Spirit of the age. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1849-1865, 1858-12-01

from mouse 10 mousse, enqulrlng the road to {
that of my friends.
Those only who are familiar with fights |
of fancy, wild romance, or unbridled mag
iuation, have any idea Of the tremulous
workings of my mind on that day, conf
dent of seeing him, and of seeing him that /
very day, brought feelings to my heart
that can never describe. | drew his
youthful appearance full before me-heard
and recognized his pleasant voice-felt the |
grasp of his kind hand, and in my imagi- |
nation, received cordial welcome stood,
self-complacent, waiting to be introduced |
to his amiable family Il had been pre-
viously informed of his marriage to lady
of high respectabihty,) and then to partake
of the hospitalities of my old school-mate
In short, thoughto of every thing that would |
help to fill my cup of bliss, which was so
soon to be dashed to the ground-but, let
me not anticipate.
am now in the neighborhood, enquir-
ing the road, for the last time before / am
to reach the point of destination. | am
informed that | must pass certain cross
roads, where "doggery" is kept. "Per- |
haps You will see Henry therc,' was the
concluding part of the information receiv-
ed. This, under other circumstances,
might have proved 'damper," but at that
time | took but little notice of it. At pas
sing the cross-road, aforesaid, sure enough,
Henry was there. On being informed that
stranger was making enquiry for him, he
walked up to me and gruf1y demanded my
| tha 4 T hol
of him, and such sight! At first, I could
not recognize the least semblance of nay
former friend. He was drunk and | will
attempt no further description of this our
first interview. At my request, he con
Quoted me to his fathers house, and then
hurried himself away. was still in the
dark as to his real condition-hoping the
"spree" of the previous day was rather ac-
cidental and not habitual, and most gladly
would | have spread veil over it.
The next day, at my request, the old
gentleman and walked to the house Of
his son Henry. All then was fully ex-
plained-all was easily understood. Hen
ry had become bloated, driveling drunk
ard !! His father was in easy circumstances,
and when his son married, he gave him a
good plantation and hands to cultivate it !;
his wife's estate was also considerable He
had prospered for time; but the demon
alcohol, had thrown himself athwart his
pathway, and blasted all his once fair pros
poets for happiness. Ruined, beggared,
besotted, he is now staying mot living) on
corner of his old fathers plantation, an
outcast from society.
The following part Of my story is respect
fully presented to cur fair sisterhood.-
Matrons and Misses, al that house Q viii
not say house, shantee, wigwam) was his
wife, with nine children, surrounded by all
. the horrors of poverty. The building /
would suppose, was IL by IA feet-and
venture to say, ladies, you would not have
given fifty cents for every article of house
hold furniture within its walls. Do not
think that | am exaggerating squallid
poverty, gaunt want, and biting hunger, ]
G have no doubt reign there. The wife, the
i lady, for such no doubt she had once claim
] ed to be, has the appearance of once being
e handsome, and is quite agreeable in con
: versation. Brought up by wealthy pa
II rents, she was literally educated, and re-
$ ceiyed a handsome patrimony, at the time
It of her marriage of which, we may rea
sonably suppose, now contributed to give
/ keener sense Of the height from which
!, she has fallen. And what can a mother.
/ or sisters sympathies and tears do for he
n now
g | was deeply affected with what I say
y and learned, of the deplorable condition
IS which my friend had brought himself into
=! and from all that | could gather, l am {
the opinion that his downfall may, to con
siderable extent, be attributed to neg!ecte
education. understood that he made n
farther advancement in learning after leav
ing N. c., and which | knew to be quit
as limited. He was thus doubtless cast upo
rs, the world without an education that woul
at enable him to fill that position in societ
er and the relative duties in life, which h
ne wealth and standing appeared to EMIT
n him to. Ny youthful friends, take war;
. ing, what has been done once, may be dor
n again. The above story was not write
id for amusement, and is no fiction, but
ip true in all its bearings.