Clarksville weekly chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1873-1890, 1877-05-19
THE DRUNKARD'S DAUGHTER.

The shades of twilight were deep
ening, and the wind was bowling
mOurnfully through the trees as
Hester Lane walked up and down
her handsomely furnished. cham
Der. There was a restless, anX-
iOus expression on her face that be-
trayed some hidden sorrow. Occa-
siOnally she would step to the Win
dow and gaze out as if she was eX-
pecting a visitor. At length she
discerned a solitary hOrseman riding
slowly towards the house, and she
FASTENED to light the lamps, and
ring for the coal to be replenished,
ere her father should arrive. She
heard the bell, and thinking it was
he, ran to admit him-but to her
surprise a servant handed her a note,
stating her father could not return
that evening, as he had received a
severe injury on his head, caused by
a fall from his horse. The note
stated he was in the hands of friends,
and would be sent home next morn
ing. Fletcher Copeland was the
signature. Hester turned from the
door with a sad heart, for she knew
too well that the wine cup had been
quaffed too freely that day. 1t was
a dreary November night, and she
was alone in an elegant mansion /;
everything that heart could wish or
money procure was in her power.
But there was a vacuum which these
could not fill. Judge Lane was a
distinguished lawyer in the city,
and greatly beloved by all who
knew him. He had but one fault,
thirst for strong drink. He was a
WidOWer with two children, a son
and daughter. The former was in
college. Hester was of a retiring
disposition and deeply attached to
her father, and of course was great
ly distressed at the sudden and per-
hapS fatal accident. She sought
comfort in Him who never turns a
deaf ear to the diScOnSOlate. She
again read the note and saw it was
written with great accuracy and by
a stranger. How could this person
know her name when she had never
even heard his? But perhaps it
was a friend of her father. From
the mantle she saw the hands of the
clock pointed to eleVen-she started
--Niltlt was liGI AllCtt1 illllttSlNNl, anu
the fire very low. But there was no
sleep for her tear-Stained eyes. She
felt as only drunkard's child
can feel. The horizon OF her future
hopes were clOuded. Happiness was
Il dream of other days-he thought
Of her sainted mother and was
thankful that she was spared this
pain and humiliation. Could she
have lifted the "mystic Veil'' of fu-
turity years before when life seemed
but a blissful dream, how different
ly would life have been spent. But
no, God is a just God, and in the
final judgment when all the hidden
mysteries viii be revealed, we then,
and only then, will realize our bless
ings in disguise. Wemust return to
Judge Lane. Having been induced
to put the bewitching glass to his
lips he could not restrain his quench-
less thirst. AS he mounted his res
tive Steed he fell and cut a deep
cash on his head. DIR. Copeland
was a young physician, and witness
ing the accident, came to his rescue
and had him carried to his office.
where he ministered to his wounds.
He, too, spent a lonely night, but
his thoughts were of a different ma
ture to the drunkard's child. He
was thinking of her whom he had
loved for two long years; but never
daring to make this love known,
he only gazed upon her mild, sweet
face or admired her graceful form as
she tripped by his door daily Oh her
mission of charity. She was veal
/ thy and moved in the first circles,
while he was only poor, yet he
hoped, rising physician. Although
his was a lonely and disagreeable