Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1878-11-13
A Blighted Life.

through the night with him
So ran the note which came to me one
bright July day. There was but one posi-.
BILE answer. He was the son of our minis.
ter's widow her eldest child and in the
the first flush of his beautiful young man
hood. In form and feature he so closely
resembled his father that he seemed to
keep fresh and bright the memory of the
dear pastor who rested from his labors
among us, little more than year before.
But beneath that lovely exterior lay
hidden the germ of fatal weakness. He
seemed unable to heed the warning voice,
"Look not upon the wine when it is red"
A member of our church from early
childhood, his desires and hopes all tended
toward the true type of Christian manhood.
He purposed, after his own feeble fashion,
to walk in VISIONS ways, and each trans
gression humbled him to the earth in con-
triton for the evil he had wrought and the
sorrow he had caused.
But the strange, sad truth remained ever
the same Neither his own remorse, the
tears of his heart-broken mother nor the
prayers of his sorrowing father, availed
aught against the next temptation.
The fierce, uncontrolled appetite would
seize him like strong man armed, and carry
him away captive till, helpless and insen-
sible, some friendly hand would leave him
at his fathers door; the entrance of the
death-angel into that home could hardly
have been sadder. From Edwards lips |
heard the story of his fathers patient tender
ness at such times. His grief for his first
born was the real sting of death in his last
hours.
With his dying breath he entreated and
exhorted the dear boy to conquer in the
strength of grace and live for Christ and
the mother who would need his young
strength to lean upon. While that father
lay sleeping his last sleep, Edward asked to
be left with him alone. The groans that
came from the closed room, the strong cries
and tears, piteous as they were, gave still
bright sign of hope to those who loved him,
that the solemn pledges unheard by the
sealed ear of death would be recorded
on high.
Alas for poor humanity, brief year had
but passed, and the dear boy lay on his
death-bed, and death came by his own hand
as truly as if done by bullet or knife.
In the late autumn twilight went to the
house and to his room.
found him the pale, wasted shade of his
former SELF the radiant promises of his
youth and the rosy strength of his early
manhood gone, all gone, forever. The stamp
and seal Of death were on that pallid brow.
The fierce delirium had left him for mo-
ment. He gave me faint, sweet smile of
welcome and whispered few grateful
words that made my heart ache to bursting
with infinite pity. | could not speak, but,
seating myself near his pillow, famed him
gently to relieve the oppressive sultriness OF
the night.
So the long, slow, sultry, awful night
wore on. With the faint, early dawn came
change. 1t was mercfu in that it gave
quiet to his tortured body, but his stricken,
smitten soul knew no rest or peace.
He seemed, by some strange metempsy.
Ghosts, to be standing apart from his own
life and reviewing it; to be looking at and
speaking of his own selfhood as compass
sionate observer might have done.
Said he in a pleading voice, a." He always
wanted to do right-he always meant to,
but--he ai,oays failed! He was
weak, ah, so weak !" A long pause. :" If he
had his life to live over again--oh if he
might only live 1T once more, he would -
Another long silence, and then in voice
that curdled my very blood, :" Butt is all
0uer-it is too late-too late u
His fathers remains rest in the family
lot of one of our church deacons, and when
Edward spake again the words were once
more plea. BURY him by his father; let
him sleep by that dear father he
is not worthy of it, but his father
would want him there"
Almost suffocated by emotion, felt that
| must arouse him, when again he broke
silence. This time he was looking at his
own grave, and his words were, " They have
done it-don't you see the stone? 1t is by
his father. Yes, that is his name" Slowly,
as if reading it, d" Edward II. Ray-and his
life was wasted, was a failure" Suddenly
| leaned over and touched his forehead.
His eyes opened, and spoke. | told him
OF the one who can save even to the utter
most, and with whom it is never too late,
and of the dying thief; pointed him to
the Lamb of God, to the blood which makes
the foulest clean. If he heard or compre-
hended, he could give no sign The parted
soul seemed to have left the poor, wasted
body, but to hover about it with o tender
pity. In vain | pleaded, and looked, and
looked. and listened for a sign. None was
given. | waited and watched with an almost
fierce intensity. | could not surrender the
soul of the dear boy to eternal despair.
From time to time words came from the
pale, blue lips, but they bore the same hope
1919 o"tNNh VI iVhpioNf Win WIN
regret, till the sounds died away to an in
articulate murmur
Soon the mother and dear ones who had
taken their needed rest gathered around his
bed, and left him with them for the few
hours ere the weary eyes closed forever.
For the dear boy had left, nothing could
be done but to leave him with one "who
knoweth our frame and remembereth that
we are dust"
But for the myriads who are treading in
his footsteps and who, unaided, will surely
fall and perish by the wayside, what can be,
what shall be done Could they have
watched by the bed during that long, awful
night it must have preached to them like
voice of warning from the world of woe.
How can we, how shall we help them, that