The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1849-03-10
iHe will Forgive you, Father"


He stood leaning upon broken gate
in front Of his miserable dwelling. His
tattered hat was in his hands and the
cool breeze lifted his matted locks which
covered his noble brow.-Ilis counte
nance was bloated and disfgured. but IN
his eye there was an unwonted loa!. - a
mingled expression of sadness and regret
Perhaps he was listening to the mel
ancholy voice OF his patient wife as she
soothed the sick babe, on her bosom, or
perchance he was gazing on the sweet
face olhis eldest daughter, as at the open
window she piled her needle to obtain
for her mother and the poor children a
sustenance. Poor Mary! for herself she
cared not; young as she was. her spirit
was crushed by poverty, unkindness and
neglect. AS the inebriatc thus stood
his eyes wandered over the miserable
habitation before him. The windows
were broken and the doors hingeIess,
scarce a vestage of comfort remained,
yet memory bore him back to the days
Of his youth. WHEN il was the abode oil
peace and happiness. In infancy be saw
again the old arm chair where sat his
father with the bible upon his knee, and
seemed again to hear the sweet tones oil
his mother as she laid her hands upon the
head of her darling boy, and prayed that
God would bless him, and preserve him
from evil. Long years had passed away
yet tears cnme into the eyes Of the drunk
ard at the recollection of his mother.
love.
Poor mother he mutered, sit is vel
that thou art sleeping IN the grave; il
would break thy heart to know that thy
son is wretched and degraded being
a miserable outcast from society,""
He turned slowly away. Deep with
IN adjoining forest was dell where the
beam Of the sun scarce ever penetrated
Tai! trees grew on either side, whose
branches meeting above, formed IA cano
py Of leaves where the birds build their
nests. and poured forth happy songs
| rhither the drunkard bent his steps. II
had been his iavorie haunt in the day.
OF his childhood, and as he threw him.
self upon the soft green sward, the rec.
objection OF past scenes came crowdine
over his mind. He ed his face
with his hands, and the prayer of the
prodlgal burst from his Iips--'Oh God
receive returning wanderer.' Sud
denly soft arm was thrown around his
neck. and sweet voice murmert d =
"He will forgive you, father" Starting
TO his feet, the lnpbriate saw standing bt
fore him. his youngest daug chile
of six years.
! "Why are you here, Annex he said
ashamed that tie innocent child should
have witnessed his grief.
81 came TO gather the lilies which
grow upon the banks,' she replied; "ses
I have got my bashet full, and now l an
going to sell them -
and what do you do with the money?
asked the father, as he turned his eyes {,
the basket, where among the broad greer
leaves the sweet lilies OF the valley
were peeping forth
The child hesitated, she thought sh
had said too much; perhaps her fathe
would demand the money, and spend i
in the way in which all his earning
went.
"You are afraid to tell me, Anne
said her father kindly. "Wcll. do no
blame you, I have no right to my chll
dren's confidence
The gentleness Of tone touched TIL
heart of the. alfe ctionate child. Sh
threw her arms around his neck, and eX
claimed, eyes father, will tell you
Mother buys medicines for poor llttl
Willie. We have no other way to ge
it. Mother and Mary work all the tim
they can get to bus bread.
A pang shot through the inebriate'
heart.-''I have robbed them Of the con
forts of life,' he exclaimed: "from thi
moment the liquid fire passes my lips nc
more"
Anne stood gazing at him in astonish
ment. She could scarcely comprehend
her fathers words; but she saw that som'
change had taken place. She threw
back her golden ringlets, raise her large
blue eyes. with an earnest look to hi
face-"Will you never drink any NOR,