The Albany register. [volume] (Albany, Or.) 1868-18??, 1872-03-29
Albanv 3eoistes.
AN ANGET. IN A SALOON.
A TRuE INCIDENT.

One afternoon In the month Of June,
1870, q lady In deep mourning. follow
ell by child, entered one Of the fash
ionable Slloons IN the city Of "
The writer happened to be passing al
the time, and ilnpeiIed by curiosity
followed her in to see what would ell
sne. Stepping up to the bar and ad
dressing the proprietor, who happened
to be present, she said.
.'Sir. can y0u assist me? have nc
home. no friends, and am not able II
work.
lie glanced at her aud then at the
cilild, with mingled look of curiosity
and pity. Evidently he WIS much
surprised to see Il woman In such a
place begging, biH without asking any
questions, gave her some elnnge. and
turning to those present, he said:
.Gentlemen here Is lady IN dis
tres. Can't some Of you help her a
little?-
They cheerfllly accedr1 to the re-
quest, and soon purse Of two dollars
was made mp and put in her hand.
Madam" said the gentleman who
gave her the money, ''why 10 you
come to Il saloon. 1t isn't proper
place for a lady. and why are you
driven to such step:'
Sir" said the lady, Il know it
isn't proper place for me to be in.
and yoi ask me why | am driven to
such step. will tell you in one
short word''--pointing to a hottie be-
hind the counter labelled whisky
''tlat is what brought Inc here
Whisky!"
II was once happy and surrounded
with all the luxuries that wealth could
procure, with Il fond and imlulgcnt
husband. But in an evil hour he was
tempted, and not possessing the will |
to resist the temptation, fell, and in
one short year my dream cf happiness
was over, my home was forever tes0-
lated, and the kind husband and the
wealth that some called mine. lost,
lost never to return, and all by the
accurSed wine cup.
You see before you only the wreck
Of my former self, homeless and
friendless, With nothing left me in this
world but this little child" aid weep
ing bitterly she atfectiOnately caiesSed
the golden clrls that Shaded face of
exquisite loveliness. Reglining her
eunlpOsme and turning to the prOprie-
tor OF the saloon, she continued:
Sir" the reason occasionally en-
Ter place like this is to implore those
who deal in the deadly poison to de-
siSt. to stop business that spreads
desolation. ruin. poverty and starva-
ton. Think one moment of your own
loved ones, and then imagine them in
the situation | am in. appeal to
your better nature, appeal to yonr
heart, for | know you possess kind
one, to retire from business so ruin
ous to your patrons.
Did yoat know that the money you
take across this bar is the same as tax
ing the brea,f ont Of the mouths of the
famished wives and children Of yosH
customers! That it strips the clothes I
from their backs, (lepriyes them of all
the comforts Of this life, and throws
unhappiness. misery, crime and desc
lation into their once happy homes? /
Oh! sir, implore, beseech and pray |
You to retire from business you blush |
10 own you are engaged in before |
your fellow men. and eater one that |
will not only be profitable to. YOU. but |
to your fellow creatures also. You
will eXc,Ise me If have spoken too |
plainly bit could not help it when |
thought Of the misery. the suffering. |
and the unlnlppiness it has caused me-"
"Madam. | am not offended" he |
answered in voice husky with emo
ton, '.but thank you from the bot
tom Of my heart for what you have
said."
"Mamma. said the child--who
nleantiiDe,. had been spoken to by
some Of the gentlemen present-tlk- |
ing hold Of her mothers hand, .'these
gentlemen wish me to sing Little
Bessie for them. Shall | do so?t'
''Yes, my darling, if they wish you
o."
They all joined in the request, and |
plauing her in chair, she sang IN a |.
sweet childlike voice the following
beautiful song:
"Ot in the gloomy night sadly ]
roam,
have no mother dear, no pleasant |
home;
No one cares for me, no one wotA'b cry |
Even If poor little Bessie should die. |
Weary aud tired I've been wandering |
all day.
Asking for work, but Pm too small |
they say;
On the damp ground mast now lay
my head;
Fathers a drunkard aud mother Is
dead.
Wewere 50 happy till father drank
rum,
Tht all our sorrow and trouble begun:
Mother grew pale aud wept every
day
Baby ind l were to hungry to play 4
Slowly they faded till one su,nmer
night
Found their dead faces all silent and
white.
Then with big fears slowly dropping I
said,
Fathers a dr1lnkard and mother Is
" dead.
Oh! ifthe temperance men only could
Poor wretched father, and talk very
kind;
Ifthey would stop him from drinking.
then
] should be 50 vary happy again.
e Is ittoO late, temperance men: Please
try
Or poor little Bessie must soon starye
and die;
All the day long, I've been begging
for bread;