176 RECOLLECTIONS OF POVERTY. 



paniot), would at times step into our house. At first, the recent 

 mournful event seemed to deter him from alluding- to the scenes of 

 their former licentious revelry ; but, ere long, he rallied and taunted 

 my father with his change of habits, and he, unfortunate and wretched 

 man, too weak to resist the repeated solicitations of his destroyer, 

 was ruined for ever. No sooner did he taste again the tatal spirit 

 than all the fire of his former passion was lighted up with greater in- 

 tensity than before. Fearful were the consequences that ensued. 



" Meanwhile I was at home mourning 1 over the loss of my tender 

 parent, and lamenting the ruin which had come upon us. Our little 

 dwelling, once a pattern of neatness and comfort, was then, notwith- 

 standing all my care, ever dirty, and in disorder. My father, once 

 so kind and affectionate, was a source of continual terror ; and often 

 have I sat in silent agony and fear while he and his wretched com- 

 panions held their drunken revels, when the whole house would re- 

 sound with the noise of their impious mirth and horrid ribaldry. Still 

 he was my father, and, though he had violated all the sacred duties of 

 a parent, my love for him was not extinguished, and I endeavoured 

 by ready 1 attention to smoother! the ferocity of his character, and 

 avert the displeasure which was ever ready to burst forth. I was re- 

 quited with abuse ; often with blows. But his career of vice was 

 short. It was in the winter of 182-, I noticed that he was from home 

 longer than usual, sometimes absenting himself for two or three 

 days, and I saw him often in company with strange and ill-looking 

 persons. One evening, in a hurried manner, he entered the house ; 

 he threw himself into a chair by the fire side, and attempted to sleep, 

 but in vain. He rose from his chair, paced to and fro across the 

 room, his whole frame seemed agitated by contending passions. Now 

 he would strike his forehead, as if in agony ; then a bitter smile, as if 

 of scorn and derision, would play upon his lips ; the falling" of a cin- 

 der startled him; the sound of passing footsteps thrilled through his 

 frame. All at once the door was burst open ; the officers of justice 

 hurried him away. 



"I know not how I passed that night. Language would fail to 

 express the wild and disordered train of ideas that flitted in rapid 

 succession through my distracted mind. Did I look back on the past? 

 imagination depicted with all the strength of reality the happy 

 scenes of my youthful years; then, bitter contrast, dark clouds of 

 misfortune would blot them from rny view, and my mother's dying 

 bed, her yawning grave, my father's ruin, would start up in all their 

 freshness, and threaten to drive me insane. Did I look forward to 

 days to come? before me was the dark unknown of futurity, on which 

 I had to venture friendless, unaided, and alone. I laid me down on 

 the bed on which my mother died. Her mild and resigned spirit 

 seemed to come over me. I fell asleep. 



When the morning dawned, I sat solitary arid sad in our 

 deserted dwelling. There was no one to comfort me, no one whose 

 friendly guidance might direct my uncertain steps. Projects of the 

 most opposite nature suggested themselves. Perplexed, I knew not 

 whither to go, nor of whom to ask advice or assistance. Musing thus, 

 on my distressed situation, I was surprised by the abrupt entrance of 



