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[Illustration: CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL

OF

POPULAR

LITERATURE, SCIENCE, AND ART.

Fourth Series

CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS.

NO. 713.      SATURDAY, AUGUST 25, 1877.      PRICE 1½_d._]




A STRANGE FAMILY HISTORY.


For the following curious episode of family history we are indebted to
a descendant of one of the chief personages involved; his story runs as
follows.

Somewhat less than one hundred years ago, a large schooner, laden with
oranges from Spain, and bound for Liverpool, was driven by stress of
weather into the Solway Firth, and after beating about for some time,
ran at last into the small port of Workington, on the Cumberland
coast. For several previous days some of the crew had felt themselves
strangely 'out of sorts,' as they termed it; were depressed and
languid, and greatly inclined to sleep; but the excitement of the
storm and the instinct of self-preservation had kept them to their
duties on deck. No sooner, however, had the vessel been safely moored
in the harbour than a reaction set in; the disease which had lurked
within them proclaimed its power, and three of them betook themselves
to their hammocks more dead than alive. The working-power of the ship
being thus reduced and the storm continuing, the master determined to
discharge and sell his cargo on the spot. This was done. But his men
did not recover; he too was seized with the same disease; and before
many days were past most of them were in the grave. Ere long several of
the inhabitants of the village were similarly affected, and some died;
by-and-by others were smitten down; and in less than three weeks after
the arrival of the schooner it became evident that a fatal fever or
plague had broken out amongst the inhabitants of the village.

The authorities of the township took alarm; and under the guidance of
Squire Curwen of Workington Hall, all likely measures were taken to
arrest or mitigate the fatal malady. Among other arrangements, a band
of men was formed whose duties were to wait upon the sick, to visit
such houses as were reported or supposed to contain victims of the
malady, and to carry the dead to their last home.

Among the first who fell under this visitation was a man named John
Pearson, who, with his wife and a daughter, lived in a cottage in
the outskirts of the village. He was employed as a labourer in an
iron foundry close by. For some weeks his widow and child escaped the
contagion; but ere long it was observed that their cottage window was
not opened; and a passer-by stopping to look at the house, thought
he heard a feeble moan as from a young girl. He at once made known
his fears to the proper parties, who sent two of the 'plague-band'
to examine the case. On entering the abode it was seen that poor Mrs
Pearson was a corpse; and her little girl, about ten years old, was
lying on her bosom dreadfully ill, but able to cry: 'Mammy, mammy!' The
poor child was removed to the fever hospital, and the mother to where
her husband had been recently taken. How long the plague continued
to ravage the village, I am not able to say; but as it is about the
Pearson family, and not about the plague I am going to write, such
information may be dispensed with.

The child, Isabella Pearson, did not die; she conquered the foe, and
was left to pass through a more eventful life than that which generally
falls to the lot of a poor girl. Although an orphan, she was not
without friends; an only and elder sister was with relatives in Dublin,
and her father's friends were well-to-do farmers in Westmoreland.
Nor was she without powerful interest in the village of her birth:
Lady Curwen, of the Hall, paid her marked attention, as she had done
her mother, because that mother was of noble descent, as I shall now
proceed to shew.

Isabella Pearson (mother of the child we have just spoken of), whose
maiden name was Day, was a daughter of the Honourable Elkanah Day
and of his wife Lady Letitia, daughter of the Earl of Annesley. How
she came to marry John Pearson forms one of the many chapters in
human history which come under the head of Romance in Real Life,
or Scandal in High Life, in the newspaper literature of the day.
Isabella's parents were among those parents who believe they are at
liberty to dispose of their daughters in marriage just as they think
fit, even when the man to whom the girl is to be given is an object
of detestation to her. Heedless of their daughter's feelings in the
matter, they had bargained with a man of their acquaintance, to whom
they resolved that Isabella should give her hand--be her heart never
so unwilling. The person in question was a distant relative of their
noble house, had a considerable amount of property in Ireland, and was
regarded, by the scheming mother especially, as a most desirable match
for her daughter. But what if the young lady herself should be of a
contrary opinion? In the instance before us the reader will be enabled
to see.

Captain Bernard O'Neil, the bridegroom elect, was nearly twice the
age of Isabella Day; and although not an ill-looking man, was yet one
whom no virtuous or noble-minded girl could look upon with respect,
for he was known to be addicted to the vice of gambling, to be able to
consume daily an enormous quantity of wine, and to be the slave of all
sorts of debauchery. So habituated had O'Neil become to these degrading
vices, that no sensible girl could hope to reclaim and reform him. The
gratification of his propensities had been spread over so long a time
that his entailed estate had become heavily burdened with debt, whilst
his creditors, even his dependents, were clamorous for the money which
he owed them.

Such being the man to whom the Honourable Elkanah Day and his noble
wife had agreed to give their daughter, can it be wondered at that
that daughter should not only be indisposed to comply with their wish,
but should also be so disgusted and indignant at its expression as to
give way to her feelings in words and acts which in themselves are
incapable of justification? One day the captain had called at the house
by appointment to arrange for the marriage, being anxious to have it
consummated, that he might be helped out of a pressing embarrassment
through the portion which he knew would be given to his bride. Isabella
had been present at the interview. Her father and mother knew full well
that she was far from being pleased with the match, but of this they
took little heed, believing that once married, their daughter would
reconcile herself to her lot, even if she did not derive much felicity
from the union. The girl herself knew that no language of hers, whether