Spirit of the age. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1849-1865, 1860-03-21
L.
THE HOME OF THE FALLEN.

Stylus IhpeEe, &c.
l.
THE HOME OF THE FALLEN.
What numbers, once in fortunes Ian biph-fed.
Solicit the cold hand of charityf
To shock us more, solicit it in vainr'
YoUNG's NIeHT THOUGHTS.
Twas in the house Of poverty Amid the
labyrinthine w~indings of the streets that
from the beautiful and fashionable city of
Philadelphia, away down in what is now
termed Southwark, in an unfrequented by
path, stood an old building, rickety in the ex-
treme, and ready to fall to pieces from the
decay of time. From the building of the
structure, it might easily be seen that in its
better days it had been stored with goods of
enormous value. But the old warehouse was
now but a habitation for the poor the silks
and satins were changed to rags, and the
pleasant hum and turmoil of trade had given
way to the means and curses of its poor drunk
en- inmates.
The night was balmy. Summer zephyrs
hoated over the slumbering city, tanning alike
the rich and the poor, the virtuous and the
child Of vice, breathing upon innocence and
kissing the rigid features of crime, and then
descending upon the placid waters of the i'm
posing Delaware, fell asleep upon its bosom.
The stars shone out in faithful vigil, and on
rolled the r~esplendant luminary of Night
shedding her full broad beams upon the earth,
peeplng within the silent groves upon the
suburbs, and diving down into every nook and
Granny Of the great city. 1t was a beautiful
night, and as the brazen monitor from the old
State House rang out the solemn hour of mid
night, the sounds of human life was hushed
within the frail abode, and, save one single
light within a wretched apartment, nothing
was indicative of habitation.
That apartment presented to the eve truly
apitiful group. A woman, apparently about
t~hirty-ive, but whose years had been in
creased by care and sorrow, mdsingly sat by
the pine table. By her side sat a maiden of
fifteen, whose beauty was rare, whose mien was
indeed sweet, and whose features bore a look
of angelic resignation. In the mothers lap
lay another, a child of six summers, over
whose face, now beautiful in slumber, the
faxen ringlets fell in loving kisses. Such
was the wife Of Edmund Rowand, and her
children. Poor beings their sun had arisen
on happy days, before the chilling touch of
fortunes reversing wand, and the blasting
hand of the "demon of the fireside'' had been
their lot and destiny. The mind of the moth
er could often chase sunny memories through
the halls of fancy, but then, the sigh, the
deep-drawn sigh that followed, would engulph
the pleasant thoughts, and the wretched wo-
man would seek relief in tears. The maiden.
Alice, too could fit back on memory's gaudy
wings to times of aff1uence, when with Midais
touch gold sprang at every turn. She We
remembered admiring friends and bril1l1t<
associates; but all these had fled when{ hi 10.
visible spirit of wine entered and d1so1a<84
the home of the happy.
Silence pervaded the group. Silence
made more awful by the dread silence of the
outer world. The mother gazed upon
the tiny form SO beautiful, so graceful, so in
nocent that lay nesting upon her bosom
Obi what misery, what anguish was in store
for her, the mother thought. Her fanciful mind
pictured that beautiful face distorted with
the mnumerable features of vice and crime,
her pure heart contaminated by the world
ali! what pen could tell that mother thoughts
as her silent tears washed away the curtain
of an imaginary future. What a wall of an.
guish arose from her heart with that silent
prayer to God! How did angels pity her.
how did God himself lean to hear the bro.
ken-hearted's prayer; but when that PRAYER
arose upon the breath Of night, it was, Thou
doest all things Welt" Who can tell a moth.
ers thoughts? Who can paint the anguish
of a mother, for a tempted child? That man
who dares to violate the sanctuary of a moth
er's grief is inhuman, and would pollute the
graves of Eden with his presence.
Tramp! Tramp Tramp sThere is ar
unsteady step upon the stair case-and the
mother and child knew it well. The weep
ing woman hastily covered the sleeping chile
in the ragged coverings of the bed, and clasp
ing the sweet girl in her arms, awaited tn,
approach o-the father
What a beast ~mtemperance makes a man
A glazing figure stands within the door. Gu
heart sickens at the description. Fair lady
you reclining upon the silken couch in you
perfumed boudoir you, the unsophisticate,
youth, the drunkard himself is the only de
scription of himself Who can describe tn
inebriate? Poor mani the pencil of Raphae
could not give those tottering limbs thei
: walk, those bloodshot eyes their glare, tina
! asthmetic body its quivering, that hideou
: face half its expression. .Nayl The DRUM
! ard must be seen by the eye alone, for ther
: can be no comparison upon this mundan
sphere.
: Muttering some incoherent words. he turf
! ed to the trembling couple who had retire
; to a corner of the room. Placing his glarin
. eye upon them, he demanded food.
!, Il have nothing, Edmund" returned tt
= wife, THE last piece Of money l possessed yo
took this morning"
want something to eat" roared the sa
age. Dye hear! viii you give me som
!, thing to eatY' The man strobe f~ercely oy,
: to his wife, and Selling her by the arm, dra
g ged her rudely forth.
9 Here" he continued, clutching the shrin'
+ ing Alice, get me something to eat. Go
l. he yelled, opening the door, and pushing h
II without, 'tand never come back without som
9 thing. Bring me some whiskey-anything-
don't come back-ofI, you hussyr"
'e Mrs. Rowand, seeing that persuasion
P reason would be of no avail, calmly reope
II ed the door, and whispering some consolil
y words to Alice, babe her wait without, Il
"a passage of the storm. But the savage IN;
ended not here, but catching the delicate W
man roughly, felled her to the floor with
y blow.
Oh, We, upon whose fresides the blastil
y curse has not fallen, when you offer up 20
~ prisons to God, when you thank the Divi
= Protector for your preservation, deign to dr.
- a tear for the poor unfortunate, breathe
% prayer for them from your hearts inmc
y caverns. Oh, fair and lovely bride, when t
~ husbands hand caresses you, and his man
y voice is soft with plaudits of your virtue
beauty, remember too, the poor unfortuna
u She was once like you, and oh! how ma
y a tale of woe and heart-breaking SORROW C
- be told you within your own neighborhoe
Go to the rum-stricken ones, and hear tn
I. tales from their own lips, see their own sea
~ see their emaciated features, the fading bar