Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1856-06-11
MISCELLANY A N Y
The Pale Young Man.

noticed one day in my ride toward home, an
old, leather-stained, worn and rickety chaise, IN
which was seated pale young man. He was
fragile creature, with cadaverous cheek, and hol-
low, beseeching eyes, that glistened fearfully
with each roll in the socket. He bent as he
moved, and his breath came short and gasping-
ly. His garments hung loosely in wide fo,ds
over his thin form, betraying its shrunken pro-
portions. His hands were folded with an air
childishly meek, and yet there seemed certain
forlornneSs in that meek air, and the swaying
posture in which he sat in the old chaise, beto-
kened extreme exhaustion.
The worn old chaise stood before marble
workers shop, where, fronting the door, along
the smoky building, and along the smeared win
dows, laughing in great cracks, and on oil sides
of the ancient fence that two generations had
seen, white shafts, gray stones and brown slabs
uprose ghastly shapes yet beautiful, with angels
and cherubs sculptured thereon, some for hard
featured men, and some for tender babes; some
for blameless maids, and others tor youths not
vet world-stained. Many of these shapes, types
of beauty more perishable than themselves,
though made by more cunning hands, bore grace
full willows dropping from the stainless marble (;
doves spread their snowy wings; urns, in pen
sive solitude, waited for the tear of grief-and
over many bent the cold forms Of passive sor-
row, as shades, mourning for the soul that had
departed.
1t seemed gloomy stopping-place for the pale
Young man, to one along whose veins bounded
the vigorous pulse of health-and yet the serene
face of the invalid, suffused with glad and al
most holy expression that softened its ghastli-
ness, and made its sadness more spiritual, formed
picture strangely in keeping with the surround
ings of death. Day after day as passed, saw
him, ususlly in the same place, either being as
sisted by some dear friend into the old leathery
chaise, or sitting so listless yet patient watch
ing the motions of the laborers engaged at their
work.
Once fortunately met friend, who, as
pointed out the pale young man, spoke of him as
one he had long known; and going toward the
rusty chaise he held forth his hand. With a
glad, life expression, the invalid grasped it. say
ing, "This is very unexpected pleasure"
'How are you now, my friend9" interrogated
the other.
"Well," he said, and the sweetest smile broke
all over his pale features, "Pm nearer home than
ever-thank Godm
There was so much fervor in that "thank
God" that it brought the tears to my eyes.
ut is q hopeless case, is it not2" l asked,
passing along with my friend-'what can it be
that draws him to the shop of the marble-work-
er2 / should think he was experimenting the
making of his monument" added, thoughtless-
ly.
'That is just what he is doing" answered my
friend. "He is doomed man; and knowing his
state, is overlooking the progress OF his own
tombstone
SIT is horriblel" l cried, startled-''it is q
heartless whim-if he has money, surely he can
spend it more Christianity than that, or leave it
to the poori"
"No, no; not heartless; Mark Bennett is far
from that, and the charities he has dispensed no
man can number. Not an hour of his life passes
without registering some good deed. But let me
give you an outline of his history.
MARK was handsome, healthy young man
ten years ago, with fine flow of spirits and high
expectations. A fortune was left him, and it
proved his snare. Never more humble, mod
est and unassuming young man than he before
that, but when his uncle died and the splendid
fortune came-fne fortune, and no mistake-he
was OFT like an unframed colt-of, and on the
broad road of dissipation Beginning with mod
crate prodigality to rid himself of his golden in
cumbrance, his desires soon knew no bounds
Gradually he threw off the restraints which once
q sense of duty, engendered BY q mothers pious
teachings, had kept him under-pluneed into
fashionable follies, forgot God, ruined his con-
stitution, and soon sunk all but a small portion
of his fine legacy. Poor fellow, in his case the
race acas to the swift but it has ended in his de-
struction. And now listen while give YOU a
little romance In his humber days he loved
and was engaged to Miss Nellie Glen, a sweet,
intelligent and poor girl, of Scotch Descent
Pretty Nelliel hers was very gentle face, the
softest and most feminine, | think, l ever saw.
Well, when he went away to plunge into foreign
dissipation, she grew paler for time, but she
never doubted his love-never doubted his truth.
"Ah! well-some women are such loving and
forgiving creatures :" solloquized my friend,
with an absent air, falling into one OF his old
bachelor reveries, from which startled him by
the question,
"Did he ever marry herr"
"No," he exclaimed, abruptly, "no; he went
to New York and Philadelphia dangled around
a few golden satellites-from thence to Europe
came back to the States, paid court to lady
of wealth, and heart-breaking rumor reached
Nellie Glen. Poor girl-poor girl how quickly