The mountain sentinel. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1844-1853, 1852-04-15
The Drunkard's Funeral.
A SCENE IN NEWARK.

I-sTeets2 There is a man dead there, sir
and, although he is poor, yet we do not like tC
/ bury him without some kind of religious ser
vices. We should be very glad, sir, if you could
attend''
81 am sorry to say that it is out of my pow,
er to comply with your request" l replied, Gin
| asmuch as l am previously engaged to attend a
funeral at that hour in another direction
81 am very sorry, sir" he replied, but after
| moments reflection again inquired-..cou
you not come little later if We were to defer it
an hour? Could you not come at o'clock?"
Il think l cam replied. At all events, l
will come as near that hour as possible
He left me, and at the appointed time went
/ to fulfil my first engagement man of four
score years was sleeping his long last Sleep
| Relatives and friends were occupying the CON-
! Portable and well furnished apartments absorb
ed in grief The services being over, the leng-
thy procession moved slowly onward to the
peaceful mansion of the dead 1t was not a cost
Iy burial, but such as we could desire for our
selves, plain, solemn, appropriate, nothing ex-
travagant, yet nothing wanting, and while we
felt that the congeualty also in the place selec-
ted for the last sleep of death, even our own
beautiful and quiet cemetary.
l hastened from these solemn, orderly and ap-
propriate obsequies TO obey my second sum
mons. An open wagon, with one horse attach
ed, and four or FIVE individuals were standing
near the door. I felt chill run through my
veins Part Of a fearful truth was now reveal
ed. The keen November wind was blowing. and
SIX frIo
feared there was keener anguish and deeper
gloom 7'lthin. entered, and at one glance the
f"''--~~9 +N'd 1t was the funeral Of a drss7E4-r'
4 small, cold and desolate chamber was ap-
propriated for the solemn service. Indeed, it
was all they had. Here for season had lived,
and here had died, and now from here was to
be buried, a husband and a father, who had
lived and died a drunkard. 1t was a dreary
place. There, in one corner, upon rough old
rickety table, from which they had often eaten
their cold and chserless fare, was placed the cof-
fin, made of rough pine boards, slightly stained
with red, in which was placed the corpse. He
was man perhaps Of fifty, cOarsely clad with
grave clothes. His countenance, if in index to
his state of mind, bespoke nothing but gloom
Around, underneath his head, where in other
places L had often seen the downy pillow and
the rich satin Innings, were stuffed a few of the
shavings roughly taken from the boards which
composed his coffin.
looked with spirit almost crushed within
me, first at this new trophy of the reign of
death, and then at the living scene around me-
Both were expressive of the deepest wretched-
ness. In an opposite corr er, upon pile of old
clothes rudely thrown together sat the unhap
py widow, tall spare woman, pale as the
corpse before me. Her dark eyes were large
and sunken, and she was thinly and poorly clad;
and she sat, wrung her hands as if to relieve
the agony she felt within, while almost every
breath she gave a low, hollow, consumptive
cough, which told me too plainly that death had
marked her for his victim also Several little
children, were standing around and beside the
table where the coffin rested, shvering with cold
and weeping from some cause whether they un-
derstood the meaning of fathers death or not
and the tears rolling down their pale and hol-
low cheeks, upon the uncarpeted floor, in large
and briny drops. few of the neighbors had
ted with the funeral. There were seated some
on boxes, OtnefS upon an oIu worn out trunk,
while others stood. 1t was gloomy scene
gloomier than the day without, and the anguish
keener than the biting blast.
/ stood there in the midst of that group, q
minister of Christ. The Bible was before me-
the Bible so full of denunciations against SIM
But as looked around me, it seemed as if sin
had denounced itself. There were the visible
tangible, heart-rending fruits of a goddess ife
and if possible, the more revolving spectacle of
goddess death, upon all which seemed written,
forsaken, hopeless, miserable. | strove to di-
rect attention to the necessity of religion to pre-
serve us from the vices and miseries life, and
to its holy consultations to support us under the
trials of our earthly pilgrimage. But I feared
then and still fear that it was too late for such
advice There were hearts there that had SO
long been accustomed to the treachery of men,
so stepped in sorrow and accustomed to sin, that
they could hardly be led to repose confidence in
God. Having commended them to the care of
heaven, and especially to the God of the poor,
the coffin was carried down the narrow stairway,
and the drunkard' family, half clad, and shiver-
ing in the keen November wind, was placed in