OF TWE imivHBsrri "HIGH JOE;" OR THE LOGGER'S STORY^ J. BURRITT SMITH. People never go right until they have tried all pos- sible ways of going wrong.— Herbert Spencer. The Busy World Publishing Ca PUBLISHERS, MADISON, WISCONSIN. PRICE IN PAPER, 50 CENTS; CLOTH, $1 00. Copyright, 1893, By J. BuRRiTT Smith. o Sgs"/ DEDICATION. To the "boys" in the woods, the mills, the work- shops, the mines and the factories, constituting to- gether the grand army of toilers who make possible comfort, wealth, progress and a better civilization, but who are today the prey of high-handed robbery and avarice, often under legal sanction, this unpre- tending volume is dedicated. The hope of its author is that it may arouse the careless, awaken the sleepers and enlist a general sympathy between all classes, to the end that a spirit of brotherhood may cement all hearts and lives, purposes and laws in a national, fraternal bond stronger than any or all forms of op- pression, and make ours truly "the land of the free and the home of the brave." M644611 CONTEXTS. CJiapter. Prologue. — The License Srcrifice. 1. Turkey Dinuer. 'J. The Logger's Story Opens. 3. Our Manufactories. 4. Practical Methods Applied. 5. A Liquor Maniac. . 6. Slaver and Slaves. 7. A Daring Sermon. 8. A Vital Question. 9. Who Pays. 10. The Mills Grind On. 11. A Break in the Clouds. 12. Merited liebukes. 13. A Realistic Dream. 14. Drive on Your Bone "\Vpgon 15. Pictures from Real Life. 16. A TelliDg Speech. 17. A Congress of Xations. 18. Fires Without and Within. 10. Men W^ho Sell Us Out. 2). We Part Company, Today. 21. A Typical Campaign. 22. A Woman's Speech . 23. Rum's Hollocaust. 21. Prohibition Prohibits. 25. Tariff and Protection. 26. The v^'ork of a Plotter. 27. The Old, Old Story. 28. The "New Jerusalem Infernos." 29. No Prayin' Dan'l. . . 30. The Sirocco'ji Blast. 31,, WhippoH to Death. 32. Rescued in Exile. 33. Come to the Kingdom. Page 1 . 6 13 20 27 . 34 42 . 49 57 . 65 72 . 79 86 . 94 103 . 112 121 . 128 133 . 141 14S . 150 1C3 . 108 170 . 181 190 . 196 204 . 212 218 . 226 234 PREFACE. In offering the following story to the public, the author wishes to make a few words of explanation as to its origin and purpose: In the early winter of 1891-2, some of our friends planned to send a prohibition paper to the many logging camps in the northern part of the state. It occurred to the writer, that perhaps more attention might be secured for the paper, were it to contain a story that would interest the "boys" in the woods. The title and a brief outline came to the author, and he wrote the first chapter and offered it for pub- lication. It was gUtdly accepted, but in a few weeks the plan failed for lack of funds. The story, however, was continued, and words of commendation with requests that it be put in pamphlet form, began to come, as the story grew. Constant requests and inquiries for '"High Joe" since its completion, have led to its present publication. As to its form and general trend, a word may not be amiss. Only one purpose influenced its production — the presentation in a rugged and vivid way of the terrible evils of the nation's legalized drink- traffic, and the criminal complicity of good men in sanctioning it. "High Joc" is emphatically a story of "miidnight vigils", nearly every chapter having been written between seven and one o'clock at night, as it was needed for publication, and when the writer was tired and exhausted by incessant labors and a multi- tude of cares. It was set up from the pencil original, with only the few corrections that the press of other VI PREFACE. work allowed. In this latter work he was greatly assisted by his wife, who,, in all of his writing, is an ever present "help-meet." In republishing the story, other work and imited time have made possible only slight revision or change. Scarcely an incident is related that a similar one in actual life has not been known or clipped from the daily press. Could we have done so, and be true to our purpose to paint, as far as possible, a true pict- ure, we would gladly have omitted the unpleasant scenes and sorrowful events. Should any one think we strike the indifferent professor or the careless church too hard, we can only say that we esteem Christ's church above all earthly organizations, and believe that the Gospel is the power of God to the conversion of the license-voter, no less than the licensed-seller or the liquor- drinker. We have not overlooked the fact that many churches, ministers and members are giving heroic battle to the rum host, nor that the greatest strength of the movement for its overthrow is che love begotten in consecrated hearts by the spirit of the Master. These rather lengthy explanations have been deemed necessary, lest some one through haste, misconcep- tion of the author's motives, or aroused prejudice may be induced to close the following pages and give their sorrowful truths no consideration. Prayerfullv and lovingly we submit "High Joe" to the hearts of all earnest readers, hoping that when its pages are perused, each -vir be prepared the better to answer the momentous question, in the fight with this great evil: "What shall /do?" Madison, Wis., June 1, 1893. The Author. PROLOGUE THE LICENSE SACRIFICE. A mother sits weeping in sorrow and shame; Her heartstrings are bleeding, her love all aflame; While the cry from her heart for her long erring boy- Is, "Where, oh where! is my darling, my Roy?" "My boy," she cries, "with his laughing blue eye, "And the smile that he gave me whene'er he passed by; "His light, joyous step, his ringing ha! ha! "His call, as he entered; 'where, where is mamma?' "I rocked his wee cradle and wheeled his small cart, "That carried my treasure, the joy of my heart; "Then taught his small feet the way they should run, "And laughed at his rollicking, innocent fun. "I sang with my bonnie, and heard his sweet prayer; "Then asked the dear Father to lead him with care, "^Yhile up toward the stature of nmnhood he grew, "The boy of my heart, so honest and true. "In schoolroom, on playground, at home, on the street. "Wherever he"d go, whoever he'd meet, "The same pleasant smile and light, cheery word, "Earned rightly for Roy, the nickname of 'Bird.' "He grew to full manhood, tall, stately and true, "With smile still as sweet and eye just as blue, "Then out in the world he went from our hearts. ♦•To the battle of life in the world's busy marts. "He went, but he came not; oh, now can I tell, •♦Of his fall from our heaven to the world's deepest helll "Down, down from the teachings of mother and home, "To the vileness and sin of a licensed saloon VI IT PROLOGUE. "lie went away to the wild, throbbing west, "And entered its life with his young manhood's zest: "He breathed the free air, but a poison it bore "From the depths of many a high licensed door. "He breathed of that poison, then entered the door, "Where virtue once entered, is virtue no more; "And, all of his passions aflame to destroy, "Went down lilie a wreck, my once noble boy. "lie sleeps in a valley where gay western flowers "Grow tiiick o'er his grave, fed by wild mountain showers; "While the mother that bore him, now robbed of all joy, "Sits comfortless, mourning the death of her boy. "Oh I why did they dig such pits for his fall? •'And why did they send to the East such a call? "Were there not enough boys in all the broad West, "Without sending and taking my brightest and best? * Did they need for the building of city and stre:*. "More lives than ihey had. more innocent feet? "So laid broad their nets, then sent for my boy, "Only to lare, to entrap and destroy? "Must they build bro^d their cities Lnd high college spires "By licensing sin's most unquenchable fires? "Will they never cease sacrifice, never be done "The selling our boys to the demon of Rum? "O God, reach down, and s^ve other boys! "Rob not other hearts, like mine, of their joys! "Waken men; rescue manhood; drive Rum from all lands; "Oh! spare mother hearts by Omnipotent hands. ^'God tcaken the church and icaken the state! ^^Au'aken our j^eople, the inch and the great! ^'Hurl thiniflerholts doivn, if needed, to stay "r/i/.s tru^fjic in blood. God hasten, I pray!"' J. B. Smith. March, 1S5S. HIGH JOE; OR, THE LOGGER'S STORY, CHAPTER I. TmKEY DINNER. The winter had set in, and a heavy freeze and good snow made it possible for the loggers to get into camp and begin the long winter's work, nearly a month ahead of the usual time. In the 'Carson Camp" the men had been at work for two months, and the great piles of logs upon the skidwavs, stretching along the bank of the river for half a mile, told of the hard work that had already been done by a body of fifty sturdy choppers with teamsters, scalers, cooks and tote-men. When the crew arrived at the camps, late in Octo- ber, fifty miles from any cit\, and in a wilderness of pine swamp, there were many who felt lonesome and dreaded the long, solitary winter so far from home, news and civilization. This feeling was not improved by finding already there as foreman, the man from whom the- camp took its name, and that he was a cold, 1 2 HIGH JOE; OR, heartless taskmaster, bound to do the best he could for his employer without regard for the feelings or comfort of the men. Most of the choppers had been together for several winters; but among the few new men was a giant- like fellow, whose pleasant face and broad forehead rose six feet and four inches above his moccasins. Though a stranger, all had come to look upon "High Joe," as they dubbed him, not only as a friend but the leader in all plans, except those of the foreman. <'New Year's" morning dawned dark, promising snow before night, but as usual, the foreman called all hands at half-past four that they might be out and ready for work as soon as any light appeared. "I am not going to work to-day," called High Joe, loud enough to be heard by all the camp. <'We have worked two months, fourteen hours a day, and a holi- day will do us good and be no loss to the company." With this he rolled over on his bunk and was soon Bleeping again. His example was followed by the others, who knew Joe expected it, and when the foreman came in, half an hour later, he began swear- ing and cursing more than usual, and threatening all with discharge if they were not up at once. "I say, boss," called out Joe, "we are going to have a holiday and don't want to be disturbed any more." 'J here was something about his voice that told the foreman it would be best to regard the brawny giant's words, and he went out muttering. At a late hour the crew rolled from their bunks, feeling several years younger for this unusual sleep, THE LUGGER'S STORY. 8 and In good spirits to enjoy the day. The cook served a hasty breakfast, promising to make up for it by turkey for dinner; and all began wondering how such an article found its way so far from civilization, especially into the Carson Camp. High Joe said nothing, but examined ten fat turkeys with evident pleasure. To some of the in- quisitive, however, the cook volunteered the informa- tion, that the "high flyers" had come in with a tote- team the night before, and he believed High Joe had something to do with it. The foreman left before breakfast, saying he would see who was boss, and drove rapidly toward the- company's chief camp, twenty miles away. Just before dinner the head partner in the Logging- Company came in by another road, and, as he saw the men in camp, inquired the reason. Joe explained,, and invited the ''Colonel" down to see the work they had done. "All right, boys," he said on returning. "I think you are entitled to a holiday. No other camp has done as well." The Colonel was invited to sit next to High Joe at dinner — the latter acting as host — and was not a little surprised at being asked which part of the turkey he preferred. "I'll have to inquire," said he good humoredly, "how ten fat turkeys wandered this way, or who pays for them?" "We'll find some one who can explain, if necessary, " said Joe, offering him a well-loaded plate. "There's no bill against the company." 4 HIGH JOE; OR, When the dinner was finished and cleared awaj , a conference of the men was called and the Colonel in- vited to be present. The story of the unkindness of the foreman and his disregard of all, was quickly told, and a general request presented for his removal and High Joe's appointment. Before night, after con- ferring with the teamsters and others, the request was granted, causing great rejoicing. Just before dusk, Carson drove in, and was told of the change by the Colonel. "It's no use; men are men, and deserve to be treated like men," was his reply when the former tried to make excuses. "This High Joe is evidently the man for the place. You can stay or go, as you please." "I'll go," was Carson's answer, "but I suppose I'll have to wait till morning. You'll see your mistake in three months. As darkness settled over the forest, the wind sighed through the trees, and great flakes of snow fell thick and fast. "There's a heavy storm brewing," said the Colonel, "and I fear I won't be able to get home to-morrow." "Never mind," said High Joe; "we'll make room for you here. We want you to join us in the dining- room and enjoy our New Year's exercises." A half hour later, the long, log dining-room was lio^hted by all the teamsters' lanterns, cleaned as bri^'-ht as rubbing could make them, and the large stove in the center added to the good-cheer by its red- hot sides. The tables were pushed against the wall and L.ll the chairs and benches in the camp were THE LOGGER'S STORY. 5 arr anged around the stove, so as to accommodate the sixty men, who found places, evidently expecting something but notkaowiag what. A few moments later, High Joe walked in with a barrel on his shoulder ; and, setting it down, knocked the head out in a rwinkle, revealing as fine a lot of red apples as one often sees. With, "help yourselves, boys," he went out, only to return again with two pails full of mixed nuts, which he proceeded to turn into pans and basins, and pass around. When all were well supplied with apples and nuts, none knowing how they got there, Joe said: "Now Colonel, our only charge can be paid by a story. We want half a (iozen, long or short, and you are the man to lead off. When all the rest have done, I'll tell how the turkeys, et cetera, came here, and give you, to close with, my story. Go ahead, Colonel." HIGH JOE; OR, CHAPTER II. THE logger's story OPENS. The Colonel began, and. as the apples and nuts dis- appeared down the throats of sixty interested Listen- ers, told of his boyhood in Wisconsin, where, in the logging camps of the early "sixties," he lea-ned the practical knowledge that enabled him later to be- come a successful and rich lumberman, who yet had no greater pleasure than the four or five months of rude life each winter in the logging camps with his men. Gne after another the stories were told, till High Joe's turn came, when all sat back in evident expec- tation of getting the best of the feast. Xo one knew just who he was, where he came from, or anything of his past life. With a modesty that fittingly accom- panied his "big," unselfish heart, he had never boasted of great deeds, nor told what such a giant might have accomplished. Joe was a worker not a talker, and no man could equal his steady, unerring swing of the ax, or the number of trees that fell before his relentless chop, chop, all day. All loneliness had disappeared, and the days were gliding by almost unheeded. As the more thoughtful ones now looked back, they realized how different life had been thus far in the Carson camp, from former w'i.ters. A few books, papers and magazines h^ THE LOGGER'S STORY. 1 rc--iilarlY found their way thither, and Joe was al- ways the first to digest them. With a remark about this article or that book, he had kept the camp alive vith discussion and Rtudy, till books were well thumbed and papers and magazines literally worn out. The various packs of cards that had found a place in most of the choppers' outfits, had received little wear, evidently failing to amuse as ^ in other days. At first, the foreman ph. laed for work on Sun- day, "but Joe ''set his foot on if by saying, "I can do" more chopping in six than in seven days, and I am here to do my best;" and soon, by general consent, all followed his example. With the same tact, he then made the day so enjoyable that all looked toward it with the brightest anticipations of the week. Thus he had become a power, shaping everything for the happiness and good of others, the ^'cw Year's dinner being the result of this thoughtfulness. He began by saying: ''Those turkeys and apples were good, weren't they, boys?" '"You bet!" was the general response. "Best day I ever spent in camp," said a lank Mainite. "Beo-orra, I niver ate sich a dinner," laughed Pat Kinnev. "Zee cook and zee hoste am like zee Frenchman," grinned a little Canadian from Montreal. 'How did you get them all, Joe?" asked the Colonel. "I wrote a friend of mine in C," was the reply, "telling her about our camp, how we enjoyed the f niniJ JOE: OR, books and papers she had sent, and wished dU who had remembered us, a merry Christmas and a general good time eating Turkey. I closed by saying we would have bread, pork and beans for breakfast, pork, beans and bread for dinner, and beans, bread and pork for supper. She took the hint, as I hoped she would, and wrote me wnat she would send. I ex- pected the things for Christmas, but they were switched off and only came last night. So you see whom we have to thank, 'Tis one of those unions of good women v.-ho remember every- body's boys whether young or old. They work to help the fellows in the city, the woods, the mines and everywhere. You'll know how I came to know and think so much of them, when you hear my story. I am not proud of the past boys, but will tell it that no one here may suffer what I have. " Leaning his chair back against the wall, while the blood coursed over his face and brow as though driven by heavy heart-throbs, and a deep but distant fire burned in his eyes. High Joe began his story: •«I was born in New York, where my father was a prosperous business man in a small city on the Erie Canal. He left my training to my mother, a woman of strong character and lovable disposition, the friend of all who knew her. She was scrupulous in the neatness and order of the whole house, and, being a a college graduate with literary qualities well devel- oped, spent all time not required for household cares and social calls, with her favorite books and authors. The one annoying thing in the house was her restless, noisy, growing boy. There was no place for him in THE LOGGER'S STORY. 9 vhich to develop his many-sided nature. The wood- shed was too full for a work-shop and the kitchen too nicely scoured and polished for whittling or any boy- ish muss. The yard was so nicely sodded that no one could run or play ball there. Father found time after tea to sprinkle the lawn for half an hour and admon- ish me with, 'Now Joey, remember and keep off the grass; we want our lawn to look as well as the others.' I rapidly became acquainted with -irself once more. I'll see you in the morning. " * • • With & p; 'se, High Joe looked around, saying; "Getiinfr ired boys and want me to stop?" "Beo-or'-o^ no," answered Pat Kinney. " It eze '.ike ze story of ze great novelle, " exclaimed the iijjDf.Vious Frenchman. "We want ze rest; go on. **Go r.v Joe, " said the Colonel ; " it isn't late. We are greu V.y interested. " "i'l.llr'ght then, you shall have it," and he contin- ned: "It '-as some days before I got around, and T felt Bshara?d to meet any one; but no parents could have treater* me more like a son. No word was spoken of the events of that night and day. They faded into the pa&t p-nd I kept away from the saloons. My first vent- 32 HIGH JOE; OR, ure out was to attend church the next Sabbath with Alice and her parents. The confidence of the latter in my integrity was not shaken, and all was hearty friendship. In fact, my fall was too lightly passed over; but I subsequently learned that it was due to the feelings of condemnation which my friends felt for themselves, and the belief that I had been the thought- less victim of poisoned drinks. They little dreamed of the thirst that haunted me day and night. The good pastor Bliss, took 'Blind Bartimeus' as his subject, and preached the first clear, emphatic sermon I had ever heard, on our blindness and complicity, in licensing the liquor-evil and giving it legal sanction. 'Twas almost painful, as he confessed his own infidel- ity and blindness, — a 'traitor shepherd,' as he called himself; but his courage and heroism inspired me with the greatest respect I had ever had for ministers. I had listened to many 'goody, goody' sermons on the evils of intemperance, but they affected me about as soup without salt would — a little nauseating — for I knew the evils better than the speakers did. I knew also that we wild, young fellows and the poor inebri- ates needed not to be told how wrong drinking is, or the evils of the drink traffic, but that it was the well- dressed, prosperous men and women, — church mem- bers and all, — who listened, that needed arousing, even the ministers themselves. As the pastor came to his conversion, he pointed to his scars and exclaimed: " Brethren, I praise God today that these scars will heal quickly and that the fire of hell is not wandering through my frame, burning away . every fortress of righteousness and conscience; but \\liat, oh what, can TBE lOOGEB'S ST0B7. ss ^e say of our victims ^ho are numbered by the hun- dreds and perhaps thousands? Henceforth I am free, and my voice shall not be hushed by a license sop, no matter how high. The Almighty says, 'woe, woe woe to him that putteth the bottle to his neighbors lips • I am done with it, but my work is only begun 1 hope that every one who has named the Chnst of Galilee as his redeemer, will join wit^h me, and, wUb faithful hands rescue the perishing by banishing the 'TcLlottell the feeling as he closed. Dark looks and frowns were spread o'er many faces as they hurried from the church, while others gathered round the pastor to tell how they had been strengthened. As I went down the steps with Alice Wightman, her heart still warm with the emotions stirred, there burned within mine only one consuming flame, the scorpion stmg, crying for drink. , A portly man only a step ahead, said to a friend: "I'll make that fool repent his sermon ere the summer passes. He evidently let sentiment run off with his ' bread and butter. Had I been alone, I might have struck the villain, I was so enraged; but, with the consuming fire with- in to quell, I passed along, the world not knowing what my breast contained, and I not knowing how far the barriers of manhood had been bumed away or whither I should drift 8 34 HIGH JOE; OB^ CHAPTER VI. SLAVER AND SLAVES. After walking a short distance in silence, I said to Alice : "Who is that angry fellow? He walks like a lord. " " They call him the ' Boss, ' " was her reply. " He owns The Herald, the leading newspaper, and is also the proprietor of 'The Palace,' the most richly equipped but worst saloon in the city." "Ah, I understand. That explains his remarks." "Yes, and he owns the men who want office, by reason of the power he possesses through his press and bar. He owns the men who want drink, because he purchases their manhood when they begin patron, izing his saloon. He votes the latter for the former so as to elect them; and then he uses the former to help enslave and rob the latter. Two sets of abject slaves — nay, puppets. He plays both. Then he goes to church on Sunday, rents a good pew, pays liber- ally, silences the preacher, enlists the deacons and other voters by their love of party, till saint and sinner, washed and unwashed, church member and saloon bummer, business man and pauper, good lord and good devil, are all wild in the mad race of poli- tics, each vieing with the other to see who can do the best service for the 'Boss' and his party." I l^ooked up, surprised at such an arraignment from the lips of my fair companion, but she continued; THE LOGGER'S STORY. » ..you'll see something interesting i° *°-'°°"°^'' T • „;.» The eood pastor will catch it. paper, I imagine The g° P ^^^,ui„„ Perhaps the .BO. ^^^ ^^ll^or will be the next St? .T'lrLr surprise to him If Ms here^- LtthinU, Toseph Strong, ^^^^^^J^^^/V S sacrifice may come yet. ^'^'^J'^'' J^ ,bat man before With the attempt to tell you wa -:rt:\Tattlrtlr:^:s ,er. I couW not d^sreg ^^^^^ ^^^ ^.^^^^ ^^^^^^ to assist him. beeing ^^ ^j^,,^ MS getting home ^^^ '^ ^^^^turprised and curious, I went with him. She looke v ^^^ ^ as we marched away, arm in arm, du : ,r-e fellow-feeling for the -f-'^-f ^J"^^" ^ ^^^ he gr'umbled and swore or tried to get away. I saw ^ BIQB JOE; OR, be was in no pleasant mood but h„n„ -ached his house and mounted he poHsL""' •? ^leps. He tried the front door but f ^''"' This angered him and he ^ave it . . •/'' '"'^""^- • soon broughl assistance afdthldn "^° "°'- " ing a beautiful, riehl/drerefrm":^ °^"^'' ''''''■ -;fe';et::;:itrt:w:re;-^- -ermrti:;t-:L?L*,£et'r^^"'r^ .-gs were evidently intensifieT by h U IX' f " voice, containino- a*? if ^,-^ ,. ^ ^ ^ ^^^ AS he steppedler ^th° erjo" "Te" "'^T^^*^- clinched fist, and, before I eS hi,"" '" struck his wife a terrible blow n the fa '7T' smothered groan she fell ot.it- u , ^'"^ ^ richly carpfted stairs ' '"^ '^^ "^^^^ "?- '^a sisttr'^ihTbitt: °'rT' ^ ^^^^^^^ '^ ^^^ - but also InctLirrrer'^NS^"' ^"^r^"' "I'll n T^r>. .. , '^^ofc^i^- v\ 1th an oath and Th, „., „„ .,. -xt'p ;,",- :'r.': * THE LOGGER'S STORY. 37 form to a large sofa in the sitting-room, telling the child to send for a doctor quickly. She hurried out w'ith a white face, while I reached a pitcher of ice- water with the hope of restoring consciousness. As a messenger was dispatched, the child returned with a look of despair such as childhood seldom wears. I could see that she thought her mother was dead, and reassured her by saying: "She is stunned, my dear, but I hope not seriously hurt. " "Oh, isn't she killed?" burst from the pale lips, while great, lustrous eyes, revealing a wonderful Boul within, spoke volumes of fear. "No," I answered, moving my moist hand over the still brow; "she'll be better soon." "A girl brought restoratives, but we labored with- out avail. Then the doctor came and I surrendered my charge, going in search of the husband whom I found in a drunken sleep. What a picture! The brightest lawyer in the city, of large culture, ex^ cellent business ability, and fine physique, stranded in the cursed stupor of alcohol, a shame to himself, a disgrace and terror to his wife and child, a loss to his city, his state and the nation, a slave to rum, a wrecked soul. There he lay, stretched at midday upon his own parlor floor, helpless, physically, men- tally, morally; and all by the deliberate sanction of sovereign, civilized, Christian men, who, in turn for such betrayal, were receiving, Judas-like, a few hundred dollars of the blood money. Think of it, ye gods and spirits of justice; a human being in the nineteenth century, sold to the blackest bondage, the 38 HIGH JOE; OR, ii:: = t i:^-'^ = s iilaverv, torture and ruin that man, In al" :.■= --ijrnanity, ever conceived! Nay, not one, bui :'::: : = ':.-a5 thus sold each year, while the open doors lure fresh victims into that ceaseless tramp, tran*- -^ 'he death-march army. But I did not thii : *:bese things then. I tjo was blind, and sa^ ::-- . drunken fellow. F^- " 'r':\z be of little further service, I wa.^. :. "here I received a motherly greeting trom Mrs. Wightman, and followed her to the dining-room for a lunch. As she helped me to those appetizing dishes which only a real home- maker knows how to prepare, we talked of the senr-Ti -"" — -^.t its ejects would probably be, I tel-ii^- ^.reat of the Boss. On ac;: -rnin^ to the sitting-room, we found Alice earnestly engaged in discussion with Deacon Johns, who deprecated the "unwise course" the pastor had pursue!, and especially so, as he had never consulted with his "spiritual advisers." "It is the beginning of strife, I fear, " he remarked, "that n:ay wreck the peace of the church." The girl I had left an hour before sat before that pious old dreamer, and the light, burning in her eyes, revealed deep thoughts, restless for expression. She, upon whom I had looked as a child, had suddenly expanded into a woman whose moral insight and loyalty to conscience said, through those eyes, "Stand back; a soul has tahen command." Suddenly she ashed : "Brother Johns, vrhat did the minister say that troubles you so?" THE LOGGER'S STORY. S? "Oh," was the answer, "he made such a needless attack on license, antagonizing men like Colonel Bray. It will drive them from the church, I fear, and we shall not only lose their tinancial support when we have a large debt on our hands, but the opportunity to do them good." I sat where the play of feeling on that queenly face told me the thoughts which such pharisaical words aroused. With great self-control, she sup- pressed the reply, and merely asked: "Deacon, why do you men license the saloons?" "We can't help ourselves, my dear. If we didn't, they'd sell anyway. Men always have sold, always have drank, and always will. You can't make them temperate by law." "You don't think selling or drinking is right, deacon, and yet you give both permission?" "No, I don't think either right, and we don't give permission; we simply tax the sellers, so as to make them pay a part of the expenses they cause to the city and county. " "You're sure it isn't permission, but a simple tax?" "Yes, my dear, I'm very sure." "Then you could go down, pay the tax, and pro- ceed to sell, if you chose?" "I suppose — by getting a license." "But suppose the council wouldn't grant onel You know, deacon, they must be men of good moral character;" and-she laughed a rippling laugh. "Well, I don't suppose I could sell, legally, with out a license. " iO HIGH JOE; OR, "Then you icoidd have to get permission?" "In one sense, I suppose I would." "Deacon, who says you can't sell without a license?" "The state, through its statutes, my dear. The le^fislature makes the laws. " "And who is allowed to take away that embargo?" " The city council, or village or town board. " "Then if they should refuse every man who applies, we'd have prohibition?" "I suppose they have the right to refuse, if they choose. " "Deacon, how many men are there in this city?" " About ten thousand voters. " "And how many licensed saloon keepers?" "One hundred. " "Then we have prohibition for nine thousand nine hundred, and license for one hundred?" "It looks a little that way, Alice, but you women don't understand such things. " "And prohibition is enforced for all but one man in each one hundred?" "I say again, my dear, that you wome:i don't un- derstand these things. If you ever become voters you'll look at them differently." With great persistence she continued: "And still you ninety-nine can't keep the other fellow from selling, so you vote to give him permis- sion? O, deacon, do you really think so?" "Well, perhaps we could stop him if- we were all uni- ted, but we're not" THE LOGGER'S STORY. 41 "Why not unite, then?" What shoidd.be done cafi be done. " Just then the door-bell rang, and Mrs. Wightman found a messenger from Major Wright's, with the re- quest that she go and sit with the wife, who had re- covered consciousness but was very weak. He could tell no more. "I wonder what has happened!" exclaimed Mrs Wightman, as she came from the hall. I explained, and volunteered to go with her. "I wish you would," she said. "He may require your attention. " We reached the house a few moments later, when suddenly we heard piercing screams, and I rushed in, a terrible dread giving speed to my steps. HIGH JOE; OR, CHAPTER VII. A DARING SERMON. I never had known fear, but, as I opened the door into the sitting-room, a sight met my gaze that made my blood run cold, and paralyzed for a moment every nerve. On the floor lay mother and child clasped in one another's arms, while, with glaring eyes and de- moniacal leer, the husband was trying to drag his vic- tims by their long, golden hair. As he pulled with a madman's strength, their screams seemed music to his crazed brain. The wife had caught with one hand the edge of the door so as to stop all progress, and the torturer pulled away, not with the purpose of moving them, but that he might revel in their agony. Quick- er than it takes to relate it, I comprehended all, and looked about for a weapon. Seeing in the corner a number of canes, I grasped one and sprang forward, aiming a blow at the tormentor. He was too wily, thus to be foiled, and loosing his hold, leaped aside. I raised the prostrate forms and laid them upon the couch; but scarcely had 1 done so, ere 1 saw the wild eyes glaring through another door. As I grasped again the heavy cane, I discovered he was similarly armed, besides having a large knife. A battle was on, and its outcome might have been doubtful, had not Mrs. Wightman already called a policeman. At this moment the front door opened and the madman turned. Improving my opportunity, I reached him with a bound, and, with a heavy blow, felled him. Before THE LOGGER'S STORY, 43 • he could rally, the officer handcuffed and se- curely pinioned him. With superhuman strength, he arose, despite our efforts, and the wild, the agonzing shrieks, as he clutched at his throat, crying, "Take them off, take them off, they are strangling me I" told how far he had already gone in the broad high^vvay of death, opened by law and sanctioned by sane, intelligent men. As quickly as possible, we hurried the fiend-haunted man into the street, and hailinor a passing- wa-Ton. bore him to the next station in that death-doomed poad — the law's well equipped jail, strong enough to defy flesh and bones, though nerved by a hundred demons. Driving rapidly down the street, we saw many on their way to a communion service at the church, among them Deacon Johns. The cries and oaths of the prisoner arrested all eyes, and as we passed that ''pillar of the church," the scorpion's sting seemed to arouse the shrieking man to double fury. Risinor to his feet, he shook his manacled hands toward the dea- con, and shouted : "Take them off, they're strangling me, burning me, sinking me to Hell I Good bye. Deacon Johns, and all your white-robed crew. Too late, too late! Oh, I'm dying, I'm dying 1" and he threw himself wildlj backward. As we stopped before the jail and hurried the rar- ing prisoner within, business men, church-goers* women and children, stopped to witness the scene. "Good enough for him; he might have let liquor alone;" said a hard-faced bank president. 44 HIGH JOE; OR, "The way of the transgressor is hard," added a stoop-backed, white-haired old minister, as he hurried on to his devotions. "As we sow, so shall we reap," came in a well- rounded phrase from a tall, - broad-shouldered, well- dressed college professor, as, with gold-headed cane, polished boots and glossy silk-hat, he strode along. "The divil a bit any on ye cares for the poor mother's son what's drunk yer vile whiskey over the grand Palace bar 'till the hobgoblins o' hell has got their snaky arms around him. Ye all turns yer backs on the poor bye and let's the law and the divil take him. Oh, marcy, marcy, marcy, on the poor, poor manl" was the sympathetic language of a moth- erly Irish woman. Leaving rum's victim in the horrors of delirium tremens, I hurried for a doctor, and then returned to the blighted home. Friends and physician were doing all possible to overcome the maniac's work. The sweet-faced Elsie — the father's pride but now his victim — lay moaning on a bed. Though soothed by the doctor's opiate, the horrors of those few ter- rible moments could not be erased from the delicate brain. Unconscious and still, with bruised face and hands, the wife lay where I had placed her. Anxious, ly the doctor shook his head and murmured, "Too bad, too bad I" Seeing I could be of no service, I wandered down the street, my nerves fired by excitement, and the infernal appetite clamoring for drink. My salvation in this hour, lay in the bitter and turbulent thoughts surging through my brain. I had only feelings of THE LOGGER'S STORY. 45 sympathy and sorrow for the man who was then be- ing tortured by the troop of fiends which the state's law had set at liberty and given leave to rob and blight; but for the men and laws that made it pos- sible, nay, sold permission, my heart was full of curses. As I strolled along, not knowing whence I went, my ear caught sounds of Christian hymns, sung slow- ly, dolefully. I stopped and looked around, only to* find that I was near the church door. Listening, I distinguished the words: ■'Mast Jesus bear the cross alone, "And all the world go free T "No, there's a cross for every on«, " And there's a cross for me." My brain reeled with sudden anger, and a strange power impelled me to enter. As I stepped inside the door, I knew not what was passing, for, through my mind, ran every word of cursing and blasphemy that I had ever heard. I loathed, abhorred the men who sang such songs, knowing, as I did, how guilty they were of the ruin I had that day wit- nessed. I had no love, qo charity for them ; but, had there been a dynamite bomb within reach, I could with pleasure have grasped it, and blown them all into eternity. I was wrong, but how terrible the eviU I had seen! At last another hymn aroused me: " Come tLou Fount of every blessing, " Tune my heart to sing thy praise ; "Streams of mercy never ceasing, " Call for songs of londest praise.** 1 waited till the last line was sung and the bene- diction pronounced; then, little knowing what I did, I shouted : 46 HIGH JOE; OR, *'Come thou Fount of every blessing? No, come thou fount of every cursing. — Tune my heart to sing thy praise? What for? One hundred licensed sa- loons? Never. Tune my heart to shout thy sin, — Streams of mercy never ceasing? No; streams of murder never ceasing. — Call for songs of loudest praise? No; call for oaths and maledictions.''^ Then advancing from the door I raised my hands and, .while shaking them wildly, shouted louder: "G-od don't hear you, ye whited sepulchers. Your hands are red with blood. Murder runs riot in your streets, legalized by your votes. " As I ceased speaking, I saw the fear on many faces, that a dangerous madman was in their midst, and Ts-ithout another word, I turned and stalked away. My brain was now clear, although what I ^ad said and done seemed like a dream — a wild nightmare. At last I reached the house where I had left Mrs. Wighrman, and crept in as though crape were on the door. All was quiet, save here and there, women ministered at the shrine of sorrow. Upon the couch, the form was still, the face was white. "Is she dead?" I whispered to the physician. " "No," was his answer, "but she will never come to consciousness, I fear. The blows reached far deeper than the tender flesh or bone. They bruised the heart — perhaps it broke. If so, a few hours more will see as sweet and true a woman as ever blessed a man, cut down and dead by his own hand. •• "No, not by his own hand," I remonstrated in a hoarse whisper. " 'Twas whiskey that did it — fired THE LOGGERS STORY. 47 his brain and nerved his hand — the vile drink that law sanctions. Doctor, how black this city's sins!" The doctor sat with his face buried in his hands, and made no answer; so I arose and glanced into the room where lay the sweet child Elsie, across whose forehead was a long, dark bruise, ending in an ugly gash as it entered the golden hair. Sick at heart, I hurried away without further question. The evening air fanned my brow, and 1 strolled on, not heeding whither I went, till I found myself without the city, where, as far as eye could reach, green fields and pastures, groves and rolling hills, told of God's goodness, love and bounty. The birds were twittering in the trees, or nestling fond- ly over speckled eggs or downy fledglings. The sheep and cattle grazed contentedly upon the green- sward, or lazily reclined in shady nooks and chou-ed their cuds in perfect satisfaction. I clambered up a hill and threw myself in wild abandon, full length, upon a massive rock. Gazing to westward, I saw the golden sun through haze and fleecy cloud, sink. ing to rest The breeze, the 'trees, the hum of nat- ure, and the chords of light spread out so gorgeously above, all spoke of peace, of perfect harmory in all the realm of dumb, unthinking matter. But all this peace could not subdue the storms within. At last I sat up and looked toward the city. The dusky shad- ows were already mingling tree and steeple, tower- ing walls and distant hills in one dark mass of gloom. "Twill soon be dark and then the hundred death- traps of yon city, under cover of the niorht, will 48 HIGH JOE; OR, ply their damning trade, while churches preach and sing and pray, and then away to peaceful slumber," whispered my bitter heart. With a bound and curse, I sprang to the ground, and strode back toward the twinkling lights of Chris- lian homes and-legal hells commingled, naught tell- ing to the wanderer's eye which one was which, ex- cepting that the Devil's fix-e was brighter and shone out with stronger, more inviting beam. "AJi, wan- derer," said I, "which one will ye choose?" THE LOUUEWS STORY. iS CHAPTER VIII. A VITAL QUESTION. Neither the quiet of the evening, the praceful, goiden light in the west, nor my rest upon the rock, was ab^e to still the ever rising indignation in my heart. Before my vision, af 1 hastened toward the city, a dark and ghastly panorama constantly re- volved. The pictures were, a lovely ^ife struck down; an innocent child's white face, written with a terrible fear that her mother was killed; a strong man, crazed and almost helpless, falling upon his own parlor hoor ; a maniac, gleefully dragging that wife aud child by their golden curls; two unconscious ODes, almost if not quite murdered; a man in the horrors of delirium tremens, cursing and raving as he was hurried to the lock-up prepared by the city for its victims; and then, a body of the men who had helped to make such scenes possible, singing sacred songs, and eating and drinking the symbols of a Savior crlicified to save weak and fallen men. 1 was no more the careless man who had sauntered to church by the fair Alice that muj-ning, than the man of forty is the boy of four. 1 had that day come to see the licensed sale of aicoh^>lic drinks in all its hor- rors — the blackest, most gigantic crime of crimes that nations ever sanctioned. Our liberty seemed like a farce, and our boasted republic but the breed- ing, fattening place of fiends incarnate, prepared to torture men as tyrants never dreamed, 4 60 HIGH JOE; OR, "A city of free men?" queried conscience. "Nay, nay," came the cry from the very atmosphere 1 breathed," but a generation of abject slaves, purchas- ing some surcease from our own ills or burdens, by turning over to the torturer, for a price, the unwary, unprotected, unthinking, and weak ones, that out of them he may make spirits fit for hell. Aye, more; each drink-den is an open gateway thither. " I stopped my rapid march, overwhelmed by the thought : " A hundred open gates to eternal dam. nation, in one small city; two hundred thousand in this grand republic, and the flower of our homes, our colleges, our professions, our yeomanry, going in thereat. " I sat down by a babbling brook, and dipping my hand into the cool water, lifted it to my thirsty lips. 'Twas sweet and refreshing, but could not quench that strange, infernal thirst that arose from every re- cess of my being, unconquered and unsatisfied. I had felt strong to battle for my fellows, but the cry ol appetite unnerved me; and, faint and trembling, 1 leaned back against a giant oak. The brook sang merrily on, the crickets began their chirp, and the frogs their evening song. I know not how long I might have sat, had not a light hand suddenly rested on my uncovered head. I looked up and beheld a pair of lovely eyes fixed in- quiringly upon me. Before I could rise, Alice Wightman, asked: " Joseph Strong ! where have you been ; are yoL- sick?" "No, Alice; I'm not sick," I answered, too intent THE LOGGERS STORY. 61 on my own thoughts to be surprised. "Sit down on this green bank and answer a question for me. " Complying, she looked up and met my steady gaze. I read her anxious thought, but saw it disappear as she aivined the deeper thoughts that stirred my heart. The lovely eyes, the rosy cheeks, the sweet, express- ive mouth, all faded from my view, and I beheld only a responsive heart, a loyal, Christian girl, so sensi- tive and true that I could reveal every doubt or fear,, question or aspiration with confidence. When, by an. intuition born of sympathy, I felt all other thoughts were gone, I asked : "Alice, why are patriotic, philanthropic. Christian men and women deaf or dead to all the miseries be- gotten by the drink-traffic?" "I cannot tell, Joseph," she answered. '"Tis strange but true, and all so common that I have never solved the problem. Perhaps you can from this day's sad experience. " "I cannot, unless, like me before I met that stag- gering man, they have not been touched with the feel- ing of sympathy and love for suffering men. Perhaps they may be born anew and live pure lives them- selves, but stop there; while only here and there is one so far renewed, that he is born all out of self, and mto love and helpfulness for others. Such was the Master in His life of sacrifice; but I am forced to think that many of his disciples are like the self-reli- ant Peter. Not till he has been sifted and all self cast away, did the mighty Searcher of hearts say. «Lovest thou me?' Then, too, for the first time could he answer: 'Yea, Lord^ thou knowest that I love OS HlOE JOE; OR, thee.* Behold the answer, Alice, and the wonderful, double commission: 'Feed my sheep' — 'Feed my lambs.' Not with the growth of a love divine, but with a love /or the divine, came such a sympathy for his brethren, that the Master knew he was ready to fulfil the grand commission. Am I right?" I needed not her answer, for I had read in the deep but happy light beaming from her eyes, that T had wakened strong, responsive chords, tuned to a holier key than my own unchristiike feelings. "Joseph," she said, while the spirit of another Mary beamed from her face, " you are not far from the kingdom. Who taught your lips to speak such thoughts, so true, so beautiful? I never saw so grand a meaning in those words before. Surely the sweet Comforter has found thee at this Sabbath hour, beside the babbling brook, and broken to thy troubled heart some portions of the bread of life, a sweeter, higher vision than the mass of yonder church-goers have received." "No, Alice," I answered; "I've had too many curs- ing, bitter thoughts to-day, to allow aught that leads upward, a welcome reception. I am rebellious and sore with other's wrongs and sorrows to-night, and weak with my own." "Then let us go home," she replied rising. "You have had too much excitement for one day. I was the only one at church who recognized you, and hoped to find you at home. I did not, and so, after going to Major Wright's, strolled out, fearing that you might need mental assistance to get back." I smiled, and as we turned our steps homeward, THE LOGGERS STORY. 53 she told how Elsie had become conscious, but that the mother's pulse still fluttered so feebly and uncer. tain that the doctor had little hope of saving her. Mr. and Mrs. Wightman were anxiously awaiting us; and, as we gathered round a simple meal, all words were softened by a Christian charity for way- ward men, responsive to the thoughts breathed in the evening blessing. This strong man with his loving wife and child, dispelled the angry storms within my heart, leaving in their place a calm but firm conviction of the wrongs of rum, and a resolve to fight it from that day. After tea I went to see Major Wright, requesting that no one sit up for my return, as it might be late. The unfortunate man was a sad spectacle. The ravings of the maniac were largely subdued by the physician's medicines, but the glaring, sleepless eyes, and shackled hands picking constantly at the unseen meshes of dragon-nets or serpent-coils, or brushing away the buzzing flies that, in imagination, stifled his breathing, declared the power of rum. I asked if I could be of assistance, but was assured by the jailer that the crazed man was chained so se- curely, there was little danger or need of help. His bleeding hands and bruised face showed how true he had found the keeper's words. "He can't get off the bed," explained the attendant. "We used to have wild times watching such fellows, but the fun is all taken out by those chains." "Do you have many such cases?" I inquired, struck with the jailor's lack of feeling. "Oh no, not many; three or four a week and som«- M HIGH JOE; OR, times two for a night. Then's when they make Rome howl. Get two such fellows to cursing, and the air becomes about as blue as I care to stand. I can't help wondering, sometimes, what kind of a pandemon- ium they'd make if one hundred or more were let loose in one place. " "The Bottomless Pit," I suggested. "Yes," he answered, with a laugh, "all that the liquor traffic of this nation kill in a year. My f wouldn't they make Hell howl? If some of our in- nocent, license advocates could induce the 'Old Gen- tleman' who keeps that place, to let them look in for a five minute matinee, there wouldn't be any demand for tickets to the evening performance. " "Then you think," I asked, "that license don't help the matter any!" "Help the matter!" he exclaimed with all the scorn he could command; "young man, are you a stranger here?" "Pretty near, " I answered. "Then let me tell you, " he continued, shaking hia long arm and bony finger at me: "We've one hun- dred saloons, but two or three like Col. Bray's 'Palace, ao more harm than all the rest. The kids, the dudes, the white-vested, well-polished-shoe young chaps get in there, and one diamond-studded beast can teach them enough that is vile and devlish in one night to forever stain, if not destroy, all that the best mother can teach her boy during his first eighteen years. " "You talk as though you'd been there," I re- marked. "Been there I I guess I have. You can't tell me THE LOGGERS STORY. 65 anything about a tony saloon. My! what pictures I've seen a bartender or lecherous gambler hand out to a table full of young fellows, in their 'teens' — pictures by the dozen, that would ruin the face of a bronze statue to behold. And then they'd sing songs such as only the 'syrens' would dare to whisper; then another and another, as beer fired the brain. The drink is bad and leads to drunkenness, but nothing equals the heart-stains, soul-pollution, crowded into one hour spent in such a place. They're at it now, from dive to palace, all over this city. " "And while the sleepy deacons, in the churche? pray, "A hundred devils capture souls, a block away." "Then I guess I'll go and see them work awhile," I answered, a sudden impulse seizing me; and I hurried away, thanking the law's hard-handed executioner for his information. As I went by a church, I stepped inside and found the room half full, with fourteen or fifteen young men present. The minister was discussing the doctrine of foreordination and predestination, while the audi- ence seemed to believe it from the sleepy way in which they listened. Hastening on, I visited several other churches, with similar results. Then reaching a low dive, I entered. The room was full of men, old, bloated, bent, feeble, victims of the drink fiend. His mark was stamped on face and form, and the very at- mosphere was loaded with his poison. A few young men, already old in revelry, were in the crowd. "Sureli/," thought I, "this is a gate to Hades;" and I instinctively looked for the dark passage downward. Hastening on from place to place, only stopping 56 niGH JGC;. OH, long enough to get a picture of the rushing trade in hell- wares and the number present, my heart grew sick from all I saw of woe, slavery and impending death ; but I will only tell of one sad scene : I entered the last vile place, kept by a burly brute, counted the inmates, and added my figures:. "Two thousand three hundred and twenty, or over twenty for each place, and more than half of them young men!" Just then the door opened and two children entered, their rags scarcely covering their nakedness. Ad- vancing toward the bar, their pinched, white faces telling tales of hunger, the little girl said timidly: "Please-sir, is-our-pa-here?" "Here? No; get out you brats!" shouted the propri etor. " Ma — said — he — must — be here;" spoke up the boy, hesitatingly, holding tight the hand of the shrinking girl who sought to flee. " D n your ma and the whole tribe of ragged brats!" stormed the enraged man of 'good moral character.' Rushing from his place, he seized the boy, and, with a violent kick at the retreating, almost baby girl, sent her rolling and senseless into the corner. Then hastening to the open door, with a swing over his head, and a cry of pain and alarm from the childish lips, he hurled the boy high into the air. So quickly was it done that I only realized the murderous deed, when I heard the little body strike the stone-paved street, with a dead thud; and my heart stood still. THE LOGGERS STORY, fH CHAPTER IX. WHO PAYS? Before I could move, a sturdy, begrimed man sprang from oue of the card tables, and, with a terrible oath, shouted: "Those are my children. Take that, you infernal brute!" and he struck the saloon-keeper so severe a blow as to send hiiii sprawling through the door. Then jumping upon him before any one could interfere, he stamped and kicked the life almost out of him. I hastened to the still form of the baby girl in the corner, and raising it in my arms, limp and apparently lifeless, reached the door just as the others stopped the crazed parent. As he saw me, he grasped my charge, exclaiming: "Oh, my baby, my baby I Has he killed you?" Pressing her to his. bosom, he rushed out, where kind hands had raised the unconscious and bleeding boy. The face of the father, as he beheld his other child, was dark and threatening. His anger was too severe to be softened by tears of sorrow; and mut- tering to his precious charge, he stalked away, some fellow- workmen carrying the boy. I need not tell what followed — the mother's first grief, or her wonderful heroism in stifling her own sorrow as her unconscious babes were borne into a cheerless, poverty-stricken room, and laid upon a pile of straw and old rags. The husband dared not meet bis wife*s eyes, for a more terrible fire burned thereiii than any stirred in his own besotted breast. 58 HIGH JOE; OR, A doctor had been called, and soon, with a pi<», " came the emphatic answer, the man al- ready quieted and interested. "What is it?" "I haven't time to tell you, but my friend, Mr. Strong, will. Good-by Major;" and the busy man hastened away. As the victim of a barbarous civilization, turned to me with an eager look, I told the whole story. When I finished, he exclaimed: "I'll fi^x them! I wish you'd go and get me the papers. I'll fight the fiends for Ben Pitts if I can'1 for myself. Can you lend a helping hand?" and he looked up inquiringly. "I'll do all I can," I answered, and hurried away. On my return, he exclaimed: "Say, can't you get these fetters off?" "I guess so," I replied, and hastened for the jailor. A few moments later, as the chains fell clanking to the floor, he said: " I wish I was in my office. " Then a thought arrested his eagerness, and he laid down the papers. Looking at me curiously, he asked: 'How did I come here? Do you know?" THE LOGGER'S STORY. 71 "Yes, but that would better wait till another time. " " But I want to know now. Did I hurt any one? Tell me quickly;"' and he grasped my wrist imper- iously. "Gro on!" he shouted, as I hesitated. "Did I do anything to my wife or child? Where are they now? Tell me." "You would have killed them if I had not pre- Tented you. " "Did I hurt them? Don't torture me with sus- pense;" and his voice was full of pleading. "Yes, you hurt them, but I haven't seen them since last night, so I can't tell how they are." "Then hurry away and find out," he exclaimed with a quick push. " Dont be gone long," and throw ing himself back on his bed, he murmured aloud : "Oh, Rum, thou blighting tyrant 1 Thou hast no regard for the rich or poor, the bad or the good. Thou dost gather them all in, broken hearts, blasted kopes, bruised bodies and ruined souls. Thy chain? are stronger than iron and surer than brass." 72 HIGH JOE; OB, CHAPTER XI. A BREAK IN THE CLOTTD. I had not gone far, when I purchased of a news- boy, the leading morning papers, and scanned their contents for the previous day's happenings. In -''The Herald" I found this article: "POLITICS IN THE PULPIT." "Yesterday morning at Christ's church, the con- gregation was treated to a new departure. Pastor Bliss had evidently seen some fool who guzzled whis- key till he was crazy, and attacked his friends. The min- ister went for the saloons, rough shod, condpmniD^ the whole traffic, license laws, the men who vote for restrictions, and the parties that make it possible to regulate the evils. He accused voters and laws, par- ties and leaders, as in league with the devil, and stirred up a hornet's nest which, if we mistake not, may sting him out of his very comfortable and fat pastorate. Men attend church to hear sermons not political harangues. Preachers put their foot in it, whenever they try to instruct in questions of govern- ment and public policy. We trust the pastor will quickly recover from his peeled nose and bruised ear, and regain his equanimity." A little below was the following: "a COLD-WATER CRANK." " Emboldened evidently, Dy Rev. Bliss' violent Ian guage, a cold water crank entered the church yester THE LOGGER'S STORY. 73 day afternoon, at the close of communion service, and not only called those assembled, whited-sepulchers, claiming that their hands were red with blood, but quoted one of the sacred hymns in a most shocking manner. He skipped out before the police arrived or he would now be feeding on bread and water at the city's expense. Our courts don't fool much with such hair-brained fanatics. A few days in the calaboose cools them off. We warn this man and his blatherskite friends to go slow. " In another column, with glowing headlines, ap- peared an item which read : " CRIME IS EPIDEMIC. " " Following the cranky sermon and the exciting scene at Christ's church yesterday afternoon, came the culminating act of crazed fanaticism. Ben Pitts, a low drunkard, stimulated by drink, knocked down, stamped upon and kicked Pat Moran, near midnight, so brutally that he will probably die. Lynch la% is none too good for such a fiend. We have great faith, however, in our courts and officers giving him the full penalty of the law. A warrant is out for his arrest." Finding nothing further, I opened " The News. " In addition to reports similar to the above, but more highly colored, appeared the following: " A WHISKY SELLER. HOW THE TRAFFIC EMBRUTES HIM. " " The two little children of Ben. Pitts entered Pat. Moran's saloon last evening and inquired for their father. Moran was so angered that he kicked the girl senseless and pitched the boy headlong into the U HIGH JOE, OR, street, breaking bones and nearly killing both. They lie at home, unconscious, and may die. Pitts metad out Moran's punishment, as we have elsewhere re- lated. This it tU fruit of tfi/i dive. " " A WHISKY DRIKKZa. HOW ALCOHOL EMBSrTES HIM. * "Major Wright, in a • rium tremens. Tester, day noon, knocked dowL „ c .:e, and later, dragged her and his sweet child Elsie around the house by the hair. Only the interference of a stranger and the prompt arrival of the t- -^vented a double mur- der. The girl has rec as »*o sit up, but the wife is still unconscious. Fears are enlertained of | brain fever. The whisky that did it came from » The I Palace r This is thefruxi of gilded salooru,** | " A WHISKT PETTIFOGGZB. | HOW THI TRAFFIC XMB&UTES THE TOTEB. " I "^We overheard a lively argument, yesterday, be. tween a fair damse' a-d a gray-haired church member. The former condemned the whole license svstem and ■eored the ninety-nice voters for licensing the one kimdredth; while the lart-er apologized, insisting it was regulation and restriction; and when he wm complet^y cornered, crawled out at the little end of the horn, by saying, •you women don't understand these things. * " While we have always stood for license, we ooma pretty near dropping the whole thing when strong churchmen apologize for it. The large revenue to the city is all that prevents us. And all of these tilings are the results of putting a price - 'he most THE LOGGERS STORY. V damnable crime of the centurj. SeU no€^ taste not, and sanctum notj is eridentl j the onl j waj to have a lirelf conscience, for it gires anj man who does either, a seared, tmsafe monitor in his heart. The life-j^Ting breath of heaTen goes oat when the s/>ul aoorchiag breath of hell comes in. Bthold one day's record of licensed damnatuyn ! " T had been reding these as I walked along, but now 3tc<4 still in amaiement. Such words from a wcI!-lcnowa political paper, like the News, showed that the drink demon might go so far as to drire awaj his strorigest supportersw Recovering, I hurried to the iIajor*8 home, where mj ring was answered bjr Alice Wightman. I found the report I had read, true, and the doctor would gire no assurance of tha mother's recovery. " Little hope, little hope, * were his most emphatic words. In spite of a pleasant smile and snbdned « goodbj* from Alice, as I hastened down the steps, I detected an intense light in her eye*, that betokened how deep was her sympathy for the rictims of alcohol, and the hatred aroused against the destroyer. Marking the rarioos articles, I handed the papers to Major Wright, on my return, saying, • those will tell yon alL " His eyes quickly scanned one after an. other, till it rested on " A Whisky drinker. * " O, God ! " he exclaimed ; " have I killed my pa^ tient, loring Erangelxne? Spare her, I beseech Thee, tnd give me power yet to prove bow I lore her and my sunny, laughing Eb^ie. Help me to break, ths chains of appetite and yet be freeu" 76 HIGH JOE; OH, I stood speechless before the torture I beheld. Sud- denly he sat up and almost hissed in an undertone: "Call the jailor; call the jailor I Be quick. " As I returned with him, the excited man tapped the paper with his linger and said, " read that. " *' I know it all," answered the officer, coldly. " Then unfasten my feet quickly and let me go. Shu's dying — my wife, my Evangeline. I've killed her. Be quick." The jailor hesitated and looked at me inquiringly. This was too much for the grief-stricken man, and he shouted at the top of his voice: " Take — these — devil — chains — off. — I'm — a — man — now! Do you hear? " " You unfasten them and I'll go with him," I said, hurrying out to find a carriage; but none was in sight. Starting to return, I confronted the Major, hatless and coatless. He would wait for nothing, but hurried down the steps, fairly dragging me along. I insisted on his walking or he would have broken into a run. Suddenly he saw a carriage before a store, and in a moment the horse was untied. I followed him as he sprang in, and we went flying down the street at a break-neck speed. 'Twas a short ride; then he pulled the galloping hoise up at the block, dropped the reins, sprang over the wheels, through the gate and up the steps like a madman. I was close behind, fearing I must forcibly stop him, when he suddenly halted, turned tho knob as though he were a burglar, and hurried in on tip- toe. He seemed to know just where to go, and before any one could interfere, kneeled at his un- THE LOGGER'S STORY, Tl concious wife's bedside. With the tenderness of a mother, he laid his cheek against the burning temple, and placing his arm caressingly over the still form, sobbed convulsively. Suddenly, unnoticed by the silent friends, the golden-haired Elsie crept from her own bed and knelt by her father. As if by instinct, he slipped his arm around her, and the broken, suffering family was again united. One by one, all, except the physician, stole away with moist eyes, that the hovering angels of life and peace might spread their heavenly balm o'er heart and soul. "But, hark! " whispered the bitterness in my heart. " Did ye hear that fiendish chuckle? All Hell is mak- ing raen'y, for they know that the chains upon the kneeling slave will hold him captive; and, as Rum's demons dance around the hissing, howling pit of woe, they chant in gutteral tones of glee: Laugh and sing, laugh and sing; Earth to Hell its off'rings bring. Love and light, all that's bright, Soon decay before my blight. Fireside altars blaze and bum, But their joys I quickly spurn. Hearts of love soon turn to hate, Then they find, alas, too late, One by one, I gather in All that's best, destroyed by gin. Bar-rooms here and bar-rooms there, Traps of death placed every were. I have fetters strong, and there Are a hundred places, where, Day by day, new ones are forged. Till the gates of Hell are gorged. 78 HIGH JOE: OR, Hearts may sorrow till their gnei, Washed in tears, shall find relief; Then I'll scourge the bondman back Till he writhes upon the rack. Laugh and sing, laugh and sing; Christian men their off'rings bring, Licensing my work of woe, Everywhere that men may go. The house was still as death, save here and there a light step. The two kneeled still beside the bed. At last the husband, in a tender, pleading tone, murmured: "Oh, my loved Evangeline! Will you not come back to us again, if only that I may look into .your once happy eyes and read forgiveness? The accursed bowl shall never touch my lips again, if you will smile once more and laugh and sing, as of old. Oh, my loved one! Can you not hear my pleading?" I shall never forge' the solemnity of that hour. No one whispered, scarcely breathed. Suddenly the un- conscious head turned upon the pillow, the body moved, and a white arm stole slowly out and wrapped itself around the pleader's neck, so lovingly that the doctor also withdrew with moist eyes. One by one, each watcher tip-toed past the door and viewed the sacred sight, none daring to speak or mo- lest them, while, methinks, the angels came and went, carrying the news of life, love, hope and home to heav- enly choirs above. THE LOGGER'S STORY, CHAPTER XIL MERITED REBUKES. A sudden ring of the door-bell broke the oppressive stillness. Alice answered it, and admitted DeacoQ Jchns. " I have just heard," he began, " of the assault by Major Wright, and I came to see his victims. How art) »aey?" '• They are improving, we hope, " she answered. " I would be glad to see them, for I sympathize pro- foundly with Mrs. Wright, " he continued. " Ye.s," said Alice dryly, as she arose; " I will ask s^hether they can be seen. " " By the way," added he, stopping her, "was it Iq this parlor that the Major lay drunk?" " I presume so, " she answered, hastening out. As if he divined her coming, the kneeling man, who had heard all, looked up, saying: " Let him in, if the doctor does not object. Make no explanations. " Hearing the remark, the physician noted the strengthening pulse for a moment, and his face brightened, as he said: " She is much better; he may come." A moment later, the deacon entered and halted before the strange scene. As he stood there, not knowing what to say, the eyes of the injured woman opened, and, with a smile, she said: *' Good afternoon. Deacon. Will you be seated?" 10 HIGH JOE; OR, "I can't stop long," was the rather stiff reply. •• Came in to see how you and Elsie are. " " Were you deeply interested?" asked the Major in a tone of mingled contempt and sarcasm. " I was very much interested in them and yourself." " Hadn't much interest at election time last spring, had you?" and the bloated face looked around with in- creasing scorn. " You were not in trouble then, were you Major?" " Wasn't I, Deacon? Isn't a man who has a drunk- ard's fetters on him, in trouble?" " I presume he is ; but, thank God, I don't know from my own experience. " " And knowing our bondage, you worked and voted for licensing as many of the poison-venders as would pay the price. Had you any interest in us poor fel- lows and our blighted families then.^ or is it only aroused when we have done some awful deed? There are more than a thousand voters in this city, whose so-called sympathy, — like yours, — comes too late. A religion that allows its votaries to license the de- stroyer, and then run after his victims with crocodile tears, won't redeem men very fast. I and my blighted family, with hundreds of others, are the fruits of such unchristian civilization. It is more cruel than the beastly idol- worship that made the ancients throw their innocent children into the red-hot arms of a soulless Moloch. Henceforth I hope to live sober, and were it not for these open dens, I know I could sue ceed. " I stood where I could see the Deacon's face, and knew that the Major's words were arousing only feel- IIIE LOGGER'S STORY. 81 ings of anger. Too courteous to interrupt, he waited, and then answered coldly: "You are in no condition to-day, Mr. Wrio-ht, for reasonable conversation. Some other time we may talk these matters over;" and with this he bowed him- self out. Xn hour later, the doctor announced Mrs. Wright out of danger, and the Major appeared, clothed and ready for work. "Can you go with me to my office?" he asked. "My appetite is crying for drink, and nothing but work and excitement can keep it down. I want your help. " "All right," I answered, and we hurried to the of- fice. "These rooms bespeak the condition of their owner, " he remarked, opening the windows, and dusting and arranging his disordered desk. Then sinking into an easy chair, he said : "Now tell me about that affair, again. It seems like a dream. " As I seated myself, the unnatural glare of his eyes startled me, the muscles in his face twitched conv^als- ively, the color came and went, and I knew from these signs and my own thirst how fearful was his conflict. For half an hour I pictured as vividly as possible all I had seen, till appetite was driven into the back- ground. " I wish you could get the papers I left at the jail, ' he said languidly as I finished. " Will you stay here while I'm gone?" I asked. 82 HIGH JOE; OR, " Yes, I'll rest. I'm very weak and tired;" and he closed his eyes. I hesitated a moment, but as he said no more, started out, only to go a few blocks before I waa stopped by the thought, " What if his cravings should overcome himl " Meeting a small boy, I sent him, and hurried back. As I sprang up the front stairway, rapid steps de- scended at the rear of the hall. A glance into the vacant office convinced me that my fears were realized, and I hastened after the Major. The back door of the "Palace" stood open, and I rushed in only to see him before the long, polished bar, leaning forward, and, with outstretched hands, demanding: "Give mo whiskey, quick, quick; give me whiskey!" The white-aproned dispenser of death poured the drink from a long, black bottle, and handed it to the wild man. With a yell, I reached his side in time to dash the glass from his hand so forcibly as to send it across the bar into a large plate mirror, shivering it from top to bottom. "Major Wright; are you crazy 1" I exclaimed, grasping him by the arm. Then, not heeding a vol- ley of oaths from the bartender, I turned, hoping to lead the surprised man away; but the honor of that high-toned inferno had been too deeply insulted to be passed over lightly, and the next instant a heavy wine-glass grazed my head and struck the Major above the ear, felling him to the floor. Before the defender of Rum's sanctuary could es- cape, T grasped him by the collar and ^'erked him headlong over the bar; then, seeing the Major's pros- THE LOGGER'S STORY. 63 tiate body, I found a pail of ice water, and began bathing his bleeding head. At this moment, the ponderous form of Col. Bray- darkened the door, and, surveying the scene, he ex- claimed : " TVhat's up now? Whose work is this?" The obsequious servant hastened forward to ex- plain, at which the man of high-licensed pomposity and power advanced toward me, with upraised cane,, exclaiming : " "What did you strike him for, you villain? Get out of here!" "Look out, Col. Bray,' 1 said standing erect; " don't charge the villainy of your lackey to me. " " Xone of your trying to lie out of it. You've murdered the Major," he shouted; and his heavy cane descended so forcibly as to shiver it on my upraised ann, leaving little but the gold head in bis hand. Instinctively, acting on the 'first law of life, ' I planted my foot in the center of his corporosity with such force as to double him up at the base of the bar. "Police, Police!" shouted the bar-tender, rushing to the door: but I grasped him with more force than he relished, and seated him in a chair, with instruc- tions to keep quiet. Two ofBcers entered, a moment later, and springing to his feet, the white aproned man exclaimed, point- ing at me: "There's the villain; he's murdered Major TTri^lit and done up the Colonel ! " " What's the matter? " as for the devil's hosts, but to redeem the world requires stalwarts of the vertebra order. Gentlemen, we part company to-day, and never shall meet as ioyal co-workers till you rend and trample the white flag and, raise aloft the oanner of man's redemption. Our hearts are sad with the parting, but duty bids us stand firm. Adieu. •• Quietly and sadly, the little company arose and walked out, while the surprised onlookers were awed into silence by the moral heroism that led the daunt- less six. When they were gone the very air seemed oppres- sive, and the convention adjourned. Those who had manipulated its proceedings sought refreshments in the various bar-rooms, where several of the nominees were already setting up the drinks for the "boys;" while the men who had sold their free, Christian birthright for less than a mess of pottage, silently drove away, disatisfied and uncomfortable. THE LOGGER'S STORY. 145 The dauntless six held a short consultation, and then, with loyalty to principle as their watchword, and a promise to stand shoulder to shoulder in a political campaign, separated. As we drove homeward, I was gloomy and nervous. The appetite for drink tugged at every fiber of my body, impelling the weakened muscle and will tc yield; but my earnest companion drove me to my foster home, saying: "That bundle of sunshine will do you good. She's a prize that ought to nerve any man to resist evil, Joseph. " **I know it," I answered as we came in sight of the towering elms before the house, "but no man with my appetite ought to be trusted with such a prize." Before more could be said, we caught sight of the queenly girl among the flowers on the vine-embow- ered porch, and as she recognized us, she hastened down the walk with a greeting worthy a king. "Miss Wightman, " said the Major, "Joseph is a little low spirited to-night because he didn't get any office. I will turn him over to you. Make him diag- nose his disease, and then prescribe a remedy. Good night. " **What a fine fellow he is when he can let drink alone," said Alice, following him wiih an admiring gaze. Then turning to me she said: " Come and rest yourself in the hammock ; when you feel better I'll get a lunch. " As I stretched at full length on the yielding cords, there stole over me &r> \musual sense of repose, and 10 146 HIGH JOE; OB, confidence in the light hearted girl at my side. Plac- ing her hand on the hammock she pushed it gently, while inquiring as to all that had occurred during the day. Soothed by the easy swing and charming company, I went over the day's doings, and unconsciously dis- closed my own sentiments. The harmony of feeling and mutual confidence increased, till I was suddenly seized with a desire to tell her my own condition. As though divining my thoughts, she said curiously: "Now tell me about yourself, Joseph; what troub- les you?" "I have a wild appetite that is clamoring for drink, Alice, " I answered. "Oh, Joseph Strong!" she exclaimed with a cry oi pain. " What do you mean?" "I mean," I answered, "that I am only a giant in frame. A serpent in my being has broken the golden chain of manhood and forged a slave's fetters, and with his scorpion whip, is scourging me to-night. Do you wonder that I am despondent?" "No, Joseph, but I can't believe it," she replied with a voice of tears, while her face was turned away. Then it was that I told my life's story ; and, as the lights and shadows, the successes and failures, were revealed, the day faded into twilight, and my anxious listener became silent. At last the tale was told, and for sometime the evening hush was unbroken. The girl by my side was taking another step into that higher life that sympathy and suffering opens. The hopes of the THE LOGGER'S STORY. Hn past, the joy of the present, and the anticipations of the future, were warring with the heartless powers of doubt, disappointment and shattered idol- worship. Finally, with a stronger womanhood, bom of the higher view, she arose, saying: "Joseph, there is One who is mighty to save. The chastisement of our peace was upon Him, and with His stripes we are healed. " " For the Lion of Judah Shall break every chain. And give us the victory Again and again." 148 HIGH JOE, OR, CHAPTER XXI. A TYPICAL CAMPAIGN. Alice's words had a strange power over my con- tending emotions, and like oil upon troubled waters, they brought a calm — a peace — a freedom from the rage of appetite. "One who is mighty to savel" echoed and re-echoed in my thoughts with such power as to almost make me forget to follow her to the dining room. As I leaned back in an easy chair which she drew to the table, my heart cried: "Oh, for some one mighty to save I Is there such a power in the \mseen Christ?" Then, like a rushing tempest of darkness and storm, came the blighting suggestion: "He can't save you; if so, why doesn't He blot out the one hun- dred saloons that make it so difficult for you to resist? If He cared to help you, why should his ais- ciples vote to forge chains so strong as to bind two million men, and so heavy as to sink one hundred thousand into a drunkard's oblivion every year? If the Lion of Judah can't save his own followers from such complicity, how can He save a poor drinker — a victim of their political action? It's all bosh, bosh." These thoughts ran through my mind as I sat waiting for the "ministering angel" to bring the lunch. As she seated herself and began turning 1he fragrant drink from a dainty teapot, I said abruptly: "Do you think those words are true, Alice, when THE LOGGER'S STORY, 149 so many who claim to have been saved by that •mighty oce,' sanction a traffic that ruins, every year, more than the whole church converts? My bitter heart says it is all a humbug. " Looking at me intently, for a moment, as though deciding whether I really meant it, she answered, with a gleam in her eyes : "Joseph, I know those words are true. Don't doubt them because Christians are faithless and think they must compromise with evil that good may come. The time is coming when our faces will burn with shame at the bloody part we have had in destroying our brothers; but to-night, Joseph, you need the power of a new heart and a divine helper. " She looked at me with a longing gaze, as though she would have me rescued whether I would or not. I ate in silence, and the hour that might have made me a new man, slipped by unimproved. With almost worship for the Christian girl before me, I finally bade her good-night, only to toss for hours upon my bed, warring with appetite. The Major called for me the next morning before I awakened, and was shown to my room. "Come, Joseph, " he began, "we're going to have a picnic to-night. Blanchard has a letter, saying a fellow will be here to speak on political temperance. He came in early to tell me, and a runner friend, when he heard the name, said: 'Ah, I know him. He is a red-headed Irishman, but I tell you, he's a 'corker.' If you can get people out, he'll open some blind eyes. He can say more in an hour than aiiy man I eyer heard; and you can't find any loop 150 HIGH JOE; OR, holes in it, either'. Now, Joseph, we've got to make ready for him. It's just the time for such an address. See; here's an account of our convention. The News tells it as it was, while The Herald lies like blazes;" and he handed me the morning papers. The latter, in its heading, said: "a grand convention! And a Strong Ticket Nominated. — Harmony and En- thusiasm Prevailed. — A Few Kickers Bolt, but the Sensible, Conservative Members of the Party will all Stand Loyally by the Nominees. — Deacon Johns, who was elected Chairman, is Enthusiastic. He says, we are Well rid of the Impracticable Crowd. — Now for a pull together. " The extended account can be imagined from the heading. Without wading through it, I glanced at The News, which said: "a gospel-saloon pow-wow. Love Feast between Brethren. — Harmony between Bacchus and Christ. — The Lion and Lamb lie down Together. — The Church G-ets a Resolution and the Saloons G-et the Offices. — The only men of Con- viction, Bolt. — Major Wright at the Head of the Opposition. — Deacon Johns Embraces the Tiger.— Music by the Full Band, is Promised, and a Red- headed Irishman at the Court-House To-night." The very tiger of bitterness was aroused in me by those words, but I said to the waiting Major: "I'll help all I can. Will be down in an hour." A busy day followed, and everything possible to THE LOGGERS STORY. 151 get out a large crowd was done. The train bearing the speaker arrived just in time for the lecture. We drove to the depot to meet him, and were not a little chagrined on seeing a travel-stained, rough- bearded man, of small stature, alight and inquire for the Court-House. The Major introduced himself and escorted the stranger to the carriage. "I guess we're sold this time, Joseph," he whisp- ered as we sped away. "I believe that friend of mine has been laughing all day at the clever way in which he played us. I'll get even with him yet. " I hitched the team while the Major, at the lectur- er's request, stopped to help him "brush up a little;" then we entered together. The room was packed with a curious throng, among them many party poli- ticians, ministers, church-members and "roughs." I took a seat in the rear, while the Major escorted the speaker to the platform. As the large man and his small orator marched up the isle, a general titter ran over the crowd; but the former, without seeming to notice it, immediately called the meeting to order. Self-composed, the speaker drew a large roll of paper from his satchel, and laid it on the desk just in time for the Major's eye to catch it as he called upon Rev. Bliss to open with prayer. The scowl on the chair- man's face told his feelings, and I wondered what he would say. He made short work of it, however, and told no white fibs about his pleasure in being able to introduce, etc. ^. Undisturbed by the cool opening or the titter of the crowd, the speaker drew their attention with his first words, and for two hours held his audience spell 152 HIGH JOE; OR, bound. The lines in the Major's face soon relaxed, and he stepped down in front to get the full benefit of the powerful words that came like burning coals from a well filled furnace. Under the inspiring sub- ject of "The Nation's Hope," he showed the desire of man for progress, and his power by political action in this country; the debasing influences of the saloon, legalized by sovereign voters; and the necessity for a new organization, and the steady growth of the pro- hibition party — a party of patriotism, sacrifice and conscience. Had he been pleading a case in court, the audience, as sworn jurymen, must, under the un- disputed facts and law, have given him an unanimous verdict. He closed with an invitation to all to join the new party. The audience cheered and cheered, but the wily politicians frowned. At the close, the throng pushed their way out, only a few remaining to acknowledge the conviction which his words had awakened. The Major was enthusiastic, — as was Blanchard and his friends, — and remarked that we were not out in the political cold, after all, but evi- dently had good company. The speech has since been printed, with others equally strong, I have heard, but I have never seen the speaker. Pastor Bliss was carried away with the address, and several who had been uncertain as to the remedy to be applied, said they were with the new move- ment thereafter. A strong though not large club was organized, with the promise of better things for the future. Alice was delighted at being able to entertain the THE LOGGER'S STORY. 153 speaker, and he gave me some valuable literature which was followed in a few days by more. "Major," I sai'd the next morning, "I'm going to take the stump in our county and make it warm for the old parties. I was one of the best debaters at college and believe I can say much in this new field. " "Good for you," was the answer. "Just take your time to prepare and we'll make the saloon apolocrists squirm before the campaign is over. " The Herald, the morning after the lecture, said; "The war by long-haired men and short-haired women, is begun. Last night saw a motley gather- ing of cranks and fanatics, completely carried away by a red-headed blatherskite, who took special de- light in villifying the grand old party of moral pro- gress and true temperance. Such speeches set the cause back by taking a great, moral question into politics. This howling reformer and his friends would make men temperate by law. He evidently didn't convert maay, for only a handful remained to partake of the short love-feast. Rev. Squeers and others of the best church people left before the ad- dress was done. Their love for the only real reform party can't be shattered by a rabid tirade for two hours, from an irresponsible stranger." The News said, editorially: "The address last evening at the Court House, in favor of a prohibition party, was one of the most can- did, logical and brilliant we have ever had. Xo good cause with such championship can fail to find a place in the people's hearts, despite church conservatism and political ostracism. Whether we ao^ree with a 15i HIGH JOE; OR, man or not, we know when he is candid and fair. We bespeak for independent, political discussion a candid hearing, and voters may then see that parties are neither eternal nor infallible. They may also see that the moment they are seized and controlled by bad men, that moment they not only become useless in working out the reforms of the people but in- instruments of the worst kind oi slavery. Whether or not all drinking is wrong, it is certain that the present legalized saloons are an unmitigated curse, that efPectually blocks the work of all reforms, par- ticularly of the church." In the evening, the other political party held its caucuses. Here again the saloons were well repre- sented, with fewer church members than the other party, but enough to give the gatherings an air of respectability. Those having some conscience were silenced by the noisy, rum supporters, who, as might be expected, had their own way. At the county Convention, a good number of earn- est, respectable men from the country were present, but the ring got control in organization, and passed a resolution to prevent debate. The ticket nominated was similar in its make-up to that of the party of "moral ideas, " every man be- ins acceptable to the "brotherhood of destruction. " "Two county tickets, as near alike as the peas in two pods, " was the way in which The News compared them ; while The Herald praised its own party ticket by saying, it was the only one tnat church people could conscientiously support. Thus the campaign in a typical county of br^ad and THE LOGGER'S STORY. 156 free America was opened, with Rum on top — first, last and all the time — no matter which of the two old parties should win. The only protest came from those who saw no particular good to be lost by the defeat of either. They were the few independent ' voters, that party bosses or the machine lash — the curses of our political system — could not intimidiate. In an article, some days later, the News very perti- nently asked : " Where, in this county, are the more than fifty churches, with at least two thousand members? Are they leading or being led? Are they for saving men or party? Are they for electing a principle or a party's slate? Are the sheep and the goats in a com- mon flock or can you tell, next November, who be- lono"s on the right hand and who on the left hand? Verily, the historic church is in a deplorable condi- tion, when such questions can reasonably be asked. Were the archangel to come, would he not say, 'Be- cause ye are neither cold nor hot, I will spew you out of my mouth'?" 156 HIGH JOE; OR, CHAPTER XXIL A woman's speech. The days following the lecture were full of discus- sion. Whether men had been converted or not, the bold, logical address and the indisputable facts could not be passed unheeded. Politicians may ridicule in dependent action by voters, but, underneath the busy, thoughtless exterior, there is something attractive in truth well told. It may not move them to-day or this year, but sooner or later, the weighty facts that are coupled with the weal or woe of humanity, will bear fruit. In the stores, on the streets, at social and church gatherings, conversation turned upon the evils of the liquor traffic, and men slowly drew the line between those who wished to see the saloons destroyed and those who were willing they should stay. Unconsciously the former drew closer together and were more earnest, while the latter, by the natural result of apology for one evil, came to look with greater leniency and less abhorrence on all infractions of both the moral and the civil law. Public meetings became the general order of all par- ties. I soon entered upon my work as a campaigner, and was gratified by the way in which my addresses were received. The excitement, the desire to excel, the words of approbation, strengthened me to resist my a^:)petite. THE LOGGER'S STOHY. 157 The newspapers of the county ignored us, never mentioning our work, except to disparage it or rid- icule the fanaticism that would "make men sober by law." As I returned from my tours and narrated the interesting events, T found Alice a most attentive listener. So enthusiastic did she become that she organized a ladies' quartet that attended many of my meetings and sang stirring songs. Whether I was becoming a broader man or not, I could see that Alice was daily developing by work and thought for others. In the library at home, I found a new class of books and papers, showing signs of careful study, and from this new student of political and humani- tarian economy, I gathered fresh facts, thoughts and inspiration for my work. Driving from' a distant part of the county, one afternoon, to fill an appointment nearer home, I was delighted to find the quartet there to help me; and teams coming from various directions, promised a crowd. I was tired, but did not realize my complete exhaustion until I found myself too sick to eat; and all remedies failed to restore my gastric muse. "Alice, " I said, as she came in after tea, "you will have to speak for me. T am not able. " She laughed her merry laugh, but I said: "You needn't be amused, for I mean it. It won't do to disappoint people who have come ten miles. " Sobered, she asked : "Joseph, do you really think I can do it?" **Certainly, " I replied; "those books and papers UA HIGH JOE; OB^ haven"' ' '' '^- '::" :i::i:Lg. !'eTer iii:i'i a speech, _. - .. -: Witli m - _• ■;■ - _■ ^it .-::~. ii^. :■:: =. :r:^it I Sii' Jiast before time for the meeting: ~ A".::.e 2, amd aiLMOusly said: '"O Joscj;^ ;' I : OTffit^"* I answered; ** but you ':■'.' f-; '. : v:i through, I'" lc.ve ■:'. ''''■: : ,-. ;:r Half an hour later, a ':.':t r,r: -..gi": 5. '.::ie ::r:in *:h? ci : -. .^ 1 a.-i ::,;tT[ired.* v and at nine o'clock comdnded to -^r. Slipping into the CTOwded room, ui a seat near the door. The tall, gT. ^ig^tman, a^ =1^ ii:Ted 5*;_.. ^5.5 the centra :: a_^ ^J^^^-- H -:: : L -,. ~ -~ i. - . ■ lai^ lamps, neo r ■'. 7 . - .\.\: ■/:- :£iedc and brr~. c,s -;. :: :-;: _ - L '. 'i\ .".'t of sdll, crr,~ie-i : -,. -, -, , ■ 1 ' : ^ i, = V -; -; :_ -. : :. . ^,= . -. i ^ ', :' : rth mnsicall j h\il wiliL y. -"-- : L:-:r^ 7 . ':--:~ -''.\r 'le speaker was -i: : ' man was t _ . n - THE LOGGER'S STORY, 159 been stirred by the thoughts and facts here presented? Is there a real, valid reason, or are we unbalanced fanatics? You may return to your homes to-night, and perhaps thoughtlessly go to sleep ; you may laugh at the men who defy party bosses, and call them cranks ; you may go to the polls next November and support men who are acceptable to the liquor interests, — men who will secure both the saloon and the church votes; you may carry a torch, shout yourself hoarse, and vote for tariff high or tariff low, for hard money or soft money, for this or that issue which professional poli- ticians throw into the political arena to deceive the ten million voters and secure two million office^; but the Almighty hears, and the time is coming when ijou will hear. Why not to-night? "What are political issues when weighted against human suffering? What is party success, when the wheels of that party are red with the blood of the vic- tims it has crushed in its roll to power and honor? " Can one child suffer, and the nation not be weaker? Can one home be robbed and the land of the free not tremble? Can wives' hearts be made to bleed and the land never bleed in return for it? Can man go on sin- ning politically and G-od require no ransom? If I can- not convince your heads, may I not reach your hearts? 1 want to close with a story, and when you have heard all that can be said for the tariff and silver, for ci\il service and party service, then remember it and ask God's help that you may stand for men and prin- ciple rather than party; for an issue that seeks to bring joy for sorrow, and freedom for bondage; for a party that will, some day throttle the monster, Rum. leO HIGH JOE; OR, "Said a gentleman who has spent years in our great cities, helping the victims of that monster: " 1 was sitting at my breakfast table one Sabbath morning, when I was called to my door by the ring of the bell. There stood a boy about 14 years of age, poorly clad but tidied up as best he could. He was leaning upon crutches, one leg off at the knee. In a voice, trembling with emotion, and tears coursing down his manly cheeks, he said, 'I am Freddy Brown, and I have come to see if you will go to the jail and talk and pray with my father; he is to be hung to- morrow for the murder of my mother. He was a good man but whiskey did it. I have three little sisters younger than myself, and we live in a back al ley in a dark and dingy room. I do my best to support them, by selling papers, blacking boots and doing odd jobs, but we are awfully poor. Will you come and be with us when father's body is brought home? The governor says we may have it after he is hung. ' I was deeply moved and made haste to the jail where I found this father. He acknowledged that he must have murdered his wife, but had not the slightest re- membrance of the deed. He was crazed by drink, or he aever would have committed the crime. He said, 'My wife was a good woman and faithful mother to my lit- tle children, and never did I dream that my hand could be guilty of such a crime. The man could face the penalty of the law bravely, but he cried as if his heart would break when he thought of leaving his little children in a destitute and friendless con- dition, and I read and prayed with him and left him to his fate. The next morning I made my THE LOGGER'S STORY. 161 way to the miserable quarters of these children, and found three little girls, clad in rags, upon a bed of straw in one corner. They were expect- ing the body of their dead father, and between their cries and sobs, said, 'Papa was good but whis- key did it;* 'Papa was good but whiskey did it.' In a little time two strong officers came bearing the body of the dead father in a rude, pine box. The cries of the children were so heart-rending that the men could not endure it and hastened away, leav- ing me alone with them. In a moment the manly boy nerved himself and said, 'Come sisters, kiss papa's face, before it is cold.' They gathered about it, smothered it with kisses, and between their sobs cried out, 'Papa was good but whiskey did it;' •Papa was good but whiskey did it. ' I raised my heart to God and said, 'Oh God! did I fight to save a country that would derive a revenue from, a traffic that would make one scene like this, possible? In the whole history of this accursed traffic there has not been enough revenue derived to pay for one such scene as this. The wife and mother murdered, the father hung, the children outraged, the home de- stroyed.' I there promised my God that herealfeer I would vote as I shot; that, as a Christian soldier I shot to save my country from the rule of the slave oligarchy, I would now vote to save it from the rule of the rum oligarchy. I there promised that no po- litical party too cowardly to declare for absolute, uncompromising prohibition should ever again have my support or sovereign ballot. There is but 11 162 HIGH JOE; OR, one such, the Prohibition party, and 1 vote that ticket that I may finish the work at the ballot-box that I began on the field as a soldier. A system of govern- ment that deHves its revenue from results such as are ieen in this touching picture, must either change its eoune or die, unless God's law is a He.'*' THE LOGGERS STORY 163 CHAPTER XXIIL rum's holocaust. As the loggers saw that High Joe had finished his quotation, they broke out with vigorous cheers and band-claps. "Golly, she was a buster!" exclaimed Pat Kinney. " Ze muses of ze heart, makes ze woman one grand speaker, " added the enthusiastic Frenchman. "That was a fine speech, Joseph,** said the Colonel ^ith evident appreciation. "I am more interested than ever. Guess you were not sorry she took your place." "I was not," continued High Joe, "for I felt she had reached their hearts better than I could." Continu- ing, he said: When the crowd saw she had finished, their applause was deafening, and men and women hurried forward to grasp her hand and assure her of their deepened con. victions. No greetings I had ever received equaled these demonstrations. With the grace of a queen, she received them, only saying, as I assured her that I was gratified at her success: "I am glad, Joseph, if I met your expectations. " I drove home with the quartette, arriving about midnight. The first thing that greeted our eyes, was the light of a burning house. When we reached it, the neighbors were carrying the few articles of furniture out, while the firemen made ineffectual attempts to save the building. 164 EIGH JOE; OR, "How did it all happen?" we asked of a brawny workmen. " ' Twas the work of those infernal saloons, again, ** he answered. "Black came home late, full of whisky, and found his wife sick and the room dark. With fiendish cruelty, he went to the stove, took out a shovelful of coals, and going stealthily to the bed, threw them over her, and then held down the bed- clothes till they were in a blaze and he was compelled to retreat. Blistered and burned, with her clothing in flames, she managed to escape, only to fall outside, literally roasted. She has been cai»ried to the hos- pital but the doctor says she canno* live. The fire- men pulled him out nearly suffocated, and saved two of the children, but the oldest, who was upstairs, couldn't be reached. Oh, it is awful, it is awful!" and the man turned away with tears in his eyes. Soon the building .fell, and we hurried home. "Let me change my clothes and then drive me to that suffering woman, Joseph," were Alice's words as she alighted. I complied and soon we were standing by the suffer. er's bedside. With wild cries of pain, she writhed in her misery, her words being audible, only occasionally. We caught at last the words : "John -was a good man when he could let liquor alone. He was drunk and didn't know what he did. " At another time she cried in agony. "I'm dying, I'm (lying, the victim of saloons. I didn't want them and John didn't, but men licensed them in spite of us. I can't live long, but when I'm dead, I'll cry to God night and day until He destroys the THE LOGGERS STORY. 165 cursed traffic or the nation that sanctions it. Tell the churches that I don't want any of their preaching, their songs or their prayers. The sanctimonious words of license voters won't bring any blessing to their yictims, even if God would hear them; but he won't." . , , Then after writhing for half an hour, in her agony be- yond the power of medicine to soothe, she broke out •t "Oh, lam dying, I'm dying. It is getting dark and cold. I am going to meet my God, robbed of life, happiness and the love of husband and children, by the saloon guillotine in this free land. All hope and faith are destroyed by the bitterness that burns on my blistered lips or racks my scorched body. If there is not a hell for men who deliberately make such things possible, there ought to be. Tell them that I die, cursing the godless Moloch worshippers of rum, the craven Christians in a Christless church;" and she threw back her arms, with a piercing cry of pain, and expired. Scarcely able to control herself, Alice stepped to the silent form and closed the burned eyelids, then moved away, leaving the regular attendants to ar- range the simple burial rites. The morning News published the sad account more fully than I have related it, and closed by saying: "The misery of the auction-block and whipping-post was, when compared with such suffering, as a breath to a cyclone. " The remains of the burned child were recovered and placed in a cheap coffin with the mother's, and a few 166 HIGH JOE; OR, friends followed them to the Potter's Field. No pray- er was said, no hymn sung, but the cold clods fell di& mally on two more rum-crushed bodies. Among the parties in this bloody drama, none real- ized their guilt. The husband was too besotted and ruined to feel the heinousness of his deed. The seller, hiding behind his license and his gold, said, "If I don't sell somebody else will." The men who gave the legal sanction by voting for the legislators who enacted the laws and for the men who granted the license, wrapped their robes of righteousness about them, and thanked God they were not among the de- praved classes. In this thoughtless mood the various prayer-meetings gathered at evening, but few refer- ences were made to the holocaustal sacrifice, and those threw a coldDess over the meeting. I inquired the next morning who this man Black was, and found that, years befo'''% he had been one of the brightest business men in the city. At that time, Colonel Bray kept a small saloon, near the Herald office which Black owned. Being a genia! fellow, he often dropped in to take a social glass with "the boys, *' and, in time, his appetite became the master. The wily saloon-man pretended to help him by loaning money in small amounts and taking mort- gages on the printing outfit. 'Twas the old story of robbery under the guise of friendship. The bills for liquors were added to the loans, and finally the mort- gages were foreclosed, leaving the drinker penniless and his family paupers. The wife remonstrated with her husband and with his destroyer, but to no effect. The losses and disgrace preyed upon her till she be THE LOGGERS STORY. M7 came very bitter. She was a member of the same church with Deacon Johns, and often had plead with him and others to close the saloons. The only con. solation she received was the assurance that they could do nothing, and if no-license prevailed, men would sell just the same. Losing faith in a church that would allow its mem- bers to sanction such a criminal traffic, she withdrew, saying, at the close of her request for a letter: "The blood of my ruined husband is already crying to God against His guilty church. How many victims there'll be, remains a dark mystery, but I live in daily expectation of death by violent, rum-crazed hands." When I had learned the facts, I was not surprised at her dying curses. The paper, then owned by the legal agent .of guilty voters and doing the bidding of a guilty party, I came to abhor more than I would a disease-infected garment. If I had been in earnest before, to destroy the creator of such ruin, I then burned with a new zeal. The buoyant Alice lost her interest in society gatherings and sought to learn more of the needs and sufferings of drink's victims. Happy but subdued, she became a wise and strong adviser in our work, al ways hopeful though others were discouraored. The husband, after a trial and conviction, was sent to the penitentiary for a term of years, but the worse than orphaned children found a home at the Vight- man's and almost a mother in the girl of consecrated purpose. BIQH JOE; OR, CHAPTER XXIV. PEOHIBITION PROHIBITS. I received an invitation to speak at a village some miles distant, the next Saturday evening and assist in Gospel meetings on Sunday, with a request to " bring the quartette along. " We accepted and were greeted by a packed house. For year? the town had succeeded in electing men who would not license sa- loons, but they had been compelled to fight constantly the men of "good moral character," — such as are legalized by other municipalities — who run "blind pigs, " "holes-in-the-wall. " "spe^-easies, " etc. The business men were tired of giving and doing, and greeted the political movement for state and national prohibition as the dawn of a brighter day; but the great problem was, how to leave their old parties and not " throw their votes away. " The bugbears that politicians use to scare innocent voters had all been preached and published here as else- where, till every time a truth tried to enter a man's heart, or conscience plead for a hearing, a political ghost-dancer or hobgoblin, arose in all of its hideous- ness. Thus, while wishing for freedom, all had been held political bondmen. At the close of my address, Alice related the story of the poor, burned woman, and with breathless attention, all listened, deeply moved. " And now, my friends, " she said, "will you continue to support a party that sanctions the ruin, not only of THE LOGGER'S STORY, 169 one, but thousands of such homes, or will you shut your ears to the voices of wily, office-seeking politi- cians, and fearlessly stand for the salvation of men and the homes of our nation?" "We'll vote as we pray 1" shouted a gray-haired man at the top of his voice. "Will you?" queried the earnest girl; "how many are ready to bum their old political ships and enlist in the army that is striking for our altars and our fires? I want only calm judgment, stirred by a tender con- science, to influence you, but I do want to know how many have made a choice; will all such stand?" At once nearly every womao. and about a dozen men * stood. At the wave of her hand they were seated, when she continued : "All honor to the tender hearted, true women and the loyal men, who are willing to be counted squarely on the side of humanity ; but God pity the men— the sovereign voters — who are willing to enslave their brothers to save their party. Protection of homes out- weicrhs protection of industries. Free men are price- less when compared with free trade. Service for God is far above the mocking civil-service advocated by parties that make merchandise of hearts and homes. To you, fathers, let me say in the words of our pro- phetic Lowell: " They make slaves of children's children. Who m^ke comproniise with sin I " The meeting closed and we were taken to comfortable homes. It seemed as though I had scarcely dropped asleep when I was aroused by the vigorous ringing of 170 HIGH JOE, OR; the church bell, and opening my eyes, found it was already daylight. Going to the window, I saw people hurrying along the street. Thinking there was a fire, I dressed and hastened out. Turning a corner, a few blocks away, I was surprised to find a crowd around an old building, in the front door of which stood a desperate looking man flourishing a large knife. Look- ing over the crowd, I saw Alice and her companions. "What is the matter?" I asked of a man who viewed the strange scene with great complacency. "You see that wiry-looking little woman near the walk over there?" he asked. "I do," I answered, "but what of her?" "She's the wife of a Scotch lime-kiln keeper ou^ about two miles. He had been steady and making money until that fellow in the door began to run a *speak-easy. ' Then Mack took to drink, squan- dering his money and abusing his wife. This morn- ing he went home about daylight and drove her oul doors. Her Scotch grit was up, and seizing the ax, she started for town. She's always a good walker, bul the way she marched into the village was a caution. Having more grit than all the men in town, she made up her mind that prohibition could be made to pro- hibit; and, acting on this decision, went straight for the * speak-easy. * Kratz had gone up stairs to get a little sleep, but neglected to lock the door. Finding it frea she entered, tipped over two barrels, and knocked in the heads. By that time the old tiger was aroused and she * skipped out. * H\irrying to the chui'ch, she rang the bell vigorously, than reiurned to THE LOGGER'S STORY. 171 tell the cause of the alarm. The story spread like wild-fire. Armed with knife and revolver, Kratz appeared In his doorway cursing, swearing, and daring any or a to meddle with his affairs again. While the people have gathered, the little Scotch woman has nagged him with all kinds of questions, and you can now under- ■stand the situation. "I see," T answered, looking over the crowd that had doubled in five minutes. Among those at the front, was the tall form of the minister, whose church-bell had called the people to such a stranofe service. He was a brawn v, fearless fellow, known as an uncompromising foe to the liquor- traffic. Several women were pushing their way among the crowd, and strong men moved to the front. Finally the pastor's wife touched me on the arm and, as I bent down, whispered : "The men are going to hold Kratz while we spill his liquors. Will you prevent any one interfering?" "I'll be doorkeeper unless I can help otherwise," I answered, and made my way to the minister's side. Suddenly I saw a man hurry to the back of the building and, an instant later, the swearing keeper turned to meet the enemy in the rear. This was the time for action, and a bootless man sprang up the steps, followed closely by several others including the pastor. Before Kratz knew they were coming, the leader threw his arms around him and others caught his hands. The struggle lasted but a moment. Sud- -denly a voice called out, "Come on, " and the women jhm-ried in, led by Mrs. Mack, "Crash, crash, " came 172 HIGH JOE OR; the sounds from within. The crowd surged wildly, some showing fear, while others shouted, laughed, and crowded up to the door. "Crash, crash," went the blows again, and "smash, smash," sounded the break- ing bottles. Presently a man rushed up to me and exclaimed : "What's up? What are they doing in here?" "Only enforcing the law," I answered. "G-uess they don't need any help." "I'm the village marshal. Let me in. It's my duty to stop this mob," he exclaimed, trying to push by. "No you don't," I answered. "You've kept still while this man has violated the law, and now you may sit still while others deal out justice to the law- breaker;" and, placing my hand on his shoulder, T forced him to sit down on the steps and await results. The people laughed and cheered, some shouting, "Pro- hibition don't prohibit" ; "Prohibition can't be en- forced;" "public sentiment won't support it;" and similar remarks which, I afterwards learned, were the excuses common to the derelict officer. Soon the spilled liquors rushed through the door and around the Marshal. At that some one called out with a Scripture quota- tion : "When the enemy shall come in like a flood, the spirit of the Lord shall lift up a standard against him. " Another exclaimed : "The flood compassed me abcnt ; all thy billows and thy waves passed over me. " In a stentorian voice some one shouted: " Amec ! THE LOGGERS SOTRY. 173 Amen!" while the officer moved aside with the liquor dripping from his clothes. The struggle within, and the crashing of wood and glass continued, when suddenly I saw the enraged liquor-seller get one hand loose. Thrusting it within his coat, he grasped a concealed dagger, and, with a flash, drove it toward one of his captors. A moment later and human gore -mingled with the flowing liquors, but not from the intended victim. The min- ister, with his cool eye, saw the movement, and, as the glittering weapon came toward his companion, he grasped the keen blade. One twist was all the in- furiated Kratz could give it before other hands dis- armed him, but that turn gashed the heroic palm, nearly severing one finger. At last the work was done. United manhood and womanhood had vindicated an outraged law and pun- ished a deserving criminal. Before quitting the build- ing, they carefully disarmed the dangerous man and told him that the first overt act on his part would be summarily punished as it deserved. He followed them to the door, still cursing and threatening. Then it was that the wife of one of his victims found an opportunity to give vent to her feelings. Going as near as she dared, she asked, in the lull between his oaths: "Mr. Kratz, may we have the barrels for fuel?" "No, d — n you," he shouted, "I'd rather burn a a woman's soul;" and with a spring toward her, he at- tempted to strike a heavy blow, but I grasped him. In an instant a dozen men surrounded him, a rope was thrown over his head, and, at a double-quick, 174 HIQH JOE; OR, they hurried him to a large tree. Up went a man, and a moment later, the rope, dangling over a large limb was caught by determined hands and drawn taut; but the tone of the man changed. His oaths gave way to cries for mercy. His white face told the terrible fear that his last moment had come. "Kratz, be quiet," shouted a stern voice. "Will you promise to get out of here in three hours and never return if we let you go?" "I will, I will," was his emphatic answer, •'All right, then," said the same voice; "we'll ap. point a committee to look after you. If you don't want more rope or water than will be healthful, you will see that your promise is kept. Now move live- ly. Loosen the rope, boys. " As the noose was removed, the scared man stag- gered away, his trembling limbs scarcely able to sup. port him, and three sturdy young men followed. Jumping upon a box, a gray-haired man shouted: "Gentlemen, fellow-citizens : We want to give no. tice now to all men who think they can violate the law ride rouo-hshod over the will of a Christian com- munity, and debauch, rob and ruin boys and men, that the next one who undertakes it will find speedy punishment by hemp or water. We propose to fight for our altars and our fires, and we say now and for all time, beware! We also call upon Jack Murphy, the marshal, to resign. " "I'll do it," shouted Murphy coming forward almost as badly scared as Kratz. "All rio-ht, said the self-appointed chairman; "those THE LOGGER'S STORY, X76 who are in favor of accepting Murphy's resignation will say 'Aye/ " "Aye, aye!" shouted the crowd almost to a man, while vigorous "amens" followed as echoes. "Now we want a meeting of the village board to- morrow morning at eight o'clock," continued the chairman, "to elect a man of courage to fill Murphy's place. Don't let any member be absent. Friends, our worship to-day will mean something. Let us re- peat the Lord's prayer;" and in vigorous tones he led off, while the people, subdued and with bowed heads, followed. As the hearty "amens" were uttered, the chair, man resumed. "We will now sing the Doxology, then Brother White will dismiss us with a benediction." With the same vigor, all joined in singing: "Praise G-od from whom all blessings flow;" then the stalwart pastor spread out his hands and besought a blessing, with no more blights from al. oohoL m HIGH JOE; OR, CHAPTER XXV. TARIFF AND PROTECTION. We reached home the next day toward noon, and found preparations being made for a great political meeting that evening. There were large mills in the city employing many workmen, and arrangements had been perfected to have them, and others who wer« expected to arrive by special trains, parade tho. streets. Great posters announced a noted congress- man as the orator of the occasion and that he would discuss "protection and the workman. " The largest hall in the city was decorated with mottoes and banners on which were inscribed: "We never forget the workman" ; "Vote for protection and good wages" ; "The party of progress and protec tion" ; "Tariff makes good homes, contented wives and happy children" ; "G-ood crops, good prices and good government" ; "Free trade for the masses means wealth for the classes"; "Protected labor means wealth for all. " Long before dark, the crowds began to arrive, and at seven o'clock, not less than two thousand men were in line, led by bands and banners. Up and down the streets for an hour they marched, cheered, and yelled. When the time arrived, the great hall was packed and hundreds turned away. For two hours the Honorable Mr. B. told of the grand work of his party; how the country was rent and bankrupt when it took charge of the government; THE LOGGER'S STORY, 177 and how, after the war was successfully fought out, it had brought prosperity and riches — by the tariff. He told, over and over, how high wages of workmen were, compared with those of Europe — all because of the tariff; described American homes, with pictures, carpets and music, — all the result of the tarff; traveled over the farms of the West and told of their good prices and increasing prosperity because of "home markets" created by the tarff. The speaker even traced the growth of education and religion to the tariff. So- briety and intelligence, morality and inventive genius, great natural resources and perfected machinery, were mentioned, only as a product of the speaker's party policy of protection. The crowds cheered each turn of the political kaleidoscope, till the shifting scenes became tedious. Only one thing stood out clearly to the minds of listeners at the close, "tariff, " "tariff] " "tariff, " "high-tariff. " The interesting scene, however, was to come. Some of the opposing party, knowing of many destit- ute families in the city, found one whose mother, tired out at the washtub, had broken down and could work no longer. The father, an industrious work- man unable to get employment, had just returned by begging and tramping two hundred miles, to find his family nearly starved. The cruel politicians placed this family in an old wagon, drawn by a span of "rack-bone", hobbling horses, and drove to the front of the hall. There they stood, when the meet- ing adjourned, the hungry children devouring food that the father gave them from a basket — the remains 12 178 HIGH JOE; OR, of the politicians' supper. A banner over the wagon, read: "The workman's family enjoys the fragments of a tariff supper. " "Tariff and tears make happy homes and handsome wives." "Workmen's children just dote on the tariff." "Mothers, ask for tariff; nothing like it for starving children. " The yelling crowd grew quiet at the scene. The workmen knew the ragged man who was feeding his starving babes, and the political thunder died away. Suddenly they stole homeward, dropping torches and banners along the walk till it looked as though a cyclone had struck a political headquarters. "Who brought you here?" asked one of the leaders angrily of the man. "Don't know, boss," was his answer; "a man drove up and told us if we'd get in he'd take us where we could get plenty to eat, and we came. Wouldn't you if your children's cheeks were as hollow as those?" "I don't know and don't care," was the answer, with an oath. The scene had spoken volumes to the men not in- terested in securing offices, and the reaction the next day was great. At every stop in their work or wherever men gathered in groups, the question was asked in one form or another, "What part have we in the tarif or in free-trade? We can't tell which is right, and men who are after office are not the most reliable advisers. " Some of the good women of the city had arranged for an address the following evening by that "queen of homes," whose name has become a household word THE LOGOERS STORY. 1^ wherever the English language is spoken. The morning papers announced it, the Herald to criticise ••the wo°man who disgraced her sex by seeking no- toriety through public speeches;" the News to speak in the highest terms of the woman who was "arous- ing the mothers and daughters of the nation to home protection, and making the mystic 'W. C. T. U.' a.^ household charm and Inspiration." Alice was busy all day "completing arrange- ments," and I had the pleasure of aiding in many ways. When the train arrived, we met the speaker, and on the homeward drive, Alice imparted some of the plans for the evening. " Those are good, very good," were her listener's words as we halted ; "I will make my address fit them. " For this meeting there were no marching crowds, no shouting heelers, no flaring torches. Quietly the people gathered till the large hall was packed. Be- hind the curtain a strange panorama was being planned. At last, as the painted canvass was rolled aloft, a novel scene appeared. Major Wright, Alice and the speaker were the central figures. Distributed about them were Ben Pitts and his family, the children of Black and of Peter Mackin, while at the right and left were more than a dozen ragged, hungry little ones and their sad-faced mothers. A man whose limbs had been crushed by the cars while he was drunk, occupied a wheel-chair, and near him sat a white-haired woman whose four sons with their father, filled drunkards' ards' graves. 180 HIGH JOE; OB, Major Wright opened the meeting, after prayer and song, by saying: "Friends, we listened to the beauties of tariff pro- tection last evening, and at its close, saw the starving family of an industrious workman. To-night we shall hear of home protection and see some of the victims of a terrible, tarifi-protected industry;" then he in- troduced Alice as one who could tell better than he, the story of the broken bodies before them. Vividly she portrayed the terrible scenes through which this array of victims had passed, and the hand- kerchiefs in the audience told how the sorrowful tales touched their hearts. After her brief remarks, she introduced the speaker. I shall not attempt to tell you of the address. For an hour that grand woman compared hearts and dol- lars, homes and tariff, souls and parties, philanthrop- ists and politicians, duty and politics, till it did not seem possible for any to refuse to join with her in the work she advocated. Her words,, commending the new party, brought hope and encouragement to the few who had declared for political prohibition, and made converts. The high-flown oratory of the previ- ous evening became like thin air when the cause of humanity and the nation was weighed against it. At the close of the address, more than a score of names of women who would join a local union were obtained, and the next forenoon was spent in that work. Not to be outdone by politicians, the women had secured and hung on the walls, painted banners, some of which read: "The strength of a nation is in TBB WGQEKS STORY. 181 .V =■• . "Women bare poUtical duties ;" "True men :ts homes , ^~ ? ..parties like weeds, soon ^e not o-f^,.2^.P.^ t;,,, century plant, is a long go to seed, _ Tai_.fi ^^ ^^^^ ^^^ j^^^ ,i^e blossoming JV,^ - ^^^^^^^ ^^ ^^^^ ^,,,, e Jtement was'at a .hite beat, and politics monopo- lized thought and <^^:^^'llfl^ j,l,^a3 scoured ,,e various candidate and the. ^^^^^^^ ^^^^ ^'lueT^e :Lons, ;Sed everybody or left money luh thei ••politicll club-houses" to influence or pur- , evoes The keepers became the power mpoU. which each candidate felt he must rely for *"'' :: kIow ngtbelr power they intimated what TTd be done wL could be influenced, and what t ridco:t:rt.e wM. raking in the dollars and v.- rr «t the fools who wanted office. 'Tn';— a., outspoken opponents of the sa. inaepe . friPiid- and "influential men, ^T: JI\::; i wouldtsult from deserting their ":fd part's" and throwing their votes away was ^^ t: rur^in-strd rhrS;"wSp"°rsr fleeing to the Old po^ ^Xton Sytml' and when the votes werecounted wnds were ahead. Regardless of political Z: thHatoIs had elected only those me. who had 182 HIGH JOE: OR, gotten down the deepest in the mud and spent the most money. Covered with chagrin and defeat, many looked back on months of debauchery with nothing gained, but money and self-respect lost. After all the work and sacrifice, our party only received a few hundred votes in the county, and, strange as it may seem, the gain was largest in the country and smallest where churches were the most numerous. The morning after election, "The Herald" announced In glowing head-lines, the success of its party in the state and nation, and called for a grand rally to cele- brate the victory, that evening. I visited the municipal court and found more than a score of "drunks" with a half dozen arrested for assaults on election day. None offered any defense, and the court ground them all through in half an hour, imposing costs and fines aggregating over three hundred dollars; about half paid, but the others went to jail for from five to twenty days, for the taxpayers to board. Many of these were men of families and were thus compelled to leave those depending on them to "shift for them- selves. " At night the great hall was again packed. Colonel Bray nominated Deacon Johns for chairman, and he was elected amid wild shouts and hand-clapping. On the platform were the Colonel and several other sa- loon men, who had done valiant service for the party, with a half dozen ministers and the «;uccessful candi- dates. THE LOGGER'S STORY. 183 With hearty congratulations, the chairman opened the meeting, and was followed by the Colonel who told of the arduous work of the campaign, praising the men who had helped achieve the victory. "The small vote of the cranks" he said with exulta- tion, " will teach them how foolish it is to buck their heads against mountains. I have more respect for a Democrat than for the man who hypocritically seeks to aid our opponents by organizing a party of sore- heads. I predict that they'll never do it again. " As he sat down the crowd cheered, ministers, chairman and saloon men uniting in the enthusiasm. Thus was brought to its close a great American political conflict. The saloons had dictated nomina- tions, determined elections, and were now prepared to demand implicit obedience and faithful service from their servants. 184 HIGH JOE; OB, CHAPTER XXVI. THE WORK OP A PLOTTER. Immediately the faithful service began. For twelve years the administrations, respecting the wish of the people, had retained one man as postmaster. No sooner was the election over than the Colonel began to plan for a change, and circulated a petition for the appointment of one of his most faithful campaign workers. As soon as the people ascertained what was being done, a counter-petition was circulated and hundreds of names obtained including the best busi- ness men throughout the city. Saloon politics, how- ever, won, and in a few months the responsible po- sition of handling the mail was given to a man whose only recommendation was his ability to deliver politi- cal goods to the highest bidder. Of the many offices to be filled, the Colonel succeeded in dictating at least two-thirds of the appointments. There was scolding and adverse criticism from those who prized character in high places, but the value of such services as the "Boss" could render, more than outweighed them all. Put in a few words, rum ruled. There was agitation for a time, but as the dominant element succeeded, everything dropped back in the usual order, except that the violations of laws restrict- ing the saloon traffic were more flagrant than ever. None received political recognition unless they had done vigorous work for the party, and yet few seemed to regard it as in any sense extraordinary. THE LOGGER'S STORY. 185 The friends who had been laboring for the upbuild- ing of a party that would outlaw the saloons, came to. gether for a general conference. After much thought and discussion it was unanimously decided that the close of the campaign should not be the end of their work, but, by the most vigorous organization possi- ble, they would begin the next campaign at once. Committees were appointed to obtain the names of vo- ters, distribute literature and keep the matter con- stantly before the public. No sooner was this done than telegraphic accounts of it appeared in the news- papers, the Herald expressing surprise that men should be so audacious as to think of carrying on pol- itical warfare after such a signal defeat. In spite of his press of work, the Major enlisted, and became one of the most earnest planners and lib- eral givers in the county. Only a few days after the conference, the Colonel met him and stopped for a "brief chat. " During the conversation, he said: "The course you are pursuing, Major, will not only lose you a large share of your business, but will pro- vent any political advancement. You can hope for nothing from a party that commands so small a vote. Should you return to us, even though you have said and done some very unwise things, they would soon be forgotten, and you would be in line for excellent promotion. While I have, personally, very kind feel- ings for you, I shall be obliged to use my paper and influence against you, if you continue in your present course. The Major looked at the Boss until the latter 186 HIGH JOE; OR, dropped his eyes. Seeing the effect of his glance upon the characterless politician, he answered: "Sir, I have no desire for your friendship, knowing, as I do, that it is based wholly upon the considera- tion, whether I will be your chattel or not; and for your so-called 'influence', I have only contempt. I did not decide upon my present course thoughtlessly, or because of 'political aspirations;' so please inform all of your crowd that I have entered the war with no expectation of lowering my banner. I can neither be bought nor frightened. G-ood day;" and he walked away. Mrs. Wright had been steadily recovering till, in the crisp days of early winter, she was often seen driving with her husband and the buoyant Elsie. You would have searched in vain for a happier house- hold, or one that more completely embodied the true ideal of an American home, but the shadow hung over it. For some time they had been without help in the kitchen, but one morning the Major announced that the vacant place had been filled, and they were to have a number of friends to dinner, desiring me to be one of them. I consented, and found a most enjoya- ble company. For dessert an old-fashioned pudding was served, from which escaped a suspicious odor; but knowing the staunch principles of my hostess, I gave it no further thought until I saw the Major rise suddenly, excuse himself and leave the table. I tasted the pud- ding and then knew his trouble. There was brandy in it and the "old fire" in my being was so aroused THE LOGGER'S STORY. 187 that I could hardly control myself and leave the room civilly. I found him in the library pacing the floor like a caged animal, his face and form showing how fearful was the struggle. "Joseph," he exclaimed, "what shall I do? The old appetite is nearly consuming me. Must I fall again? Do you feel it?" Before I could answer, his wife tapped at the door and entered. She had not tasted the poisoned dish, but thought it strange that we should both leave the table so suddenly. Looking into his face she exclaimed: ••What has happened? Are you sick?" "Wife, there was brandy in it and I am all on fire. Excuse me to the company, for my only safety is in seclusion. I dare not go on the street to-day," was his excited answer. Just then Elsie entered the room and Mrs. Wright sent her to ask Pastor Bliss, who was among the guests, to come to the library. He did so, and upon learning the situation, made the necessary excuses, and we°were soon alone; but the fires raged on, cry- ing, "drink, drink." When interrogated, the new girl pleaded ignorance of any harm in the pudding, saying her former mis- tress always wanted it that way. "Don't ever do it again," was the quiet rebuke of this good woman, and placing the cofiee-pot on the stove, added: "When this has boiled well, bring it to the library." Half an hour later, hot coffee was brought and we 188 HIGH JOE; OR, drank with eagerness. Scarcely was it down, when the major sprang to his feet, exclaiming: "For heaven's sake, wife, what does this mean? There is brandy in that coffee. Is that girl the tool of a plotter?" As the fiery alcohol reached my brain, I began to laugh, and every thought of where I was or what duty called me to do, was swept away by the sudden delirium. With another laugh I forced the door open and rushed down the street, conscious of only one thing, that I must have drink. I thought not of Alice or of the past or future. Reason was a crippled dwarf and appetite a mighty giant. Where I went I knew not, but the first death-trap received me with open arms, only to furnish more of the same fire-water. I knew nothing of what followed, till I awoke the next morning in a cheap hotel. A man was watching and as he saw I was conscious, said, "Here is some medicine that the doctor left for you. " I poured it down only to feel the pleasure that strong drink brings. Heeding little and caring less, I drank on, supplied liberally by the fiend at my side, till the crawling feet of black spiders or the slimy coils of serpents, began to creep over my face and around my neck. I can remember their coming, for their horror was awful. Then I rushed from my room and fled along the street toward the river, chased by the goblins of hell. Only a wild plunge and a coroner's verdict would have been left to tell the story had I not run against Mr. Wightman. With a powerful grasp, he seized THE LOGQEWS STORY. 189 me and called for help. Wild as I was, I can still see his sad but desperate face as he held me. I was quickly overpowered and taken home, where Alice met us at the gate. Never did I struggle to be released as when I saw her coming down the walk. For the first time, in spite of tremens, my shame, weakness and disgrace rushed over me, and I raved and struck furiously, determined to escape to the river; but a policeman's club felled me, just as I saw her bury her face in her hands. Not as wild as myself, the Major remained a prison- er in his library, but neither his wife nor Pastor Bliss dared leave him. When other help arrived, she descended to upbraid the mischief-maker, but found no one. The girl had fled, "bag and baggage," but where, no one ever learned, except that Mrs. Wright received a letter from her, several weeks later, post-marked Chicago, saying she had been bribed to ruin us. By some fiend in human shape the poisoned arrow had been shot, but by whom, only suspicion whis- pered. 190 HIGH JOE; OB, CHAPTER XXVII OLD STORY. I had suffered before, but never had such torture racked every nerve, as during the succeeding days. Believing I would soon be myself, Mr. Wightman em- ployed several strong men to watch with me, com- pelling me to remain sober, and an unwilling pris- oner. The Herald added fuel to the fire by printing a garbled account of the whole matter, and character- izing the new party as a lot of sore-heads and sense- less fanatics, led by men who could keep sober only long enough to get unthinking people crazy or un- settled. Without regard for truth or the feelings of friends, the editor said all he could to blacken us and our cause. I knew every word would go like a dart to Alice's sensitive heart, and my remorse almost overcame me. Could I have felt that I was growing stronger, I could have borne it; but every day I seemed more wild with the burning thirst for drink. Occasionally I saw her sad face, as I looked from my chamber win- dow, and the lines of sorrow and suffering startled me. Mr. Wightman tried to cheer me, but my only answer was: "It's no use, Mr. Wightman; I've gone too far al- ready and am powerless with such a consuming fire within. Thus the days wore on till nearly a week had THE LOGGER'S STORY, 191 passed. With nothing to do I grew despondent and desperate. Whether reading, talking or thinking, I could not shake bff that constant cry for drink. It haunted me awake, or asleep, till I begged my cap- tors to give me just a little, but without avail. At last, only one man was with me, and the win- dow stood open. As the shadows deepened, I repeat- edly looked out to see if I could jump and be free. Watching my opportunity, I quietly sprang to the ground; and, lest I should be recaptured, hurried to the depot just in time to jump aboard au outgoing freight. For hours I rode on, battling my appetite at every station. Toward morning I found we had stopped at a large place, and began searching for a hotel. I was soon in a commodious office, out of which opened a bar-room. Before entering, I had promised myself not to drink, but the shining glasses and beer fumes shattered my resolves. Scarcely con- scious, I asked for a drink, and drained one, two, three glasses, when the compasionate clerk said: "You'll soon be drunk; wait now till morning;" and he hurried me to bed. From troubled dreams I awoke, only to drink again all I could get. From my first stop, I drifted on, always finding a saloon open to give me more of the poison. Thus the days wore away. Finally my money was gone, and I tried to work, but was too weak for that. Then 1 began gambling. I knew I was good at cards at school, but my "luck" at various games was now greater than I had anticipated. Between drinking and gambling the weeks grew 192 HIGH JOE; OR, into months, the "black-valley railroad" carrying me further toward destruction every day. Several times I had touches of the tremens, but managed to brace up enough to get over it, though scarcely ever was my brain sufficiently free from alcohol to al- low one thought of Alice and her parents or my own father and mother. I thought I knew what the evils of saloon life and gambling were, but all I had seen or read was buu a faint picture of the blackness I saw around me every day. Robbery, abuse, cunning to tempt those who tried to resist, beating, bruising and muider, all came to be common affairs. My size and decided way was all that saved me in many a fracas. After going through the slums of Chicago, I made my way to St. Louis. While in a saloon there one night, a woman came in hunting for her husband. Finding him drinking at a gambling table, she im- plored him to go home. Angered by her presence and entreaties, he grasped a heavy glass and struck her a terrible blow on the forehead. With a cry of pain she fell backward and was dead when we reached her. The husband was arrested, and a half-dozen of us were called as witnesses. The case went over a month for trial, and as I could give no bail for my appear- ance, I was locked up. Here I was given time and compelled to think till remorse rankled deep. In spite of my appetite 1 was kept sober by law. At the trial the evidence was overwhelming and the guilty husband was convicted and sentenced to THE LOGGER'S STORY. 198 be hung in a week. No effort was made to stay the stern decree of the law, and the day for execu- tion arrive!. I obtained permission of the sheriff to be present, and shall never forget the scene. As the wretched fellow ^tood on the trap with the black cap ready to be drawn, he addressed the crowd in faltering tones : " Friends, I am sober to-day. I did not murder my wife, but whiskey did. I loved her, but drink didn't. I wanted to spend my money for her and my two children, but the saloons were too strong; they robbed me and gave in return a madman's heart. I had to pass more than fifty in going to my work, and have been dragged in many times and kept till my money was all gone. The rich people, politicians, and church voters have, together, placed the saloons on every street, to rob workmen and get a city revenue. They are robbing us and ours. The law calls us murderers, and hangs us, but the men who license the saloons are the real murderers. Our blood will cry for vengeance. " Here the black cap was drawn, and an instant later the soul of this victim was ushered out of time into eternity, by the law of the same state that had leg- alized the rum-seller for a share of his gain. After my forced abstinence, I succeeded in resist- ing till returning manhood began to draw me toward friends. Ragged and poor, I suddenly started homfe and arrived in the night, disguised. The next day I learned that soon after my depart 13 194 HIGH JOE; OB, ure, the Major, in spite of friends and his own de- termination, was driven to the saloons, where no power could induce him to leave till he was drunk. Then followed the old, old story. Drinking till he was brutal, only the presence of friends prevented his venting his fury upon his innocent wife and child. Major Wright was a wreck, and though I be- lieved I could help him, I dared not go where he was nor take his breath for a moment. Determined to stand till I could present myself to my friends, a sober, strong man, I found work in a machine shop. The second evening, while sitting near a win- dow and looking out, when two ladies' passed and glanced in. I knew one the instant her eyes met mine, and sought to avoid recognition by turning my face; but the electric flash of friendship was too much, and with a prolonged exclamation of, "O — Joseph— Strong 1" she stopped, her face expressing surprise and pleasure. A moment later she hastened to the door and made her way directly to me, ex- claiming with extended hand: "Joseph, when did you return?** I did not take her hand but stood with folded arms as I answered: "Alice, I am not worthy your recognition. I may be drunk by to-morrow, but am trying to straighten up again. Then I meant to see you. " With hand still extended, she answered: "But I found you to help. May I?" I shall never forget that moment, nor her look, as she uttered those words of encouragement. The TEE LOGGER'S STORY 1S5 hungry hours and heart aches like torrents breaking through the mountain fastness and bearing all before them, surged uncontrolled. Taking the offered hand, ihe meanwhile reading all the days of sorrow in her thin, white cheeks, I covered my face with my other hand and for some time, nothing wassaid; then Alice spoke : "You're tired and homesick, trying to carry your burdens alone. Father and mother will be rejoiced to see you, and your own parents have come and are mourning your absence. Come with me." "Not to-day," I answered; "I can't go looking as I do." ,. ^ "And I can't go unless you do," she replied em- ^ Strange powers seemed to thrill me at her words and touch, and hope revived, strong and buoyant. Suddenly I said, meeting her deep, earnest eyes: "I'U go; lead on, gentle, conquering spirit •* 196 HIGH JOE; OR, CHAPTER XXVin. THE "new JERUSALEM-INFERNOS. "Getting pretty late, isn't it, boys?" said High Joe, leaninfT forward and looking at his watch. "Guess we'll have the rest out to-morrow. Sunday will be a good time, and I can wind up before night. Hope I am ^"'ot spinning it too long." "No, sir, you bet I" exclaimed the impetuous Pat. "Beats all stories I iver heerd. Let her spin all day to-morrow. Don't yees say so, Frenchy?" "Yes, yes, " answered the little Parisian. "Ze story make ze poor, poor log-chopper feel he eze one mean stick not much goode; but he drinkz no more wine. He eze so glad he hav' heard ze High Joe story. " The words of commendation were strong but few, and the subdued thoughtfulness of the men, as they parted for the night, told how new and deep were the feelings awakened. "Good-night, Joe," said the Colonel reacbing out his hand to the brawny chopper as he started for bis bunk; and as he pressed the heavy palm, he added: "Your story will do us all good. I never thought of these things as I see them to-night, and I'm sure the men haven't. Strange what selfish, thoughtless beings we are; but Carson's camp is getting a lesson. Good night." Refreshed by a healthy sleep such as hard work brings, the men arose, Sabbath morning, later than usual; and, after breakfast was cleared away and the THE LOGGER'S STORY. ^ horses and oxen were well cared for, High Joe con- tinned his story to a room full of eager listerners: With a tact all her own, Alice slipped me into the house unobserved, leaving me at the door of my old room, with the remark : "You'll find everything as you left it, Joseph. Father and mother will want to see you soon." Understanding the delicate hint to improve my looks, I began the work with hope such as I had not known for a year. There were some changes in the room On the wall hung a picture of Alice that 1 had never seen before, in which she appeared as when I first met her on my arrival at G. "How she has changed!" I murmured, the vision of a noble woman as she left me a few moments before, contrasting with the beautiful, girlish face before me. In other parts of the room, hung my parents' pic- tures. They, too, showed change, in deeper lines of care and sorrow, and whitening locks. My mother's eye had still the searching look that said, almost aud- ibly: "Joseph, is it all well?" Opening a writing desk, I found my old diary, In which I had written, more than a year before, these deceitful words: "To-day closes my first political campaign. I have enjoyed it very much. Not only do I feel stronger than ever, but I believe I have helped others and opened the way to purer political action in the fut- ure. I don't think I shall ever be troubled with my old appetite again. " 198 ' HIGH JOE; OR, I turned and looked in the mirror. *Twas not a pleasant picture. Eyes, cheeks and every feature told the sad story of a year of slavery to appetite, and I exclaimed aloud: "O, destroyer; thou hast conquered again!" Taking up a pen, I sought to write those words be- low my former exultation, but my hand trembled so I hesitated. Summoning my will-power, I grasped my pen anew, and, in unsteady lines, recorded my confession. Writing before it the date, I contrasted the two sentences, and with a shudder, muttered: "Conquered; yes, shamefully conquered 1 Can I ever write that free, strong hand again?" My hopes had fallen like the summer breeze before the wintry blizzard. Just then I heard a tap on my door, and as I said "come in," it opened, revealing my queen. Never had she seemed so lovely as there she stood with a questioning look, the crimson rose at her throat contrasting with the whiteness of cheek and brow. As she saw I was unprepared, she ex- claimed half playfully : "You disobedient boy! Why aren't you ready?" "I will tell you, if you come here," I answered, pointing to my diary. She walked across the room, and after reading, grasped the book, exclaming: "It shan't trouble you any more. I'll take care of It and be up again in a short time. You shall yet write words of victory." As she passed through the door, she cast back a smile of confidence and hope, but underneath I detect- ed a shower of tears that yet would fall unseen, un- THE LOGGERS STORY. 199 known to others, as oft they must have fallen to wash that brow, those cheeks so white. ** 'Tis all for me, " I whispered, as I heard her foot- steps on the stairs. "I yet shall crown her life with joy and full fruition, or plant that lovely face and form beneath the drifting snows or summer flowers. God, who gives her comfort and courage, which shall it be? I fain would live a man, but Rum says *No, thou art my slave. March on in shame to death.'" Overcome by these thoughts, I threw myself into an easy chair and closed my eyes ; but the trickling tears would not be barred, and silently they chased each other o'er my sunken cheeks. Suddenly I heard a church-bell, and its call to prayers aroused the bitter memories of the past. "Prayers I" I muttered; "what will they pray for — they who have helped to legalize the death-traps that make me tremble day and night, as I walk their streets ; they who may yet consign me to a drunkard's grave, and then toll the funeral requiem for her whose heart they've broken?" Angry and rebellious at such worshippers, I arose, nerved for desperate exertion, and began making myself presentable. An hour later I was greeted by Mr. and Mrs. Wightman, but words cannot describe my feeling as 1 knew they read the story of my year of shame. The words and smile of Alice compelled hope and courage that took from the future much of its darkness and uncertainty, but I was glad when the thoughtful parents left us to ourselves. 200 HIGH JOE: OR, No sooner were they gone, than pleasantry gave way to confidence and serious thought. When I had told her how I learned to drink and that it seemed beyond my power now to resist, she read my hope- lessness with true womanly intuition, while tears gistened on her long lashes. Her words, however? lifted me out of my despondency and doubt. To my misgivings she said: "I have a sure remedy, Joseph; it never fails. I told you of it when I knew not how much you needed it. To-night I would sing into your heart, the only song that has been on my lips during your absence: *For the Lion of Judah 'Shall break every chain, *And give us the vict'ry, •Again and again. ' "Can't you let Him break your chains, Joseph? He's able and willing." I shook my head doubtfully and said: "I would, but somehow I can't, Alice. I feel like a caged man or a chained slave, not even able to will to be free." I will not stop to tell you of the sweet but solemn hours we spent in communion that evening. It seemed as though that Christian girl could not let me go until I felt the power and peace that I knew made her one of God's ministering angels; but I had strayed too far as a prodigal, to get back without a struggle. At last we parted; and as I said "Good night," the solemn stillness of the midnight hour told not ..ow weak I was, nor how I hungered for the rest, strength THE LOGGERS STORY. 2(tt and peace, that He, of whom she talked so trustfully, could bring. It was late when I awoke the next morning, but my first consciousness was a sick and dismal feeling, bom of the rankling thirst for drink. A good meal and the cheery words of my friends brought hope and courage, and I went out with Mr. Wightman. I dreaded to meet my parents, but as he offered to show me where they lived, I followed, mustering courage for the supposed ordeal. I found them both changed, and in the tenderness with which they greeted me, quite unlike the father and mother of former days. During the whole forenoon we visit- ed and I learned that my father, just before he heard of my disappearance, had lost much of his property in speculation. This, with the sad news concerning me, broke his health, and he sold out and moved west. Sorrow and the constant wish and prayer for my re- turn had drawn them together as never before, and developed the Christian spirit that had been choked by car^s and business while T was a boy. "Never," I thought, as we talked and lived over the past, "were they so lovable. 'The Lion of Judah' must have broken their chains. " After a hearty dinner I went out, feeling happy in my new found prize — a truly Christian father and mother, that almost brought me to the "rock for shel- ter. " I had not gone far, when I caught sight of Major Wright shuffling along the street some distance ahead. Quickening my pace, I was soon at his side, and tap- ping him on the shoulder, said: "Hello! Major; where are you going?" 202 HIGH JOE; OR, Stopping and looking at me sharply, he exclaimed: "Hello, old boyl this you? By George, Joseph, I thought they'd planted you 'fore this time. G-lad to see ye, if yer nose is red. Tryin' to let up a little; hey, Joseph?" "Yes, I've had a hard fight, Major," I answered, taking his arm. "I don't know how it'll come out, yet, but I hope to win. Aren't you going to try again?" "No use, Joseph; no use. I'm hell bound, sure's we're trampin' 'long here now. Can't stop, can't stop. They'll soon plant old Wright, and then some young fellow '11 have to go to drinkin' to take my place. Hope you'll stan', Joe, but I guess we're both pretty near salted. This is a h — 1 of a Christian country, old boy, and the cities sort of New Jerusa- lem-inferno combinations. Meetin' houses outside and saloons and dives inside. Little prayin' and singin* heavens around the edge, and a regular roarin' old pit of fire and brimstone inside. Ohl I tell ye, some- body's kingdom's comin' pretty fast. Ten churches and one hundred saloons tell whose. My! wouldn't there be a scramble if G-abriel should blow his trump suddenly. Wouldn't be more'n a corporal's guard that wouldn't go sneakin' for the rocks and the moun- tains to fall on 'm. Even a Methodist prayer meetin' would be spoiled by the stampede. Gracious, I'm awful thirsty. Won't you come in and No, Jo- seph; I don't want to start you. Go on, and God save you yet for Alice Wightman and a good home;" and he pushed me from him as he started to enter a saloon. I held him and said, as he struggled to be free: THE LOGGERS STORY. 208 "No, Major; I must help save you. We can yet be men in spite of the 'Boss' who hopes to see us die <3runkards. Come with me and make that wife happy again. " I was not prepared for what followed. Turning on me like a madman, he struck such a blow as to send me staggering, almost unconscious into the gutter. Everything grew dark for a moment, and then my head seemed whirling. Scarcely knowing what I did, I at- tempted to rise, and felt some one grasp my arms and raise me to a sitting posture. Just conscious enough to open my eyes, I saw a man standing before me with a glass of brandy. Stepping forward, he tried to place it to my lips, but I struck it so forcibly as to dash it upon the stone curbing. Then struggling to my feet, I rushed to the saloon door, hoping to save the Major; but I was too late. The second glass was already drained. Fearing, however, that I might release his victim, the bartender sprang at the door, and, striking it be- fore I could back out, slammed it so heavily against my head as to nearly crush it against the edge of the other door. "With a groan I staggered away; and, as the darkness of a reelinor brain caused me to stumble and fall, I felt strong hands grasp me, but knew no more. 2M HIGH JOE; OB, CHAPTER XXIX. NO PEAYIX DAN L. The next I knew, I was lying in the old room at Mr. Wightman's. In a chair near by, sat Alice, whose sober face I had a chance to study for some time before she knew I was conscious. The telegraphic news from my eyes, however, soon stirred the sympathetic watcher, and she glanced up. On seeing my steady gaze, she stepped forward, ex- claiming: "Joseph, are you awake?" "I'm something," I answered, smiling, "but I'd like to know how long I've been here. The last thing I remember was the slam of that saloon door. I won- der if the Major is there yet?" "You haven't been here long," was her answer, drawing her chair nearer. " Tell me about it. No- body seems to know how it happened. " I explained briefly, and she said, much relieved: "Then you hadn't beeo drinking, as the bar-tender claims? He says he had to put you out, and you hit your head on the door in the scuffle. " "I hadn't been in his saloon or drank a drop," I exclaimed, sitting up with a feeling that I'd make it warm for him; but Alice continued: "Never mind, I'm so glad to know it. I was afraid Without finishing her sentence, she walked toward TEE LOGGERS SOTRY. 205 the window, and I knew she was trying to hide tears. It was nearly a week before I went down town, so badly was my head injured; but I learned that the Major, in the meantime, had been on a steady drunk. "I'm afraid he's past all help," Mr. Wightman re- marked one evening, as he told me what he had seen. "It won't be long before he has the tremens, if he keeps on." That evening I walked with Alice to the prayer- meeting, and on our return saw the Major shuffling along some distance ahead. Suddenly, when passing a church, he entered, and curiosity and interest caused us to follow. He took a seat well toward the front, and we decided to wait and escort him home. One of the elders was making a long, tedious pray- er in which he tried to tell the good Lord the news from all over His wide universe since their last meet- ing. Suddenly we were startled by a loud groan, and saw half a dozen heads turn toward the poor inebriate. A few moments later, another groan went rolling over the almost vacant pews. Nothing daunted, how- ever, the determined elder pursued his journey, and in time reached his own land. Here he prayed for its rulers, its many people, its government, national, state and city, its schools and churches, and closed by a word for the drunkard : "O, God, grant that the men of this nation may be temperate and strong to resist the wine-cup (another groan startled all). Grant that they may stay away from the saloons that lure them in (another groan). 206 HIGH JOE; OR, Rescue those that have become drunkards, by break, ing their chains (another groan, the Major at the same time half rising in his seat). Help every man to pass the saloon doors, without going in to mar Thine image" Just then then the Major gave an unearthly groan, and leaning over the end of his pew, nature made a desperate effort to relieve him of the high-license bev- erages he had taken. The elder's prayer closed without any "amen," and with the pastor and several other good brothers, he hastened to the groaner. Several placed strong hands on his shoulders and tried to as- sist him to his feet, but he seemed in no mood to move. Straightening himself against the front pew and clasping firmly the one in which he sat, he looked up at them and mumbled : "Sno use g — gen — gen'lemen ; it's got'ter come. I'm a — a — awful sick; g — gue — guess I'll die;" and before any one realized it, the battery delivered a broadside. "Bla — med if I th — tho — thought I'd drank so much, " he continued, coolly surveying the surprised men who had backed off. Then rising, he started toward the altar. Several made a move to stop him, but he "struck out from the shoulder" so vigorously that they gave him a free right of way. On reaching the rostrum he turned around and looked calmly over the room, steadying himself with the Sunday school superindent's chair, as he stammered out: "Cussed sma — small crowd. Cou — could — couldn't St — st — storm the de — dev — devil's picket lines. " Then seeming to grow more sober, he went on ser-^ iously; ^'HE LOGGER'S STORY. 207 "I'm an awful sin — sinner, going str — straight to hell through the gro — grog — shops. I ca — can't quit even if my boots ge — get fu — full of snakes. 'Sno use f — for me — me to try, so I thought I'd co — come in an' see if you cou — couldn't pray for me." Stopping long enough to put on his glasses and sur- vey those present, he continued: " 'Sno use — 'sno use; there's n — no prayin' Dan — Dan'l here. The minister preaches an' — votes for licensin' grog-shops. Elder Briggs do — does too an' goes to hor — horse races, th — eaters, euchre parties and church dan — dances. So does Elder White and — and — and every one of 'em. An' the women do, too, only they ca — ca — can't vote. Oh, my! 'sno use — 'sno use;" and putting on his hat, he marched down the further aisle and out without another word. I met him in the vestibule, but he pushed me away roughly, muttering, " 'S — no use — 's — no use. " Shuffling down the steps, he made his way straight to a saloon, a few blocks distant. We followed, leav- ing about as confused and foolish a-looking com- pany as I ever saw. Some faces were sober, some perplexed, others angry, and all surprised. Reaching home, sad and serious at the terrible rebuke administered to that group of worshipers by the slave of appetite, Alice went directly to her room. Sitting down, myself, on the broad porch near Mr. Wightman, he remarked: We thought you and Alice must have got lost com- ing home. " "No," I answered; "we stopped to see a strange 203 HIGH JOE; OR, sight at Immanuers church; "and then I related all. As I closed, he was silent, and I finally said: "I'm going to find the Major, if possible. Don't sit up for me. " "All right," he answered, "but take good care of Joseph. '• Walking along rapidly, S'^me moments later, I sa-w a girl enter a saloon : but before I reached it, she was rudely thrust out, crying piteously. I knew her, in- stantly, and asked: "What is the matter, Elsie?" "O, Joseph!" she sobbed, "father is in there and they won't let me go to him. Mamma is sick and wants him. Can't you help me?" "I can and will, " I answered, taking her by the hand. "Come with me." We entered, and the bar-tender scowled ominous- ly; then as we made our way through, he shouted: "Who are you after?" and started toward us. "I'll show you in about two minutes, " I replied, seizing a heavy billiard cue. "You may put out a helpless child but you can't put me out. Just keep your distance. " He did, and we entered the gambling room, and found a number of men busily playing cards, betting and drinking. Toward the back, with others, sat the Major at a table on which was a server loaded with glasses and several bottles of "Old Taylor." "Help yourselves, pards, help yourselves," ex- claimed an "old soak", filling the glasses. "Not many snakes in that but they're mighty big ones. My, how they strangle a fellow 1 I've had 'era twice and 1 THE LOGGER'S STORY. f>r^ know. Come Major, why don't you drink? Brace up, old boy, for 'we shan't go home till mornin'," There was a wild look in the Major's eyes as we approached, and he gave no heed to his companion's rjmarks. At the sound of Elsie's voice he started, and much of his alarmed look passed away. "Come father, come home," pleaded the sweet roice of his "idol." "Mother is sick and wants you. Won't you come?" "Yes, my little pet, I'll go," he said vacantly, try- ing to rise. "Help me up. " The child steadied him to his feet and took his tremoling hand in hers. I had heard that never since the day when he came so near murdering his wife and daughter, had he said or done a harsh or unkind thing to the golden -haired child. She could lead him home when no one else could stir him; hence I step- ped back, and the shrinking girl guided him out of that purgatory, up the street to his mansion home. I followed closely and entered a few steps be- hind. "Joseph is in the hall," I heard the child whisper to her mother; and the sad -faced woman met me a moment later. " I'm so glad to see you, " she said as I took her thin hand. It was so hot that I looked anxiously mto her face, only to see the hectic flush, that told w'hat strides another destroyer was making. "Grod bless you in your efforts I" she exclaimed, ets I told of my struggle; and hastily excused herself 14 210 HIGH JOE; OR, to go and care for the man who, reduced by legalized robbers from being her sworn protector, was now as helpless as a babe and as vile as a brute. "How are the mighty fallen, when a sensitive woman is compelled to put to bed such a man 1" I exclaimed when alone. I had scarcely finished my sentence, when I heard a scream from Elsie, and rushed through the dining- room in time to see the dripping form of Mrs. Wright retreat from her threatening husband. Crazed with drink, had seized a pail of cold water and dashed it into her face, completely drenching her. It is impossible to say what more he would have done, had not Elsie grasped and held him firmly. Her magic touch dispelled the fury, and he said, as though greatly relieved: "There, they've gone; they've gone. Elsie, they're afraid of you. How strange!" A sister of Mrs. Wright hurried down and assisted her to bed, but not till the fragile woman was shak- ing with the shock and cold. I remained, fearful that the madman's fury would be too mach even for the faithful child to quell. All night long he raved, and all night long the frail watcher sat by his bedside, holding his hand or entwining her arms around his neck to dispel the strangling goblins. " Oh, " said I, watching the weary eyes and droop- ing form, "how I wish every man who helps to license the forging of such awful chains was com- pelled to endure the torture of that innocent girl, one nicrht The damnable cobwebs of argument and THE LOGGER'S STORY, 211 excuse that he has woven, would be brushed aside forever. " I sent, promptly, for Alice, and through the quiet hours, her noiseless step glided in and out, minister- ing to the stricken wife. "It's only a question of time, " said Doctor Bronson. "She can't last long. The shock has only fanned the consuming flame that was slowly burning her life out.. Poor woman, the altar of Bacchus will soon claim her- as another victim. " 212 HIGH JOE: OR, CHAPTER XXX. THE SIROCCO S BLAST. The Major finally dropped into a troubled sleep, and the loyal watcher, with her childish affection, nestled close to him. I watched them till another da-y dawned, and then gave place to Mr. Wightman. Toward noon the Major awakened, his mind almost a blank. As he discovered who was there, he asked the cause, and with little regard for his feelings, the mer- chant told what he had done, charging him with hav- ing slain his truest friend. Though steeped in the drink that had burned away his will and conscience, the poor fellow broke down and wept like a child. Going to her oed-side, he knelt and prayed foi forgiveness, declaring before God that if she would live he never would drink again. "O, Tom!" came the feeble answer, "I fear 'tis too late. T love you and our sweet Elsie, and wanted to live for both, but I'm so weak, so weak, that I can't itay. No, Tom, we can't be together long; but when I'm gone you can be a strong man again and take oare of Elsie." "I will, I will," were his only words as he buried his face in her pillow. By the help of friends and a desperation bordering on despair, the Major touched no liquor for twenty- four hours, though at times he walked the floor mut- tering, "I wou't, I won't, if it kills me;" but the flame within grew hotter, the awful cry for drink THE LOGGER'S STORY. 213 became a tempest that drowned all other voices, and, in the dusk of evening, the chained slave crept out like an escaping convict. In spite of loving child, dying wife, and his sacred promise, he fled along the highway of this "free land," straight for the nearest legalized trap of death. Then, as he entered and stood trembling before the bloody bar, madness glar- ing from his eyes, the agent of the sovereign common- wealth turned from a black bottle the very fire of hell's hottest inferno, and handed it to him; and, as he drank glass after glass till the scorching liquid went tingling to his farthest nerve, burning away the last barrier, I can imagine how all the hosts of darkness made merry, while the prince wrote in his black-book in words of fire, " Lost, eternally lost. " The grieving child waited in vain for the coming of the father, while the hectic flush on the mother's cheek burned deeper and faster as the last hope was so cruelly dashed to earth. At last the end came and the lingering spirit of the loving wife called for her "Tom" of other days. Friends hurried away to bring him, if possible, to the departing one; but the welded bands of drink were too strong. With maudlin oaths and curses, he drove them from him, only to pour down more of the blight- ing liquid; and to the pleading voice of his child he turned a deaf ear. An hour passed. The broken fancies of the sufferer once again took shape, and Evangeline Wright clasped to her breast in one last, loving embrace, her once sunny-faced, golden haired Elsie; and as she smoothed 214 HIGH JOE; OR, away the curls and caressed the childish form, she plead with those about her to call "Tom." " Tell him, " she cried, as though to die without his presence were impossible, "that I must say one last farewell and feel once more the grasp of his hand. I would not fear to go down into the dark waters could I pillow my head on his strong arm. Oh, I must see him, I must see him! Kind friends, do find him. I know he would come if he knew I wanted him. " Then the bright eyes wandered, the pleading voice ceased, but the tender embrace of the mother arm re- laxed not. Placed on the sweet child's forehead, lov- ingly, caressingly, the thin hand rested for awhile, and then she spread her hands aloft, with a joyful cry of, "Tom, O Tom!" Suddenly the hands dropped, a shudder stirred her whole frame, a look of horror distorted every feature, and she cried in disgust: "That hideous thing is not Tom; why did you bring him here? Tom was strong and grand. " Then as she felt the sunny head, she turned with one more loving caress ; and, with a kiss upon the childish lips, sank back, murmuring gently, while a smile played o'er her thin face: "My sunny Elsie and brave Tom, good night, good by " Loving friends closed the parted lips and folded the thin, white hands, for the "silver cord" was loosed and the "golden bowl" was broken. Then they led away the comortless child, robbed of father and mother, home and happiness, by leave and sanction of men who called themselves brave, patriotic and free. THE LOGGER'S STOlif. 215 At the tuneral these thoughtless men and their wives shed tears, not realizing how much they had to do with the "slaughter of the innocents;" and, fol- lowed by one "mourner" — the weeping child — they bore to the grave all that Rum had left of another victim. No indignation was stirred, no thought of self-condemnation troubled the respectable church- goers, and no word of the preacher pierced the selfish armor of ease and indifference. While the clods were heaped above the silent coffin, the ruined Major was drowning every thought of wife, child and manhood in the gambling room of the new "Palace," just fitted up richer and more attractive than the old. Although, on the flood of time, the fragments of another wrecked and blasted home went floating out into eternity, neither the city, the state nor the nation was startled at the ruin, and in the archives of none was the record entered. Before men's eyes, the curtain of oblivion dropped, and few saw across the heavens a blood-red banner on which burned the words, "Destruction, Pestilence and War.'* Those were sober days for me. I saw what I might yet do, were a loving woman to give her life into my keeping; and I resolved anew never to drink again. The wretched Major at last shuffled back into his home. The terrible truth forced itself upon him, and a lingering spark of love was stirred by remorse. Slightly sobered, he arranged still to keep his house- hold nmnmg, insisting that Elsie should be with him. As it comforted her somewhat, little remon* •::g high joe; or, strance was offered by friends, and she became his only tie to a better life. With his consent I opened the old office and began gathering what I could of his scattered business, at the same time carrying on my law studies. I knew I was a "marked man," and that, if possible, my ruin would yet be compassed. Winter came and I labored unceasingly, carrying my studies into the small hours of the night. Slowly I came to feel confidence in myself, but was never quite free from the old appetite; Alice regained health and hopefulness, and my parents were happy. At the spring term of Court I passed an examination that was highly commended by all who heard it, and was admitted to practice law. The evening of my admission was spent with Alice, and our common hopefulness at my prospects, to- gether with her undisguised interest, emboldened me to say what my heart had prompted for months. Boys, I cannot tell my happiness when I realized that the love of so pure and noble a girl was mine^ but when I asked her to name the day that should make us one, the rich color fled from her face and, as though almost ready to faint, she whispered: "Don't ask me to-night, Joseph; some other time we'll plan that, but not now;" and her eyes had a sad, far-away look, while her lips quivered as she repeated, "not now. " Recovering her composure, she continued, as she pointed to the Major's picture on the center- table : "He was once strong and brave, and loved Evange- line. Oh, Joseph! you know the rest;" and she hid THt: LOGGER'S STORY, lYl her tbce while I felt the hot tears drop on my hand. Wich the pain of an arrow entering my side, [ grasped the terrible meaning. This noble girl returned a deeper love than I could give, but the awful picture of a broken heart, a blasted life, a mound in the grave-yard, as the fruit of Rum's pow- er, made her pause at the threshold with misgiving. Eecovering myself, I said tenderly: "You are right, Alice; I cannot blame you. How- ever sad, we must wait till you know I am free. How cruel in me to ask it now!" For hours we communed, and but for the shadow, our joy would have been almost complete. "I'll conquer yet aad be a free man, my Guardian Angel, " I said at parting. "Come unto me, all ye that weary and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest," she whispered; "be strong and of good cheer, my royal knight. Adieu till to-morrow. " 218 HIGH JOE; OR, CHAPTER XXXL WHIPPED TO DEATH. With bright anticipations for the future, I went out into the still night, walking thoughtfully toward home. Passing along the street in front of the Major's house, I was surpried to see the hall lighted and the front door standing open. "What can it mean?" I queried, stopping, undecid- ed whether to go on or in. Impelled by a strange foreboding, I hastened up the walk and entered. In the parlor were chairs overturned, and fragments of a broken lamp on the carpet. I knocked, but no answer; then I rang the bell, but all was quiet. Pushing my way into the library, I found everything in confusion. A cold chill crept over me as I fancied I saw the worii of a madman ; and the fear of what he might have done made me tread stealthily. I groped my way into the dining-room and struck a match. Brok- en dishes were on the table and floor, and destruction reigned everywhere. Finding a small lamp, I lighted it and pursued my search. The kitchen showed little of the ruin, and I returned to the hall. Up the richly carpeted stairs I tiptoed, fearing ev- ery moment some dreadful revelation. At the head I stopped, thinking I heard a sound. Yes, it was a moan, and came from Elsie's room. I tapped on the door, but no answer; then turned the knob and en- tered. Again I heard the moan, and going to the THE LOGGER'S STORY. 219 oed, saw the childish form stretched upon the white couch, dressed, as though she had just come from be- low. "What is the matter, Elsie?" I asked, but no reply. Touching her upon the shoulder, she started and turned toward me, while the large, sad eyes looked frightened. As I glanced at the sweet face, I saw dark, ugly lines that told something of the story to come. "O Joseph; is it you?" she asked feebly. "Yes Elsie, " I answered ; "but what has happened?* "Sit down and let me tell you," she said, taking hold of my hand. I sat upon the edge of the bed, and drawing my ear near to her lips, she whispered : "I fear father has the tremens again. He came home this evening, and when Annie brought in his supper, he threw a cup of hot coffee into her face and knocked some of the dishes to the floor. Annie be- came so frightened that she ran out and I haven't seen her since. I quieted him, but it didn't last long. He got out of his chair and began breaking the furniture. As he threw one of the chairs it hit me and I cried. When he saw it, he grasped one arm tight and struck me with his cane, saying < I won't have any babies around here. ' I tried to stop him, but he struck me again, and I couldn't. Then he whipped me, and whipped me, and dragged me around the room. When he let go, I fell down in the corner. Pretty soon I came to and he was just breaking things terribly. I crawled out into the hall and tried to go up stairs, . but my back pained 220 HIGH JOE; OR, me so I sobbed right out on the stairs. Father came in and swore fearfully, and wanted to know why I didn't stop crying. *I will, father,* I said, as I saw his wild eyes, but he caught hold of me again and beat me till his cane broke. After awhile I crawled upstairs, but he came after me with another cane, and said he'd whip me till I'd stop my cry- ing. I plead with him not to, but he did, till I fell down and thought I was dying. After awhile 1 came to and crawled in here. O, Joseph! I'll soon see mother. I'm all bruised and broken. 1 can't stir one arm and there's a terrible pain in my side. Say goodby to Alice and Mrs. Wightman for mej and say good by to Father. Let me kiss you for him. " As I pressed my lips to hers, I felt the cold damp upon them, and a tremor in the frail form. "Goodby, Elsie dear," I said, while the tears rained from my own eyes ; and looking into her face, as I gently laid the white hand down, saw a sweet smile play over her features. I hastened out and had gone only a block when I met Dr. Bronson. With little explanation, we hurried back and entered the silent room. The time of moans and suffering was past. Upon the face was a smile, but the eyelids drooped and the pulse was forever still. "Too late, Joseph, Elsie is with her mother, " said the doctor, as his hand felt her wrist. "Whipped to death by the drink scorpion, is my verdict, but a jury will say, 'Major Wright did it.' 'Tis false: he loved her too well. " THE LOGGER'S STORY. .o-^i Leaving the doctor to watch, I went to call Alice and her mother, and then started out to find the maniac. Meeting an officer, I asked if he had seen the Major. "Oh, yes," was his answer. "Two of us 'rim him in' an hour ago. He was wild as a loon and strong as an ox. The tremens has him tight this time, and if he gets through, I'll wonder. " I hastened toward the jail, and heard his wild shrieks, a block away. Carelessly they had thrust him into a cell, where he was beating the walls and bars, and making the night hideous. "We must take him to the hospital, " I said to th© jailor. Find me two or three good men. " A few moments later, three strong men entered and we opened the cell door. A terrible struggle ensued, but the maniac was finally bound and car- ried to a waiting carriage. In the hospital he was securely chained on a strong bed, and four men waited and watched. In spite of fetters, however, he rolled and tossed, much of the time requiring our combined strength to keep him in place. I shall never forget that night, for its horrors and cries of woe — the wails of a lost soul — will ring on as long as I live. Boys, do you believe that the ear of a just God can be deaf to such cries? Do you believe a human soul can go down in such hellish torture, and the great Creator take no note of it, or hunt out the guilty men who made it possible and profitable? Toward morning the fury increased, the ravings grew wilder, and the coming dissolution was evident on every feature. 222 HIGH JOE; OB, "He can't last lon^, " was the physician's remark, as he watched the heaving breast and perspiring forehead. The strangling scorpions seemed to close tighter around the doomed man, and furiously he tore and fought them, screaming, at times, in an agony of de- spair, "Take them off; take them off; they are strang- ling me 1 O, Joseph; can't you help!" His last hour was a fearful one. In his dying struggle, he tossed us four about as though we were boys. I can't portray the scene; it beggars descrip- tion; but if I could have had the vast army of men who legalized the institutions that made it impossible for him to resist his appetite, pass by his bedside and hear his awful, dying oaths and cries, it seems to me they would repent in sackcloth and ashes, and arise in their might and free this land and its victims forever from the destroyer. Would they listen to tariff humbuggery, to political clap-trap, to the sophistry of demagogues, with such a picture painted on their visions and such wails of the lost ringing in their ears? I don't believe they would, un- less their hearts were deadened by the greed for gold. Two days later the mansion was thronged with a funeral concourse. Two caskets sat in the richly furnished parlors, where some of the broken furniture could still be seen. Rev. Bliss conducted the serv- ices; and, as he told how the innocent child had climbed the stairs, her great, loving heart breaking in sobs that the brutal demon sought to whip out, how she threw herself upon the bed to wait for the anoels to carry her to her mother's tender bosom, THE LOGGER'S STORY. 223 and how, at last, the sweet life had gone out, with no earthly hand to hold as she entered the dark waters, tears streamed from every eye and sobs made it difficult for him to be heard. "This city loses one of its grandest men and heaven a star of glory in Alajor Wright's awful death," said the brave pastor; "and who is to blame for it? Every man who helped place one hundred open saloons where he could enter them. God is writing an awful record in His judgment-book, and every man who has aided this double murder, nay the many murders that have occurred in this city, will have to meet that record. TVe make excuses A^re, but there we will not dare offer them or plead the success of parties, policies or men in justification. Church membership, honesty in business, or philan- throphy in other lines, cannot atone for deeds that bring such sorrow, blight and death. I say, brethren, in all kindness, that the hands of every one who has helped to legalize these saloons, are to-day reeking with the blood of rum's victims. The church of Christ is suffering because men fear to follow where the loving Master leads. I would not be a true pas- tor, if, in the presence of these slaughtered ones, I failed to utter words of burning truth that should arouse each one to his duty. The past is dark but we can make the future glorious, by redeeming our land from rum's power and making the 'banner of the cross' more powerful than the banner of gold or par- ties. Man can do this, but never by compromise with his enemies. If, by the death of these, we can be awakened, the sacrifice, though sad, -m HIGH JOE; OR, may not be in vain. Were this the time and place, I would read the 'woes' pronounced in God's word; out the gaping wounds, the broken hearts, the silent forms of father and daughter soon to be laid away, are lessons strong enough for to-day. " Then opening the large Bible, he read that wonder- ful closing chapter. I listened as never before to the words: "And he showed me a pure river of water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the thi'une of God and of the Lamb. "In the midst of the street of it, and on either side of the river, was there the tree of life, which bare twelve manner of fruits and yielded her fruit every month ; and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations. "And there shall be no more curse but the thro: e of God and of the Lamb shall be in it, and his serv- ants shall serve him; "And they shall see His face; and His name shall be in their foreheads; and there shall be no night there. " The seiToon closed and a multitude followed the doubly laden hearse to the cemetery. By the side of the mother's grave was a short one for the golden - haired Elsie; and on the other side, one for the ruined husband. "Dust to dust and ashes to ashes" was again said, and the fruits of man's inhumanity, covered by the rattling clods. Alice and I lingered, while they filled the larger grave, and the crowd dispersed. As the old sexton came to the small one, he hesitated, while the tears THE LOGGER'S STORY. 225 trickled down his weatherbeaten face. Looking up at Alice, he said: "I couldn't place her far away, for I knowed how the mother loved the bairn. I would like to put her in her arms to rest there durin' all the years to come, Miss Alice, but I couldn't. 'Tis one of the saddest funerals I ever knowed, and I've seen lots I could count more'n a hundred here, killed by liquor, and the Potter's Field over yonder is full of 'em. Tell you what, Mr. Strong, I'm most afraid to come in here at night for fear I'll hear the lost ones cryin' for vengeance, or some o' the angels like Mrs. "Wright and Elsie, weepin' over the graves;" and the old man slowly, and carefully, began his sad work. I led away the sorrowing Alice, and as we entered the carriage, she wept aloud. I had no words of comfort and could only place my arm around her ten- derly, while we left in three graves all that once made such a paradise of the Major's mansion. "No, not all, " Alice whispered, as we neared home, "for the chains of earth are broken, and the grave has lost its victory. 'There shall be no more curse,' 'and there shall be no night there.' Joseph, they are not in the tomb." 15 HIGH JOE; OR, CHAPTER XXXn. RESCUED IN EXILE. Major "Wright's father ha,d been wired, but he did not reach the city until the day after the funeral. 'Twas a heart-rending sight as the old, gray-haired man wept over the sad story of his once noble boy. I went with him to the cemetery, and he sat down by the three graves, a truly broken-hearted man. I had read or heard read, often, that story of the rebel- lious son of the " sweet singer of Israel, " but never had I realized the force of those memorable words: "O Absalom, my son, my son; would God I had died for thee! " till I heard that sorrowing father, with similar words, mourn over his lost boy. " 'Twill kill his mother," said the old gentleman as we left. "Only a few days, and our gray hairs will go down in sorrow, two more added to the mounds in the graveyard." Before leaving, he gave me full power to settle up the estate, saying: "I want you to have the house and his books for your kindness, and then use the rest to hght the traffic that destroyed him." With many misgivings, I took up my legal work; but the bitterness of former days, as I saw more clearly the terrible effects of the saloon, came back with greater force. I found myself neglecting my business, in order to help others plan for public meetings or proscjutions. THE LOGGERS STORY 227 " I can't keep the matter from my mind, '* I said to a friend who remonstrated. " The traffic has burned too deep a scar to be forgotten. I am its sworn enemy. " My business grew rapidly, and by fall I had my hands full. Alice's face brightened with the flowers of summer, and her happiness and welcome smile made me long for the day when she would fill my home with sunshine; but I hesitated about pressing the imanswered question of that memorable night. In spite of growing strength in my profession, the ever present appetite made me doubt my power to resist, and memory of the past darkened the future. During the fall term of court, Mrs. Wightman, as a surprise for me, planned a large party to which she invited the local and all other attorneys in at- tendance, together with a host of our friends. The gathering was a most pleasant affair and closed with elaborate refreshments. At the head of the table sat the judge, while I occupied the foot. Delicate blocks of ice cream were served, and as I ate, I detected a strange tingle that slowly spread to my very finger tips, till the awful truth dawned on me that brandy was the cause. With difficulty I retained my place at the table, determined to control myself. My first impulse was to tell Alice; but, knowing how pained and worried she would be, decided to wait till morning. " Now is the time, " the tempter whispered, " to show your strength, defy appetite and be a man. " With new resolves, I said, almost savagely, " I mil conquer and she shall not know it." Then, as I 228 HIGH JOE; OR, bade her a tender good-night, there arose in my heart a cry for strength to withstand the tempter. With the battle raging, I went out, all the while saying, " I will resist, I will conquer, " but all the while doubting my ability. I passed, with clenched fists, one, two, three, four, five, six saloons, and heard the clink of the glasses, the tap of the billiard balls, the boisterous laugh and jest, and breathed the rum polluted air that streamed through the doors. Suddenly, I saw a bar-keeper alone, turning down the lights. Like a flash, dark thoughts went through my mind with a resistless power, moving me by their strange momentum. How or why, I know not, but the subtle tempter with his wand of death, seemed to make one pass, and I was in his power. Boys, I drank again, long and deep; and, as the stars were waning in the east, I stag- gered home and found my anxious, ever faithful mother, watching for me. "O, Joseph!" she cried, as she understood all, "has it come to this again?" and throwing her arms around my neck, wept bitterly. I was too "full" to be greatly affected by her sor- row and was soon asleep. Toward noon I awakened and realized my mother's grief in the sad face that appeared ten years older than the previous night. With difficulty I resisted the impulse to hurry to the nearest saloon. As I watched my mother, I thought seriously of the future and realized that there were only a few steps between me and Major Wright. With little confidence in being able to TEE LOGGER'S STORT. 829 control my appetite if I ventured forth alone, I ex- plained all to her. "You must get away from these places of tempta- tion," were her encouraging words, "and be a strong man again." Picking up the Herald, my eye caught the large head lines: "The Cold Water Crank Goes Home Drunk. " " The Devoted Apostle of Prohibition Pre^ paring to Follow His Master, the Dead Major." Then followed an account of my fall and drinken condi- tion when I reached home, told in the most cutt^'ng, unsympathetic way. My first thought was of Alice, and calling my father, requested him to go and see Mr. Wightman. He complied and found him at his store with no knowledge of the terrible report. "We will go at once to the house, " were his prompt words. "They may have seen it." Mrs. Wightman, busy with her work, had not seen the paper, but Alice had read the full report. As she looked inquiringly at my father, he read her question and said; "Yes, Alice, it is all true; but the fire was kindled here last evening. Joseph has sent for your father, and we hope he will soon be himself." Mr. Wightman came, and with his advice, 1 planned to close my office for a time. My only safety was in getting away. Packing a large satchel with woodmen's clothes, Mr. Wightman drove north with me till I found a safe place in a logging camp. I could not meet Alice, but sent a note in w^^ch I ex- plained all and bade her a brief good-bye. 230 HIGH JOE; OR The winter passed pleasantly and I became an expert chopper. I did not drink because there was no opportunity. The hearty food and out-door work gave me a vigor and strength never before known, but there lurked the feeling that I was unsafe where- ever the legalized potion of death could be had. When spring came, I refused a place on the log- drive, as it would take me through the cities where the destroyer waited for the army of toilers. Mr. Wightman met me at the near east railway station and I was soon in the old home again. Let- ters had passed constantly between Alice and myself, and I found her happy at my return. There was, however, a strange, far-away look in her eyes when- ever they met mine, and I could but feel that a great fear tortured her. "Will you open your office again, Joseph?" she asked, when we were alone. "Would you advise it?" I replied, searching in her truthful eyes her deepest thought. "Joseph, I know of no safety while you lean on your own will-power. Only the G-reat Physician can make it possible for you to tread safely amid the destroyer's snares," she answered earnestly. I was silent for a time, then said: "I shall return to the woods, Alice, for there I am safe. In your temples of worship is an army, who ihave so little love for their fellows that they help •enthrone on every street and in every hamlet, the blackest destroyer the world ever knew. Having helped to ruin the thDughtless boys of Christian ihomes, they now prescribe their religion as an anti- ^HE LOGGERS STORY. 231 dote. I don't want such religion. I'd rather have the worship of a heathen. " "Don't, Joseph," she said, as my words grew more .bitter. "Judge not the loving Christ by His weak children. He's mighty to save. I know it, Joseph, and you will some dayj" and she looked at me with radiant eyes. "Maybe I'll find him, then, in the forest wilds, " I answered, while I hungered for her faith and strength. "I believe you will, my tall knight, and then you'll be my royal knight," she said with a warm press of my hand, as she bade me "good-night. " The few days I remained at home, passed quickly ; and I returned to the iorest, where I found plenty of work. Slowly the weeks went by, each bringing a word of hope and lov« from the queen of my heart. They were not simple love-letters, but every word was fragrant with the Christlike faith and hope of the writer. She was sowing seeds that I had every reason to believe were watered by her tears and prayers. The summer wore away siowly, but the longing in my heart was unsatisfied. I said, day after day, as I breathed the fresh forest winds, "I am no stronger to resist than I was a year agoj what am I gaining here?" Each Saturday I walked *:er miles to the nearest postoffice for my mail, where I made the acquaintance of a Christian family. The childrer always ran to meet me when they saw the "tall man" coming, and in time they learned my story. Though poor in this 232 HIGH JOE; OR, world's possessions, they opened a store-house of riches, that, in spite of my rebellious words in the past, awakened a new hope. Before wending my way back through the towering, pines, one evening, I promised these friends to attend a gospel service to be held by a woman on the mor- row, but wondered what she could say that would be of value to me. "I can't stand this long, I muttered as I shook the dew from the overhanging brush till I was damp and chilled. The next morning found me early in the small room that had been fitted with rough boards for seats, waiting for people and speaker. In time, both arrived and the service began. At first I was a mere spectator, then I joined in the gospel hymns. A few songs, a prayer, a chapter from the Bible, and then a half hour's talk from a heart full of love for unsaved men, ind the simple service ended. The speaker, taking my hand, thanked me for my assis- tance in the singing, and asked me to come in the evening. I knew I had been fed by her simple words, out just how I could not tell. Although the house was full in the evening, the message seemed directed especially to me, and her appeals awakened responses that she read with woman's intuition. At the close she asked if there was not one heart hungering for a new life. Scarcely knowing what i did, i arose. I shall never forget her earnest "thank God," nor the haH hour that followed; but a peace and strength came THE LOGGER'S STORY. 233 that I had never known before, and something whis- pered: 'You can now defy the power of appetite.' Before I left, that evening, I wrote a letter to Alice, telling her that the "Lion of Judah, " had broken my chains, and I would be home as soon as possible. A month later, I was greeted by the girl who had waited so long for the "glad news, " and it seemed as though she was ten years younger. To her query as to what I would do, I said: "I am going to work in the woods one more winter, and then I am coming to claim the prize I know is wait- ing. " "All right, my royal knight, but what then?" she queried. "Then my work again, my books, my profession, my home so long delayed. I believe now I can with- stand the onslaught of the enemy, but I would not dare to touch the poison cup. With the help of Him who has broken my chains, I can walk these streets and not enter the doors of death. Are you willing to trust me now, Alice?" and I placed my arm around the girl to whom I owed so much. "I'll trust the Master, Joseph," she said, leanincr her head against my shoulder and looking up with a smile I had never seen before. After remaining a short time, I came back to the woods and met you. It's been a pleasant winter for me and I trust it has for you. I don't expect to be with you again, although I enjoy the work; but I shall never forget the boys in the woods nor the men who are waiting to ensnare them. That is my story boys, and I trust you understand why I have told it so minutely. 234 EIQH JOE; OR, CHAPTER XXXIIL COME TO THE KINGDOM. "I understand, " exclaimed Pat Kinney, "and I don't mane iver to drink agin. But I niver enjoyed a story so much. Yees' a capital fellow, High Joe;" and the impetuous Irishman grasped the broad palm of his entertainer, while his eyes showed respect and honor. "Ze novelle will teach ze boys one grand lesson," broke in little "Frenchy. " "When ze spring comes I shall go down wiz ze boss, so ze zaloons don't got ze money. I want to see ze Queen Alice and ze wed- ding." A general laugh followed the remark, showing, as It did, a strong desire to see the full ending of the story. "All right!" said High Joe, rising,; "we'll sea about that, later." "Boys," exclaimed the Colonel, stepping forward, "we are greatly indebted to High Joe for his excel- ent, though sad story. I know I have learned a much needed lesson and hereafter I shall try to help all of my men to be sober. I shall also do my best to drive out every man who proposes to sell them drink. We all know why High Joe has told us so minutely his story, and can begin our work by signing a plec^ge. How many will do it?" "I will, be jabbers," said Pat, pushing his way THE LOGGER'S STORT. 235 towards the speaker. "You write one out and I'U sisni first." J "All right," said the Colonel, drawing a pen and paper from his pockets. "You shan't want for an op- portunity;" and after a moment's writing he read it Pat wrote his name in ragged characters, and was foU wed by the others until every name was signed -ni take that to the other camps," remarked the Colonel, folding the sheet and replacing it m his pocket. "Now I want all who are convinced that the saloons are bad and only bad, and are wilhng to help fi-ht them, to stand up so that High Joe may know how many converts he has made. At once all arose, when the Colonel ^aj^, Thank you, boys," and led the way for a general hand-shake ^ With his keen ear. High Joe had caught -ords here and there, as he mingled with the boys, fJ^^^J^^^ that scarcely one had escaped the blight of the drink- robber. Some, he knew, bore scars as deep as his own, while others were but wrecks of once strong "" For an hour all enjoyed a general chat, and then the cook called for the room for supper Soon a steaming meal was spread on the plain boards, and it was High Joe's turn to be surprised. As he looked over the various dishes, he said : , . „ "This is a meal fit for a king; some one else has been furnishing good things, I guess. "_ ^^ "Ze Colonel ez ze one who treats zis time, said "■^•^"ef" 'answered the Colonel, "I thought High Joe 236 HIGH JOE; OR, would be hungry when he got through. Help your- selves, boys." * * * « » Eapidly the winter wore away, High Joe retaining not only his place as "boss," but gaining steadily the regard and confidence of the men. Many bits of personal history were poured into his ear from time to time, enabling him to give valuable counsel and encouragement. "I never had a crew accomplish so much in one winter, " said the Colonel when spring came. I wish I had more of them. " "Yees' have more, if ye had such bosses," said Pat Kinney. "Guess that's so, Pat," was the answer, "but they can't be picked up every day. " That evening a meeting was held, at which plans for leaving the woods were discussed, and it was agreed that each should receive his pay in High Joe's office, when the time came. All except the "boss" decided to go on the drive, and he left, saying he would get things ready for their reception. "You see, Freuchy, I'd have to learn to ride a log, if I went, and you'd be laughing at my clumsy ways," said High Joe. "No, no," was the impulsive answer; "ze High Joe can learn ze trick zo quick as nottings. He would lead ze best, soon. " High Joe laughed and bade the boys good-bye, urging them to stand by their promise. "The thing to do is to help each other, " said he, "and you'll all find it much easier. " THE LOGGERS STORY. 237 "We will, we will, " was the hearty answer, as he drove away, followed by the benedictions of as brave a lot of fellows as ever swung the ax. A month later they finished their work and wended their way to the "place of meeting," where they were royally received by the "boss" who had made careful preparations for their care and entertainment To all of the tempter's advances, they had success- fully turned a deaf ear, and declared they never felt so well. Other preparations had also been in progress in the Wightman home. The tall knight was given a warm welcome on his appearance, and the wood- man's garb was replaced by a suit that bespoke busi- ness of another kind. While he spent his time straightening up the old office, arranging books, and preparing for the future, Alice was equally busy. When the day's work was done, the two were seen often to climb the steps of the old Wright home where men were busy painting and papering, and before the month had passed, ev- erything was ready, with no traces of the serpent's curse in sight. At last the day for which these preparations had been made, arrived. The Wightman home was tast- ily decorated and a quiet charm pervaded everything. Quite a circle of friends were invited but the chief place was reserved for the "boys" who consented to be present. 'Twas a proud day for them to know that the "High Joe" of the woods was the same true friend when surrounded by the luxuries of wealth, 238 HIGH JOE; Oh, and that he counted their friendship such as to In- vite them to this chief event ol his eventful life. When the hour arrived, the nearly fifty men found places in the cheery rooms. Leading the two crip- ples by the hand, came Ben Pitts, his face strong and hopeful, while his wife looked years younger. The two children of Peter Mackin were among those whose bright faces added to the pleasure of the occa- sion. The little girl whose mother was burned was also there, with a circle of friends whose bond was genuine affection and interest, rather than social position or wealth. High Joe's father and mother with their white locks, moved quietly among the guests, but the lines of sorrow on their faces told the despoiler's work. Dr. Bronson was one of the cheeriest of the cheery, bis smile and voice betokening hearty good wiii, con- fidence in others and faith in himself. He had be- come a quiet but indefatigable worker in the warfare against the saloon traffic, having so much courage that dark days never shut out his hope in coming victory. 'G-ood pastor Bliss and his wife were there, the lat- ter to yield the good cheer of her presence, and the former, as he said, "to see that the new team was harnessed securely." Mr. and Mrs. Wightman received all with hearty hand-shakes and words of pleasant greeting. Thus the many friends who had come to have a real Interest in those who formed the chief attraction, found themselves warmly welcomed. The little Frenchman could scarcely control his THE LOGGERS STORY. 239 Impetuosity when the two for whom all were waitincTj appeared. High Joe resembled very little the stal- wart chopper. Dressed in a plain, black suit, with beard and hair well cut, he looked, as Pat Kinney whispered, "more like a gineral than a chopper;" while Frenchy exclaimed, "Ze Miss Alice is ze queen ze High Joe pictured — ze beautiful, beautiful wom anz. " The ceremony was brief but pleasing, and when the last word was spoken the little Parisian was the first to extend his impulsive hand for congratulations. One after another pressed forward, and the tender arms of childhood — some plump and strong, others crippled and shrunken — clasped lovingly the nect of the queenly girl who bent to receive their caresses, while little lips told their story of affection by a hearty kiss. Many a moist eye said more than words could express, but they were tears of happiness and deep satisfaction rather than of sorrow or regret. After a sumptuous repast, the large company es- corted the happy couple to their new home. An hour was spent most pleasantly, when goodbys were said, and, with many a fervent "God bless you, and give you happines and peace, " High Joe and Alice were left alone. Into this new home we will only take a parting glance. For an hour the two sat talking over the future. Whether it held in store for them joy or sor- row, depended upon the strength of the husband to resist the giant enemy. "Only the 'Lion of Judah' can bring me off more than conqueror in the coming conflict, Alice," said 240 HIGH JOE; OR, he, with his arm around the noble woman whom he would ever protect and love. "Yes, Joseph," was her answer, as she glanced up into his admiring eyes. "With His loving care and strength I have no misgivings. My royal knight will only be a soldier to follow where He leads. " Like Joseph in his pilgrimage, an altar was erected then and there ; and, as the days of real life and war- fare slipped into years, the ladder from that altar to the skies has stood firm and strong. Daily, angels come and go, bearing peace and happiness to her who could trust the Master, and keeping the once weak man, a stalwart High Joe, with a keen ax ever ready for ail wrongs that oppress his fellows. 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