knew that, unless we had money, before getting back, we would be subjected to inconvenience, annoyance, and great privation; and as my father seemed to be so weak in mind, all the care of providing for our comfort, I saw, would devolve upon me. I instantly removed the pocket-book, which was large. I found a purse in the same pocket, and took that also. With these I retired into my own state-room, and fastening the door inside, commenced an examination of their contents. The purse contained twenty eagles; and in the apartments of the pocket-book were ten eagles more, making three hundred dollars in gold. In bank bills there were five of one thousand dollars each, ten of one hundred dollars, and about two hundred dollars in smaller amounts, all of New York city banks. These I took and carefully sewed up in one of my under garments, and also did the same with the gold. I mention this, as it bears with importance upon our subsequent history.
“A temporary shelter was erected; a large pole with a white flag fastened to it, as a signal to any passing vessel, was set up; and the captain, with two of his men, set out to explore the island. They were gone for two days. On returning, they reported no inhabitants, but plenty of good game, if any way could be devised to take it. No vessel appearing, after the lapse of some twelve or fifteen days, the men set about building for us a more comfortable place of shelter. One of these men had been a carpenter, and as an axe and saw, and some few tools, had come ashore on pieces of the wreck, and in chests, he was enabled to put up a very comfortable tenement, with an apartment for me partitioned off from the main room.
“Here we remained for I can scarcely tell how long. It was, I believe, for about a year and a half; during which time two of the men died, and our party was reduced to four. About this period, when all of us began to feel sick from hope deferred, and almost to wish that we might die, a heavy storm came up, with wind from the north-west, and blew heavily for three or four days. On the morning of the fourth day, when the wind had subsided, a vessel, driven out of her course, was seen within a few leagues of the land. Signals were instantly made, and our eyes gladdened by the sight of a boat which was put off from the ship. In this we soon embarked, and, with a sensation of wild delight, found ourselves once more treading the deck of a good vessel. She was an English merchantman, bound for Canton. We made a quick passage to that port, where we found a vessel just ready to sail for Liverpool. In this I embarked, with my father, who still remained in the same sad state of mental derangement. No incident, worthy of referring to now, occurred on our passage to Liverpool, whence we embarked for New Orleans, at which place we arrived, after having been absent from our native land for the long space of nearly three years! How different were my feelings, my hopes, my heart, on the day I returned to that city eight years from the time I left it as a gay child, with the world all new and bright and beautiful before me! I need not draw the contrast. Your own thoughts can do that vividly enough.
“You can scarcely imagine the eagerness with which I looked forward to an arrival in my native city. We had friends there, and a fortune, and I fed my heart with the pleasing hope that skillful physicians would awaken my father’s slumbering reason into renewed and healthy activity. Arrived there at last, we took lodgings at a hotel, where I wrote a brief note to my father’s partner, in whose hands all the business had been, of course, during our absence, stating a few facts as to our long absence and asking him to attend upon us immediately. After dispatching this note, I waited in almost breathless expectation, looking every moment to see Mr. Paralette enter. But hour after hour passed, and no one came. Then I sent notes to two or three of my father’s friends, whom I recollected, but met with no response during the day. All this strange indifference was incomprehensible to me. It was, in part, explained to my mind on the next morning, when one of the persons to whom I had written called, and was shown up into our parlor by request. There was a coldness and reserve about him, combined with a too evident suspicion that it was not all as I had said. That my father was not Mr. Ballantine, nor I his daughter—but both, in fact, impostors! And certain it is that the white-headed imbecile old man bore but little resemblance to the fine, manly, robust form, which my father presented three years before. The visitor questioned and cross-questioned me; and failed not to hint at what seemed to him discrepancies, and even impossibilities in my story. I felt indignant at this; at the same time my heart sank at the suddenly flashing conviction that, after all our sufferings and long weary exile from our home, we should find ourselves but strangers in the land of our birth—be even repulsed from our own homestead.
“Our visitor retired after an interview of about half an hour, giving me to understand pretty plainly that he thought both my father and myself impostors. His departure left me faint and sick at heart. But from this state I aroused myself, after a while, and determined to go and see Mr. Paralette at once. A servant called a carriage, and I ordered the driver to take me to the store of Ballantine & Paralette.
“‘There is no such firm now, madam,’ he said; ‘Mr. Ballantine was lost at sea some years ago. It is Paralette & Co. now.’
“‘Drive me there, then,’ I said, in a choking voice.
“In a few minutes the carriage stopped at the place I had designated, and I entered the store formerly kept by my father. Though I had been absent for eight years, yet every thing looked familiar, and nothing more familiar than the face of Mr. Paralette, my father’s partner. I advanced to meet him with a quick step; but his look of unrecognition, and the instant remembrance that he had not attended to my note, and moreover that it had been plainly hinted to me that I was an impostor, made me hesitate, and my whole manner to become confused.
“‘Eugenia Ballantine is my name,’ said I, in a quivering voice. ‘I dropped you a note yesterday, informing you that my father and I had returned to the city.’
“He looked at me a moment with a calm, severe, scrutinizing gaze, and then said—
“‘Yes, I received your note, and have this moment seen Mr.—, who called upon you. And he corroborates the instant suspicion I had that your story could not be correct. He tells me that the man whom you call your father resembles Moses a great deal more than he does the late Mr. Ballantine. So you see, madam, that your story won’t go for any thing here.’
“There was something cold and sneering in the tone, manner, and expression of Mr. Paralette that completely broke me down. I saw, in an instant, that my case was hopeless, at least for the time. I was a lone, weak woman, and during an absence of eight years from my native city, I had grown up from a slender girl into a tall woman, and had, from suffering and privation, been greatly changed, and my countenance marred even since I had attained the age of womanhood. Under these circumstances, with my father changed so that no one could recognize him, I felt that to make my strange story believed would be impossible. From the presence of Mr. Paralette I retired, and went back to the hotel, feeling as if my heart would break. Oh, it was dreadful to be thus repulsed, and at home, too I tried only twice more to make my story believed; failing in these efforts, I turned all my thoughts toward the restoration of my father to mental health, believing that, when this was done, he, as a man, could resume his own place and his true position. I had over six thousand dollars of the money I had taken from my father’s pocket-book, and which I had always kept so completely concealed about my person, that no one had the least suspicion of it. Five thousand of this I deposited on interest, and with the residue took a small house in the suburbs of the city, which I furnished plainly, and removed into it with my father. I then employed two of the most skillful physicians in the city, and placed him in their hands, studiously concealing from them our real names and history. For eighteen months he was under medical treatment, and for at least six months of that time in a private insane hospital. But all to no effect. Severe or lenient treatment all ended in the same result. He continued a simple, harmless old man, fond of me as a child is of his mother, and looking up to and confiding in me for every thing.
“At the end of the period I have indicated, I found my means had become reduced to about three thousand dollars. This awoke in my bosom a new cause of anxiety. If my father should not recover his reason in two or three years, I would have nothing upon which to support him, and be compelled to see him taken to some public institution for the insane, there to be treated without that tenderness and regard which a daughter can exercise
