The Inebriate's Daughter's Appeal to Her Father.

One frosty night in bright moonlight,

I left my cheerful home;

My thoughts were such I cared not much

Which way I chanced to roam.

With firmest tread my way I thread

Through many a winding street

When drunkard's voice in tones not choice,

My startled ear did meet.

He cursed a girl whose hair in curl

Bespoke a tidy mother;

Whose clothes, though plain, wore not a stain,

Yet grief her words did smother

Her beauteous eyes told then no lies

While she looked at the man.

As nature brought the words she sought,

She this appeal began:

“Oh, father, leave this wretched place,

And hasten home with me;

For mother and the darling babe

Are in sad misery!

They have not tasted any food

Since morn of yesterday.

Yet you should hear that mother dear

For blessings on you pray.

“For when she prays aloud for you,

Her tears they flow apace,

And deepest crimson doth suffuse

Her ever lovely face.

She says that she must leave us all

Before‘ tis very long,

To go to yonder Heaven above,

And join in Angel's song.

“And when she looks at our dear babe

Her tears flow forth again;

Yet never does she, father dear,

In words of you complain,

But says that she will try to make

A happy home for you.

Come ill, come well, whate'er betide,

She'll loving be and true.

“O, father, hasten with me, then,

Before my mother die!

When I left home, your charming boy

Most piteously did cry;

It would have moved a heart of stone

To see the tears he shed;

His shrieks make worse the dreadful pain

In mother's throbbing head!”

The drunkard stood in solemn mood,

In riveted attention.

This strong appeal did make him feel

Most serious apprehension.

He took the hand of maiden bland,

And hastened fast away;

Nor turned his face on that dread place

Which had made him its prey.

They reached the house where that dear spouse

Was breathing out her soul.

From sense of sin he rushes in,

Nor could himself control.

Upon his knees in agonies

He cries aloud, “My wife,

Do speak to me, for I will be

A husband, dear, through life!”

No voice there came; the vital flame

Had fled, of child and mother.

He could not stay, so turned away,

With look that made me shudder.

That little girl with hair in curl

At last to him doth speak:

“My father dear, your heart I'll cheer,

And blessings for you seek.

“How We must pray, she taught the way

Who now has gone to bliss.

Nor would I be the least degree

In duty found remiss.”

Her artless strain made him refrain

From purposes most foul.

In after years she calmed his fears,

And saved at last his soul.