The Pulaski citizen. [volume] (Pulaski, Tenn.) 1866-current, 1882-03-23
BIighted By Rum.

I'm a bright moonlight eve in
GE July, as Charles Linden and
gHS Mildred Pearce paced the pi-
SC{S azza of Silas Pearce's man
sion, and beheld with rapture the
azure vault above with its thousands
of shining orbs gliding the shades
of night, Charles in a broken and
tremulous voice, opened before her
whole story of his long cherished
and devoted love. Mildred's heart
was all attuned to love, and having
been acquainted with Charles Lin
den from childhood her young af-
fections have been wholly placed
upon him. With the approving
blush of maiden modesty, she gave
him her hand and heart, and the
next instant she felt press upon her
ruby lips the first kiss of young and
passionate love. A few months
passed rapidly away after this hap
py evening, and he took her to his
home to live a life of joy and unin-
terrupted happiness.
| 4 x
In their new home, in a neatly
furnished apartment of beautiful
little house, a regular dovecot,
Charles Linden was seated. BY his
sides stood Mildred, the idol of his
soul, speaking to him in tones of
tenderness and love. A smile
/ Yolavra1 ,,Y1oD fba bon1eo,on fao+.,o.
of Charles Linden as he pressed her
to his bosom, imprinting upon her
blooming cheek the kiss of a de-
voted heart, whose very memory is
destined often to thrill the heart
with rapture through long years of
sorrow and suffering, and even
when loves fitful passion is over,
and the lamp of life is about to be
quenched in death. Happiness
seemed to wave her snowy wings
over the roof Of the young couple.
X
The cottage of Charles and Mil
dred, again. She was seated in her
chamber, and young babe nestled
upon her bosom. She had lost
the freshness of her bloom-the
elasticity of her step-the rose had
faded from her cheek. Sorrow
marked its traces deep and thick
over the face which was so lovely a
summer ago. Her gentle heart,
"Like a tendril accustomed to
cling" was withered and blighted.
Charles, the father and husband,
was absent. Absent, quaffing the
midnight cup in the dramseller's
shop. The mother, as she lay on
her couch, thought of the past.
The scenes other honeymoon passed
before her gaze, and tears trickled
down the furrowed cheek to fall on
the face of her sleeping babe. A
few short years ago, the incense Of
love shed its rich perfume for her,
but now she breaths the incense Of
sorrow. The morning of her mar
rage life surpassed what the wild
est imaginings of her youthful fan
cy shadowed forth. But it was
evenescent as the dew drop which
is swept from the rose by the first
breath of the morning.
Once more at what is now ''the
inebriates home" Upon a couch
lay the husband. The room was
black and ragged; for it was the
home of drunkard who cared on
ly for the sparkling wine. The hol
low winds of winter came moaning
through the cracks like the howl
ing of lost spirits, doomed for
time to walk in the night. Charles
Linden murmured: "The fiend,
Rum, has been my curse, my ruin.
The heavens frown upon me, while
it is my lot to bear the hatred and
Jeers of the world. A long time
ago it was not so; then L was inno
cent and free; L knew not the
friends that gathered around me
now to upbraid me. My last mo
ments on this hell called earth,
approach. With me, life has been
failure. Eternity! yes, the dark
wall of the lurid pit of hell, aye,
my abiding place foreVermore.
Lost! forever loetr' Such were the
last words that ever fell from the
lips of Charles Linden-a wretched,
dying drunkard. Awful was the
scene when death reigned in that
dreary chamber. An old lamp
burned brightly for a moment,
throwing a wild glare over the pros
trate form of the drunkard, who
lay clutching a flask of rum with
death grasp, as though he would
bear it with his affrighted ghost be
fore the eternal throne. The
shroud was made by the pale and
blighted woman he had called wife
during his life, and had treated as
his slave. She, though he had i'll
treated her during his life, grieved
because he was not. Mildred Lin
den had become a praying woman,
and even now lives, walking in the
the right path, and patiently await