Anti-slavery bugle. [volume] (New-Lisbon, Ohio) 1845-1861, 1846-05-15
LITTLE WILLIE.
4th month, eth, 1916.

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We had frequently observed a he rt-broken
looking lad pass with 4 gallon oil can in his
hand. His tat,erad garments were well cal
culated to excite observation and pity. 1t
was but too evident that the vessel which he
carried had been diverted from its legitimate
use, and that it was now used, not as an oil
can, but as a whisky Jug. Having seen him
pass twice in one day with his ever present
can, we had the curiosity to accost him, and
did so by inquiring his residence.
"llive," said he, five miles from the city,
on the - road
"You have been to the city once before to-
day, have you not :"
"Yes, Sir, | came down in the morning ;
but l couldn't get what was sent for, and l
had to com again"
"What were you sent for, my lad? 1t
must be something very important, to make
it necessary for you to walk twenty miles In
this storm"
why, Sir, it was whisky that I was sent
for. Father had no money, and he sent me
to Mr.. $, to get trusted bnthe wouldn't
trust any more. so | had to come without the
whisky, but father sent me back again"
"ITow do you e~xpect'to get it now, when
You couldn't get it in the morning 7"
"Why, Sir, | have brought a pair of shoes,
which sister sent to mother. Mr.. - will
give whisky for them. He has got two or
three pair Of mothers shoes now"
"Do you like to carry whisky home, my
boy :"
80, no Sir, for it makes US all SO unhappy;
but [ can't help it,"
We took the responsibility Of advising the
boy not TO fulfill his errand, and returned home
with him. The family we found consisted
Of husband, wife and four children; the eldest
(the boy) was not more than ten years Of age
while the youngest was an infant of a few
months. 1t was a cold, clustering day. The
north wind blew harshly, and came roughly
and unhidden through the numberless Gre
vices of the poor mans hovel. A few black
embers occupied the Fireplace, around which
were gathered the half naked children, and
the wo-stricken mother and wife. Her face
was haggard, her eyes sunken, her hair dis
hevclled, her clothes tattered and u~nclean.
She was seated upon an old broken chair,
and was mechanically swinging to and fro,
as if endeavoring to quiet her infant, which
modned p"itifully in its mothers arms. 1t had
been sick from its birth, and was now SEEM
ingly struggling to free itself from the harsh
world into which it had, but a few months
previous, been ushered. There was no tear
in the eye of the mother as she gazed on her
expiring babe. The fountain had long before
been dried up by the internal fires which al
cohol had kindled.
She was the picture Of despair &; and we
could not but fancy, as she sat thus, that mel
mind was wandering back TO the happy past
the days of her infancy and girlhood, and
her early home. Poor thing! She had given
her affections and her hand 10 a man who had
taken the first steps in intemperance. She
had left her home full of buOyant hopes
hopes never to be realized-to spend "a life
Of misery with 4 sot. Broken hearted--casl
out from the society of her former friends
irowned upon by the "good society," humane
spoken of as the miserable wife of a mise,
rable drunkard-with no other hand to help,
no heart to pity-she very soon became {
tippler and a dmnkard herself.
BY the side of this wo-stricken mother
kneeled a little girl Of five years, down whose
sallow cheeks tears were coursing, and wht
ever and anon exclaimed, 4" Poor little Willie
must you die :" and then kissing the clammy
sweat from "little Willie's" brow, covered
her face with her tattered apron, and wept.
In the opposite corner of the chimney, ant
among the ashes which covered tie hearth
sat a boy of about seven years, dragging from
the half dead embers a potato, which he brok
open with the remark, :" Mother, give this t
little Willie; may be he's hungry. In
hungry, too, and SO is sister; but Willie i
5 sick. Give him this potato, mother"
"No, poor boy" said the mother, "Willi
3 will never be hungry again. He UiH soon b
dead"
, This remark drew all the children aroun
3 her and the dying child. The father was ST
ting upon what was intended for a bedstead
. without his shoes or coat, with his hand
thrust into his pockets, apparently indifareu
to all that was passing around him. Iii
5 head was resting upon his breast, and hi
eyes were fastened upon the floor, as if h
was afraid TO look up to the sorrowing grou
who were watching the countenance Of III
dying infant.
: There was a moment of silence. Not
y sound was heard. Even the sobs of the Ii
@ tie girl had ceased. Death was crossing tn
= novels threshold. The very respiration {
the household seemed suspended, when
q slight shlvering of the limbs of the infan'
and a shrek from the half conscious mothe
told all that the vital spark had fed.
a For the fist time the father moved. Slow
~ advancing to where his wife was seated
l. with qniyering lips he whispered, SIS Wi
lie dead 7"
the choking reply of the mother, who sti
y sat, as at first, gazing upon the face of hi
little one.
Without uttering another word, the Ion
r, brutalized father left the house, muttering &
he went, My God, how long!"
At this moment a kind-hearted lady can
in who had heard but few moments befor