Anti-slavery bugle. [volume] (New-Lisbon, Ohio) 1845-1861, 1848-09-01
The I~nebriate.

lie stood leaning upon the broken gate
in front of his miserable dwelling. His tat
tered hat was in his hand, and the cool
breeze lifted the matted locks which covered
his once noble brow. His countenance was
bloated and disfgured, but in his eye there
was an unwonted look-a mingled express
ion 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 perhaps he was gazing upon
the sweet face of his eldest daughter, as at
the window she piled her needle to obtain
for mother and the poor children a scanty
sustenance. Poor Mary |! for herself she
cared not: young as she was, her spirit was
already crushed by poverty, unkindness and
neglect. AS the inebriate thus stood, his
eyes wandered over the miserable habitation be
fore him The windows were broken and the
doors hingeless; 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 her dar-
ling boy, and prayed that God might 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 muttered, ait is
we'll that thou art sleeping in the grave it
would break thy heart TO know that thy son
is a wretched and degraded being, a misera-
BILE outcast from society,""
He turned slowly away. Deep within
the ad joining forest was a dell where the
beams of the sun scarce ever penetrated
Tall treess grew on either side, whose
branches, meeting above, formed a canopy
of leaves, where the birds built their nests,
and poured forth happy songs. Thither 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 the recollection of past scenes came
crowding over his mind.-He covered his
face with his hands, and the prayer of the
prodigal burst from his lips-"O, God, re-
ceive a returning wanderer !"-Suddenly a
soft arm was thrown around his neck, and a
sweet voice murmured-" He will forgive
you father" Starting TO his feet, the inc.
briate saw standing before him his youngest
daughter, a child of six years.
"Why are you here, Anne :" he said
ashamed that the innocent child should have
witnessed his grief.
81 came to gather the lilies which grow
upon the banks, " she replied, " see, / have
got my basket full and now ! am going Il
sell them"
Sand what do you do with the money 2
asked the father, as he turned his eyes to tn
basket, where among the broad green leave
the sweet lilies of the valley were peepinI
forth.
The child hesitated she thought she ha
said too much perhaps her father woul
demand the money and spend it in the wa
in which all his earnings went.
You are afraid to tell me, Anne, :" sal
her father kindly. Well, | do no, blam
you | have nc right to my children's cor
fdence."
The gen,leness of his tone touched Ii
> heart of the affectionate child. She thre'
her arms around his neck, ex~claiming-"Yt
father | will tell you. Mother buys med
t cines for poor little Willie. We have I
t other way to get it. Mother and Mary VOL
all the time they can to get bread.
A pang shot through the inebriates heal
g | have robbed them of the comforts oflife,
It he exclaimed, '' from this moment the liqu
~ fire passes my lips no more"
Anne stood gazing at him with astonis
It ment. She could scarcely comprehend h
/. fathers words; but she saw that some cham
had taken place. She threw back her gol
en- r~inglets, and raised her large blue eve
With an earnest look 20 his faee---" w