Vandalia Whig and Illinois intelligencer. [volume] (Vandalia, Ill.) 1832-183?, 1832-07-25

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side. But the truth soon came out, for, it being
then war time, while men were slaughtering each
other abroad and rejoicing for il at home, Henry
Fairiy's ship had been taken the high seas, and
he was then lying in Fren:h prison.
now heard something more of the history Of
this unfortunate family. Henry's mother was
the daughter of man of good family. and when
she first came to this part the country, was
counted one of the prettiest women that had ever
stepped on Scottish ground Being instructed
as most daughters are, that to obtain rich hus-
band is to obtain every thing, she consented to lie
come the wife of Mr.. Fairly; and he, with cores
pending folly, imagining flat the sweet notes OF
love ray, at any time, be sung by golden bird
and that congenial happiness may be bargained
for and bought by the mamnon Of unrighteousnes,
threw his long saved gains nto the lap of beauty,
and dissipated his fortune without days salts
faction. Domestic dispe,ce, evil report, and
jealousy, complete the tale-tamiy ruin, broken
down feelings, and premature death completed
The tragedy
But the family were tooe raised up and reno
waited by the energy and abillties of young Hen
ry; at least so said many; and | said so, too. in
the simplicity of my heat, until / began to be.
think me of what materials the world is made: al
though l could not deny but that blocks may be
cut with razors, by that long perseverance which
blunt away the instrument, until Its original char
acer is lost and gone-And SO heard with Joy
that Henry had come bosoe, and was already
with his orphan sisters in We old fashioned bo-
rough of Netherton--With haste and pleasure
arose. and went forth to see him after all his adj
ventures-for the message had received was
mysterious and unsatisfactory.
When l arrived at the door of he soitar,
house in which his father now dwet, nv admis
sion within was not less invested with a silent
and ominous mystery AT length l was permit
ted entrance into dark back apartment, where
sat Henry's father, having small stoup of liquor
before him, and apparently tipplng by himself,
with the maudlin enjoyment of that imbecile sort
of misery which, too far gone for common energy
seeking with infantile eagerness this wretched re-
lief from his own thoughts. The smile of pleas
ure, as if inssnsibIe to its own degradation, with
which this ruin of a man recognized me, was To
me more shocking than the most intense expires
sion despair; contrastsd it with the wal lool
of frigid melancholy which sat upon the counte-
nance of the fullest ofthe growing glris who COW
cred bv themselves in a corner near the window.
Where is Henryr l inquired, in anxious
disappointment.
No answer was gwen me for moment; and
the father looked at the daughter, as if each wan
ted the other to answer the question, while now
heard distinctly foot 60 tramp--tramp-on the
floor over our heads.
Take glass with me- said Mr.. Fairly--push-
ing, with silly expression, glass towards me
and we will talk of Henry afterwards
is he not here? where is hep said |, refusing
the liquor
my father does not like to speak of poor Hen-
re Gail tho odaSt irl. nd
ed the same tramp, tramp, to sound with painful
monotomv over our heads.
"No--there many Things that your father
does not ike to speak Of, my poor child" said the
old man, his look of Joyous excitement subsiding
into pathetic sadness, he looked upon his daugh-
Ter, and was reminded of his wife.
"lniorm me,' said |, suspicion of the truth
flashing upou my mind, ''who that is that keeps
walking above us in this strange manner?'
The eldest girl now arose, and with look OF
heart broken melancholy, led the wav up stairs.
The door was opened, and Henry Fairly, M
clever and handsome former pupil stood before
me. He fixed his hollow death-like eyes upon
me for a moment. and without uttering word.
threw himself into my arms.
"What is this, Henry2'' said l. .'Whv that
changed, that omiuous look? WHY remain by
Yourself IN this solitary apartment? Why this
appearance of affecting desolation?n
"Desolation, indeed, my dear, my more than
fither," said the youth. 'sLitte did think when
went hopeful boy to sea, that my career was
50 soon to terminate. Butyet am resigned
am almost happy-ifI could only hope that when
was gone, God would prove protector for
my poor, my orphan sisters
soon learned the whole truth-ihat in the
lamps of the French prison, where my spirited
Henry had lain whole winter, he had caught a
terrible inward disease that had been slowly
eating into his frame that the only relief he had
from his pain was by constantly keeping on his
eet, as long as his strength sustained him; AND
hat, in short, desoate home, and with all
his early hopes blasted, the poor youth was fas,
Walking to his death. do not remember ever
meeting with severer trial to my feelings, than
| What was presented to me at this painful mo
ment The very sense and manliness with
which the youth spoke of the unfortunate end 81
all his hopes for the renovating Of his family, of
the state in which he should be forced to leave hi,
beloved sisters, and of his sad, sad feelings on
his return home, on finding his father, not only
reduced to poverty, but his mind SO perfectly
broken up so as to be unable to protect his owl
children-while looked upon it with pride, as
evidencing that the good seed l had sown II
his mind was not sown to the winds, affected mt
The more deeply for his melancholy situation