Beadle's Dime Novels No. 3: Myra, the Child of Adoption — page 35: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE BURIAL-PLACE. 33 hangs upon the merrow, and still hope mocked her. Then she grew desperate. One day, when Ross came back from the city empty-handed as usual, Zulima had left his house with the avowed intention of seeking her husband in the North. “Let her go,” said the fiend, coolly folding the letter she had left behind. “The mail travels faster than she can; my pretty bird shall find all things prepared for her coming.” Again Ross sat down and wrote to the husband of Zulima, telling him that she fled from his house at night to escape the vigilant watch which had been placed upon her actions. The letter reached its destination and performed its evil work. Zulima had taken passage for the North, but the brig must tie at its wharf a few hours, and the unhappy young creature was far too restless for confinement in the close cabin. A yearning desire possessed her to go and search for her infant. Though enjoined to caution and strict secresy, the place of her child’s residence had been intrusted to her, and she had found means to see it unsuspected, from time to time, before her husband’s departure. Now, when she was going in agony of spirit to seek the father, she could not depart without em- sracing his child once more, and, with its little hands around ner neck, praying God to bless her mission. Urged by these seen desires, Zulima threw a scarf around her, and drawing jown her vail, entered the streets of New Orleans. The nouse where her child liyed was in the suburbs, and she was »bliged to cross the city. With a quick step she threaded the streets, heedless of observation and only desirous of reach- ing her child before the brig was ready to sail. Was it fate, or was it that sublime intuition that belongs to the higher order of feelings, which led poor Zulima by one of those large Catholic burial-places in New Orleans which seem to open the way to eternity through a paradise of flowers ? [t must have been the spiritual essence in her nature, for as the young mother passed this beautiful place of death; she looked eagerly through the gates, and something impelled ber to enter. A wildnerness of tombs, draped and garmented with vines all in blossom, and shrubs that exhaled perfume from every leaf, lay before her, and at that moment death looked so Sd ye he “*< “6 conmnicloooks. Comin © Bias ~ . a