The voice of freedom. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1839-1848, 1843-09-07
VOICE OF Ere E D O M
The Drunkard's wife in n Temperance
meeting.

meeting.
Upon that page, perhaps, the fond and
faithful wife is gazing, needless of the
passing crowd. Her thoughts 60 back
to the dark ruined home she has Just left
without hope, and to her babes, who,
weak with hunger, wept themselves to
sleep. With borrowed cloak to hide her
restitution, she stole out at the dark
hour, and mixing in the crowd, found a
place amongst her fellows in poverty and
distress, who came at least to HEAR of a
strange but simple plan for calling back
such wanderers as her husband long had
been. And now she listens most intent
ly, for the language is all such as comes
home TO her experience, and is level with
her understanding, The speaker must
have known her case. He tells ofhopes,
but no-that never can be hers ! If HE
were here-perhaps and then a deep,
deep sigh bursts from her lips; but she
listens still, and more intently, to the
speakers moving words, until her heart
becomes too full; and she looks round to
see if any amongst her neighbors for of
friends she has none leit-are there to
profit by these words of touching truth.
What ais the woman :? Whom has she
seen amongst the crowd Her cheek is
flushed with burning crimson, and her
eyes are bright with living fire. 1t is
it must be he She cannot be mistaken
in her husbands form, still beautiful to
her. Far back amongst the crowd he
stands with folded arms, his gaze intent
upon the speakers face. No smile Of
thoughtless folly fits across bis brow,
but deep earnestness is stamped on ev-
cry feature as he gazes on. But what is
that which moves him now A simple
tale ofwoman's truth. The wife beholds
him dash the tear-drop from his eye. A
gathering mist is in her own, but she for
gets it all nothing is present with her but
that other self-that life in which alone
she lives. Alas it is all over: the speak
err ceases, and the company breaks up.
The wife waits anxiously the moment
when her husband shall withdraw, think
ing to join him at the door; yet, fearing to
intrude too hastily upon his softened feel
ings, she stands patiently resigned, with
folded arms upon her breast pushed here
and there by the receding crowd mo one
of whom takes note of her or hers. Still
there is something to be done beside the
platform where the speaker stands, and
numbers gather to the spot. A book is
opened "a pen is offered-a kind and
friendly voice invites the company to sign.
Make way the figure of man advances
from behind. Make way ! for wonder
glances forth from every eye. Behind
that figure is female form-a shadow
"a pale, faded thing, so feeble that she
cannot stand, but leans upon his shoulder
with one clasping arm. "There have
signed !" exclaims the man; "and now,
my wife, come home, and let us pray to-
night" Stop but one moment. What
hand is hers ! so thin and trembling
yet she grasps that pen as if it were a
rod of iron, to inscribe deep works of
mercy in the rock forever. They pass
away together-that penniess and friend
less pair, ST. ong in each others truth,
rich in each others love. Weeks glide
away months or perhaps year; and
they are seen together now, so happy 4!
with their rosy children, standing at their
cottage door-their blazing FIRE, and clean
swept hearth, and plenteous table spread
within.
Such are the scenes which cheer on
every hand the laborer in the temperance
cause, and if this passing sketch convey
a slight idea of the interest excited by
such scenes, what must be that of enter
ing into the details of family and individ-
ua history, where all things temporal
and eternal are at stake, and all hang as
it were upon the transcript of single
name ?-VOice from The Vintage.