Prescott journal. [volume] (Prescott, Wis.) 1861-1871, 1867-09-21

is rapid as the viii of God the steady hand
obeys the imperious will the awful mo-
ment is passed the train is saved tke hero
is man again. master Of the great throbbing
Monster beneath and before him. greater than
that-masier of himself Such moments
come in the life of almost every engineer.
- by pen is arrested, JOE. and my
thought involuntary turns to another theme.
As wrote those closing words, friend OF
other days, but for whom friendship is now
shorn of respect, and has only pity left, came
TO me and asked for irifings sum to buy
strong drink.
"oh it was pitiful.'
With heart naturally noble, mind active
and strong, a gentleman, ready writer, a
pleasant friend, he had gone to disgrace with
fearful rapidity and wrecked, broken, desc
late and damned, he plead for pittance with
which to buy another draught Of forgetful-
ness, delirium and death. l read too to-day,
of the miserable death of Ex-senator Nc
DOugall-the quenching of that splendid in
tellect. which in his life was strong enough
to strike through the foggiest fumes of Alco-
hol, and the brilliancy of whose lustre put
the most abstemious scholars to blush. o,
the fatal mastery of Habit 1t steals upon
lis victim with noiseless feet, and binds him
with chains softer than silk and stronger than
steel. Once in the charmed circle of its insi-
dious influence. and the strong man is like
sleeping Sampson in the lap of Dellah. He
sleeps in fancied security in the lap of Indul-
gence, until Habit has stolen resolution from
his soul, and then awakes to a terrible con-
sciousaess of his depreciation, but powerless
to retrieve his lost estate. No position nor
attainments are a safeguard against the wiles
Of Habit, and intellect of lofty order seems
rather TO invite than repel its Destructive
mastery. If there is ON earth a sight sadder
and more terrible than all else. it is to see the
hquor-charred remnant of once great man
,,roping in delirium at Deaths dark door,
with hell-born horrors peopling the brain
where once dwelled pure affections and regal
thoughts.
but let us turn from this picture of
perdition 10 one of peace. The sunlight lies
lovingly on hillside and valley !; the forest,
the lake, and the river are rich in its golden
light. The Summer has gone-the Autumn
come, and the few first frosts which have
Hinged the verdure with warning of coming
chills, are like the few light hairs which are
creeping into our own locks of brewn-the
halbisgers of coming age.
The Autumn is the richest of all the sea-
SONS. All others are but preparation for
this. This is the time OF crowned achiev-
ment, of npened fulneas, of perfected growth.
Aud our own lives. JOE, like the year. are in
their fulness. Though young yet, we have
doubtless
CAS- far from childhood's morning come,
As to the graves iorgetful night"
and in the descent, the years will surely
seem shorter than when We climbed up on
boyboOd' side.
There are few things in life sadder to see
than man who has failed. Not "failed"
for lack of money, which may be won again.
but whose hope, and courage and faith have
failed, who sees the prizes he has toiled for
eluding his grasp, the hopes he has cherished
fading away into nothingness, and thus
nerveless and purposeless, drifting on the
tide of life, driven by every wind and buffet
ed by every wave. We have not failed, JOE,
for we have not played for high stakes in the
game of life. We have not reached for TIE great
prizes which Fame holds glitteringIy before
restless Ambitions eager eyes.
We shall not reach for them now, JOE. but
cheerily go on, like a mariner on Summer
seas, and when TIE END shall come. and the
objects of life #.stt
"Are taken from us by little mist,
And all the world is vanished"
we will hope to
-" reach the Happy Isles"
- Trusting, dear JoE, that this letter
may not be like the ore Don JUAN's mother
gave him,
"Of good advice, Che never read it.)'
I am, and hope for many years tObe,
Yours. /. A. It.