The Lancaster ledger. [volume] (Lancaster, S.C.) 1852-1905, 1859-09-21
Splrrtpa Sturu,
Poor Tom.
a PICTURE OF THE RUM TRAFFIC

How mounfulIy the tone rang through!
the air Then its musical cadence died
away, and all was still.
No, all WAS not still for a bird was
singing without, and the light breath OF
summer came floating into the room
where | lay, and bore lis ,remu.ous song
to my ear. arose and looked through,
the easement into the laiticed porch. The
geraniuin, the rose bush, the vine and the
honevsuckle, spreading cut their tender
leaves, obstructed the view, but, nev erthe
less, LETT room for glimpse into pleas
ant garden, where the flowers are smil.
ing. How pleasant
After all, is not this happy world
Toll, toll
Again tia, sound; but this time lis
tMnting murmurs were caught up and
prolonged 10y another more deep toned
than the first. The inarticulate harmor
ny tol more torcibly than words tha,
'man goe'h to bis long home. and the
mour"ers go about the streets" There is
" sadness and ye, sweetness abou, the
'''','' - abN YET u Joy.
J",I such requiem as the saints should
have; sorrow for our loss. JOY for their
triumph. But, oh, it may not be the
body of departed believer that now
takes its last journey ! Oh, to think
when the last trumpet shall sound-alas
alas
Come with me-entcr sick chamber
\ bloated form lies before you; the eve.
stare wildly around rs he wakes from a
stupid slumber, and sepulchral voice
breaks the silence; "Where is my bot
tie 7!
'fom,' replies middle aged man by
the bcdside--it was kindly but firmly
sPoken-'Tom, you have drank all ,ha.
was in the bottle, and you shouldn't have
had that l. had not been afraid YOU
would sink before your medicine could
act.
i want my bottle, tell you. will
have it. I'll get up out Of this bed GO
down into the town and get some for
myself He rose up in bed, but his
strength was too far gone. lie fell back
in a fainting tit.
A few hours later. Day dies in the
west; The crimson, the gold and blue
that overhang, are fading into somber
pail, as though this abiding place were
AS 1t is, indeed, one vast charnel house
Knock knock Death is at the door.
'Lift me up says the dying.
Tom, you can, stani it you are too
weak Lift me up said he sterny to
servant. The servant takes hold Of bis
hand and raises him up a little. lie
tries to rise still further, but the effort was
Loo much for him (; he sinks back in his
last swoon, draws two or three breaths--
and he is dead.
Toll, toll
A group Of idiers we're standing on the
corner Of the street, when presently there
came INTO view slow procession. Reader
VII! you, or your father, or your brother,
or your son ever lead such procession !
Poor Tom, said one on the sidewalk
The speaker was plump and rubicund,
with heavy gold fob chain, and an EN-.
broidered cravat daintily tied around hi.
broad neck.
Poor Tom he was q good. clever fel.
low when be wasn't drunk. Ny Sam was
out at the house this morning, and went
in and took a look at the corpse. lie says
an old woman Vas standing at the head
OF the lounge when be lifted up the cover
from Toms face. She looked fearfully
solemn, and when Sam laid back tho
ccYer!e!, che took hold Of his hand and
said, Poor Tom is gone : and then the
tears came trickling down her face, and
she cried as though she would break her
heart Boys, you know Tom was mighty
good TO bis servants when he was sober,
but be was like very devil when be
drank
A-man who ives passing by, paused on
hearing these words, and said to tue speak
er, MIR iopes, ] believe ho died from tho