The Morristown gazette. [volume] (Morristown, Tenn.) 1867-1920, 1876-02-09
THE DRUNKARD'S DAUGH-
TER.
By ANNA R. WHITE.

.
lagos where everything goes on like
clockwork, and even the sun seems
to shine in qoieter, sleeper way
than it does elsewhere. He had iiv-
ed and worked and learned trade.
and loved, much as do most other
youths. Life had shown him no
special favors, nor any great hard
ships. But the girl he loved, Bessie
Dix, was a rich farmers daughter.
and little above him, a mere me-
chanic, as things go in that land of
freedom and-caste.
But for a wonder. old Farmer Dix
had none of the prejudices of wealth
and gave his consent to his Bessie's
marriage with the steady, smart, ris-
ing young mechanic. There were
few in the "shop" who could turn
off a piece of work so quickly and
neatly as James. Was a difficult
piece of work to be performed. or a
responsible job to be done at a dis
lance, he was always chosen to at
tend to it.
Many happy months few by, with
nothing to cause Bessie q discon-
tented thought, save her husband S
frequent absences on the business of
the firm, for he had now been made
foreman of the shop Of the large
builders for whom he worked. But
she knew he was making money and
she didn't know he was spending it
aye, doing worse forming a hab-
it which would drag him and the
dear Bessie he loved down to the
lowest depths of poverty. She didn't
know anything Of the nights of in
toxication with friends, the social
glass through the day and the slim
ulant that had become an actual ne
cessity to him in the morning on
awakening. Thus rapid is the de-
scent of the young man, who, away
from home and home influences, has
withinShimself love Of excitement
and q weak principle which makes
him ready prey for the tempter.
Years went by and James had
passed through every stage OF the
downward way. He had moved to
q large city, for he found the coun-
try too "slow'' for him. Here he
had been discharged from place af-
ter place, until he had lost all self
respect. His wife and their two
children, Daisy and Arson, had by
their scanty earnings been able to
keep an apology for a home over
their heads. But at last Bessie, the
wife and mother, fell sick, and then
James sold all he could find to graf
ify his love Of drink. which had be
come his master and he its tremb-
ling, helpless, distressed slave. When
Mrs. Graham recovered she found
everything gone-even to the few
clothes she had left. What should |
she do? But she still chung to her
husband. Her father was dead, and |
the property he had left her she had /
allowed her husband to invest and !
that had gone long since; how, she
never knew; indeed, she cared not |
to ask. What use to know?
With a pain at her heart that only !
a drunkard's wife can know-a pain !
born Of hopeless despair, that no
earthly sympathy can soothe, she
got up from that sick bed resigned (
to whatever came. She had used /
every art loving wife could invent,
to save him-had toiled to support
him, had borne patiently his cruel
sneers at the stuck-up rich mans
daughter" had seen him break and
destroy furniture. tear up the few
books see had left, in his drunken
rage, and now he had taken advan-
tage of her illness to part with all
they owned, for drink.
James," she said one morning,
chad we not better go to some small
town, where we can live cheaper?"
''Live cheaper! We don't half
live here, and l don't know what
we'd do in the country
"Why. James. we can leave Daisy
here. Mrs. Burns wants her for a
to her two little ones. An
son can go to Derby, and commence
as apprentice. Mr.. Maskell wrote
to me that he would take him, with
out any bonus
He wrote to you! Why didn't
he write to me. his father? What
have you to do with him?'
s.Nothing, James, only he
"He thought | want capable Of
taking care of my own affairs, didn't
he %
mo, indeed-but don't You think
it is good ideaY'
perhaps it is-but as to the girl,
why. her wages are to be sent to me.
mind! I'm the head of this house !"
SO it was decided--James Graham
and his wife found 81 small, wretched
howell rent free, in the pretty little
village of Broadway, and once more
Bessy took ap her labor, and once
more a peace came to her. She heard
from the children often, for they
wrote her long, loving letters. But
James now spent all his days and
nights in the tavern.
Five months passed, Daisy had
not not written for nearly month.
and her mother was almost wild with
dread. She sat in the doorway one
fine Summer twilight, wondering
where her dear little girl was, when
light step was heard, q pair Of soft
hands covered her eyes, and the
mothers heart knew her Daisy had
come!
Oh, the joy of the next hour! On
ly a mother and daughter long sepa-
rated can understand it.
+'Where Is father" asked Daisy, |
after few moments.
ale is at the Queens Arms, :
said her mother.
'.Mother - and the 1.-THE young |
form Strengthened up and a clear |
light Of determination shone in her |
eyes. 81 am going to save father