The Grand Haven news. [volume] (Grand Haven, Mich.) 1858-18??, 1862-03-05

init, and catching him by the arm.-
"Come, tell me what you are crying for
Don't be afraid; what is your namep
"Lambert White" he uttered through
his tears.
" And for what are you crying so!"
Poor boy, he broke from my grasp,
threw himself down over the grave with
such scream as l thought would have
broken his heart, and sobbed piteously,
"Oh, mother, mother! dear motherln
Alas l well knew for what he was
weeping. His best friend and parent, ta-
ken from him at SO early an age! II was
a sad loss, indeed; deeply sympathized
with him. And such affection, tool AT
the hour Of midnight, mourning in soil
tude over the silent tomb. managed to
quiet him--questioned, and learned more
of his history. His mother had been
buried that afternoon. His father was
yet living. No brothers, nor sisters
Poor, lonely child!
Strange-or was it strange?-I tho't
not of my own home-I thought not of
the time. My mind was engrossed in the
fate of the poor, helplesss little fellow be-
side me. On he led me through blind
narrow alleys. l followed the cold, small
hand wherever it led. He stopped at last
in front of crooked, rotten looking build
ing, dirty and ancient, as far as l could
ascertain in the dark. He spoke not a
word, but went up pitch-dark, broken
pair of stairs, | stumbled almost at every
step, and scarcely knowing if it was dis
cretion, whether it was policy or not, to
proceed any further, though dearly loved
adventure, and now l certainly knew not
what was before me. At last my guide
put his hand to latch (I could only tell
it was such by the soundD and opened q
door.
A low, garret- looking room, with but
two small windows, half of the lights
stuffed with rags. The ceiling broken,
cracked and dirty. A small table and n
light (oh, poverty y, a bit of tallow can
die flickering and wasting by the wind
from the window, stuck between three
nails on a block of wood, threw dim
glare over the greater portion of the
apartment.
In one corner there lay heap Of rags,
meant, suppose, for bed, and in anoth-
or lot of old kettles and q stove. This,
as far as | could see, constituted the pos
sessions therein. Everything betokened
want and Indebtedness.
"And is this where you live, my boy 2"
| asked.
Yes, sir"
sand where is your father9'
| had scarcely spoken-even before an
answer could be given, heavy, clumsy
step could be heard outside on the stairs,
and hoarsc, gruff voice singing some
profane song.
ats father" whispered little Lambert.
Good heavens could fellow creature
be so degraded! Even on the night OF
his wife's burial!
A coarse, drunken bloat, in the worst
state of intoxication, l saw, he tumbled
into the room and cast his Wild. bleared
eyes upon me. His poor boy so young,
and TO experience such misery, such deg
radiation, in'his only parent. That tyran-
ny ruled there | saw in moment, as the
child crouched from his sight. And what
the dead wife must have suffered! The
very thought bid me thank God that he
had taken her TO himself
With an oath, the man demanded my
business. l informed him of the circum-
stance in which l had found bis son, and
politely requested that he would deal mer-
cifully with him.
"That's my business, and none of
your'n," he grunted savagely.
And, in defiance Of me, or to glut n
hungry and ferocious temper, he rolled TO-
ward the child, seized him roughly and
commenced beating him in the most bru-
tai manner l demonstrated, and man
aged to get the victim from his clutches,
with the determination of taking him from
the place. AS l reached the door, the
drunken brute, with terrible curses on his
lips, ordered me away from the house,
staggered upon me, and raised his huge
fist TO strike me down. l evaded the
blow; but he, reeling from the force of
the intention, fel-forward through the
doorway, headlong over the stairs, down,
down into the darkness, head over heels,
with frightful velocityrfell heavily at the
bottom of the stairs, and all was still.
Greatly excited, and fearful of the re-
suit, rushed for the light, leaped down the
steps in almost as quick time as the
drunkard before me, and bent over his
body.
A frightful spectacle, indeed Bruised
and bloody, he lay with his back broken,
expiring. 1t was his fate.
o intemperancel ! abominable fiend, un-
pardonable abuser of nature, most damn
able appetite, heading the crime-list OF
earth, how many bleeding hearts curse
thee at this moment How many early
graves bear witness of the fatal poison
How many homes of poverty, of terror
of disgrace, hoarsely whisper of the pow
or of that fascinating tempter How
many blood-spotted stains on the page o.
| b;s,oru hear testimony a0ainst thee o.