Prescott journal. [volume] (Prescott, Wis.) 1861-1871, 1865-01-28


effort of mine. The faces of the children
changed in an instant. Eddie flung his car
high in the air and shouted, while Willie
drew long breath, as If my words had lifted
mountain load off his breast. 1 did not
mean to tell lie, God help me. A drunkard
is one who drinks habitually; who reels
home every night and abuses his family, and
is lost to all sense of honor and manhood
Paul was not this yet he was only a poor,
unfortunate man, who only gets out of the
way once in a while.
| did not send the children TO school a gain
/ did not dare. Paul grew thin and pale, re-
morse was knawing at his heart, and yet he
lacked strength enough to save US. felt al
times profound pity for him; again l al
most hated him.
The shadows gathered darker and darker
around my home. There came time when
the word .drunkardn could be written against
Paul's name in all its horrible significance
would ring in my ear, "Come home, Marah,
and leave Paul to his fate"
And at times was almost tempted to GO
Once Paul spoke words to me that l could
not forget; and decided to take my children
and 60 home. Willie always read chapter
aloud before going to bed. l was putting
Eddie to bed (for he was a little feverish
from heavy cold,) and listening to Willie
read the precious words, was reminded OF
my duty by hearing the sweet clear voice
read, unconsciously. "For the woman is
bound to her husband as long as they shall
live"
The words saved me; my tempted soul
grew strong in the knowledge that this great
momentuous question was not for me to de-
eide that my Father is at the helm" His
laws were written in an older book than
Blackstone. -
That very night he passed with party of
his comrades, Keeling to and fro, and singing
a bacchanalian song | sat on the old gray
boulder that served us for door step, with
the darkness and silence folding around, when
Willie came up and slipped his hands in mine.
"You have Eddie and me, mother, don't
cry"
1 folded my precious boy to my heart, and
wept bitter tears over his dear curly head,
and then cast about in my mind how / should
clear myself in his sight from the imputation
of lying. knew / must tell him all, that he
knew part of his fathers degradation.
Willie, you once asked me if your father
was a drunkard. l told you he was not, For
so thought. a few times he had forgotten
himself; but not enough to call him that
fearful word"
Then did not know where to find language
to soften the tale to his young ears, as only
said:
"Willie, we will not call him drunkard
now"
My boy only held my hand closer, and NOV
ed himself nearer to me, but it seemed as il
a look of age. settled upon his patient little
face. After that confidence never wanted
a comforter, for:Willie was always near me
with his caresses and tender, loving words
never sat. alone evenings, for always that
pale, pinched little face was by my side. The
winter set in early and was intensely cold
Poverty, pinching and drear, sat shivering over
our hearthstone, and drifted itself over every
article in the house-the bare, illy-clad chill
dren, and the meagre table. Mother was
crippled all winter with rheumatism, and
Lettie, poor Lettie could not spare time to
come over, and see the extent of our wretch
edness.
For weeks the snow lay piled up against
the cottage, and the cold was so intense,
feared, some night in his wandering, Paul
would be brought home frozen to DEATH
Night after night Willie lighted little lamp,
and hung it on a nail in the window, so that
his father might have little light to guide
him home.
Often when the winds were rioting across
the hills, and the night pitchy black, he would
button on his old faded overcoat and go down
TO the foot OF The hill, and cry "father
father +" in his sweet, clear vOioo, but never
answer came. Paul was listening to mad
songs, that drowned the soft voice of his
child. Always the brave boy would return
from his fruitless errand with some comfort
ing words for me.
"He isn't out in the cold, mother, anyway,
or he would have heard me-" or "Don't wor.
ry, mother, he must be sitting by Tom Lu-
cans good warm stove yet; he will soon be
home.
Then would relapse into thought again,
and Willie would dOze by the fire till his
father came, and our watch was over.
MY fears were verified. One bitter cold
morning Paul was brought home frozen to
death. He was found just at the foot of the
hill, where little Willie had made so many
pilgrimages. | brushed his glossy black hair
as lie used to wear it, and put on his best
shirt, which lad hidden away, for Just such
a sad needtime as this. Then made a little
crayat out of my old black silk apron, and
tied it under white the collar, then crossed his
poor hands over his quiet heart. My life
work for him was over.
Lettie came and helped me bury my dead
and seeing me look so pale and wan, she
said
"Marah, you might as well have left Pau
years ago; you see you could not reclaim
him."
"No, Lertie; but l have done my duty.
have no reproaches, no regret. | have done
what could"
My boys are growing rapidly to manhood
steady, honest and upright, with no faint o.
their fathers in their vens. As for me, l an
patiently bearing Gods will, at peace with
myself and all mankind.
The LOVE OF ME.-ss 1t is only shallow
minded pretenders," said Daniel Webster