AMIABLE and engaging, she was the life of the circles in which she
moved. In personal attractions few were her equals, and from her kind
and genial presence depression and gloom fled like darkness before the
footsteps of morning. Her opening years were full of gladness; who
could foresee that her "days of darkness would be many?"
George Evans had won her affections, and well do I remember my desire,
though then a mere lad, to know the successful competitor for her hand.
I first saw him under circumstances which filled me with apprehension.
It was the anniversary of our national independence. He was passing
with a crowd when a companion pointed him out. I followed him in
anxious curiosity; for it seemed to me that he who was to wed my
cousin Carrie should be nearly perfect. Many times did I wish myself
far away, as, fascinated by a horror-struck interest, I was jostled
in that throng, to hear from his lips the language of profanity, and
witness proofs of his intemperance. Was she to be the wife of such a
man? Friends had warned him of his evil habits, but he was so manly in
appearance, and in her presence so correct in language and deportment,
her attendant at church, and manifesting there such a reverence for
religion, that she entertained no misgivings.
They were married. A year elapsed, during which nothing served to mar
the happiness of the young couple, and we had well nigh dismissed our
fears, when, one autumn evening, in passing their residence I met them.
They had just returned from a walk, and were parting at the door. "You
will not stay late, will you, George?" Carrie was saying. I saw that
she was pale. The husband gave an evasive reply, and left her. My
direction lay with his, and as I followed on, the sorrowful pallor of
her face haunted me. Conspicuous on a public corner was one of those
gilded hells, which allure to destruction. Evans lingered a moment
at the door, then passed hastily down the steps into the "saloon."
The power of that infernal magic by which a man of reason is moved to
prefer the orgies of such a mystery of iniquity, and the pestilential
companionship of bloated, blasphemous wretches, to the society of the
fair and pure being to whom he is united in holiest bonds, thank God, I
know not; but this I know, that the stricken wife kept vigils of agony
through that long night, and when the faithless husband returned, it
was with unsteady step and brutal oaths. This was "but the beginning of
sorrows." A friend thus gives a glimpse of her eventful history.
"You ask after Carrie Carleton. Poor woman, hers has been a sad lot.
Her husband has dragged her down the steeps of misfortune, until worn
and weary, Consumption has smitten her, and she weeps on the verge of
the grave. Weeps, did I say? Yes, for him, but as for herself, she
trusts all in the hands of her Saviour. What a miracle is love when
hallowed and refined by piety! Of high family, and nurtured tenderly,
yet allied by marriage to a sot and a tyrant, it is impossible to
paint what she has so uncomplainingly endured. Some three years since
a hollow cough, and frequent bleeding from the lungs admonished that
her trials would be short. Physicians gave her up. But see how, at
the mercy of circumstances, we are in this world. Evans, under the
labors of the Washingtonians, reformed. For a time he seemed a man
again, was frugal, industrious, and kind. But, insidiously tempted,
he tasted again the enchanted cup, and sank lower than before.
During his reformation Carrie became like one raised from the dead;
her step regained its elasticity, and her laugh its gladness. She
attributed this to a change of medicine, but when George again fell,
she declined rapidly. His course in the downward road was fearfully
accelerated. His business neglected, his credit gone, his days spent
in the tippling-shop, and his nights in haunts of iniquity, on her
devolved the sustenance of the family. This she worked hard to provide
by taking boarders. But who would long remain to witness her sorrows,
and to share her ill-treatment at the hands of her ill-clad, profane,
and fault-finding companion? So, in a miserable chamber, Carrie toiled
with her needle, solicitous for her husband when away, lest in the
helplessness of inebriety, or in some drunken brawl, injury would come
to him, or he commit some horrid crime."
It was affecting, amid all these hardships, to see how uncomplaining
was the wife. When others censured his conduct she would make excuses
for him, striving to make it appear that he was not so bad as they
thought, or that his evil deeds were attributable to the influence of
others.
Once only did she speak at all freely of her sufferings. It was
when visiting at good deacon J.'s. After the family had retired,
overburdened with anguish, she poured into the ears of the deacon and
his sympathizing wife such a tale of neglect, anxiety, deprivation, and
abuse, as well nigh broke their hearts.
"And why don't you leave such a monster forever?" said Mrs. J., her
eyes streaming with tears.
"Oh!" she mournfully returned, "you can not tell what you would do as
a drunkard's wife." Then added, rising and wringing her hands, "I love
George, with all his faults! There's no living with him, and there's no
living without him!"
Some time after, when visiting in a sea-board city, incidentally I
learned that Mrs. Evans resided there. I found her in an obscure
tenement. She welcomed me with a placid smile,—but how changed! so thin
and wasted,—while on her cheeks bloomed the fatal crimson. The bare
floor and meager furniture bespoke her destitution. In full prospect
of death she conversed calmly of her tribulations, anticipating with
hope the coming of the last messenger. More than a year previous, her
husband deserted her on the pretense of going South for business. No
tidings had she heard of him, though she diligently searched the papers
and inquired at the post-office; faithful to him, though worse than
widowed.
"And how have your little family managed to get along during this hard
winter?"
"I have endeavored not to afflict others with our troubles," she
replied, "but God has raised us up benefactors. And in the way in which
this has been done I have realized how he would learn us, to the last,
lessons of charity toward all. I have long been prejudiced against
the Friends; but one stormy day, when the streets were blocked with
snow, and we were very destitute, one of their number called. I was a
little startled when he entered, but beneath his broad-brimmed hat was
a face so benign, that I quickly forgot he was a stranger, and before
I was aware he knew something of our necessities. Why, he seemed like
my buried father! 'Thee mustn't suffer,' said he; and since, in our
moments of extremity, when others would not venture to come, through
the fiercest storms and the bitterest cold, and just when I had been
praying with the most urgent sense of need, he, or his lovely wife,
would be sure to happen in with a load of blessings. Now they are to me
as angels of mercy, and even their peculiar garb seems beautiful, and
their thee and thou are like music to my heart. Thus does our Father
teach us to love all his children ere we meet them in his house above.
And thus does he cause strangers to be as parents, when the nearest and
dearest forsake us."
When the balmy south wind unlocked the frozen earth, and hailed by
blithe songsters, the dead plant awoke to beauty and fragrance, Carrie
Carleton found the repose of the grave.
"Asleep in Jesus! blessed sleep!
From which none ever wake to weep."
Though slain by the treachery of man, through the "Faithful and True,"
she conquered death, and welcomed the tomb with a smile of joy.
My murdered cousin! I think of thee in the night watches, and weep at
the remembrance of thy wrongs. But, alas! thou art not the only victim
of the remorseless rum traffic. From many households has it borne
away the fair, the good, and all the heart holds precious. Alas, its
premature graves disfigure every hill-side and every plain.
When shall this great evil cease? Christians, philanthropists,
law-makers, when?