The Douglas independent. [volume] (Roseburg, Or.) 187?-1885, 1883-10-06

cDoSe ana soon sank into deep, refresh
ing slumber.
It was hours ere ne awoke, and then |
he seemed as in q dream. The filthy |
gutter in which he had lost his con-
seriousness was now exchanged for a
downy bed, with pillows soft and white
as snow, with snow-white counterpane
and damask hangings. Ais rags had dis
appeared. and in their stead he saw him
self robed in white linen. The dirt was
washed from his face and hands, his hair
was combed, and his tangled beard neat
ly shorn. He put back the curtains.
Glad, golden sunbeams were stealing
through the crimson drapery of an al
coyed window, and their brilliant light
showed lofty chamber, with frescoed
walls, carpet from Oriental looms, and
furniture that prince might covet. stIt
is dream" breathed he. and he closed
his eyes. Light footsteps aroused him
soon, and unclosing them again he saw
bending over him @ noble looking man
in ife's early prime, and beside him q
lovely woman, and in the eyes of both
large tears were standing.
"Teu me-" he said, eagerly, "do
dream, or am I the poor drunkard so
greatly cared for?"
you, replied the lady.
''Sick! ay, sin SICK" he said. "But
you do not know how vile I am, or you
would cast me out at once. Listen.
have broken the heart of my wife. I
have driven my only son from home; ay,
and half killed him Fl rst; and I have i'll
treated my other children till they fear
me more than the evil one. Will you
care for me now?"
He almost shrieked out the question,
and it seemed as though life and death
hung on the answer.
I'VE must forgive even as we would
| be forgiven" said the master OF the
house. "While you can be happy, stay
| with u.s."
| A week passed away, and still the old
man tarried in that beautiful home, now
| toying gently with Lily, the wee, deli
cate babe, and then playing pranks
with Harry, the pride OF the household,
a boy of four summers; now dreaming
in the pleasant chamber where he first
awoke again to manhood, and then loll
ing in an armchair in the parlor, tears
and smiles chasing each other over his
wrinkled cheeks as the lovely lady of the
mansion sang, now gay ditty and then
| solemn hymn. But he never offered to
cross the threshold.
ST dare not," he would say, when
asked to ride or walk; sthere is danger
in the street, and this calm is so very
sweet. IF it could only last" And then
he would sigh, and sometimes weep and
sob like child.
'tThere is to be grand rally of the
friends of temperance to-night-the new
and splendid hail is to be inaugurated.
Banners will wave. music ring, and
ladies smile Shall invite you, my
wife, to accompany me ?" said the mas
ter of the house.
"Of course, after such programme,
said she, gayly, land you may depend
upon my going, too. How soon must /
be ready?'
I'm an hours time" he replied. ''I
will send carriage for you. and meet
you myself at the door of the hall. Be
sure that you are ready, fer there. will be
tremendous crowd"
81 will be in time-trust me for that, !"
said she, fastening to perform hel
duties to the little ones; but what was
her astonishment when she returned to
the parlor, all bonneted and cloaked, to
find her stranger guest awaiting her.
ST cannot surely be tempted there, "
said he, in o low, sad voice; ''but if you
will suffer me to ride with you will
gladly go. It may be that shall com.
plete there the salvation here com.
menced."
| Gladly did the lady acquiesce in the
request, and they were soon ut the door
OF the thronged hall. Not her husband
but an intimate friend of his joined them
there, and led them to some reserved
seats near the platform.
There had been stirring music by the
band, feryent prayers by the clergy and
thrilling speeches from orators from
: distant parts of the country, the hearts o1
that vast multitude were aroused as they
had never been before to the dangers of
the cup. Then, while yet they were all
rlveted to the subject, the president an.
, nounced s'a voice from our home"
J There was breathless silence for O
moment, and then loud and long accla.
nations greeted the good Samaritan OF
our sketch as he bowed to the waiting
throng. It had seemed to them as the
last speaker hushed his voice, that the
theme, world wide as it is, was quite ex-
! hausted. but SO impassioned was the elo-
, quence that now mastered it, that they
hung upon every word as If he had
; spoken of something fresh from heaven.
Where others had generalized, he indi
vidualized. He did not take the mass Of
drunkards, but only one out of them all
and he portrayed his course in such
vivid colors that the audience seemed
gazing upon dissolving views rather than
listening to chosen words; and so
wrought up were they that when he
pictured that horrible scene in the
tragedy of drink. where the husband
levels to the floor the wife which once
slept SO sweetly upon his bosom, the
wife that is the mother of his children,
they seemed to hear the gentle and
wronged one fall, and sobs and signs
broke forth from the assembly. The
speaker paused till they were quiet,
wiping, meanwhile, the tears from his
own cheeks.
"Do you ask, said he, when he aga in
resumed his theme, 'sdo you ask why I
stand here tonight and speak these
things? Why, I not only speak but feel
them? Look at this" he said, lifting
the glossy locks from his left temple.
"Do you see that scar on my forehead?'
In the brilliant gaslight it was per.
fectly visible to many watehful eye; it
was CHASTITY, frightful looking seer,
marring the beauty of brow that might
otherwise have ben painters model.
Slowly and solemnly did the speaker
utter each word, then as he stood push
ing back the raven hair. CONTINUED: