Spirit of the age. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1849-1865, 1854-03-01
CHAPTER XXYIu

IOI pIOUcClIeSS, VhIS- uueINlllG.
CHAPTER XVIII.
A good ,conan's adrice-ap interriesC bef,reen
the loUers-Mrs. Matty Melrile uery pr1l-
dent acomdn-the inlbrating effects Of drum
ke11nesS-the acOrld's curse against the
I dgunkard's child.
/ Z Heaven bless us child, what makes you
think it so sinful to love him. said Mrs.
Matty Melville to Martha when she spoke
| to the kind woman of Alfred Wilbanks.
90! he is SO great-so rch-so noble
and poor me An outcast-a drunkard's
child ?
That's not your fault, my child
'Ah! no, but In my case the old Pro-
verb of Israel is verified my father has
eaten sour grapes
But Mr.. Wilbanks loves you, my dar-
ling, with pure and exalted love-
90! that was worthy of it, Mrs. Mel
vile. | know he loves me with all the en-
thusiasm of his manly nature-I know it,
feel it, and yet how strange! His posi-
ton and intellect might Gull the brightest
| jewel in the European circles of gaiety and
make it bow at his shrine all his own
Hundreds of the bellies of R-x would
gladly assume his name, and yet for me
poor factory girl-he chooses to forsaks
them and lay his heart at my feet and Of
fer it in exchange for my humble affections
And you do love him, Martha 2
How could [ help it; my heart was
not my own. How could | reject the
princely offer And yet my better judg-
ment warned me it was wrong to link my
lowly destiny with skfbls being; to dis
grace his name by "A ennection with an
outcast-a menial-a Slave
But true and holy love, Martha, spurns
such ideas as you try to cherish where it
finds an object worthy of its sublime de-
votion there at its shrine, humble or e&al-
ted, it lays its holy oblation and yearns for
an acceptance of It's sacred incense
But am unworthy-unworthy And
yet this poor heart loves him, o to mad
ness-to insane, to blinded worship /
might have met his smiles with boldness
y 20 listed to. bus impassioned strains Of
loves sweet minstrelsy WITH 3 worthy ear.
and answered him with a less timid heart
and faltering tongue but for the baneful
curse of my life-that robbed me Of every
hope of earthly pleasure; that withered
the bright flowers of my youths garden
that streWed my pathway of life with bit
ter, ranking thorns.-DRUNKENNE
O! bane of my life, destroyer of my hopes,
eternal curse of my father My poor faith
er-my father, thy dreadful, terrible end !
And she bowed her head and wept, and
the good woman wept with her.
A light tap fell on the door and Mr.
Nilho bc orforo1 anI +oIIn. Mow4b. h.,
the hands he said;
'Why do you weep so, my Martha p and
he seated himself by her.
Mrs. Melville withdrew, ike prudent
woman to an adjoining chamber and left
the young lovers to themselves. During
which time Alfred eloquently battled a.
gainst the prejudices of the factory girl in
relation to the propriety of her linking her
life with his. What was his success we
shall BEE in following p ge.
Martha, the factory girl, tolls day after
day in the crowded mill until her brain like
her weary soul aches, and at night turns a.
way to seek rest on an humble couch that
is haunted with trouble and fears for the
future. The iron tongue of ringing bell
starts her from her restless slumbers and
warns her back to her weary task again.
She is seen vending her way, on Saturday
evening, with heavy heart and languid
step-a feverish cheek and failing frame,
to her fathers miserable, drunken hut in
R-x. That father totters every week
to the Office at Rock Island, lays hands on
her weeks wages and on the Lords day
il - - Ill L
bloated comrades. Sometimes they pass
ed each other on the way. A curse from
the father and tear from the daughter
was the recognition
Martha once loved that father wher
she was child and sat upon his knee list
ening to him sing plaintive song of hel
dear mothers grassy couch in the church
yard far over the deep blue sea But pov
erty and curses from his lips that onceC
kissed her child-brow had awakened bit
ter hatred in her bosom against him, ant
when he went to the rum fend with he
earnings in his pocket cursing her as b
: crossed the broken door way, a wish
prayer escapes her lips that he might neve
return! The imbruting effect of drunker
: ness
i Long and weary weeks drag on, and th
poor girl yet tolls in the factory. Fac
Saturday night she goes to that cherries
!, ; home, kisses little Ada and the babes, an,
( sits with them around broken table wit
cup of water and a crust of bread. Th'
gin bottle sits on board across the win
dow, and drunken father and step-moth
er snore together on, the filthy hearth !
The breath of the storm-king shrek
through the shattered tenement and tn
e infants cluster near the older sister to keel
< warm Society singles out the factory CIR
!, and writes in flaming letters upon her
q DRUNKARD's CHILD = Her pathway
dark-uncheered by a single ray.