Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1879-07-29
4 Drunkard's Death.
BY CHARLES DICKENS.


At last, one bitter night, he sunk
down on the door step, faint and i'll.
The premature decay of vice and profit
gacy had worn him to the bone. His
checks were hollow and livid; his eyes
were sunken, and their sight was dim.
His legs trembled beneath his weight,
and cold shiver ran through every
limb.
And now the long forgotten scenes of
a mlsspent life crowded thick and fast
upon him. He thought of the time
when he had home-a happy, cheer
full home-and of those who people it,
and focked about him then, until the
forms of his elder children seemed to
rise from the grave and stand about him
80 plain, so clear and SO distinct they
were, that he could touch and feel
them. Looks that he had long forgot
ten were fixed upon him once more :;
voices long since forgotten were fixed
upon him once more; voices long since
hushed in death sounded in his ears
like the music of village bells. But it
was only for an instant. The rain beat
heavily upon him; and cold and hun
ger were gnawing at his heart again.
He rose and dragged his feeble limbs a
few PAGES further. Thestreet was silent
and empty; the few passengers who
passed by, at that late hour, hurried
quickly on, and his tremulous voice was
lost in the violence Of the storm. Again
that heavy chill passed through his
frame, and his blood seemed to stagnate
beneath it. He coiled himself up in
projecting doorway, and tried to sleep.
But sleep had fled FROM his dull and
glazed eyes. His mind wandered
strangely, but he was awake and con-
scious. The well known shout of
drunken mirth sounded in hia ear, the
glass was at hia lips, the board was COW
cred with choice rich food-they were
before him he could see them all, he
had but to reach out his hand, and take
them-and, though the illusion was re-
ality itself, he knew that he was sitting
a!ona il the deserted street, watching
the rain drops as they battered On the
stones !; that death wss coming upon
him BY inches-and that there was none
to care for OF help him. Suddenly he
started up in the extremity of terror
He heard his own voice shouting in the
night, he knew not what or why.
Hark A groan another! His senses
were leaving him; half-formed and in
coherent words burst from his lips; and
his hands sought to tear and lacerate
his flesh. He was going mad, and he
shrieked for help till his voice failed
him.
He raised his head and looked up the
long dismal Street. lie recollected that
eutcssts like himself, condemned to
wander day and night in those dreadful
streets, had sometimes gone distracted
with their own Loneliness. He remem-
befed to have heard many years before
that homeless wretch had once been
found in solitary corner sharpening a
rusty knife to plunge into his own heart,
preferring death to that endless, weary,
wandering to and fro. In an instant
his resolve was taken, his limbs received
new life; he ran quickly from the spot,
and paused not for breath until he
reached the river side. He crept softly
down the steep stone stairs that lead
from the commencement of Waterloo
Bridge down to the waters level. He
crouched into corner, and held his
breath as the patrol passed. Never did
prisoners heart throb with the hope of
liberty and life half so eagerly as did
that of the wretched man at the pros
pect of death. The watch passed close
to him, but he remained unobserved; !;
and after waiting till the sound Of foot
steps had died away in the distance, he
cautiously descended and stood beneath
the gloomy arch that forms the landing
place from the river.
The tide was in, and the water flowed
at his feet, The rain had ceased, the
wind waa lUlled, and 1t was, for the mo-
ment, still and quiet-so quiet that the
slightest sound on the opposite bank.
even the rippling of the water against
tho ha rNoo fhof vuo~a v,oarod
distinctly audible to his ear. The stream
stole languidly and sluggishly on,
Strange and fantastic forms rose to the
surface. and beckoned him to approach !:
dark cleaning eyes peered from the
water, and seemed to mock his hesita-
tion, while hollow murmurs from behind
urged him onward. He retreated a few
PAGES, took short run, desperate leap,
and plunged into the water.
Not five seconds had passed when he
! rose to the waters surface-but what q
change had taken place in that short
time in all his thoughts and feelings !
Life-life-in any form poverty, misery
starvation-anything but death. He
fought and struggled with the water
| that closed over his head, and screamed
in agonies of terror. The curse of his
own son rang in his ears. The shore
but one foot of dry ground-he could
almost touch the step. One hands
breath nearer, and he was saved-but
the tide bore him onward, under the
dark arches Of the bridge, and he sunk
to the bottom. Again he rose and
struggled for life. For, one instant-fo1
one brief instant-the buildings on the
rivers banks, the lights on the bridge
through which the current had borne
him, the black water, and the fast flying
clouds, were distinctly visible-once
more he sunk, and once again he rose
Bright flames of fire shot up from earth
to heaven, and reeled before his eyes
while the water thundered in his ears
and stunned him with its furious roar
A week afterwards the body wa.
washed ashore, some miles down thu
river. swollen and disfigured mass
Unrecognized and unpitied, it was borne
to the grave and there 1t has long sine,
moldered away!
SUsP ENDED A N NIMATIoN.-Emi
Bausch, of williamsburg. Naw Vorh