, 1859-04-29

time, nus letterS ceased coming and received no
more for two years, when again found myself
in his native town. 1t was carly in the afternoon
when ! arrived, and took dinner at the hotel.
had finished my meal, and was lounging in
front Of the hotel, when saw funeral process
sion winding its way into q distant churchyard.
| asked the landlord whose funeral it was.
Mrs. Andersons," he said, and as he spoke
noticed slight dropping Of the head, as though
it cut him to say so.
"What-John Anderson's wiCeS"
"NO, he said, 1T is his mother" and as he
said this he turned away; but gentleman who
was near overheard our conversation, and imme-
diatcly took the theme himself
"Our host does not seem inclined to converse
on that subject" he remarked with shrug Of the
shoulders. Did you know John AndersOni"
lie was my schoo!matc in boyhood, and my
bosom friend in youth"
He led me to one side and then spoke as fol.
lows:
"Poor John! He was the pride Of this town
two years ago. This man opened hotel at that
time, and sought customers by giving wine sup
pers. John was present at the most Of them
the gayest Of the gay, and the most generous Of
the party. In fact he nearly paid for every one
Of them. Then he began to go down bill, and he
has been going down ever since. At times true
friends have prevailed upon him to stop, but his
stops were Of short duration A short season of
sunshine would gleam upon his home, and then
the night came more dark and drcary than before.
! lie said he never would get drunk any more, yet
he would take glass Of wine with friend.
That glass Of wine was the gate to let in the flood.
Six years ago he was worth sixty thousand dol
lars. Yesterday he borrowed fifty dollars to pay
his mothers funeral expensesl That poor mo-
ther bore up as long as she could. She saw her
son-her darling boy she always called him
brought home drunk many times, and she even
bore blows from him! But she's at rest now /!
Her darling wore her life away, and brought
her gray hairs in sorrow to the gravel Oh, |
hope and trust this may reform him."
'But his wifel"
Her heavenly love has held her up thus far,
but she is only the shadow Of that wiic that
blessed his home six years ago."
Ny informant was deeply affected, and so was
], and so asked him no more.
During the remainder Of the afternoon ! de-
bated with myself whether to call upon John at
all. But finally resolved to go, altho' | waited
till ailer tea found John and bis wife alone.
They hal both been weeping, though could see
at glance that Ellen's fAce was bcaming with
hope and love. But oh, she was ciangcd-sadly,
painfully So They were glad to sec me, and my
hand was shaken warmly.
"Dear c., don't say word Of the past
John urged, taking my hand second time. III
knew you spoke the truth to me five years ago
was going down hill But have got as Ear as
can. stop here at the foot Everything Is gone
but wife Ihave sworn and my oath shall-bc kept
Ellen and are going TO be happy now"
The poor fellow burst into tears His wife fol-
lowed suit and kept them company. cOu'd
not help crying like q child. My God, what
siglItl The once noble, true man, 50 fallen
become mere broken glass, the last fragment
only rejecting the image il once bore, poor sup
plicant at the feet Of hope, begging u grain Of
warmth for the hearts Of himself and wife. And
how | had honorcd and loved that man, and how
loved him still. Oh, hoped, aye, more than
hoped, believed he would be saved And as
gazed upon that wiic-so loving, so trusting, SO
true, so hopeful still, and even in the midst Of
living DEATH prayed more icrvently than ever
that God would hold him up, and lead him back
to the top Of the hill.
In the morning saw the children, now grown
up to intelligent boys and though they looked pale
and wan, they smiled and seemed happy when
their father kissed them. When went away
John took me by the hand aud said.
"Trust me. Believe me now. will be man
hcnccforth, while il lasts"
A little more than two years more had passed,
when | read in a newspaper the death Of Ellen
Anderson. started for the town where they had
lived as soon as possible for might help some
one. A fearful prcsentimcnt bad possessed my
mind.
stopped at the stately house where they had
dwelt, but strangers occupied it.
"Where is John Anderson" asked.
"Don't know, I'm sure. He's been gone these
three months. His wife died in the mad house
last week."
"And the cllildrcns'
"0h, they died before she did"
staggered back and hurried from the place.
hardly knew which way went, but instinct
led me to the churchyard. Il found four graves
which had been made in three years. The mother,
the wife and two children IN them.
"What has done this?" asked myself And
voice answered:
"The Demon Of the Wine table"
But this was not all the work. No, no! The
next day saw-oh God! far, FAR more terrible! |!
saw him in the court room. But this was not
the last
saw my legal friend on the day following the
trial. He said John Anderson was in prison. j
hastened to sec him. The turnkey conducted inc
to his cell-the key turned in the huge lOck-the
ponderous door swung on the huge hinges with
sharp creak-and saw dead body suspended
by the neck from grating Of the windowl !
looked at the horrible face-l could see nothing
Of John Anderson there, but the face had seen
in the court was sufficient to connect the two,
and knew that this was all left on earth Of him
had loved so well.
And this was the last Of tho demons work I;
the last act Of the terrible drama! Oh, from the
first sparkle Of the red wine, il bad been down,
downtown until the foot Of the bill had finally
been rcSchedi
When turned away from the cell, and once
more walked amid the flashing saloons and revel
halls, ] wished that my voice had power to thuD-
der tho life story Of which ! had been witness,