The Rutland daily globe. [volume] (Rutland, Vt.) 1873-1877, 1873-11-15
The Power of Music.

But Mr. Edwards shook her off impa-
tently, muttering as he did So
Cant go where l pleaseY
oh, yes, father urged Mary, drawing
up to him again, Notwithstanding her re-
pulse. But there is going to be storm,
and l wouldn't go out
Storm! Nonsense! That's only your
pretcnce. But I'll be home soon--long be-
fore the rain, if it comes at ALL
And saying this Mr.. Edwards turned
from his daughter, and left the house. AS
soon as she was alone, Mary sat down and
commenced weeping. There had been sad
changes since she had been ten years old.
In that time her father had fallen into nab
its of intemperance, and not only wasted
his substance, but abused his family ana
saddcr still, her mother had died broken
hearted, leaving her alone in the world with
drunken father.
The Young girls trials under these cir
cumstanccs. were great. Night after night
her father would come intoxicated, and it
was so rare a thing to get II kind word
from him. that a tone of affection from his
Inns would move her instantly to tears.
Daily the work of dcclcnsion went on.
Drunkenness to idleness, and gradually
Mr.. Edwards and his child sunk lower and
lower in the scale of comfort The pleas
ant home where they had lived for years
had to be broken up, and in small, poorly
furnished rooms they hid from observation.
After this Mr.. Edwards moved along his
downward way more rapidly, earning less
and drinking more
Mary grew old fast. Under severe tr-
ais and Affections. her mind rapidly ma
tured; and her affection for her father grew
stronger, as she realized more fully the
dreadful nature and ultimate tendency of
the infatuation by which he was led
At last in the anguish of her concern she
vcntured upon remonstrancc. This brought
only angry rcpulsc, adding bitterness to
her cup of sorrow. The appearance to
which we have alluded, gave Mary an ex-
cusc for urging her father not to go out.
How her remonstrance was recci, cd has
been seen. While the poor girl was weep
ing, the distant rolling of thunder indicated
the approach of the storm to which she had
referred. But she cared little for it now.
Her father had gone out. Now that he was
away, the agitation within was too great to
have any concern for the turbulent elements
without.
On leaving his home, Mr.. Edwards who
had not taken any liquor for three or four
hours, and whose appetite was sharpencd
for the accustomed stimulus, walked quick
~ in the direction of drinking house
where he usually spent his evenings. On
entering he found there was a commotion
in the bar room. An individual not over
friendly to landlords, had introduced him
self, and his character being known, the
inmates were disposed to have little sport
with him.
Come now, my good fellow! said one
Just as Mr. Edwards entered, mount this
table and make a first-rate temperance
speech"
DO, and I'll treat you to the stfTest
glass of toddy the landlord can mix, added
another.
Or perhaps you'd like mint julep or
gin cocktail better? Anything you please.
Make speech and call for the liquor. I'll
stand the treat
what dye say, landlord. Shall we have
the specchs' said another eager for sport.
Please yourselves, replied the landlord
and you'd please me-
'lm not in the humor for making
speech, said the temperance man. but if
it will please you just as well, I'll sing you
Il song
Give us the song then, anything to ac-
commodate. But come, let's liquor first
NO. said the other firmly, Il must sing
the song first if I sing at all
Don't you think your pipes will be clear
or for little drink of some kind?'
Perhaps they would was the reply, so
provided you have no objections, I'll have
glass of water if such thing is known in
this place.
The water was brought and then the
man, who was somewhat advanced in years,
prepared to give the promised song. All
stood listening attentively. Edwards among
the rest. The voice of the old man was
low and trembling, yet every word was ut
tered distinctly and with a pathos which
showed the meaning was felt. The follow
ing well written temperance song was the
one he sang; and while his voice filled the
room, every other sound was hushed:
where are the friends that to me were so dear,
- Long, long ago-long, long ago?
Where are the hopes that my heart used to
Long, long ago-long ago?
Friends that loved In the grave are laid low.
| am degraded for, rum was my fee
Long, long ago-long ago.
sadly my wife bowed her beautiful head
Long, long ago-long. long ago.
On, how wept when found she was dead
Long, long agO-lOng ago.
She was my angel-iny love and my guide
Nalnly to save me from ruin she tried.
Poor, broken hearted! twas well that she died.
Long, long ago-long ago.
Let me look back on the days OF my youth
Long, long ago-long, long ago.
| was no stranger to virtue and truth,
Long, long ago-long ago
OH for the hopes that were pure as the day.
On Tor the joys that were purer than they!
Oh, for the hours that I've squandered away
Long, long ago-long ago.
The silence that prevailed the room when
the old mans voice died, or it might rather
he said, sobbed away, was the silence of
DEATH His own heart was touched, for he
wiped his eyes, from which the tears had
started. Pausing scarcely u moment, he
moved softly from the room, and left his
audience to their own reflections. There
was not one who was not more or less affec-
ted, but the deepest impression had been
made upon the heart of Edwards. The
music seemed as il it had been made for
him. The second verse particularly, went
thrilling to the very centre of his feelings /:
sadly my wife bowed her beautiful headp
How suddenly rose before him the sor-
ro~-Stricken form of the wife of his youth
at those words and when the old mans
voice faltered on the line
Poor, broken hearted twas wen that she
diedp
the anguish Of his spirit was so great that he
only kept himself from sobbing aloud by a
strong effort of self-control, Ere the spell
was broken, or word uttered by any one,
he arose and left the house.
For many minutes after her fathers de-
parturc, Mary sat weeping bitterly. She
felt hopeless and deserted. Tenderly did
she love her parent, but this love was only
n source of the keenest anguish for she
saw him swiftly passing along the road to
destruction without the power to save him.
Grief wastes itself by its own violence.
So it was in this instance, The tears of
Mary were at length dried her sobs were
hushed, and she was about rising from her
chair, when binding flash of lightning
glared into the room, followed instantly by
deafening jar of thunder.
'Oh, if father were at home p she muir
INJURED, clasping her hands together.
Even while she stood in this ftttude the
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