The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1884-08-06
Scenes From q Life Drama.

Scenes From Life Drama.
It is set of sun on the Irish shores.
White sailed ships are standing in the
harbor of Cork, where quiet is beginning
to reign for the first time through all the
busy day. The weary laborers are coming
home from their work, nodding as they
pass by, or stopping to join the groups of
comely matrons, or red-cheeked daughters,
around whose feet the young children are
playing, as they stand in the doorwsys, or
idle on the streets. Now and then stall
wart form enters shop door standing
open Just above the wharf, and, pausing,
selects some article of purchase, then
passes on to the rear, where well-ordered
bar offers cheer and refreshment to all
who have mind to call for it. 1t is an
attractive scene, the fading sunlight on
the ruddy Irish features, and the clanking
glasses filed with the fosming liquor. A
burly, good.natured fellow, just about to
drain his glass before the counter, turns
to the shop-keeper and landlord, saying
"And how is the niece to-day, Mister
Mccormick 7"
"Better, Pat, I'm glad to say and here
she is herself"
A little fairy of child, with eyes true
Irish blue, and sunny auburn ringlets
hanging to her waist, fits through the
room, and is gone almost before the
gallant Pat has raised his foaming glass,
crying to his comrades And here's to
Ellen, the pride of each Irish SOUL"
Before the glasses are empty she is
back again, saucily shaking her curls at
her uncle, the landlord, and bowling and
kissing her fingers to the men, who toss
her up and down in play until she breath
lessly begs them to stop, when she seats
herself on their knees, and sucks out the
sugar from the bottoms of the glasses they
give her.
She is almost to be envied, this darling
and pride of the big Irish hearts, this
beautiful daughter of Erin"
n
1t is midnight in the streets of New
York city. A dreary mist is settling
down on roof and pavement, and the
street lamps dull flicker, or hazy shaft of
light from some show window, or gilded
gin.palace is all that cheers the dismal
place where young woman stands moan
ing and wringing her hands. At the
policeman's touch and rough voice, she
moves on step, then turns, and steadying
herself against railing, uplifts her pitt.
full face to him, and tells him all her sad
story, while he takes it in, the face still
young and beautiful, yet haggard and
! bloated from drink, the dull, bleared blue
eyes, the tangled auburn hair, the air OF
| utter WEAKNESS and forlornness.
"Oh, have ye not seen him, my own
boy, and as pretty a darling as ever was
| born ? +" she is saying. "He cried for the
| lights in the saloon, and so, just to plsze
the baby, l stepped in minute, and there
they treated me, and the next thing
knew was standing here in the street,
and my baby was gone away from me-
| Oh, you must have had glimpse of my
swate baby somewheres. You'd know
him, he is 80 like to me with the blue
eyes and reddish hair" and here she
stops her pitiful tale, her voice choked
with sobs.
"No," is the answer. 81 have seen nc
child. You shouldn't have made such q
fool of yourself. Probably it's better
taken care of than it ever was before.
He turns away, we'll used to such tales
of suffering, and the lonely woman wan
ders on through the deserted streets
wringing her helpless hands, and crying
out for her child.
Who is there would envy her now, de
graded as she is by drink-homeless
friendless and childless through her owr
folly and weakness
| 10 1f lox -, fas ntrxy vii
lage. The coming daylight meets anc
mingles with the rays OF night lamp
standing in a cottage window close by {
sick bed. There an old woman, worn anC
emaciated, diseased and wrecked by Ions
years of intemperance and exposure, lie'
tossing her life away in delirium.
She seems to be child again in he
uncle's shop in Cork, and she hears thu
clash of glasses, and the merry toasts arr
drunken off by the men who call her theil
pride. Then they offer the glasses to her
and she begins with eagerness to suck ou
the sugar, when at once, with the mad
dening gnawing and craving at her vitals
she realizes that all that was long ago, anc
she ia an old woman now, lying on her
death bed perhaps, and there seems to be
no one TO care for her who was once the
care of all who knew her.
She raised her haggard face from the
pillow and seized bottle standing on the
table beside the bed. "The doctor sale
this would make me better, and they have
forgotten to give it to me. They didn't
use to forget me like this"
She drinks and puts the bottle back
then lays her head YEARLY down.
al might have done different if it hadn't
been for taking their liquor" she thinks
at was the sugar from the glasses that
did it; but, oh that was long ago."
A dull stupor falls upon her, and at last
all sense and life are gone, gone with that
remorseful thought her only comforter
al might have done differently" Aud
now friends who had not forgotten, but
thought her quietly sleeping, came to at.
| tend to her wants, but she has gone be.
yond need of their care. With horror
they see that in her weakness she had
seized upon the wrong bottle, and drank