Spirit of the age. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1849-1865, 1855-10-31

the blue range of hills, to whose base she
had manv time, followed the windings of
the siIvory stream, flowing past the farm
garden.
I It was here that she could recall the
light of happiness beaming in her mothers
mild eye, when there were no threads of
gray in her raven locks, and no shade of
sadness on her brow. Her father too, s-he
was man then, q gentle, loving husband,
kind, affectionate parentj and never
were two happier children than were Fam
ny and Edward, when, at the close of long
summer days they could take each seat
on his knee, and listen, to his stories of OIL
den times such tales as in New England,
have been handed down from father to
son. ever since New England became the
Pilgrims home. Who could dream, that
even then the demon was lurking near,
watching and waiting with eagerncss for
his prey-the demon whose poisonous
breath would so soon destroy this Eden of
home +? Sosped awaysthe years of Fanny $
childhood, and could Memory have paused
here, the poor girl might still have been
happy But. the scene grew dark.. beyond.
The mothers smile was extinguished in
sorrow, the light Of home grew dim,
harsh words and bitter taunts ,usurped the
place of love and kindness in the father
heart, for though he still loved his children
an unquenchable thirst for intoxicating
drinks had SO bound him in its chains,
that all else was sacrificed to satisfy Its
cravings.
Poor Fanny how hard she struggled to
close her eyes against the approach Of the
dark cloud; and the miserable wife as
vainly endeavored to shield her children
from the knowledge of its existence. 1t
came at last. The dreadful truth. burst
with blasting power on their young
hearts, when, in a fit of anger, school
mate called them the children Of drunk
ard The girls nature was changed in a
moment. Taking Edward by. the hand,
she led him home, where, throwing her
7 arms around her mother neck, the strlck-
} en- girl shed such tears of agony, as may
r no young heart, ever weep again.
: The merry, laughing, romping Fanny
became from that day, melancholy and re-
r served to ALL The cruel shaft had pierced
f wound that might never again be healed,
: and if perchance, at times the curbed spir-
10 broke E--+l- f~n.,, ;4s- prison in gayety
+; andsmusic, the thought of those dreadful
t words thrust it back again, holding it In
firmer bondage than before.
Slowly the years dragged on. The old
homestead was claimed for debt; one poor
: shelter after another covered their sorrow.
ing heads, till at length, worn out by re-
} morse, and the force of the cne fatal pas
| sion, the once talented and respected farm
D er sank into the drunkard'5 grave. The
o pet Edward too, in consequence of expo
s sure from which all the mothers and sis
" ter's love could but partially shield him
d contracted disease that, after months o
Is excrutiating suffering, left Linn a helples
1t cripple. Here was calamity indeed
lie their house, home, happiness, even thei
a hope for future years taken from them, an
p nothing left save their hope in Heaven
re But the God of the widow and the faith
ne erless did not forsake them. The poo
d. woman toiled early and late, that she Nigh
v gain for the children the advantages of a
nd education, and her. labor was not withou
'e- its reward.
ss Fanny, notwithstanding the dificultie
with which she had to contend, mad
fe rapid progress in her studies, aud urge
on as it was by an eager desire to be ust
IT. full to her mother and Edward, became /
"a time an excellent scholar.
IS Through the influence of an old frien
of the family, who became interested fC
H. her, she obtained the situation of teacht
n in the school where at the beginning {
re our story, we found her, wearied and sic
,e- at heart, with her three years servitud
be among the selfish and worldly, far ava
IN, from those she loved.
IRE Keenly did she feel this separation, Fl
ou the old feeling of loneliness so cruelty il
il planted in her bosom, still found restir
,ly place there, while ever and anon tho
fearful words went ringing through h
ss, brain
ID, But it was her consolation to know tn
lys she was contributing to the cemfort of Il
kind mother who had so patiently LAHORE
,ut for her, and the darling brother whom 81
= hoped, some day to see occupying the his
to station his active intellect seemed fairly
say promise; SO she toiled on.
Ter -
at Widow Davis was shown into the stuc
her of the parsonage, with tears streamil
re- down her cheeks, but not finding herst
alone there, the good lady wiped the
an away, and walking deliberately up to t
her mirror, commenced the elaborate proce
led of arranging her curls in the most becol
ing manner. This performance over, S
OF drew up carefully from the depths of b
Inc pocket nice little package of white fla
rid mel, the contents of which she applied i
OF orally to her sallow face and brown hanC
my Dear man, she murmured, viewing t
ght result of her preparations with satisfactc
ose glance, how lonesome he must be he
yer all alone by himself No doubt, he wol
'eet be glad to marry again, but ministers c;
lch not be too careful about such things, Il
low to be sure, he need not fear being in
roof hurry now, for the late Mrs. Russell
lny been dead these three years. / recoll
the the event of her death quite well, p
ux- dear lady, for Mr. Davis was very s
len, with rheumatic fever at the time, q
ers, the doctor gave me great encouragement
rect expressed great fear, mean, that he wo
never get over it.
leir The sound of approaching footsteps
lars minated her soliloquy; the scented poe