The Evansville daily journal. [volume] (Evansville, Ia. [i.e. Ind.]) 1848-1862, 1856-01-31
FACTS AND FANc1Es ABOUT TOWN.
An Old Memory and its Lesson.


penetrating the very walls, and contesting for
room with the heat of the blazing fire. 1 hear
lit mournfully whistling among the leafess
trees, and rafting their bare and ice-covered
limbs. And again comes the sleet, mingled
with the cracking, crunching sound of ice
and snow beneath the feet of the wayarer, as
he hurries homeward. l draw my robe closer
around me, and half turn me, as though sus-
pecting the frozen rain were penetrating shut
tiers and glass and curtains. The fire blazes
cheerfully. l watch the little putting volumes
issuing in kissing streams of smoke, then in
shooting blazes of light. l watch the bright
etnbers below. gradually embracing the flames
above, and the flames themselves as they fash
melting in the chimney's darkness
And as thus sit, the Past unrolls itself in
memory.
Bright and warm as the glowing fire before
me, is one memory-dark and cold ard terri
bly, drear as the night without, is another
Thought follows thought, memory chases mem
DRY, in rapid succession-light and darkness
sweet and bitter, love and hate-a chaos of
recollection.
But, the driving sleet disturbs me. 1 arouse,
and one memory, startled from its lurking
place, stands before me, plain, palpable, terri
bic. Vainly seek to drive it away. The
night, its wind. its sleet, its dreary GOODNESS,
even that passing footstep, and my sitting here
alone recalling the past-all fasten the memo
ry to me, and its icy grasp cannot be loosened.
Here is the memory. There is lesson in it
| "a lesson Ihave read, and which trust in God
has made me bette. in my hearts feelings to
the poor and suffering and freer in my hearts
forgiveness to the errings of humanity.
1t was just such night as this. / satalone,
and for moment after my clock ceased tolling
ten, l listened to the fitful gusts of wind and
frozen rain. The icy blasts sent a chill creep
ing through my fesh-yet another sound,
close beneath my windows made me forget
all without but it alone. 1t was the crunch
ing Of the frozen snow, as if under feet laid
down, fall by fall with weary slowness, or as
| if the owner were pausing in his walk. So
slow were the footballs, that as one pressed
the cracking ice, found myself almost fear
fully awaiting the drop of the other. Then
there was a slip, a rustling in the snow, fall,
groan, and all was still. / waited anxiously
for repetition of the sound. l felt as if the
blood had withdrawn from my heart for a mo-
ment. as listened. But no other sound came
hut the rttshinr uiud
With an effort / aroused myself, went to
the window and drew aside the curtain. A
shower of sleet ratified against the glass, start
ling me with its force, but all without was
darkness. Placing my lamp at the window
and drawing wide the curtains, | threw on
my cloak and moment after was standing on
the front steps Something white lay on the
pavement. approached and laid my hand
on dripping wet figure, and yet half CONCEAL
ed with ice. 1t was that Of a woman, but so
frail and light, that lifted it as a child, She
was insensible, and yet as l raised her face to
the lamp light no bruse nor cut met my gaze.
Never shall forget that face and it's pictured
horror of the moment. 1t was white as the
very snow itself, almost feshless in it's skull
like appearance, the lips barred from the regu-
lar and beautiful teeth, and the features or skin
pinched up, not as if in the mortal agony of
momentary pain; but as if by the prolonged
sufferings of brain and body for lifetime.
My gaze seemed fascinated to the face as
thus held it up to the light. 1t was picture
IF 80 boI
seen before. Why the thought pressed itself
so terribly upon me at the time, I did not I'M
derstand, but starvation was the thought that
filled my mind as searched those features.
hastily bore her to my room and laid the
emaciated form on the bed. In a few minutes,
my good aunt, hurriedly called, was endeavor-
ing to bring life to the poor being-and she
was successful The woman moved, she open
ed her eyes-the features lighted up with in
telligence.
l started, and involuntarily exclaimed
amy Wilford!"
She gazcd at me fxedly as the glare ofdeath
then tears rolled down her withered cheeks, /
and she covered her face with her skeleton
hands. But, rising up she looked around
her. Ny aunt gave her some wine, which she
drank as though consumed by burning thirst.
had sunk into chair, and was sobbing like
a child. Food was offered her. which she
snatched from the plate and placed to her lips, t
but then starting from the bed, exclaimed-"I
must 60"
$50 child?' said my aunt, you go not from
here tonight Where could Won po2r