Year: 1866

Let me draw q picture Of the drunk
ards home.


| That home was in q narrow. filth,
street, in one story house, if house i
could be called. 1t looked more lik,


ruined old shanty. 1t was low on,


story ten by twelve building, with on,
door and one window in the front


Window, did say? excuse me for thai
mistake. Not u window, but hole in
the side ofthe hut, filled up with budg-
cts of rags. with the exception of two
panes of glass, which were nearly con
cealed by dust and cobwebs. This was
all the window in the house. The
TGom would have been in almost total
darkness, had it not been fer the crew..
ces in the wall, through which the
| light would sometimes penetrate, as
well as the very large aperture around
the stovepipe, which not only admit.
ted the light, but The bitter cold.
Outside, the snow was lying some
eight inches deep; but inside still
more chilling scene was presented
The weather was very severe, and the
fire was very low. A few Goals were
burning in the stove, which, by tho
way was minus one door. There was
an old bedstead, with greasy looking
| bedclothes, which consisted or a straw
tick, two old blankets, and two caseles!
pillows. A small quantity of straw
was thrown into one corner of the room
with a tattered quilt cast over it for th'
children.


And these, the three ragged children
sat shivering by the stove, with cloth
! ing scanty for summer, much more 81
for the cold month of January. Thci
Woodworking, careworn mother sat by
the two panes Of glass, trying to catcl
the remaining twilight, to assist her il
the sewing over which she was bend
ing.


The sun had just disappeared from
the horizon, and left its bright crimson
rays streaking the western sky; but il
Brought no comfort TO the tried wife o
the drunkard. For besides being oblig
ed to finish the garment she was a
work upon, and to return it to its own
er, before she could procure bread fol
the little ones supper, she was moment
ly expecting home her husband.


Not that it was his custom to return
at this hour; but she could never tell
Iyhap tn Iool, Cor hin, Sometimes he
would come staggering home at noon
day, recling under the effects OF intox-
ication would abuse his family shame
fully, ,andtake the emoneyfrom his wife, il
she had been fortunate enough not to
have spent it for food. After obtaining
the money, he would fly back to his
old resorts, the saloons, and there he
would stay until the last cent was
gone. Sometimes he would not return
until evening, at other times he would
be brought home at the midnight hour,
almost insensible under the influence
of liquor. Thus, by brutal intoXica-
tion he put himself, not on level with
the brute creation, but entirely beneath
them!


And this was Walter Graham, who,
when n single man, "only took a drop
now and then just for fun; there was
no harm in that, certainly" So Mar.
gret was induced to believe, when ask
ed to unite her destiny with his. Hear
ing that he drank little once in a
great while, but not to excess, she ex-
postulated with him.


"Why, Margret, do you think ] am a
slave to whiskey, because l drink lit
tie once in a while, just to please my
companions? o fie! / can break off
at any time without any trouble at all. !"
She thus believing, they were married,
not for ease and pleasure, but for toll
and misery.


He took her from loving parents, and
kind friends, in an elegant home of New
York State, and removed to Wiscon-
sin.


For awhile he kept his word, but at
last he grew more careless of his work
and family, and more i'm love with
whiskey; until he neglected his house
hold entirely, and would work only
when he could obtain whiskcy in no
other way. o.! what can aman think Of
or his family, who will degrade
both in so inhuman o manner?


But as said, the san had just thrown
his parting beams over the circular
range of high detached hills that en-
closed the little village and Margret
sat bending over her needle, strainine
her eyes to catch the last faint CLEANS
of the setting sun. Her breast was
heaving with deep emotion; for her
thoughts wandered back to her happy
when she was romping
merry child.


Well she remembered carccring
through the fields and meadows, while
in the expanse above the low sweet
trill of the retiring woodbird, and the
clear hurried notes Of the whippoorwill,
could be plainly heard; and she was
happy then. What had she to make
her otherwise? Had she not father,
mother, kind friends, and peacef,.,
home? and. above all, mina void OF
care?


Next, her imagination takes another
bound, and she sees herself the pretty,
sparkling, bright-eyed girl of eighteen,
wooed by the handsome youth, Walter