New Trials

The reader will pardon this passing homily, while we return to our narrative.

The reader will pardon this brief moral lesson as we return to our story.

We were saying that the day-dreams of Isabella and her husband-the plan they drew of what they would do, and the comforts they thought to have, when they should obtain their freedom, and a little home of their own- had all turned to 'thin air,' by the postponement of their freedom to so late a day. These delusive hopes were never to be realized, and a new set of trials was gradually to open before her. These were the heart-wasting trials of watching over her children, scattered, and imminently exposed to the temptations of the adversary, with few, if any, fixed principles to sustain them.

We were saying that Isabella and her husband had dreamed of what they would do once they were free. They had imagined the comforts of a little home of their own. But because their freedom was delayed for so long, all these dreams had turned to 'thin air.' These false hopes would never come true, and new trials would gradually arise for Isabella. She would suffer the anguish of watching over her scattered children. They were in immediate danger of giving in to the temptations of the adversary. They had few, if any, firm principles to guide them.

'Oh,' she says, 'how little did I know myself of the best way to instruct and counsel them! Yet I did the best I then knew, when with them. I took them to the religious meetings; I talked to, and prayed for and with them; when they did wrong, I scolded at and whipped them.'

'Oh,' she says, 'how little I knew about the best way to teach and guide them! Yet I did the best I knew how when I was with them. I took them to religious meetings. I talked to them and prayed for them and with them. When they did wrong, I scolded and whipped them.'

Isabella and her son had been free about a year, when they went to reside in the city of New York; a place which she would doubtless have avoided, could she have foreseen what was there in store for her; for this view into the future would have taught her what she only learned by bitter experience, that the baneful influences going up from such a city were not the best helps to education, commenced as the education of her children had been.

Isabella and her son had been free for about a year when they moved to New York City. She would doubtless have avoided the city if she had known what awaited her there. Looking into the future would have taught her what she learned only through bitter experience. The city’s harmful influences were not the best help for her children’s education, given how their education had begun.

Her son Peter was, at the time of which we are speaking, just at that age when no lad should be subjected to the temptations of such a place, unprotected as he was, save by the feeble arm of a mother, herself a servant there. He was growing up to be a tall, well-formed, active lad, of quick perceptions, mild and cheerful in his disposition, with much that was open, generous and winning about him, but with little power to withstand temptation, and a ready ingenuity to provide himself with ways and means to carry out his plans, and conceal from his mother and her friends, all such as he knew would not meet their approbation. As will be readily believed, he was soon drawn into a circle of associates who did not improve either his habits or his morals.

Her son Peter was then at an age when no boy should face the temptations of such a place. His only protection was his mother's weak arm, and she was herself a servant there. He was growing into a tall, well-built, active boy who was quick to notice things. He was gentle and cheerful, with an open, generous, and appealing nature. But he had little strength to resist temptation. He was quick to find ways to carry out his plans and hide from his mother and her friends any plans he knew they would disapprove of. As one might easily believe, he soon fell in with companions who did nothing to improve his habits or morals.

Two years passed before Isabella knew what character Peter was establishing for himself among his low and worthless comrades-passing under the assumed name of Peter Williams; and she began to feel a parent's pride in the promising appearance of her only son. But, alas! this pride and pleasure were shortly dissipated, as distressing facts relative to him came one by one to her astonished ear. A friend of Isabella's, a lady, who was much pleased with the good humor, ingenuity, and open confessions of Peter, when driven into a corner, and who, she said, 'was so smart, he ought to have an education, if any one ought,'-paid ten dollars, as tuition fee, for him to attend a navigation school. But Peter, little inclined to spend his leisure hours in study, when he might be enjoying himself in the dance, or otherwise, with his boon companions, went regularly and made some plausible excuses to the teacher, who received them as genuine, along with the ten dollars of Mrs -, and while his mother and her friend believed him improving at school, he was, to their latent sorrow, improving in a very different place or places, and on entirely opposite principles. They also procured him an excellent place as a coachman. But, wanting money, he sold his livery, and other things belonging to his master; who, having conceived a kind regard for him, considered his youth, and prevented the law from falling, with all its rigor, upon his head. Still he continued to abuse his privileges, and to involve himself in repeated difficulties, from which his mother as often extricated him. At each time, she talked much, and reasoned and remonstrated with him; and he would, with such perfect frankness, lay open his whole soul to her, telling her he had never intended doing harm,-how he had been led along, little by little, till, before he was aware, he found himself in trouble-how he had tried to be good-and how, when he would have been so, 'evil was present with him,'-indeed he knew not how it was.

Two years passed before Isabella learned what kind of reputation Peter was building among his low and worthless companions. He was going by the assumed name of Peter Williams. Meanwhile, she had begun to feel a mother's pride in the promising appearance of her only son. But, alas! Her pride and pleasure soon vanished as troubling facts about him reached her, one by one, to her astonishment. A woman who was a friend of Isabella's was very pleased with Peter's good humor and ingenuity. She also liked his frank confessions when he was backed into a corner. She said he 'was so smart, he ought to have an education, if anyone ought.' So she paid ten dollars in tuition for him to attend a navigation school. But Peter had little desire to spend his free hours studying. He preferred dancing or enjoying himself in other ways with his companions. He went regularly and made plausible excuses to the teacher, who accepted them as genuine, along with Mrs -'s ten dollars. While his mother and her friend believed he was improving at school, he was, to their later sorrow, improving in a very different place or places, and according to entirely opposite principles. They also found him an excellent job as a coachman. But when he wanted money, he sold his livery and other things belonging to his employer. His employer had grown fond of him and took his youth into account. So he prevented the law from falling on Peter with all its force. Still, Peter continued to abuse his privileges and get into trouble again and again. Each time, his mother got him out of it. She talked to him at length, reasoned with him, and urged him to change. And each time, he opened his whole soul to her with perfect frankness. He told her he had never meant to do harm. He explained how he had been led along little by little, until he found himself in trouble before he knew it. He told her how he had tried to be good, and how, when he wanted to be good, 'evil was present with him.' Indeed, he did not know how it happened.

His mother, beginning to feel that the city was no place for him, urged his going to sea, and would have shipped him on board a man-of-war; but Peter was not disposed to consent to that proposition, while the city and its pleasures were accessible to him. Isabella now became a prey to distressing fears, dreading lest the next day or hour come fraught with the report of some dreadful crime, committed or abetted by her son. She thanks the Lord for sparing her that giant sorrow, as all his wrong doings never ranked higher, in the eye of the law, than misdemeanors. But as she could see no improvement in Peter, as a last resort, she resolved to leave him, for a time, unassisted, to bear the penalty of his conduct, and see what effect that would have on him. In the trial hour, she remained firm in her resolution. Peter again fell into the hands of the police, and sent for his mother, as usual; but she went not to his relief. In his extremity, he sent for Peter Williams, a respectable colored barber, whose name he had been wearing, and who sometimes helped young culprits out of their troubles, and sent them from city dangers, by shipping them on board of whaling vessels.

His mother began to feel that the city was no place for him. She urged him to go to sea and would have sent him aboard a warship. But Peter was unwilling to agree while the city and its pleasures were still within his reach. Isabella became tormented by fears that any day or hour might bring news of a terrible crime committed or aided by her son. She thanks the Lord for sparing her that enormous sorrow. In the eyes of the law, all his wrongdoings never amounted to more than misdemeanors. But Isabella could see no improvement in Peter. As a last resort, she decided to leave him without help for a time. She would let him face the penalty for his conduct and see what effect it had on him. When the time came, she held firm. Peter again fell into the hands of the police and sent for his mother, as usual. But she did not go to help him. In his desperation, he sent for Peter Williams, a respectable colored barber whose name he had been using. Williams sometimes helped young offenders out of trouble and sent them away from the dangers of the city aboard whaling ships.

The curiosity of this man was awakened by the culprit's bearing his own name. He went to the Tombs and inquired into his case, but could not believe what Peter told him respecting his mother and family. Yet he redeemed him, and Peter promised to leave New York in a vessel that was to sail in the course of a week. He went to see his mother, and informed her of what had happened to him. She listened incredulously, as to an idle tale. He asked her to go with him and see for herself. She went, giving no credence to his story till she found herself in the presence of Mr. Williams, and heard him saying to her, 'I am very glad I have assisted your son; he stood in great need of sympathy and assistance; but I could not think he had such a mother here, although he assured me he had.'

The man was curious because the accused bore his own name. He went to the Tombs and asked about his case, but he could not believe what Peter told him about his mother and family. Still, he secured Peter’s release, and Peter promised to leave New York on a ship sailing within a week. Peter went to see his mother and told her what had happened. She listened in disbelief, as if it were a made-up story. He asked her to come and see for herself. She went, but did not believe his story until she stood before Mr. Williams and heard him say, 'I am very glad I helped your son. He badly needed sympathy and help. But I could not believe he had a mother like you here, although he assured me he did.'

Isabella's great trouble now was, a fear lest her son should deceive his benefactor, and be missing when the vessel sailed; but he begged her earnestly to trust him, for he said he had resolved to do better, and meant to abide by the resolve. Isabella's heart gave her no peace till the time of sailing, when Peter sent Mr. Williams and another messenger whom she knew, to tell her he had sailed. But for a month afterwards, she looked to see him emerging from some by-place in the city, and appearing before her; so afraid was she that he was still unfaithful, and doing wrong. But he did not appear, and at length she believed him really gone. He left in the summer of 1839, and his friends heard nothing further from him till his mother received the following letter, dated 'October 17 1840';-

Isabella’s great worry now was that her son would deceive his benefactor and not be there when the ship sailed. But he begged her to trust him. He said he had resolved to do better and meant to keep his word. Isabella could find no peace until the ship sailed. Then Peter sent Mr. Williams and another messenger she knew to tell her that he had sailed. Even so, for a month afterward, she kept expecting him to emerge from some hiding place in the city and appear before her. She was so afraid that he was still breaking his word and doing wrong. But he did not appear, and at last she believed he had really gone. He left in the summer of 1839. His friends heard nothing more from him until his mother received the following letter, dated 'October 17 1840':

MY DEAR AND BELOVED MOTHER:

MY DEAR AND BELOVED MOTHER:

'I take this opportunity to write to you and inform you that I am well, and in hopes for to find you the same. I am got on board the same unlucky ship Done, of Nantucket. I am sorry for to say, that I have been punished once severely, by shoving my head in the fire for other folks. We have had bad luck, but in hopes to have better. We have about 230 on board, but in hopes, if do n't kave good luck, that my parents will receive me with thanks. I would like to know how my sisters are. Does my cousins live in New York yet? Have you got my letter? If not, inquire to Mr. Pierce Whiting's. I wish you would write me an answer as soon as possible. I am your only son, that is so far from your home, in the wide briny ocean. I have seen more of the world than ever I expected, and if I ever should return home safe, I will tell you all my troubles and hardships. Mother, I hope you do not forget me, your dear and only son. I should like to know how Sophia, and Betsey, and Hannah, come on. I hope you all will forgive me for all that I have done. 'Your son, PETER VAN WAGENER.'

'I am writing to let you know that I am well, and I hope you are too. I am aboard the same unlucky ship, Done, of Nantucket. I am sorry to say that I have been severely punished once, by having my head shoved into the fire for other people. We have had bad luck, but I hope we will have better luck. We have about 230 on board, but if we do not have good luck, I hope my parents will receive me with thanks. I would like to know how my sisters are. Do my cousins still live in New York? Have you received my letter? If not, ask at Mr. Pierce Whiting's. Please write back as soon as possible. I am your only son, so far from your home on the wide, salty ocean. I have seen more of the world than I ever expected. If I ever return home safely, I will tell you all my troubles and hardships. Mother, I hope you do not forget me, your dear and only son. I would like to know how Sophia, Betsey, and Hannah are getting on. I hope you will all forgive me for everything I have done. 'Your son, PETER VAN WAGENER.'

Another letter reads as follows, dated 'March 22, 1841':-

Another letter, dated 'March 22, 1841', reads:

'MY DEAR MOTHER:

'My dear mother:

'I take this opportunity to write to you, and inform you that I have been well and in good health. I have wrote you a letter before, but have received no answer from you, and was very anxious to see you. I hope to see you in a short time. I have had very hard luck, but are in hopes to have better in time to come. I should like if my sisters are well, and all the people round the neighborhood. I expect to be home in twenty-two months or thereabouts. I have seen Samuel Laterett. Beware! There has happened very bad news to tell you, that Peter Jackson is dead. He died within two days' sail of Otaheite, one of the Society Islands. The Peter Jackson that used to live at Laterett's; he died on board the ship Done, of Nantucket, Captain Miller, in the latitude 15 53, and longitude 148 30 W. I have no more to say at present, but write as soon as possible.

'I am writing to let you know that I have been well and in good health. I wrote to you before, but received no answer, and I was very anxious to see you. I hope to see you soon. I have had very hard luck, but I hope to have better luck in the future. I would like to know if my sisters and everyone in the neighborhood are well. I expect to be home in about twenty-two months. I have seen Samuel Laterett. Beware! I have very bad news to tell you. Peter Jackson is dead. He died within two days' sail of Otaheite, one of the Society Islands. This was the Peter Jackson who used to live at Laterett's. He died aboard the ship Done, of Nantucket, under Captain Miller, at latitude 15 53 and longitude 148 30 W. I have nothing more to say for now, but please write as soon as possible.

Another, containing the last intelligence she has had from her son, reads as follows, and was dated 'Sept. 19, 1841':-

Another, dated 'Sept. 19, 1841', contains the latest news she has received from her son. It reads as follows:

'DEAR MOTHER:

'DEAR MOTHER:

'I take the opportunity to write to you and inform you that I am well and in good health, and in hopes to find you in the same. This is the fifth letter that I have wrote to you, and have received no answer, and it makes me very uneasy. So pray write as quick as you can, and tell me how all the people is about the neighborhood. We are out from home twenty-three months, and in hope to be home in fifteen months. I have not much to say; but tell me if you have been up home since I left or not. I want to know what sort of a time is at home. We had very bad luck when we first came out, but since we have had very good; so I am in hopes to do well yet; but if I do n't do well, you need not expect me home these five years. So write as quick as you can, won't you? So now I am going to put an end to my writing, at present. Notice-when this you see, remember me, and place me in your mind.

'I am writing to let you know that I am well and in good health. I hope you are, too. This is the fifth letter I have written to you, and I have received no answer. That makes me very uneasy. So please write as soon as you can, and tell me how everyone in the neighborhood is doing. We have been away from home for twenty-three months, and we hope to be home in fifteen months. I don't have much to say, but tell me whether you have been home since I left. I want to know how things are at home. We had very bad luck when we first came out, but since then we have had very good luck. So I still hope to do well. But if I don't do well, you shouldn't expect me home for another five years. So write as soon as you can, won't you? I will end my letter for now. Remember, when you see this, think of me and keep me in mind.'

Since the date of the last letter, Isabella has heard no tidings from her long-absent son, though ardently does her mother's heart long for such tidings, as her thoughts follow him around the world, in his perilous vocation, saying within herself-'He is good now, I have no doubt; I feel sure that he has persevered, and kept the resolve he made before he left home;-he seemed so different before he went, so determined to do better.' His letters are inserted here for preservation, in case they prove the last she ever hears from him in this world.

Since the last letter, Isabella has heard no news from her son, who has been away for so long. Yet her mother’s heart longs deeply for news of him. In her thoughts, she follows him around the world as he works at his dangerous calling. She says to herself, “He is good now, I have no doubt. I feel sure he has kept trying and held to the resolve he made before leaving home. He seemed so different before he went, so determined to do better.” His letters are included here to preserve them, in case they are the last she ever hears from him in this world.