'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.
'Your only son,
'PETER VAN WAGENER.'
Another, containing the last intelligence she has had from her son,
reads as follows, and was dated 'Sept. 19, 1841':-
'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.
Get me to my home, that's in the far distant west,
To the scenes of my childhood, that I like the best;
There the tall cedars grow, and the bright waters flow,
Where my parents will greet me, white man, let me go!
Let me go to the spot where the cateract plays,
Where oft I have sported in my boyish days;
And there is my poor mother, whose heart ever flows,
At the sight of her poor child, to her let me go, let me go!
'Your only son,
'PETER VAN WAGENER.'
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.