Spirit of the age. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1849-1865, 1860-04-25

mores When reflect upon the deeds of the
past few days, there comes feeling oversme
twinging my very soul, and which will go
with me to the grave | cannot drive it from
me, it seems part of my frame. The cruel
blow which deprived you of your senses, the
demon hand which turned my angel daugh-
ter from my own door, theprison house, the
courtroom, the last deed of my drunken ex-
istence, the loss of Alice-ohl how they
press upon me. While they all cry out for
something to appease their vengeance"
edmund, this is but depression of spir-
its. Forget the past, look to the future
All seems clear and bright to me. Why
shonIdsTceeot to y5ag No !syou have done
nothing to merit Remorse; this is not Re-
morse for villainous actions, for you have
committed none"
"Do you not call that villainous action
which laid you low that cruel blow infic-
ted by these hands ?"
"No because it was done in moment
when you were insensible; you knew not
what you did, or else you never would have
done the deed"
'No, believe me, Fannie no! God knows
/ love you, God knows it, dearest. But was
it not villainous to drink the accursed stuff,
| which rendered me such brute?
81 cannot call it such. Drink is tempta~
tiOn few can withstand. Your nature was
conquered by it. all your feelings of honor
and love were absorbed in it; but you did
not willingly make yourself that, thank God,
you are not now.
"True, Fannie, true; oh, my God, what
awful accounts will these accursed rumsellers
have to settle at the bar of God! Man de-
spises the drunkard and treats him with con-
tempt while the very beast who made him
what he is, is courted and honored because
he is rich. Oh! it makes me almost frenzied
to think of this ~
"But you have now thrown off the ale
glance to King Alcohol, you are no longer
one of his minions, and we have reason to
believe that we may tread the future with a
springing, elastic step, instead of the long and
weary drag with which we of late have been
progressing our journey to the grave"
"Yet Fannie, there is another thing that
presses on my mind. Do you not remember
the happy days which you once enjoyed p
Where are they now? Like bright fairy
you fitted on butterfly wings through the
parlors and frescoed halls Of opulence. You
knew naught but happiness until came, and
came like black demon destroying your
/ fairy dreams and anticipations. Oh Fannie,
can ever forgive myself for this deed? Can
| ever remember the days, these fearful days
, through which we have just passed, without
one horrible sting of Remores through my
, heart? OH this is terrible-indeed, how
strangely terrible it is to a to think that
r the happiness of another is hopelessly blight
ed with his own!'
c "Cease this strain, Edmund, implore you.
a Again | say, forget the past and endeavor to
g retrieve your wounded honor. Be man !
Look up, and press onwardl Shout defiance
i in the ears of your enemies, and consider
these years of misery fearful ordeal, which
l. Providence, blessed be it, has brought us out
l., now unhurt"
On the almost boundless plains of Persia
! there blooms beauteous flower of hue out
rivalling her companions which ever turns
!, its petals to the North. Though shaken by
l. the tempest, and blown by the hurricane,
e the faithful fow'ret tells the lost traveller of
|, his course. Like weary and lost travellers we
ii wander on the plains of sorrow and despair
t, when a flower blooms and bids us in silent
" tongues to turn to the regions of happiness
and courage. That flow ret is WOMAN More
2 beautiful than all the sisters of the floral kin
l. dred, she ever points to navens of rest; and,
E. too, when spurned and rejected from the side
y of man. The guiding flower is often crushed
ID beneath the foot of the thankless man, but it
n rises from the dust in which it has laved its
n head-and still points unerringly to the North
t. How like woman! Crushed by the iron heel
is of man she still lives to bless-still breathes
desires for his welfare. Her smiles are his
sweetest guerdon, her frown, his sure uner
to ring death blow her words his dearest mu
sic her prayers the ablest advocates of Hea
'u ven's blessing on his head truly
!, ~ THE world was sad, and Eden was wild,
h' And man, the hermit, sighed, till woman smiledv
II thank you for your words my gentl,
he wife," answered Rowand 'they form so
he lacing balm to the wounds of my heart. But
ht Fannie, when took you from your home il
no the pleasant vale of Avoca when your father
ne the proud Earl of Larock, placed your hant
ed in mine, there was a wretch, miserable
of loathsOme wretch, over whom | was success
ir full. That man was Fitzgerald Aubrey. Tn
ed day -that saw you mine, he swore fearful
in oath to ruin me forever. He almost succe,
10 dedy"
GLOW !" cried the wife, astonished at tn
TO new turn which her husbands remarks ha
ed taken. 81 knew that young Aubrey had pr
his tensions to my hand, but never knew l tn;
Lrd he eudeavOred to revenge himself for my r.
u fiIsalw ~
70. AYE, he succeeded, signally So He
ne was who, under the mark of friend, gay
,es me the first cup that set me upon the drunl
re, know not but that he lives Harry Ferequt
ON assures me. An influential Alderman who
his name is Aubrey Carlton Belton lives in ;
to upper ward of the city of Philadelphia, al
lor reversed, that is Carlton Aubrey-the unc
1ad of Fitzgerald, who co-operated with him
sal accomplishing my ruin-name exactly.
ver escape him was another reason why | gras
IDS ed this opportunity to seek the land of Il
less orange and myrtle"
be "Ah! Belton, too, was the name of hi
tam who so defrauded, and"
un- Hold stop one moment, Belton--let I
ork think, yes, yes, my God, | had never thoug
yes, tits Aubrey Belton, it's the very nan
tied Oh Heaven, Fitzgerald Aubrey has had
IAN signal revenge upon mer'
,ere The reformed inebriate hung his head L
an. on the railing and wept. YES" he MI
title tered Carlton Aubrey is now the persec
ber tor of our family"
lid. ''IIe can do no more, however, Edmund.
her He knows not Of us now, perhaps deems
iov dead What more can he do?
hen AYE, my God, what more? lie has ru
.yed ed me not only In my own estimation, but
veil the estimation OF my tellow-men. Yet wo
he not stop before he would sink me into
the deepest confines of hell, had he opportuni
und Fannie, once situated in this city to which
e de- are journeying, when | have gained ch
and acter and little money, | shall return
light Philadelphia to seek and expose Aubrey
lon ton, as he calls himself shall explain
IS Of secret of the murder upon the Gladstt
oon- heath, and the robbery of the squire's wi