Clarksville chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1857-1865, 1861-07-12

mucn narsnneSSt out ne W0uI0 not lister
to her when she spoke of his faults
When breakfast was over he went to hi
shep; but the words of his wife were no
forgotten. He could not so easily pu
them from him. He could not hide from
himself the fact that his children we're suf
fering; but unfortunately the presence o
this fact did not lead him into healthfu
state Of mind. It made him fret, and b,
straightway laid upon the shoulders o
Stiles, and Butler, and Crane, who hat
been born with fortunes.
As time wore on Tim Chandler becam,
worse instead of better. His wife suffered
more, and his children suffered more; and
he, too, suffered more. His shop wa,
much OF the time neglected, and his in
come was so small that he had none fol
his home. His wife worked hard with
her mop and her needle, while he spent Q
great part of his time at the village tav.
ern. And as Hannah Chandler sat by her
work table during those long winter even
ings, with her children crawling close to
the fire to warm their shivering bodies, she
prayed continually for her wayward hus.
band.
One night--or rather, one evening-Tim
sat in the bar room of the tavern He
had drank but little that day, for he had no
money, and he had not yet fallen so low as
to get trusted for his rum. His appetite
for the exciting beverage was keenly act
i've, and he was waiting for some of his
friends to come in, in hopes that they
would ask him to drink. He had asked
them so many times-he had spent so
much money for rum for others--that be
looked now for return of the favor.
| The bar-room was of moderate size
with deep, broad fireplace standing out
from the wall, and in the recess beyond
the chimney was a wooden bunk, upon
which the hostler slept during the few
hours of night that he had for rest. Up.
on this bunk was an old buffalo robe, and
upon that buffalo robe was Tim reclining
AS he thus quietly reclined, two gentle
men, who had reached the inn at late
hour, and had had a supper ordered FOR
themselves, entered and took seats near
the bunk. They did not notice the man
upon the bunk, and when the landlord
went out, which he did shortly after they
came in, they evidently thought they were
the sole occupants of the place.
"Webber," said one of the gentlemen,
after silence of some moments had en-.
sued between them, "before we went in to
tea you asked me to drink"
eyes, Carleton-I did"
"And refused" :"
81 remember"
SWELL" said he who had been called
Carleton, ''since you have asked me to
drink with you, and have refused, feel
that may tell you why l did So
Webber threw the stump of his cigar
into the fire, and then remarked
"Tell me by all means. l remember
that we used to take glass together be-
fore you moved away from our town, tho
not often" ...,. ....
~ never drank much," resumed Carle
ton "and finally 1 quit it entirely. II
tell you how it was. 1t was very simple
affair but still, in our journey through
life, we shall find that circumstances, very
trivial in themselves, sometimes exert
wonderful influences over us. My parent:
were very poor, as you must remember
but they left me with a good education
and many good lessons of life. AS l grew
up I longed to be rich. Close by me lived
John Boynton. He had inherited grea
wealth from his parents, and fourished in
grand style. envied John Boynton-
; When l thought how easily he came by
his money, was almost disheartened a
my own prospect; and very often foun(
myself complaining because my parents
had not left me something with which Il
make start in the world. married ,anC
went into business; but the old complain
was upon me. dreamed of Aladdin
lamp, and Of the magic ring, and spen
half my time in wishing that had them
and during all this time | was in the habi
of using intoxicating drink. | didn'
drink much, though often drank NOR
than l ought.
"Well, one day picked up paper from
my native town, and saw that John Boyn
ton was dead. Aye more than that h.
had died poor and degraded, and his chill
dren were left entirely destitute. Thei
mother had died of broken heart yea
before. And this was the end of maj
whom had envied His wealth was al
all gone-he was gone-and all that hi
cnllurcn cOulu lhherlt irom MIN "Vulu
shame and sorrow.
II went home and reflected, l saw m
wife and children sitting by the hearth
and fancied that / could detect lines o
sorrow upon their faces. / walked out in
, to the pale moonlight, and my thought
came down to plain, practical issue
asked myself; Shall have an inherit
ance to bequeath to my children? Whe
, am gone, shall those loved ones iuheri
: anything from their father which shall
of value TO them in their great work {
lifeG And said tomyself: Il may nj
( leave them money! may not store up fc
e them hoard of material wealth but
can leave for them that which is better
I can leave to them fathers name unsull
ed; a fathers honor untarnished, and
a fathers life after VIII ch they may copy i
safety
s "I went back to my home, firmly resol'