Delaware Republican. (Wilmington, Del.) 1843-1874, 1873-04-14

A SKETCH.

The dying EN- beis lit the apartment, and
made light the wasting candle no longer fur
nished a dismal, spectrous light it seemed,
though, as its dull rays fell upon the worn fur
niture in the shade of the dim far corners.
A haggard old man with great hollow eyes
that looked pitilessly wild In their bleak de-
spair, sat with bowed head Just within the
deepest gloom Of the tire-shalow.
A deeper shadow than that the fire cast lay
upon his soul; for here too were slowly dying
the smolderins einbers of n cruel, cursed exis,
tence.
Natures store had lent bouniifully TO the aid
Of Art in heaping high the generous fire, enei-
gy, and good ambition that God had lighted
years ngo upon his hearts health-stone-and
left In angel hands.
But ah ! these Vestas Of Heaven, had long
since forsaken in sorrow the shrine whose al
tars glowed with other fires
And next its flames were fed, and kept by
DEVILS fed by savage ambition, sordd desire,
relentless getting and bitter hate and stony
| heartedness Ia iiercest heats that consumed
Life's precious fuel, and blasted where they
shone, not blest (as should the fire on every
humanl hearth place diynely kindled) with
genial warmth and kindly li5f eaIth's benght-
ed and shivering ones.
Yes, burned its mad fire almost out, and save
the warped fender Of Reason, lett naught hut
mocking CLEANS of fast fading fire among dead
ashes growing yet fainter upon the chilled
hearlh-stone; its vengefnl fury spent had left
that hearth cold, oh, SO sadly cold at Liie's
dusk--when at best light and heat fail mems
| hearts-thlls TO enter the night of the shades,
cold cold !! cold =!
The night without was wild, and filled with
bitter, bowling voices as if the cohorts of oppos-
ing demons did join battle in rage, shaking earth
and rending heaven. with the horrid cry OF
strife.
Rising high above the blast, ever and anon
the doeiul creaking Of the old tavern sign was
| heard.
An old, old sign was this, so queery carved
with ancient fable horror, and so black witha
that the village stood in awe Of it, and the
very school boys, who feared scarce else be-
side, summed it of dark nights.
Once came fearful sweep of wind that sent
it swinging wildly and with redonbled cry o
creak and moan, startling the old man from
| his sad unconscious reyery of other times.
clark! heard you that old sign creakP Wha
voices of woe, of horror and OF crime doth it 5,
hoarsely speak out?
What tales OF bitterness and death, wassai
and riot, of widows prayer and orphans cry dc
struggle for utlerance from out its storm.rough
ened and ancient breast clad in such vestment
nights complexion doth pale around it?
Halk! What? nath it such horTid memory
that speaks itself in curses, shrieks and mad
dening prayers?
Hear it say, this wierd old sign hath
thousand prophet tongues inspired to tell thu
awful Past, it prays now, wild, Il despairin!
prayer.
"God, o, God, have mercy"
All. those dreadful words how feafull,
will remember them; Wat Croslie's drunken
dying plea for Heavens mercy struck by tht
muderous blade my rum had whet.
"Mercy, o God, mercy!"-and so he died.
Curses on the thing why Goes it bring sucl
memories from the mouldy vault where
l IL. a. lad
The wind had lulled; the sign was no longe
heard.
: "Still, at last, thank God" and the wear!
. head leaned forward to snatch moment re
' spite in broken slumber
Another blast swung the sign gently and ;
y mournful moan was borne on the night win,
" 20 the ear Of the nervous sleeper.
: "Hark! again did hear that ominous thin
n that tells horrors that rend my soul with awfu
Ii racollections? o Heaven it moans dire,
drunkards dismal dirge!"
The half crazed wretch sat upright in terror
his eyes glazing thl ough his thin, gray hairs, ia
out into the deep darkness where moan ate
/, moan in funeral cadence, rose and fell upo
the signing wind, like some sad requiem chan
ed low by aerial sprites.
"Moan on ye winds, sing the melant ,ly II
carnations of remorse over his nameless grav
his shameful rod of fellow clay, that my ins
tiate inhuman lust for gain got him III 20
lonely potter's field. Howl on l sasi
But ye breath the bated voices Of Despair,
grim, wasting melancholy that rise, laden vii
= Deaths damp from out his tomb to chol
e me"'
Yiu rhe wind sank lower still, and again stir'
I'd not the remorseless oracle without.
ry As If spiteful spirits did tend the winds
bid them taunt him, soon once more the swi
. ing fend found its unseem'y Office at the han
}. of whistling Btreas. This time its note seem
in higher key; rang out shrill like infants W
: or hurt mothers cry.
MT Stung by the fresh torments Of his feryid f
II. cy, he started as though some long-forgott
are deed of horror had swept arross his vision
all its first fearfulness.
ohm o God, and did sacrifice ths,n also to
n uA yellow Moloch gold-Alice! Allie wife, cf