East Saginaw courier. (East Saginaw, Mich.) 1859-18??, 1859-08-11

dren, and he had none to give her. Only
a day before he had brought home a
bucketful of flour, instead of sending
home barrel, as he used to do. lie
earned money and where was it ? Alas
poor Alice knew too well Malcolm's face,
and she knew that its manly beauty was
slowly but surely wearing away. The
large blue eyes were growing dim,
bleared and bloodshot;the once fair cheeks
were becoming swollen and bloated; and
his lips looked dry and cracked. No
wonder she knelt down by her bedside
and prayed.
1t was now Saturday evening, and
Malcolm was going out. He was to
meet some friends, and Alice knew that
he was to meet them at the tavern. He
had worked only three days the past week,
and he had the pay for these three days
work in his pocket The money was
needed at home, but where would it be
on the morrow?
Malcolm! O, do not wholly forget
your fond loving Alice, when you are
gone
But Malcolm did not answer. He
kissed her not as he used to do, but kiss
ed her merely because she asked him to,
and then left his cottage. After he had
gone Alice sat down and wept. She
could not help it. Her darling boy crept
by her side, and placed his arms about her
neck. He asked no questions, but he
asked her not to cry. His little mind
seemed to have some idea of the coming
calamity. 1t must have been vague,
but it was clear enough to prevent him
from forcing the dread thoughts upon his
mother. Once more he asked her not
to cry, and then his own little heart
burst, and mother and child wept. This
was another drop in the poor woman's
cup of affliction. o, how palpable must
now be the husbands course, when even
the prattling child saw and knew the
danger But she could only clasp and
pray more fervently. And the little boy
when his mother had done praying, said,
amen
1t was clear, cool evening, and as
Malcolm Warren stepped out into the
street, he seemed to shake himself as
though he would shake off the influence
Of the place he was leaving. But he
could not wholly drive from his mind the
fearful countenance of his fond and fait'r-
ia ~tie' nor coaka ne torgeA the look of
earnest, simple anguish he had noticed
upon the face of the child. Yet he tried
to crush the thoughts that were thus
springing into life. 'Poohr said he, as
the image of his wife forced itself upon
him; its only little fun and frolic.-
Whose business is it? Get out with
with you nonsense
And thus speaking, the young husband
and father closed his hands as though he
would hold upon the feelings he had
tried to repress, and then he hasten
ed on. At length he reached the tavern
and here he found his companions. The
laugh and the joke commenced, and ere
long Malcolm forgot all about his home.
He sat in the bar-room, and his sharp
wit made food for much merriment.
who says there's danger in the bowl?'
cried young man, as he raised the glass
to his lips.
It's the ravens croak' said another of
his companions. Here's Goa fusion 10
the idea
Good exclaimed Malcolm Warren,
posing his glass. poison in the bowl?
Nonsense Look at old Uncle Adam,
now. He's been used to it all his life
time, and here he is the oldest man in
in town. Come, here's to Uncle Adam!
The person to whom Malcolm had thus
alluded was an old, white-haired man,
who stood at the bar with glass of rum
in his hand. His name was Adam Stan
ford, and almost ninety years had rolled
over his head. His form was bent, and
his limbs trembled, but still he lived, and
his mind was yet clear. He heard the
remark which the young carpenter had
made, and having set down his untouch-
ed liquor, he turned and gazed upon the
youthful speaker. He knew Malcolm
Warren well.
Malcolm he said, 'esme with me-
Come alone, for l alone would speak
With you. Comel
There was something very deep and
meaning in the old mans voice, and as
lie turned toward the door, Malcolm arose
o follow.
'Detain him not, said Adam, as some
If his companions sought to hinder him.
why should l go with you?' he
sked.
TO please an old man. I mean to do
-ou no harm, Malcolm. Come.
Passing out of the door they moved
cross the street. Near was the village
and thither he bent his steps.
Arriving at the gate, he passed in ;
When Malcolm hesitated to enter, the
Id man said
Come, follow me-
Malcolm went, and soon they stood
within the village church-yard And
his white-haired guide was the sexton,
Who for more than sixty years had made
hose beds for the children of immortali-
y. The pale moon shed its beams upon
he place, and the chill air sighed mourn
ully among the weeping willows that
rev by the hedge. The gravcstones
TODD like spectres among the faded grass
nd here and there arose white monu-
nent, like some more powerful spirit
hat watched the sanctity of the place.
Malcolm Warren spoke the old man,
n voice so deep that it seemed almost
o come from one of the neighboring
,ravoc mot lonoc a;nco Won ,,o,ntoJ 20