The weekly clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1863-1882, 1878-05-29
ORIGINAL ANECDOTES OF
TOM MARSHALL AND GEO. D. PRENTICE.
Iice and GimI6eF-LOdimG with
SWine-The Patron Of Miss
Welby.
From Now York Star.

From Now YORK. STAR
The stories of Tom Marshall, the Con.
| gressional wit from h entuokv, are nu.
merous and some of them have been so
often told that he would be bold man
who should attempt to retail them for a
newspaper. Attention having recently
been called to his visits to the old Bat,
terton House, at Danville, it may DO well
| to give one story III reference TO events
| that probably happened. If these events
had hot occurred, Tom would not have
been in such fury about them, nor
have sworn so solemnly 20 whip the man
who should mention them. (Tom Mar
shall is dead, and all kind men who can
appreciate his great heart and mind hope
that Christ, who died for sinners, and
who will be their judge, has found means
to cure and save SO worthy q creation of
His hand. How aiten has Marshall,
/ faultess in dress, calm, and perfectly
sober, stood on the platform before hush
ed aud expectant audiences of the beau
| ty, fashion and best manhood of Ken
lucky, and, with every nerve Of his be-
ing braced fer the supreme effort, his
| eyes flashing and his form towering, told
how he had been before magistrate and
sworn on the holy evangelists never to
touch or taste Intoxicating drink
j seem to see him now, pale with grow
ing excitement and unusual abstinence,
with his hands lifted, as ip Thanksgiving
and prayer, apparently willing to die
rather than go back to the old degrade
ton of the cup, while his audience was
thrilled as he shouted out his Joy at self
emancipation, and thanked God-now
with streaming eyes-that he was tree
forever from a druEkard's life free, and
free forever, from the horror Of drunk
ards death, 1t seemed to me that the
poem Of n z. Willis was written ex
pressly for Marshall, the victor over self,
as he quoted it, and acted it:
Then dash the trimming cup aside,
And spill its purple wine
Take not its madness to thy lip,
Let not its curse be thine
lis rich and red. but grief and woe
Are hid in its rosy depth below.
Or, again, in sad emphasis:
Within the goblet's crystal deeps
A singing serpent unseen sleeps.
There's not hubble on its brim
That does not carry food for him,
Or, in very rage and scorn;
hate, abhor. detest the smell
OF this dark beverage of hell,
Sometimes for three months this costa
cy and inspiration would last, and then
the need Of artificial stimulation for so
overweight condition would at last return
and Tom" 'tOld Tom," ''Poor Tom
as men called him, would be drunk
again.
Once Henry Bascomb, Ii. D., the
able and eloquent bishop of the Metho.
dist Church, saw him leaning for support
against the outer walls Of a Methodist
chapel at night, and said in bitter Jest,
not knowing him. Il suppose you are
Methodist from your attach % Tho,
buildings' --lent 10 tna'
ar
4 lean that way, bishop" said Tom,
in his best congressional manner; (hic)
stgive me your arm aud I'll see you as
far "a my door," and the bishop did,
Professor Shannon, since president of
the Kentucky University, and now of
st. Louis, once thought to reprove him
as he staggered mp the Steps of the Har-
rodsburg courthouse, "Oh, dear Mr..
Marshall" he begans, s'drunk againI"
sNever mind" said Tom, $50 am /,
and he went in, and holding himself by a