The Cass County Republican. [volume] (Dowagiac, Mich.) 18??-1880, 1859-09-29

his nature better than he knew it him.
self. His sppetite and pleasures bound
ed his own visions. / knew how kind
and generous he was-alas! too kind,
too generous.
"John, could you have seen Ellen's
face last evening, you would have
trembled. Can you make her unhap-
py?"
He stopped me with
".Don't be fool. Why should she
be unhappy ?''
"Because she fears you are going
aoson hiM," I told him.
"Did she say so ?" he asked with .
flushing face.
eNo; 1 read it in her looks" I
said.
Perhaps q reflection of your own
thoughts" he suggested.
"Surely, l thought SO when you
came home," / replied.
Never can / forget the look he gave
me then-so full of reproof, of surprise,
and pain.
&c, l forgive you, for I know
you to be my friend but never speak
to me like that. Z going down hill ?
You know better. That never can be.
1 know my own power, and | know my
wants. My mother knows. me better
than Ellen does"
Ah-had that mother been al wise
as she was loving, she would easily
have seen that the "wild oats" he was
sowing would grow up and ripen to
furnish only seed for re-sowing. But
she loved him-loved him almost blind
ly. al
But I could say no more; I only
prayed that God would guard him, and
then we conversed on other subjects.
I could spend but day with him, but
we promised to correspond often.
Three years more passed. during
which John Anderson wrote to me at
least once q month, and oftener some
times; but at the end of that time his
letters ceased coming, and received
no more for two years, when / again
found myself in his native town. 1t
was early in the afternoon when ar
rived and / took dinner at the hotel.
had finished my meal and was
lounging in front of the hotel, when 1
saw a funeral procession winding into
distant church-yard. / asked the
landlord whose funeral it was.
Mrs. Anderson's," he said and as
he spoke 1 noticed a slight dropping
of the head, as if it cut him to say so.
What! John Anderson's wife," /
ventured.
"No," he said ait is his mother !"
and as he told me this he turned away.
But gentleman near by, who had
heard our conversation, at once took
up the subject again.
"Our host don't seem much inclined
to converse upon that subject" she
remarked with q shrug," inquiring,
"did you know John Anderson p
"He was my schoolmate in boyhood,
and my bosom friend in YOUTH" l told
him.
He then led me one side, and spoke
as follows: II at
"Poor John! He was the pride of
the town six years ago. This man
opened this hotel at that time, and
sought custom by giving wine suppers.
John was present at many of them
the gayest of the gay, and the most
generous of the party. In fact, be
paid for nearly all of them. Then he
began to go down hill and has been
going ever since. AT times, true
friends have prevailed on 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 dreary than
before.
He said he never would get drunk
again-but still he would take glass
of wine with friend That glass OF
wine was but the gate that led in the
food. Six years ago he was worth
sixty thousand dollars. Yesterday he
borrowed the sum of fifty dollors to
pay. his mothers funeral expenses!
That poor mother bore up as long as
she could. She saw her son-her
"darling boy" as she always called
him, brought home drunk, many times.
And, she even bore blows from him
But now she is at rest. Her "darling
wore her life away, and brought her
gray hairs in sorrow to the grave
Oh hope this may reform him I"