The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1870-08-11
THE DRUNKARD'S DEATH.
BY CHARLES DICKENS.

death will heighten the interest which attaches
to everything from his pen. The following i:
one of his earlier and least known papers-ano
it shows the familiar manner, although writer
by then Impractical hand.
We will be bold to say that there is scarcely
man in the constant habit of walking, day
after day, through any of the crowded thor
0ughfares of London, who cannot recollect
among the people whom he "knows by sight,
TO use q familiar phrase, some being OF aG]ecl
and wretched appearance, whom ne remembers
to have seen in very different condition, whom
he has observed sinking lower and lower,
by almost imperceptible degrees, and the shao-
biness and utter destitution of whose appear
ance at last, strikes forcibly and painfully upon
him as he passes by Is there any man who
has mixed much with society, or whose avoca-
tions have caused him to mingle, at one time
or other, with great number of people, who
cannot call to mind the time when some shao-
by. miserable wretch, in rags and flth, who
shuffles past him now in all the squalor OF dis
ease and poverty, was respectable tradesman,
or clerk. or a man following some thriving
pursuit, with good prospects and decent means!
or cannot anv of our readers call to mind from
among the list of their guondam acquaintance,
some fallen and degraded man, who fingers
about the pavement in hungry misery-from
whom every one turns coldly away, and VINO
preserves himself from sheer starvation no
body knows how? Alasl such cases are OF TOO
frequent occurrence to be rare items IN any
mans experience; and but too often arise from pm
one -drunkenness-that fierce rage 1or
the slow, sure poison that oversteps every otner
consideration /; that casts aside wife, children,
friends, happiness, and station, and hurries It's
victims madly on to degradation and death.
sc 49,. ,,or, bo,,o boon impal1ed by
misfortune and misery, to the vice that has de-
graded them. The ruin of worldly expecta-
tions, the death of those they loved, the sorrow
that Slowly consumes, but will not break the
heart, has driven them wild; and they present
the hideous spectacle of madmen, slowly dying
by their own hands. But by far the greater
part have wilfully, and with open eyes, plunged
into the gulf from which the man who once
enters it never rises more, but into which he
sinks deeper and deeper down until recovery is
hopeless.
Such man as this once stood by the bedside
of his dying wife, while his children knelt
around and mingled low bursts of grief with
their innocent prayers. The room was scantily
and meanly furnished, and it needed but
glance at the pale form from which the light
of life was fast passing away, to know that
grief and want and anxious care had been
d
elderly female with her face bathed in tears,
was supporting the head Of the dying woman
her daughter-on her arm. But it was not to-
ward her that the wan face turned it was not
her hand that the cold and trembling fingers
clasped; they pressed the husbands ARM the
ewes so soon to be closed in death rested on his
face, and the man shook beneath their gaze.
His dress was slovenly and disordered his face
iafiamed, his eyes bloodshot and heavy: He
had been summoned from some wild debauch
to the bed of sorrow and death.
A shaded lamp by the bedside cast dim
light on the figures around, and left the re-
mainder of the room in thick, deep shadow
The silence of night prevailed without the
house, and the stiffness of death was IN the
chamber A watch hung over the mantel-
shelf; its low ticking was the only sound that
broke the profound quiet, but it was solemn
one, for well they knew who heard it, that be-
fore it had recorded the passing of another
hour, it would beat the knell Of a departed
spirit.
It is dreadful thing to wait and watch for
the approach of death; to know that hope is
gone, and recovery impossible9 and to sit and
count the dreary hours through long, long
nights-such nights as only watchers by the
bed of sickness know. 1t chills the blood to
hear the dearest secrets of the heart-the pent-
up, hidden secrets of many years-poured forth
by the unconscious, helpless being before you
and to think how little the reserve and cunning
of whole life will avail, when fever and deli
rum tear off the mask at last. Strange tales
have been told in the wanderings OF dying
men; tales so full of guilt and crime, that
those who stood by the sick persons couch
have fled in horror and alright lest they should
be scared to madness by what they heard and
saw; and many wretch has died alone, ra-
wing of deeds the very name of which has
driven the boldest man away.
But no such rawlings were to be heard at the
bedside by which the children knelt. Their
half-stifed sobs and meanings alone broke the
silence of the lonely chamber. And when at
last the mothers grasp relaxed, and, turning
one look from the children to their father she
vainly strove to speak, and fell backward on
the pillow, all was so calm and tranquil that
she seemed to sink to sleep. They leaned over
and then in the loud and piercing tones of des-
peration. But there was no reply. They lis
tened for her breath, but no sound came. They
felt for the palpitation of the heart, but no
faint throb responded to the touch. That
heart was broken, and she was dead!
The husband sunk into chair by the bed
side and clasped his hands upon his burning
forehead. He gazed from child to child, but
when a weeping eye met his he quailed beneath
its look. No word of comfort was whispered
in his ear, no look of kindness lighted on his
face. All shrunk from and avoided him and
when at last he staggered from the room, no
one sought to follow or console the widower.
The time had been when many friend
would have crowded round him in his affiiction,
and many heartfelt coincidence would have
met him in his grief. Where were they now
One by one, friends, relatives, the commonest
acquaintance, even, had fallen off and deserted
him in good and evil, in sickness and poverty,
and how had he rewarded her? He had reeled
from the tavern to her bedside, in time to see
He rushed from the house, and walked swift
" through the streets. Remorsc, fear, shame,
Ii szowded ON his mind Stupelied with drink,