Semi-weekly standard. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1853-18??, 1861-05-01
ibid she say SOP he asked, with flushed face

he suggested
Surely, thought so when you came home,"
replied
Never can forget the look he gave me then, so
full OF reproof of surprise, of pain
&C, forgive you, for know you to be my
friend, but never speak to me like that going
down hill! You know better. That can never be-
know my own power and know my wants. Ny
mother knows me better than Ellen does:"
All! had that mother been wise as she was
loving, she would have seen that the wild oats"
which her son was sowing would grow up and ripen
to furnish only seed for re-sowngl But she loved
him-loved him almost too well, or, 1 should say
too bndly.
But could say no more I only prayed that God
would guard him, and then We conversed other
subjects. I could spend but day with him; but
we promised to correspond often
Three years more passed, during which John An ,
derson wrote to me at least once a month, and cf
tener sometimes; but at the end of that time his
letters ceased coming, and | received no more, for
two years, when again found myself in his ative
town. ltwas early in the afternoon when AZ rived,
and took dinner at the hotel.
had finished my meal, and was loungng in front
of the motel, when saw a funeral procession wind
ing into distant churchyard. asked tie landlord
whose funeral it was.
Mrs Anderson's" he said: and as he spoke,
noticed slight dropping Of the heod as if it cut
him to say So
what! John Anderson's wife?" ventured.
mo" he said, at is his mother" and as he told
me this, he turned away. But gentleman near
by, who had overheard our conversation, at once
took up the theme.
"Our host don't seem inclined to converse upon
that subject" ne remarked with shrug, inquiring,
did you krow John Andersong'
He was my schoOlmate in boyhood and my
bosom friend in YOUTH" told him.
He then led me to side, and spoke as follows:
Poor Johni He was the pride of the town six
years ago. This man opened his hotel at that time
| and sought custom by giving wine supperS. John
was present at many of them the gayest of the gav
| and the most generous of the party. In fact, he
paid for nearly all of them. Then he began to 90
| down hill, and has been going down ever since At
| times true friends have prevailed on him to stop
but his stops were of short duration. short sea-
| son Of sunshine would gleam upon his home, and
then the night came, more dark and dreary than
| before.
ale said he never would get drunk again; but
| still he would take glass of wine with friend
That glass of wine was but the gate that let in the
| Hood. Six years ago he was worth sixty thousand
| dollaas Yesterday, he borrowed the sum of fifty
dollars to pay his mothers funeral expenses Tha.
poor mother bore up as long as she could. She saw
| her son-her darling boy as she always called
| him-bronght home drunken many times. And
! she even bore blows from him! But now she is at
rest. Her darling wore her life away, and brought
| her gray hairs in sorrow to the grave. Oh, hope
! this may reform him.
"But his wife ?" asked.
! Her heavenly love has held her up thus far, but
she is only shadow of the wife she was six years
ago." he returned.
My informant was deeply affected, and so was /
consequently asked no more.
! During the remainder of the afternoon I debated
with myself whether to call upon John at all. But
| finally resolved to 60, though | waited till after
tea l found John and his wife alone. They had
both been weeping, though could see at glance
that Ellen's face was beaming with hope and love.
Bnt, oh! she was changed, sadly painfully so.
They were glad to see me- and my hand was shaken
warmly.
Dear c., do not say word of the past, John
urged shaking my hand second time. l know
you spoke the truth five years ago. I was going
down hill. But have gone as far as / can-here
stop at the foot Everything is gone but my wife.
have sworn-and my oath shall be kept-Ellen
and are going to be happy now"
The poor fellow burst into tears; Ellen followed
suit, and kept them company. l could not help
crying like child. My God what sightl The
once noble, true man, so fallen-become mere
broken glass-the last fragment brightly rejecting
the image it bore, poor suppliant at the foot
of hope, begging grain of warmth for the hearts
of himself and wife! And how had honored and
loved that man. and how loved him still Oh, how
hoped-ay more than hoped-I believed, that he
would be saved. And, as gazed upon that wife
so trusting, so loving true and so hopeful even
in the midst Of living death, prayed more fervent
| ly than ever prayed before, that God would hold
him up-lead him hack to the top of the hill.
On the morning saw the children-grown to be
intelligent boys; and though they looked pale and
wan, yet they smiled and seemed happy when their
father kissed them. When I left there John took
me by the hand, and the last words he said were
Trust me; believe me now Twill be man hence
forth. while life lasts"
A little over two more years had passed, when
read in a newspaper the death Of Ellen Anderson.
started for the town where they had lived soon
| T niohf halr A
fearful presentiment possessed my mind.
"Where is John Anderson" | asked.
"Don't know, I'm sure. He's been gone these
three months. His wife died in the mad-house last
week"
"And the chldreng'
"Oh, they both died before she did"
staggered back and hurried from the place.
hardly knew which way went but instinct led me
to the churchyard. found four graves which had
been made in three years. The mother, wife, and
two children slept in them.
"And what has done this? asked myself
And voice answered from the lowly sleeping
places" The demon of the wine-tabel"
But this was not all the work No, no. The
next day saw-ohl God!-what was far more ter
riblel l saw in the city court room. But that was
not the last; not the last
saw my legal friend on the day following the
trial He said John Anderson was in prison.
fastened to see him. The turnkey conducted me to
his cell the key turned in the large lock the pom
derous door with sharp creak swung upon its
hinges, and saw dead body suspended by the
neck from grating window looked at the hor-
rible face; l could see nothing of John Anderson
there but the face had seen in the courtroom was
sufficient to connect the two; and knew that this
was all that remained of him whom loved so we'll
And this was the last of the demons work; and
the last act in the terrible drama. All from the
first sparkle of the red wine it had been down.
down, down until the foot of the hill had been
finally reachedl .. ..... .-
When turned away from the CELL and once more
walked amid the flashing saloons and revel halls,
wished that my voice had power to thunder the life