Spirit of the age. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1849-1865, 1856-05-07
W9lmme I.
The Victim Of Intemperance.

How often the sentence that heads this ar
ticle has met the readers eye, but how sell
dom has its dread meaning touched the heart
with its fearful import! A VIcTIx-ah u-
man being sacrificed to the debased lust Of
appetite-an appetite that destroys every no.
Die principle; that blunts every sacred af-
lection that tears from the soul every holy
and generous impulse: that converts a h.
man being into a demon, and transforms yir.
tue into the oathsomeness of vice and pros-
%titution. Murder and bIoodshed are its I~
climate fruits.
One who has seen much Of the horrors of
prison life, gives US the life picture of one
who was well to do in the world. respected
by all who knew him, till he took TO drink,
and then 1t was all up with him-and there
he stands disgraced, and in despair. Home
soon ceases to be home, to him who returns
to 1t under tie guilty delirium of intoxica-
ton /; there, notwithstanding wife and chill
dren appear like dismal spectres fitting be-
fore his blood-shot eye and Keeling BRAIN
AS the husband frequents the dram shop, so
he drives his wretched wife the oftener to
the pawn shop, and her and his children at
length to the workhouse or perhaps in her
desperation-but dare not proceed !! The
coroner can tell the rest.
Look at yonder desolate little room, at the
: end of a dreary court a funeral goes out
from it in the morning Enter this evening.
All is silent, and a single can lie on the man
y
tel-piece sheds a dull, Pickering light on a
d coffin, not yet screwed down. Beside it sits
morally a murderer his bloated face is hid
in his shaking hands he has not yet ven-
tured to move aside the coffin lid, but at
length he dares to look at his poor victim
his broken-hearted wife! Poor, poor soul /!
u thou art gone ut last! Gone, uhere the tcicE-
OF ed cease from troubling and the loeary are at
rest! Ills a happy release, say the friendly
neighbors, who have contributed their little
means to lay her decentIy in her coffin. Ay,
besotted husband let your blood-shot eyes
~ look on that white face, that wreck of a face
so sweet and pretty when you married her
Never fear! the eyes are closed, and vii
weep and look mournfully at you no more
Touch, if you dare, those limbs, which tn
n N woman who laid them out said, with a sigh
were mere skin and bone Dare YOU tax
r hold of her cold hand and look at her wed
ding ring? Do you see how her finger
worn with the needle During the day
during the night, this poor creature was you
willing slave, mending your linen, and tn:
o9 of your wronged children, and what was lie
of her own and which are nearly rags. L
~ you hear those children sobbing in the me-
room? Do you zee the scar On that check
Look and tremble. Have you forgotten L
% blow that caused it, given by your hand
. 81 drunken and rufian violence? Yet she ne
so er reproached you'll And when at lengt
20 worn away with misery, starvation, and j
w usage, she was forced to give up the strugG
n for life, her last-her very last act was gel
SO ly aud in silence to squeeze your unwortI
38 hand Perhaps remorse is now shakiI
81 your heart, you inwardly groan-
81 80, if she would but come again,
20 l think I'd gr. eve her SO no more"
~ She will com no more ON earth, but y
o. 81 will have to meet her againl So man, clt
so the coffin lid! Go to bed, and sleep if y
rs can! The funeral is In the morning, q
90 you must follow the poor emaciated b.
| 40 close past your favorite dramshop!!'