"Her child was but a tiny babe; her features were not sufficiently
developed to leave its memory on my mind; yet they told me the little
creature was like her mother. This, the Madonna's child, is from life.
In my wanderings I visited the island of Nantucket. I spent some little
time there, as I found the great hearts of those people more congenial
to my weary spirits, than the chilling air of avarice, which, in a
measure, marks this western world. One morning, as I strolled along the
shore, looking out upon the sea, depressed in spirits, I observed a
pretty sight not far from me; an old negro sat upon the beach, and by
his side an infant, some eighteen months old, with her arms clasped
about the neck of a large Newfoundland dog, while her eyes, which were
of the blue of heaven, were fixed upon the waves which rolled and broke
in harmless ripples at her feet. She was a beauteous child. I have never
seen another upon whom I could look, as the little angel that had gone.
I traced her beautiful features, as I was so fortunate as to have pencil
and paper by me, and was about to pass on, when I observed the brother
of the child approaching; he was a noble little fellow, with the air of
a young prince, and I never shall forget his proud answer, when I asked
him of his sister,--'We call her Sea-flower, sir, for she came to us
from God, and he smiles upon each little flower, as it lifts up its
head, all trembling with dew.
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