachusetts,--that she had been
fifteen days upon the journey, and had two children with her. On being
asked where the other was, she replied, "There it is," pointing to the
bed, where, clad in its usual dress, the little sufferer, released from
the trials of life, lay extended in death. It had caught cold, and died
in her arms in New York. She was friendless and penniless, and wanted a
passage to New Haven. The captain had obtained a coroner's inquest over
the body, purchased for it a little coffin, had it decently laid out,
and gratified her maternal feelings by allowing her to bring it with
her, that it might be buried in her village-home in Massachusetts.
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