The voice of freedom. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1839-1848, 1843-10-19
7 L M P L L A N G L .
The Drunlknr(i's wife in a Temperance
naGctiME.

The Drunlkard's wife i'm Temperance
meeting.
Upon that page, perhaps, the fond and
faithful wife is gazing, needless of the
passing crowd. Her thoughts go 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 10 hide her
destltution, she stole out at the dark hour,
and mixing in the crowd, found a place
amongst her fellows in poverty and dis,
tress, 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 inleutly,
for the language is all such as comes home
10 her experience, and is level with her
understanding. The speaker must have
known her case. He tells of hope, but
no, that can not be hers IfHE were here
-perhaps-and then deep, deep sigh
burst from her lips; but she listens still,
and more intently to the speakers moving
words, uuli her heart becomes too full !;
aud she looks round 10 see If any amongst
her neighbors-for of friends she has
none leh-are there to profit by these
words of touching truth. What ails 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 his brow, but deep earnestness is
stamped on every feature as he gazes on.
But what is that which moves him now2
A simple tale of womans truth. The
wife beholds him dash the tear-drop from
his eye. A gathering mist is in her own,
but she forgets it all nothing is present
with her but that other self-that life in
which alone she lives. Alas it is all
over, the speaker ceases, and the compa-
nv breaks up. The wife waits anxiousl Y
the moment when her husband shall with
draw, thinking to join him at the door:
yet, fearing to intrude too hastily upon
his soGened feelings, she stands patiently
resigned, with folded arms upon her breast,
pushed here and there by the receding
crowd, no one of whom takes note of her
or hers Still there is something 10 be
done beside the platform where the speak
er stands and numbers gather to the spot.
A book is opened--a pen is ofiered-a
kind and friendly voice invites the COM
pany to sign. Make way the figure of
a man advances from behind. Make way!
for wonder glances forth from every eye
Behind that figure is a female form--a
shadow--a pale, faded thing, so feeble
that she can hardly stand, but leans upon
his shoulder with one clasping arm
There have signedF exclaims the
man, and now, my wife, come home,an1
let US pray tonight Stop but one mo-
ment. What hand is hers so thin and
trembling, vets grasps that pen as if it
were rod of iron, TO inscrlbe deep works
of mercy in the rock forever. They pass
away together, that penniless and friend
less pair, strong in each others truth, rich
in each others love. Weeks glide away
-months-or perhaps year; and they
are seen together now, so happy with
their rosy children, standing at their cot
tage door, their blazing fire, land clean swept
hearth, and plenteous table spread within.
Such are the scenes which cheer, on
every hand, the laborer in the temperance
cause, aud if this passing sketch convey
a slight idea of the interest excited by
such scenes, what must be that of entering
into the details of family and individual
history, where all things temporal and
eternal are at stake, and all hang as 1t
were upon the transcript Of a single name?
Voice from the Vintage