Clarksville weekly chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1873-1890, 1882-04-01
BLIGHrED Bx Rum.


On bright moonlight eve in
July, as Charles Linden and Mil
dred Pearee paced the piazza of Si-
las Pearce's mansiOn, and beheld
with rapture the azure vault above
with its thousands of shining orbs
gliding the shades of night, Charles
in broken and tremulOus voice,
opened before her the whole story
of his long-cherished and devoted
love. Mildred's heart was all at
tuned To love, and having been ac
quainted with Charles Linden from
childhood her young affections had
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 happy evening, and
he took her to his home to live a
life of joy and uninterrupted happi-
ness.
In their new home, in a neatly
furnished apartment of a beautiful
little house, a regular dovecot,
Charles Linden was seated. By his
side stood Mildred, the idol of his
soul, speaking to him in tones of
tenderness and love. A smile
played upon the handsome features
of Charles Linden as he pressed her
to his bosom, inprinting upon her
blooming cheek the kiss of Il devo-
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 root OF the young couple.
The cottage of Charles and Mil
dred, again. She was seated in her
chamber, and a young babe nestled
upon her bosom. She had LOST the
freshness of her blOOm-the elastic
ity of her step-the rose had faded
from her cheek. Sorrow marked
its traces deep and thick over the
face which was so lovely ii 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 oil
her honeymoon passed before her
gaze, and the tears trickied down
n oh 70 fol N
face of the sleeping babe. a few
short years ago, the incense of love
shed its rich perfume for her, but
now she breatheS the incense OF
sorrow. The morning of her mar
Tiage life surpassed what the widest
imaginings of her youthful fancy
Swallowed forth. But it was effer-
vescent as the dew-drop which Is
swept from the rose by the first
breath of the morning.
=
Once more at what is now 'fthe
inebriates home" Upon a couch
lay the husband. The room was
black and ragged for it was the
home of drunkaTd who cared only
for the sparkling wine. Tie hollow
winds of winter came moaning
through the cracks like the bowling
of lost spirits, doomed for time to
walk in the night. Charles Linden
murmured: 1.-THE fiend, rum, has
been my curse, my ruin. The
heavens frOWn upon me, while il Is
my lot to bear the hatred and jeers
of the world. a long time ago ii
was not so; then | was innocent
frD Is hn frfn 4.
that gathered around menow to up
braid me. My last moments on
this hell called earth, approach.
With me life has been a failure.
Eternity! yes, the dark wall of the
lurid pit of hell, aye, my abiding
place fOrevermOre. Lost forever
lost :" Such were the last words
that ever fell from the lips of Charles
Linden-a wretched dying drunk
ard. Awful was the scene when
death reigned in that dreary cham
Der. An old lamp burned brightly
for a moment, throwing a wild
glare over the PROSTATE form of the
drunkard, who lay clutching a flask
of rum with a death grasp, as
though he would bear it with his
affrightened ghost before 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 dur
ing his life, grieved because he was
not. Mildred Linden had become
a praying woman, and even now
lives, walking in the right path,
and patiently awaiting her Savior's
summons.