The daily crescent. [volume] ([New Orleans, La.]) 1848-1851, 1849-01-26

An" feebly moaned the man upon the bed.
The waste of life since then, the waste of life
since them
g But he was a child once" said the old man ;
g he played with children. Before he Law down on
his bed at night, and fell into his guiltless rest he
said his prayers at his poor mothers knee. | have
seen him do 1t, many time, and seen her lay his
head upon her breast, ard KISS him. Sorrowful as
1t was to her, and me, to think Of this, when he
went so wrong, and when our hopes and plans for
him We're all broken, this gave him still hold
upon us that nothing else could have given. Oh,
Father, so much better than the fathers upon EARTH
On, Father, so much afflicted by the errors of
my children! take this wanderer back Not as he
Is, but as he was then, let him cry to thee as he
has so often seemed to cry to us ~
As the old man lifted up his trembling hands the
son, for whom he made the supplication, laid his
sinking head against him for support and comfort,
as ii he indeed Were the child of whom he spoke.
When did man ever iremble as Redlaw trembled
IN the silence that ensued He knew it must come
upon them, knew that it was coming fast.
My time is very short, my breath is shorter"
said the sick man. supporting himself on one arm
and with the other cropping in the air, and | re-
member there Is something on my mind concerning
the man who was here just now. Father and
WlllIam-wait lis there really anything in black,
out here -
Yes, yes, it is real said his aged father.
I" Is it a man %
What ! say myself, George" interposed his
brother, bending kindly over him. g It's Mr. Red
law"
& thought had dreamed of him. Ask him to
come here.'
The Chemist, whittier than the diving man. ap-
peared before him. Obedient to the motion of his
hand he sat upon his bed.
1t has been so ripped up, tonight. sir, said
the sick man, laying his hand upon his heart, with
a look IN which the mute, imploring agony of his
condition was concentrated, "by the sight of my
old f,tI. H.. IL. H.
have been the cause of, and all the wrong and
row lying at my door, that
Was 1t the extremity TO which he had come
was 1t the dawning of another change, that made
him stop!
that what can do right, with my mind run
ming on much, fast, I'll try to do. There was
another man here. Did you see him -
Redlaw could not reply by any word when he
saw that fatal sign he knew well now, OF the
wandering hand upon the forehead, his voice died
at his bps. But he made some indication of assent
." He is pennyless, hungry, and destitute. He is
completely beaten down, and has no resource at
all. Look after him Lose no time know he
has it in his mind to kill himsef.'
1t was working. 1t was on his face. His face
was changing, hardening, deepening in all its
shades, and losing all its sorrow.
. Don't you remember! Don'tyou know him -
he pursued.
He shut his face out for moment, with the hand
that again wandered over his forehead, and then
1t lowered on Redlaw, reckless, ruffianly, and
callous.
''Why, d-n you!' he sad scowling round,
s. what have you been doing to me here | have
lived bold, and mean to die bold. To the devil
with you.'
And so lay down upon his bed, and put his arms
up, over his head and ears, resolute from that
time to keep out all access, and to die in this ndf
ference.
If Redlaw had been struck by lightning, it could
I.N-,
shock. But the old man, who had left
the bed while the son was speaking to him. now
avoided it quickly likewise, and with
adherence.
" Where's my boy William - said the old man
hurrieGly. William, come away from here. Well
go home"
Home, father" returned William. care you
going TO leave your own son -
Where's my own son - replied the old man.
Where! why, there!''
That's no son of mne,'' said Philip, trembling |
with resentment. " No such wretch as that has |
any claim on me. My children are pleasant to look |
at, and they wait upon me, and get my meat and |
drink ready, and are useful to me. Eve right to
it! I'm eighty-sevenn'
You are old enough to be no older muttered |
William, looking at him grudingly, with his hands |
IN his pockets. 81 don't know what good you are, |
myself We could have deal more pleasure with |
out you
Ny son, Mr.. Redlaw.'' said the old man. "My |
on, too. The boy talking to me of my son Why. |
What has he ever done to i've me any pleasure, |
should like to know"
81 don't know what you have ever done to give |
ne any pleasure, said William sulkily.
" Let me think, - said the old man. "For how |
many Christmas times running, have sat in my |
warm place, and never had to come out in the cold
hight air and have made good cheer, without be-
ng disturbed by any such uncomfortable wretched |
light as him there9 Is it twenty, William
higher forty, it seems" he muttered. ''Why, |
when look al my father, sir and come to think of
t, addressing Redlaw, with an Impotence and
irritation that were quite new I'm whipped if |
an see anything in him, but calendar of ever so
many years of eating, aI4 drinking, and making |
himself comfortable, over and over again.
"l-fm eigity-seven," said the old man, ram
bling on, chlldishly and weakly, {" and | don't |
Know as ever was much put about by anything.
m not going to begin now, because of what he
'als my son. He's not my son. I've had power
If pleasant times | recollect once-no don't
10, it's broken off. 1t was something about a game
n cricket and friend of mine, but it's somehow
broken off. | wonder who he was-I suppose |
liked him! And wonder what became of him
uppose he died But | don't know. And don't
are, neither don't care Bit
In his drowsy chuckling, and the shaking of his
read, he put his hands into his wastcoat pockets.
n one of them he found bit of holly Cleft there. |
probably, last night,) which he now took out and
ooked at
6 Berries, eh - said the old man. "Ah! It's
pity they're not good TO eat. | recollect, when !
vas a little chap about as high that, and out
Walking with--let me see-whO was | out walk
ng with no, don't remember how that was
don't remember as | ever walked with any one
or cared for any one, or any one for me-
Berries Ell! There's good cheer when there s be-
les. Well; ] ought to have my share of it, and
0 be waited on and kept warm and comfortable;
or I'm eighty-seven, and a poor old man. I'm
ighty-seven. Eighty
The dwelling, pitiable manner in which, as he
epeated this, he nibbled at the leaves, and spat
he morsels out the cold, uninterested eve with
which his youngest son $50 changed) regarded him;
he determined apathy with which his eldest son
ay hardened in his sin; impressed themselves no
more on Redlaw's observation-for he broke his
way from the spot to which his feet seemed to have
een fixed, and ran out of the house.
His guide came crawling forth from his place of
efuge, and was ready for him before he reached
he arches.
80 Back to the woman's - he injured