Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1845-05-16
a e 11G % g y "a 10 C e
From the Norwich Spectator
THE INEB E..

He stood leaning upon a broken gate, in font
of his miserable dwelling. His tattered hat was
in his hand, and the cool breeze lifted the matted
locks which covered his once noble brow. His
countenance was bloated and disfigured; but in
his eye there was an unwonted look-a mingled
expression of sadness and regret. Perhaps he
was listening to the low, melancholy voice OF his
patient wife, as she soothed the sick babe on her
bosom; or, perchance, he was gazing upon the
sweet face of his eldest daughter, MS, at the open
window, she piled her needle to obtain for her
mother and the poor children a scOnty susten-
ance.
Poor Mary! for herself she cared not: young
as she was, her spirit was already crushed by
poverty, unkindness, aud neglect. AS the inc
briate thus stood, his eyes wandered over the mis-
cradle habitation before him. The windows were
broken, and the doors h~ingeless: scarce a vestige
of comfort remained; yet memory bore him back
to the days Of his youth, when it was the abode
Of peace and happiness. In fancy he saw again
the old arm chair, where sat his father, with the
Bible upon his knee; and he seemed to hear again
the sweet notes of his mother, as she laid her hand
upon the head of Fiber darling boy, and prayed that
God would bless him and preserve him from evil.
Long years had passed away, yet tears came into
the eyes Of the drunkard at the recollection Of his
mothers love.
'Poor mother!' he m%uttered, it is well that
thou art sleeping in thy grave. 1t would break
thy heart TO know that thy son is a wretched and
degraded being-a miserable outcast from socie-
typ
He turned slowly away. Deep within an ad-
joining forest was a dell, where the beams of the
sun scarce ever penetrated. Tall trees grew on
either side, whose branches, meeting above, form
cd a canopy of leaves, where the birds built their
nests and pourd forth their happy songs. Thith-
err the drunkard bent his steps. 1t had been his
%favorite haunt in the days of his childhood, and as
he threw himself upon the soft green-sward, rec
collections Of past scenes came c~rowding over his
mind. He covered his face with his hands, and the
prayer of the %prodigal burst from his lips O.,
God, receive a returning wandererH
Suddenly, a soft arm was thrown around his
neck, and a sweet voice murmured, He will for
give you, father
Starting to his feet, the inebriate saw, standing
before him, his youngest daughter, a child of six
years.
Why are you here, Anne?' he said, ashamed
that the inocent child should have witnessed his
grief.
Il came to gather the lilies which grow upon
the banks she replied. See, | have got my
basket full, and now am going to sell them
'And what do you do with the money! asked
the father, as he turned his eyes to the basket,
where, among their broad green leaves, the sweet
lilies of the valley were peeping forth.
The child hesitated-she thought she had said
too much: perhaps her father would demand the
money, and spend it in the way in which all his
earnings went.
You are afraid to tell me, Anne said her faith
er, kindly. Well, | do not blame you: | have no
right to my children's confidence
The gPntlencss of his tone touched the heart of
the affectionate child. See threw her arms around
his neck, exclaiming,
, Eyes, father, | will tell you. Mother buys med
{ icine for poor little Willie. We have no other
way to get it. Mother and Mary work all the
: time they can get, to buy bread
A pung shot through the inebriate's heart. Il
have robbed them of The comforts of Iife,' he ex-
claimed; from this moment, the liquid fire passes
my lips no more.'
J Anne stood gazing at him in establishment. She
could scarcely comprehend her fathers words; but
y she saw that some change had taken place. She
Il threw back har golden ~ringlets, and raised hel
large blue eyes, with an earnest look, to his face