Literary Cadet, And Saturday Evening Bulletin

Perhaps there are many of our readers, who recollect seeing an account, in the newspapers, about a year since, of a foundling child, left at the door of a Farm House, in the interior of North-Carolina, by its unnatural and vile mother, who, in carrying her inhuman designs into effect, was aided by her uncle, who probably was the father of the offspring. The foundling, after it was discovered, was taken to the hospitable mansion of a humane North-Carolinian, where every effort was made to rear it, and to guard it against the ills and hardships incident to infantile imbecility.

On the 20th ultimo, John Foundling, for such was the name given to the hapless infant, by its kind hearted protector, died, at Charlotte, near the place where it was abandoned by its brutal mother. The names of the parties to the abandonment of the helpless infant, are said to be known, and we trust they will be exposed, that they may receive, publicly, the execrations of that country, whose laws, besides, the laws of humanity and civilization, they have wantonly trampled upon.

Of what materials can that mother's heart be composed, who can abandon her helpless offspring to the cold charity of the world, when she beholds it, resting upon her guilty bosom, with its little hands and eyes upturned, imploring, in all the eloquence of the silent language of infantile innocence, for protection, nourishment, and pity! What must be the qualities of that man's heart, who can, without remorse, abandon his child, and casting it upon the world, leave it, mid the tempests of winter, in a lonely land, and not feel a pang of pity, or not have his soul enkindled with the affections of a parent! A monster he must be indeed, and the heavy hand of Jehovah's vengeance should rest upon the villain's head.