San Andreas independent., 1857-10-10
THE UNMEANT REBUKE.
BY sYLyANUs COBB.

Charles Nelson had reached his thirty
fifth year, and at that age he found him.
self going down hill He had once been
one of the happiest of mortals, and no
blessing was wanting to complete the sum
of his happiness. He had one of the best
of wives, and his children were intelligent
and comely. He was carpenter by
trade, and no man could command better
wages, or be more sure of work. If any
man attempted to build house, Charles
Nelson must boss the job, and for miles
around people sought him to work for
them. But a change had come over his
life. \ demon had met him on his way,
and he turned back with the evil spirit.
A new, experienced carpenter had been
sent for by those who could no longer
depend upon Nelson, and had settled in
the village, and now took Nelson's place.
On back street, where the great trees
threw their green branches over the way,
stood a small cottage, which had once
been the pride of its inmates. Before it
stretched wide garden, but tall, rank
grass grew up among the choking flowers,
and the paling of the fence was broken
in many places. The house itself had
once been white, but it was now diney
and dark Bright green blinds had once
adorned the windows, but now they had
been taken off and sold And the WIN
dows themselves bespoke poverty and
neglect, for in many places the glass was
gone, and shingles, rags, and old hats had
taken its place. A single look at the
house and its accomplishments told the
story. 1t was the drunkard's home.
Within sat woman yet in the early
years of life; though she was still hand
some to look upon, the bloom was gone
from her cheek, and the brightness had
faded from her eyes. Poor Mary Nelson
Once she had been the happiest among
the happy, but now none could be more
miserable. Near her sat two children.
both girls, and both beautiful in form and
feature but their garbs were all patched
and worn, and their feet were shoeless.
The eldest was thirteen years of age, and
the other two years younger The mother
was teaching them to recite grammar
lesson, for she had resolved that her chill
dren should not grow up in ignorance.
They could not attend the common schools.
/ for thoughtless children sneercd at them.
and made them the subject of sport and
rldlcule; but in this respect they did not
suffer, for their mother was we'll educated
and she devoted such time as she could
spare to their instruction.
For more than two years Mary Nelson
had earned all the money that had been
earned in the house People had hired
her to wash, iron and sew for them, and,
besides the money paid, they gave her
many articles of food and clothing. So
she lived on, and the only joys that dwelt
with her now, were teaching her children
and praying to God.
Supper-time came, and Charles Nelson
came reeling home. He had worked the
day before at helping to move building,
and thus had earned money enough to
find himself in rum for several DAYS. As
he stumbled into the house the children
crouched close to the mother and even
she shrank away, for sometimes her hus
band was dangerous when thus intoxi-
Gated
Oh, how that man had changed within
two years! Once there was not a finer
looking man in town. In frame he had
been tall, stout, compact, and perfectly
formed, while his face bore the very beau
ideal of manly beauty. But all was
changed now. His noble form was bent,
his limbs sunken and trcmulous, his face
all bloated and disfgured. He was not
the man he once had been-the fond hus.
band and doating father The loving wife
had prayed, and wept, and implorcd but
all to no purpose the husband was bound
to the drinking companions of the bar
room, and he would not break the bonds.
That evening Mary Nelson ate no sup
per, for all the food she had in the house
was not more than enough for her husband
and children but when her husband had
gone she went and picked up few ber-
ries, and thus kept her vital energy alive.
That night the poor woman prayed long
and earnestly, and her little ones prayed
with her.
On the following morning Charles Mel
son sought the bar-room as soon as he
rose, but he was sick and faint, and liquor
would not revive him, for it would not
remain in his stomach. He had drunk
very, very deeply the night before, and
he felt miserable. At length, however,
he managed to keep down few glasses
of hot sling, but the close atmosphere of
the bar-room seemed to stife him, and he
went out.
The poor man had sense enough to
know that if he could sleep he would feel
better, and he had just feeling enough to
wish to keep away from home; so he wan
dered off toward wood not far from the
village, and was buried in profound
slumber. When he awoke the sun was
shining down hot upon him, and raising
himself to a sitting POSTURE he gazed
about him. He knew that it was after
noon, for the sun was turning toward the
west. He was just upon the point OF
rising, when his motion was arrested by
tho oo,,pd of ,-o,,oc moor af hand Hn