Spirit of the age. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1849-1865, 1859-07-27

the image OF has wife forced itself upon
him. "It is only little fan and frolic.-
Whose business is it? Get out with your
nonsense"
And thus speaking, the young husband
and father closed his hand as though he
would hold up the feeling he had tried to
| repress, and then he hastened on. At
, length he reached the tavern, and here he
found his companions. Ttelaugh and the
+ joke commenced, and ere long Malcom for
1 got all shout his home. He sat IN the bar
J room, and his sharp wit made food for
t much merriment.
@Who says, there's danger in the bowl"
cried yonng man, as he raised the glass
to his lips.
, It's the raven croak," said another of
his companions. Here's confusion to the
idea"
"Good" exclaimed Malcolm Warren,
, poising his glass. "Poison in the bow,
i nonsense! Look at old Uncle Adam, now.
He's used it all his lifetime and here he is,
, the oldest man 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 Stanford, and
) almost ninety years had rolled over his for
: est head. His form was bent, and his limbs
/ trembled, and still he lived, and his mind
was yet clear He heard the remark which
the carpenter made, and having set down
e his untouched liquor, he turned and gazed
t upon the youthful speaker. he knew Nal
com Warren well.
Y Malcom," be said. "Come alone, for
$ | alone would speak with you. Come"
e There was something very deep and
meaning in the old mans voice, and as he
: turned towards the door, Malcolm arose
to follow.
"Detsin him not" said Adam, as some
e of his companions sought to hinder him.
:. Why should go with yous he asked.
r "To please an old man. mean to do
n You no harm, Malcolm, Gomez
/. Passing ont Of the door they moved
= across the street. Near by was the village
e churchyard and thither he bent his steps.
It Arriving at the gate he passed. When
n Malcom hesitated to enter, the old man said /:
j. "Come follow me"
J. Malcolm went aud soon they stood with
IS in the village Churchyard. And this
white-haired guide vas the sexton, who
A. for more than sixty years had made those
% beds for the children of immortality. The
/ pale moon shed its beams upon the place
,r and the chilling air sighed mournfully
p among the weeping willows that grew BY
,r ;leesspsa1-.. .sssr<< 1Ie I.Js5 stood sr
70 here and there arose white monument,
20 like some more powerful spirit that watch
. ed the sanctity Of the place.
ID "Malcom WARREN" spoke the old man
n in voice so deep that it seemed almost
w to come from one Of the neighboring graves
Of "not long since you pointed to me as an
e. example how long man might live who
- smiled upon the wine-cup. You pointed
n to me as one who had outlived all my com
lie panions, and yet as one who had always
On quaffed at the intoxicating bowl. Perhaps
h you spoke truly, for the whole truth you
he did not know, and / have brought yot
q here to whisper that truth into your ear
al Malcolm Warren gazed up into the ole
ar mans face, and he saw how solemn wa
he the expression that rested there, he forgo
,as che bad company he had left behind at tn
he tavern, and his thoughts became serious
I'M "Malcom," resumed the sexton, II Cal
adj look back now into the past, and see
"a, score of young men who commenced tn
ad trade of life with me. We went to schoo
he and we sat in church together. We 10,
in ed to learn the excitement of the intoxics
ed ting cup, and we thought not then of tn
,as dangers we we're counting. Years passe
al. on and | saw those twenty men sink int
1lv the arms of death, and / buried them a
ay here. Malcolm Warren, they all sleep
inn drunkards' graves! One after another
,ks saw them fall, aud at length | was left &
md lone of the party who were wont to asseu
IN. BILE around the bar room fire"
md A deep groan escaped from the your
mans lips and shudder ran through b
[al- frame.
me "All gone Z" he asked.
to "Yes-all 2" the old man uttered. ssB
Sed this is not half, Malcolm. Their wives al
had children have died, and they too, lie here
his O how well can | remember the brig
me, eyed, laughing, loving girls, who used
play with us when we were boys! Al
our how we'll can remember when I sa
"4'- them standing. at the altar; and VIII,
NiSS- Iucy Iuiucu away iiotA' VIC FiacC sACy wC
her blushing brides But few short yea
hen and began to gather them into the fol
lice of death. They sank down with brok
lelp hearts and crushed hopes! Some of the
and lived to be gray headed, but their gr
ask hairs came down in sorrow to the gray
His See that grave; the one with the da
the gray stone. He who sleeps beneath tt
been mound was once the happiest youth in t
vent village, He is carpenter by trade, a
lpon he built the house in which you were bo
not He used to. laugh and sing over the vi
urst, cup, and he thought not then of harm
This once heard his young wife beg him
p of remain at home with her, but he refus
the her the boon. She told him that
only was cold and hungry, and that her cl
the dren needed clothing but be needed
'ray- not. A few short years afterwards t
wife's heart broke and she died, and
NAL children. The husband and the fathe
It he found one cold night lying by the road S
i he and he was dead These are their grs
dear for buried them all together. You {
! not see the wife's grave next beyond the g
n his stone of the husbands, and those two lit
fond graves are where lies the frozen boy and gi
{ the The old man drew his sleeves across