Rutland weekly herald. [volume] (Rutland, Vt.) 1859-1877, 1871-06-22
OUR SATURDAY NIGHT.
How a Victory was Won.
BY BRICK POMEROY.

l We called on them for few moments
this evening.
This warm, beautiful evening, when
the crimson sunset, the leaves nod
ding to thank the rustling breeze, the
light, fieecy clouds, silent like the shad-
ows, told of nature at rest, and promise
of glorious morrow.
They were old friends. Friends of the
long ago, when hard work, cursing and
revilings from those who knew us not
nor the purity of earnest motives were in
oentives to continual struggling, but not
so grateful as !words of kindly meaning
such as now to US from thousands come.
Not tonight sit we to reveries-other
than this calling up the past, and the
mention of to-day.
Let US see ? 1t was in 1S64-the cold
winter, when the snow was deep and the
icicles long From an eastern city to a
western one, a man with his wife and two
little ones had come to make on the prai
RE, by the mighty river, home. He
was poor. He had no friends East-he
had none in the West, save the tender
hearted woman who was the sharer of bis
sorrows, his hopes. his labors. his privs-
tions-who was the mother of his babes
of her treasures.
He tried here and he tried there. He
asked this man. and he asked that one for
employment. No! Laborers were plen-
ty. His little store of savings were soon
exhausted. In little room-one room
| over a store, he found home for his fam
lily. :.
One night, passing along the street.
half wading through the snow, we beard
ID Job ola ,xat
around the corner. Only crowd of
thoughtless ones pelting a drunken man
with snow. 1t was such fun! When he
would try to rise they would push him
over, throw snow on him, crowd great
handsful of it int bis bosom, under his
torn shirt, and up the legs of bis patched
trousers. 1t was glorious sport The
poor n an begged to be let alone-but his
cries were UNDECIDED.
Stand 6dc6-all of you Twenty and
more sober, cowardly men and boys to one
poor sick drunken man! Have you no
hearts Here--help us to help him. Now
go your way, and thank God you are not
come to this get !"
1t was hard work to walk. The poor
man was weak and cold. Slowly around
a corner and three blocks away to little
store near the niver. How the poor man
shivered as if death were shaking him in
to the grave! Here we are. This is the
place. Two little faoes-four little eyes
looking from that window, down upon
the snow and the street to see papa come
home. Two little noses flattened against
the glass-two little heads just over the
window.sill-two little hearts wondering
why poor papa was one, two, three, four
hours later than usual this cold. wintry
night. They did not know-but the
keeper of noisy saloon on Third street
could have told them.
"This-thisll do-thank you. Needn't
go up-In get along now-thank you
I'll get up well enough, after fashion"
"No-you will not send us away now.
We will go up with you-no harm will
come from it."
Up the dark stairway, into the little
room. Two little prattlers turned from
the window. Two hands threw down the {
unfinished garment on which they were
at work for tailor-tears started to two |
blue eyes-two lips parted to utter in
heart-broken words-"AgainH
Come to the fire. OFF with his snow (
filled coat, bis buttonless vest, and with a
towel wipe from meath his torn shirt the
snow forced in there; quick, before the
cold strikes to the blood in his heart, and
his work here be ended forever. Wipe {
him dry-dry as his pockets are Rest I
him in that bed in the corner while the /.
little, timid, trembling ones crouch like
two little scared kittens, never so close in :
he corner.
Speak not harshly to him, good woman.