u
J
TEN NIGHTS IN A
BAR ROOM
PS
CONTENTS
NIGHT THE FIEST. FAGS
TH "SICKLE AND SHEAF" . 7
NIGHT THE SECOND.
THE CHANGES OF A YEAR 89
NIGHT THE THIRD.
JOE MORGAN'S CHILD 64
NIGHT THE FOURTH.
DEATH OF LITTLE MART MORGAN 89
NIGHT THE FIFTH.
SOME OF THE CONSEQUENCES OF TAVERN-KEEP-
ING Ill
NIGHT THE SIXTH.
MORE CONSEQUENCES 141
NIGHT THE SEVENTH.
BOWING THE WIND IPO
vi CONTENTS.
NIGHT THE EIGHTH. PAM
REAPING THE WHIRLWIND 203
NIGHT THE NINTH.
A FEABFUI, CONSUMMATION 232
NIGHT THE TENTH.
THE CLOSING SCENE AT THE " SICKLE AND
SHEA*" 246
TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
NIGHT THE FIRST.
The "Sickle and Sheaf"
TEN years ago, business required me to
pass a day in Cedarville. It was late in the
afternoon when the stage set me down at
the " Sickle and Sheaf," a new tavern, just
opened by a new landlord, in a new house,
built with the special end of providing " ac-
commodations for man and beast." As I
stepped from the dusty old vehicle in which
I had been jolted along a rough road for
some thirty miles, feeling tired and hungry,
the good-natured face of Simon Slade, the
landlord, beaming as it did with a hearty
welcome, was really a pleasant sight to see,
and the grasp of his hand was like that of a
true friend.
I felt, as I entered the new and neatly
furnished sitting-room adjoining the bar,
that I had indeed found a comfortable rest-
ing-place after my wearisome journey.
All as nice as a new pin," said I, approv-
ingly, as I glanced around the room, up to
(7)
8 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAB-BOOM.
the ceiling white as the driven snow
and over the handsomely carpeted floor.
** Haven't seen anything so inviting as this.
How long have you been open ?"
" Only a few months," answered the grati-
fied landlord. " But we are not yet in good
going order. It takes time, you know, to
bring everything into the right shape. Have
you dined yet?"
" No. Everything looked so dirty at the
stage-house where we stopped to get dinner,
that I couldn't venture upon the experiment
of eating. How long before your supper
will be ready ?"
" In an hour," replied the landlord.
" That will do. Let me have a nice piece
of tender steak, and the loss of dinner will
soon be forgotten."
" You shall have that, cooked fit for an
alderman," said the landlord. " I call my
wife the best cook in Cedar ville."
As he spoke, a neatly dressed girl, about
sixteen years of age, with rather an attract-
ive countenance, passed through the room.
" My daughter," said the landlord, as she
vanished through the door. There was a
sparkle of pride in the father's eyes, and a
certain tenderness in the tones of his voice,
as he said "My daughter," that told me
she was very dear to him.
" You are a happy man to have so fair a
child," said I, speaking more in compliment
than with a careful choice of words.
NIGHT TEE FIRST. 9
" I am a happy man," was the landlord's
smiling answer; his fair, round face, un-
wrinkled by a line of care or trouble, beam-
ing with self-satisfaction. U I have always
been a happy man, and always expect to be.
Simon Slade takes the world as it comes,
and takes it easy. My son, sir," he added,
as a boy in his twelfth year came in.
" Speak to the gentleman."
The boy lifted to mine a pair of deep blue
eyes, from which innocence beamed as he
offered me his hand and said, respectfully
" How do you do, sir?" I could not but re-
mark the girl-like beauty of his face, in
which the hardier firmness of the boy's char-
acter was already visible.
" What is your name ?" I asked.
" Frank, sir."
" Frank is his name," said the landlord
" we called him after his uncle. Frank and
Flora the names sound pleasant to our
ears. But, you know, parents are apt to be
a little partial and over-fond."
" Better that extreme than its opposite," I
remarked.
" Just what I always say. Frank, my son,"
the landlord spoke to the boy, " there's some
one in the bar. You can wait on him as
well as I can."
The lad glided from the room in ready
obedience.
"A handy boy that, sir ; a very handy
boy. Almost as good in the bar as a man.
10 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAB-BOOM.
He mixes a toddy or a punch just as well as
I can."
" But," I suggested, "are you not a little
afraid of placing one so young in the way of
temptation ?' '
" Temptation !" The open brows of Simon
Slade contracted a little. "No, sir!" he re-
plied, emphatically. " The till is safer under
his care than it would be in that of one man
in ten. The boy comes, sir, of honest pa-
rents. Simon Slade never wronged anybody
out of a farthing."
"Oh," said I, quickly, "you altogether
misapprehend me. I had no reference to
the till, but to the bottle."
The landlord's brows were instantly un-
bent, and a broad smile circled over his
good-humored face.
"Is that all? Nothing to fear, I can as-
sure you. Frank has no taste for liquor, and
might pour it out for months without a drop
rinding its way to his lips. Nothing to ap-
prehend there, sir; nothing."
I saw that further suggestions of danger
would be useless, and so remained silent.
The arrival of a traveller called away the
landlord, and I was left alone for observa-
tion and reflection. The bar adjoined the
neat sitting-room, and I could see, through
the open door, the customer upon whom the
lad was attending. He was a well-dressed
young man or rather boy, for he did not
appear to be over nineteen years of age
NIGHT THE FIRST. 11
with a fine, intelligent face, that was already
slightly marred by sensual indulgence. He
raised the glass to his lips with a quick, al-
most eager motion, and drained it at a single
draught.
" Just right," said he, tossing a sixpence
to the young bar-tender. " You are first-
rate at a brandy-toddy. Never drank a
better in my life."
The lad's smiling face told that he was
gratified by the compliment. To me the
sight was painful, for I saw that this youth-
ful tippler was on dangerous ground.
" Who is that young man in the bar ?" I
asked, a few minutes afterward, on being
rejoined by the landlord.
Simon Slade stepped to the door and
looked into the bar for a moment. Two or
three men were there by this time; but he
was at no loss in answering my question.
" Oh, that's a son of Judge Hammond,
who lives in the large brick house just as
you enter the village. Willy Hammond, as
everybody familiarly calls him, is about the
finest young man in our neighborhood.
There is nothing proud or put-on about him
nothing even if his father is a judge, and
rich into the bargain. Every one, gentle or
simple, likes Willy Hammond. And then
he is such good company. Always so cheer-
ful, and always with a pleasant story on his
tongue. And he's so high-spirited withal,
and so honorable. Willy Hammond would
12 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
lose his right hand rather than be guilty of
a mean action."
" Landlord !" The voice came loud from
the road in front of the house, and Simon
Slade again left me to answer the demands
of some new-comer. I went into the bar-
room in order to take a closer observation
of Willy Hammond, in whom an interest,
not unmingled with concern, had already
been awakened in my mind. I found him
engaged in a pleasant conversation with a
plain-looking farmer, whose homely, terse,
common sense was quite as conspicuous as
his fine play of words and lively fancy.
The farmer was a substantial conservative,
and young Hammond a warm admirer of
new ideas and the quicker adaptation of
means to ends. I soon saw that his mental
powers were developed beyond his years,
while his personal qualities were strongly
attractive. I understood better, after being
a silent listener and observer for ten minutes,
why the landlord had spoken of him so
warmly.
" Take a brandy-toddy, Mr. H ?" said
Hammond, after the discussion closed, good-
humoredly. " Frank, our junior bar-keeper
here, beats his father in that line."
" I don't care if I do," returned the farmer,
and the two passed up to the bar.
"Now, Frank, my boy, don't belie my
praises," said the young man; "do your
nandsomest."
NIGHT THE FIRST. 13
"Two brandy-toddies, did you say?"
Frank made the inquiry with quite a pro-
fessional air.
" Just what I did say ; and let them be
equal to Jove's nectar."
Pleased at this familiarity, the boy went
briskly to his work of mixing the tempting
compound, while Hammond looked on with
an approving smile.
" There," said the latter, as Frank passed
the glasses across the counter, " if you don't
call that first-rate, you're no judge." And
he handed one of them to the farmer, who
tasted the agreeable draught and praised its
flavor. As before, I noticed that Hammond
drank eagerly, like one athirst emptying
his glass without once taking it from his
lips.
Soon after, the bar-room was empty ; and
then I walked around the premises in com-
pany with the landlord, and listened to his
praise of everything and his plans and pur-
poses for the future. The house, yard, gar-
den and out-buildings were in the most per-
fect order, presenting, in the whole, a model
of a village tavern.
" Whatever I do, sir," said the talkative
Simon Slade, u I like to do well. I wasn't
just raised to tavern-keeping, you must
know ; but I'm one who can turn his hand
to almost anything."
" What was your business ?" I inquired.
" I'm a miller, sir, by trade," he answered
14 TEN SIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
" and a better miller, though I say it my-
self, is not to be found in Bolton County,
I've followed milling these twenty years, and
made some little money. But I got tired of
hard work, and determined to lead an easier
life. So I sold my mill and built this house
with the money. I always thought I'd like
tavern-keeping. It's an easy life, and, if
rightly seen after, one in which a man is
sure to make money." > .''
" You were still doing a fair business with
your mill?"
"Oh, yes. Whatever I do, I do right.
Last year I put by a thousand dollars above
all expenses, which is not bad, I can assure
you, for a mere grist-mill. If the present
owner comes out even he'll do well!"
"How is that?"
" Oh, he's no miller. Give him the best
wheat that is grown, and he'll ruin it in
grinding. He takes the life out of every
grain. I don't believe he'll keep half the
custom that I transferred with the mill."
"A thousand dollars, clear profit, in so
useful a business ought to have satisfied
you," said I.
"There you and I differ," answered the
landlord. " Every man desires to make as
much money as possible, and with the least
labor. I hope to make two or three thou-
sand dollars a year, over and above all ex-
penses, at tavern-keeping. My bar alone
ought to yield me that sum. A man with
NIGHT THE FIRST. 15
a wife and children very naturally tries to
do as well by them as possible."
" Very true ; but," I ventured to suggest,
" will this be doing as well by them as if
you had kept on at the mill?"
"Two or three thousand dollars a year
against one thousand ! Where are your fig-
ures, man ?"
" There may be something beyond the
money to take into the account, "said I.
"What?" inquired Slade, with a kind of
half credulity.
" Consider the different influences of the
two callings in life that of a miller and a
tavern-keeper."
"Well! say on."
" Will your children be as safe from temp-
tation here as in their former home?"
" Just as safe,'' was the unhesitating an-
swer. "Why not?"
I was about to speak of the alluring glass
in the case of Frank, but remembering that
I had already expressed a fear in that direc-
tion, felt that to do so again would be use-
less, and so kept silent.
"A tavern-keeper," said Slade, "is just as
Slade, and treat me in every way more as
if I were an equal than ever they did be-
fore."
" The change," said I, " may be due to the
16 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-BOOM.
fact of your giving evidence of possessing
some means. Men are very apt to be cour-
teous to those who have property. The
building of the tavern has, without doubt,
contributed to the new estimation in which
you are held."
" That isn't all," replied the landlord. " It
is because I am keeping a good tavern, and
thus materially advancing the interests of
Cedarville, that some of our best people look
at me with different eyes."
"Advancing the interests of Cedarville ! In
what way ?" I did not apprehend his mean-
ing.
"A good tavern always draws people to a
place, while a miserable old tumbledown of
an affair, badly kept, such as we have had
for years, as surely repels them. You can
generally tell something about the condition
of a town by looking at its taverns. If they
are well kept, and doing a good business,
you will hardly be wrong in the conclusion
that the place is thriving. Why, already,
since I built and opened the 'Sickle and
Sheaf,' property has advanced over twenty
per cent, along the whole street, and not less
than five new houses have been commenced."
" Other causes, besides the simple opening
of a new tavern, may have contributed to
this result," said I.
'' None of which I am aware. I was talk-
ing with Judge Hammond only yesterday
he owns a great deal of ground on the street
NIGHT THE FIRST. 17
and he did not hesitate to say that the
building and opening of a good tavern here
had increased the value of his property at
least five thousand dollars. He said, more-
over, that he thought the people of Cedar-
ville ought to present me with a silver
pitcher ; and that, for one, he would contrib-
ute ten dollars for the purpose."
The ringing of the supper-bell here inter-
rupted further conversation; and with the
best of appetites, I took my way to the room,
where a plentiful meal was spread. As I
entered, I met the wife of Simon Slade, just
passing out, after seeing that everything was
in order. I had not observed her before,
and now could not help remarking that she
had a flushed, excited countenance, as if she
had been over a hot fire, and was both wor-
ried and fatigued. And there was, moreover,
a peculiar expression of the mouth, never ob-
served in one whose mind is entirely at ease
an expression that once seen is never for-
gotten. The face stamped itself, instantly
on my memory ; and I can even now recall it
with almost the original distinctness. How
strongly it contrasted with that of her smil-
ing, self-satisfied husband, who took his
place at the head of his table with an air of
conscious importance. I was too hungry to
talk much, and so found greater enjoyment
in eating than in conversation. The land-
lord had a more chatty guest by his side, and
I left them to entertain each other, while I
18 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
did ample justice to the excellent food with
which the table was liberally provided.
After supper I went to the sitting-room,
and remained there until the lamps were
lighted. A newspaper occupied my time for
perhaps half an hour; then the buzz of
voices from the adjoining bar-room, which
had been increasing for some time, attracted
my attention, and I went in there to see and
hear what was passing. The first person
upon whom my eyes rested was young Ham-
mond, who sat talking with a man older than
himself by several years. At a glance, I saw
that this man could only associate himself
with Willy Hammond as a tempter. Un-
scrupulous selfishness was written all over
his sinister countenance; and I wondered
that it did not strike every one, as it did me,
with instant repulsion. There could not be,
I felt certain, any common ground of asso-
ciation, for two such persons, but the dead
level of a village bar-room. I afterward
learned, during the evening, that this man's
name was Harvey Green, and that he was an
occasional visitor at Cedarville, remaining a
few days, or a few weeks at a time, as ap-
peared to suit his fancy, and having no osten-
sible business or special acquaintance with
anybody in the village.
" There is one thing about him," remarked
Simon Slade, in answering some question that
I put in reference to the man, " that I don't
object to ; he has plenty of money, and is
NIGHT THE FIRST. 19
not at all niggardly in spending it. He used
to come here, so he told me, about once in
five or six months ; but his stay at the mis-
erably kept tavern, the only one then in
Cedarville, was so uncomfortable, that he
had pretty well made up his mind never to
visit us again. Now, however, he has en-
gaged one of my best rooms, for which he
pays me by the year, and I am to charge
him full board for the time he occupies it.
He says there is something about Cedarville
that always attracts him ; and that his health
is better while here than it is anywhere, ex-
cept South during the winter season. He'll
not leave less than two or three hundred
dollars a year in our village there is one
item, for you, of advantage to a place in
having a good tavern."
" What is his business ?" I asked. " Is he
engaged in any trading operations ?"
The landlord shrugged his shoulders, and
looked slightly mysterious, as he answered
" I never inquire about the business of a
guest. My calling is to entertain strangers.
If they are pleased with my house, and pay
my bills on presentation, I have no right to
seek further. As a miller, I never asked a
customer whether he raised, bought, or stole
his wheat. It was my business to grind it,
and I took care to do it well. Beyond that,
it was all his own affair. And so it will be
in my new calling. I shall mind my own
business and keep my own place."
20 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
Besides young Hammond and this Harvey
Green, there were, in the bar-room, when I
entered, four others besides the landlord.
Among these was a Judge Lyman so he
was addressed a man between forty and
fifty years of age, who had a few weeks be-
fore received the Democratic nomination for
member of Congress. He was very talkative
and very affable, and soon formed a kind
of centre of attraction to the bar-room circle.
Among other topics of conversation that
came up was the new tavern, introduced by
the landlord, in whose mind it was, very
naturally, the uppermost thought.
" The only wonder to me is," said Judge
Lyman, " that nobody had wit enough to
see the advantage of a good tavern in Cedar-
ville ten years ago, or enterprise enough to
start one. I give our friend Slade the credit
of being a shrewd, far-seeing man; and,
mark my word for it, in ten years from
to-day he will be the richest man in the
county."
" Nonsense Ho ! ho ! " Simon Slade
laughed outright. " The richest man ! You
forget Judge Hammond."
"No, not even Judge Hammond, with all
deference for our clever friend Willy " and
Judge Lyman smiled pleasantly on the
young man.
" If he gets richer, somebody will be
poorer!" The individual who uttered these
words had not spoken before ; and I turned
NIGHT THE FIRST. 21
to look at him more closely. A glance
showed him to be one of a class seen in all
bar-rooms ; a poor, broken-down inebriate,
with the inward power of resistance gone
conscious of having no man's respect, and
giving respect to none. There was a shrewd
twinkle in his eyes, as he fixed them on
Slade, that gave added force to the peculiar
tone in which his brief but telling sentence
was uttered. I noticed a slight contraction
on the landlord's ample forehead, the first
evidence I had yet seen of ruffled feelings.
The remark, thrown in so untimely (or,
timely, some will say), and with a kind of
prophetic malice, produced a temporary
pause in the conversation. No one answered
or questioned the intruder, who, I could per-
ceive, silently enjoyed the effect of his words.
But soon the obstructed current ran on
again.
" If our excellent friend, Mr. Slade," said
Harvey Green, " is not the richest man in
Cedarville at the end of ten years, he will at
least enjoy the satisfaction of having made
his town richer."
" A true word that," replied Judge Lyman
"as true a word as ever was spoken.
What a dead-and-alive place this has been
until within the last few months. All vig-
orous growth had stopped, and we were act-
ually going to seed."
"And the graveyard too " muttered the
individual who had before disturbed the
22 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
self- satisfied harmony of the company, re-
marking upon the closing sentence of Har-
vey Green. "Come, landlord," he added,
as he strode across to the bar, speaking in a
changed, reckless sort of a way, u fix me up
a good hot whisky-punch, and do it right;
and there's another sixpence toward the for-
tune you are bound to make. It's the last
one left not a copper more in my pock-
ets " and he turned them inside-out, with
a half-solemn, half-ludicrous air. " I send
it to keep company in your till with four
others that have found their way into that
snug place since morning, and whicn will be
lonesome without their little friend."
I looked at Simon Slade ; his eyes rested
on mine for a moment or two, and then sunk
beneath my earnest gaze. I saw that his
countenance flushed, and that his motions
were slightly confused. The incident, it was
Slain, did not awaken agreeable thoughts.
nee I saw his hand move toward the six-
pence, that lay upon the counter; but,
whether to push it back, or draw it toward
the till, I could not determine. The whisky-
punch was in due time ready, and with it
the man retired to a table across the room,
and sat down to enjoy the tempting beverage.
As he did so, the landlord quietly swept the
poor unfortunate's last sixpence into his
drawer. The influence of this strong pota-
tion was to render the man a little more
talkative. To the free conversation passing
NIGHT THE FIRST. 28
around him he lent an attentive ear, drop-
ping in a word, now and then, that always
told upon the company like a well-directed
blow. At last Slade lost all patience with
him, and said, a little fretfully,
" Look here, Joe Morgan, if you will be
ill-natured, pray go somewhere else, and not
interrupt good feeling among gentlemen."
" Got my last sixpence," retorted Joe, turn-
ing his pockets inside-out again. " No more
use for me here to-night. That's the way
of the world. How apt a scholar is our good
friend Dustycoat, in this new school ! Well,
he was a good miller no one ever disputed
that and it's plain to see that he is going to
make a good landlord. I thought his heart
was a little too soft; but the indurating pro-
cess has begun; and, in less than ten years,
if it isn't as hard as one of his old millstones,
Joe Morgan is no prophet. Oh, you needn't
knit your brows so, friend Simon, we're old
friends ; and friends are privileged to speak
plain."
" I wish you'd go home. You're not your-
self to-night," said the landlord, a little coax-
ingly for he saw that nothing was to be
gained by quarrelling with Morgan. " Maybe
my heart is growing harder," he added, with
affected good-humor ; " and it is time, per-
haps. One of my weaknesses, I have heard
even you say, was being too woman-
hearted."
" No danger of that now," retorted Joe
24 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
Morgan. " I've known a good many land-
lords in my time, but can't remember one
that was troubled with the disease that once
afflicted you."
Just at this moment the outer door was
pushed open with a slow, hesitating mo-
tion ; then a little pale face peered in, and a
pair of soft blue eyes went searching about
the room. Conversation was instantly
hushed, and every face, excited with inter-
est, turned toward the child, who had now
stepped through the door. She was not
over ten years of age; but it moved the
heart to look upon the saddened expression
of her young countenance, and the forced
bravery therein, that scarcely overcame the
native timidity so touchingly visible.
" Father !" I have never heard this word
spoken in a voice that sent such a thrill
along every nerve. It was full of sorrowful
love full of a tender concern that had its
origin too deep for the heart of a child.
As she spoke, the little one sprang across
the room, and laying her hands upon the
arm of Joe Morgan, lifted her eyes, that
were ready to gush over with tears, to his
face.
" Come, father ! won't you come home ?"
I hear that low, pleading voice even now,
and my heart gives a quicker throb. Poor
child ! Darkly shadowed was the sky that
bent gloomily over thy young life.
Morgan arose, and 'suffered the child to
NIGHT THE FIRST. 25
lead him from the room. He seemed pas-
sive in her hands. I noticed that he thrust
his fingers nervously into his pocket, and
that a troubled look went over his face as
they were withdrawn. His last sixpence
was in the till of Simon Slade !
The first man who spoke was Harvey
Green, and this not for a minute after the
father and his child had vanished through
the door.
"If I was in your place, landlord"
his voice was cold and unfeeling " I'd
pitch that fellow out of the bar-room the
next time he stepped through the door.
He's no business here, in the first place;
and, in the second, he doesn't know how to
behave himself. There's no telling how
much a vagabond like him injures a respect-
able house."
"I wish he would stay away," said
Simon, with a perplexed air.
"I'd make him stay away," answered
Green.
'' That may be easier said than done," re-
marked Judge Lyman. "Our friend keeps
a public-house, and can't just say who shall
or shall not come into it."
" But such a fellow has no business here.
He's a good-for-nothing sot. If I kept a
tavern, I'd refuse to sell him liquor."
"That you might do," said Judge Lyman
" and I presume your hint will not be lost
on our friend Slade."
16 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
" He will have liquor, so long as he can
get a cent to buy it with," remarked one of
the company ; " and I don't see why our
landlord here, who has gone to so much ex-
pense to fit up a tavern, shouldn't have the
sale of it as well as anybody else. Joe talks
a little freely sometimes ; but no one can
say that he is quarrelsome. You've got to
take him as he is, that's all."
" I'm one," retorted Harvey Green, with
a slightly ruffled manner, " who is never
disposed to take people as they are when
they choose to render themselves disagree-
able. If I was Mr. Slade, as I remarked in
the beginning, I'd pitch that fellow into the
road the next time he put his foot over my
door-step."
" Not if I were present," remarked the
other, coolly.
Green was on his feet in a moment ; and
I saw, from the flash of his eyes, that he was
a man of evil passions. Moving a pace or
two in the direction of the other, he said,
sharply
" What is that, sir?"
The individual against whom his anger
was so suddenly aroused was dressed
plainly, and had the appearance of a work-
ing-man. He was stout and muscular.
" I presume you heard my words. They
were spoken distinctly," he replied, not
moving from where he sat, nor seeming to
be in the least disturbed. But there was
NIGHT THE FIRST. 27
cool defiance in the tones of his voice and
in the steady look of his eyes,
" You're an impertinent fellow, and I'm
half tempted to chastise you."
Green had scarcely finished the sentence,
ere he was lying at full length upon the
floor! The other had sprung upon him
like a tiger, and with one blow from his
heavy fist, struck him down as if he had
.been a child. For a moment or two, Green
lay stunned and bewildered then, starting
up with a savage cry, that sounded more
bestial than human, he drew a long knife
from a concealed sheath, and attempted to
stab his assailant ; but the murderous pur-
pose was not accomplished, for the other
man, who had superior strength and cool-
ness, saw the design, and with a well-di-
rected blow almost broke the arm of Green,
causing the knife to leave his hand and
glide far across the room.
"I'm half tempted to wring your neck
off," exclaimed the man, whose name was
Lyon, now much excited ; and seizing Green
by the throat, he strangled him until his
face grew black. " Draw a knife on me, ha !
You murdering villain !" And he gripped
him tighter.
Judge Lyman and the landlord now in-
terfered, and rescued Green from the hands
of his fully aroused antagonist. For some
time they stood growling at each other, like
two parted dogs, struggling to get free, in
28 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAB-ROOM.
order to renew the conflict, but gradually
cooled off. In a little while Judge Lyman
drew Green aside, and the two men left the
bar-room together. In the door, as they
were retiring, the former slightly nodded to
Willy Hammond, who soon followed them,
going into the sitting-room, and from thence,
as I could perceive, upstairs, to an apartment
above.
" Not after much good," I heard Lyon
mutter to himself. "If Judge Hammond
don't look a little closer after that boy of his
he'll be sorry for it, that's all."
" Who is this Green?" I asked of Lyon,
finding myself alone with him in the bar-
room soon after.
"A blackleg, I take it," was his unhesi-
tating answer.
" Does Judge Lyman suspect his real
character ?' '
"I don't know anything about that, but I
wouldn't be afraid to bet ten dollars that if
you could look in upon them now you
would find cards in their hands."
" What a school, and what teachers for the
youth who just went with them !" I could
not help remarking.
"Willy Hammond?"
" Yes."
" You may well say that. What can his
father be thinking about to leave him ex-
posed to such influences!"
" He's one of the few who are in raptures
NIGHT THE FIRST. 29
about this tavern, because its erection has
slightly increased the value of his property
about here ; but if he is not the loser of fifty
per cent, for every one gained before ten
years go by, I'm very much in error."
"How so?"
" It will prove, I fear, the open door to
ruin for his son."
" That's bad," said I.
" Bad ! It is awful to think of. There is
not a finer young man in the country ; nor
one with better mind and heart than Willy
Hammond. So much the sadder will be his
destruction. Ah, sir ! this tavern-keeping is
a curse to any place."
" But I thought just now that you spoke
in favor of letting even the poor drunkard's
money go into our landlord's till in order to
encourage his commendable enterprise in
opening so good a tavern."
" We all speak with covert irony some-
times," answered the man, " as I did then.
Poor Joe Morgan! He is an old and early
friend of Simon Slade. They were boys to-
gether, and worked as millers under the
same roof for many years. In fact, Joe's
father owned the mill, and the two learned
their trade with him. When old Morgan
died, the mill came into Joe's hands. It
was in rather a worn-out condition, and Joe
went in debt for some pretty thorough repairs
and additions of machinery. By and by,
Simon Slade, who was hired by Joe to run
30 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
the mill, received a couple of thousand dol
lars at the death of an aunt. This sum en-
abled him to buy a share in the mill, which
Morgan was very glad to sell in order to get
clear of his debt. Time passed on, and Joe
left his milling interest almost entirely in
the care of Slade, who, it must be said in his
favor, did not neglect the business. But it
somehow happened I will not say unfairly
that at the end of ten years Joe Morgan
no longer owned a share in the mill. The
whole property was in the hands of Slade.
People did not much wonder at this ; for
while Slade was always to be found at the
mill, industrious, active, and attentive to
customers, Morgan was rarely seen on the
premises. You would oftener find him in
the woods, with a gun over his shoulder, or
sitting by a trout-brook, or lounging at the
tavern. And yet everybody liked Joe, for
he was companionable, quick-witted, and
very kind-hearted. He would say sharp
things, sometimes, when people manifested
little meannesses; but there was so much
honey in his gall, that bitterness rarely pre-
dominated.
" A year or two before his ownership in
the mill ceased, Morgan married one of the
sweetest girls in our town Fannie Ellis, that
was her name, and she could have. had her
pick of the young men. Everybody affected
to wonder at her choice ; and yet nobody
>eally did wonder, for Joe was an attractive
NIGHT THE Fizo*. 31
young man, take him as you would, and
just the one to win the heart of a girl like
Fanny. What if he had been seen, now and
then, a litle the worse for drink ! What if
he showed more fondness for pleasure than
for business ! Fanny did not look into the
future with doubt or fear. She believed
that her love was strong enough to win him
from all evil allurements ; and, as for this
world's goods, they were matters in which
her maiden fancies rarely busied them-
selves.
"Well. Dark days came for her, poor
soul ! And yet, in all the darkness of her
earthly lot, she has never, it is said, been
anything but a loving, forbearing, self-deny-
ing wife to Morgan. And he fallen as he
is, and powerless in the grasp of the monster
intemperance has never, I am sure, hurt
her with a cruel word. Had he added
these, her heart would, long ere this, have
broken. Poor Joe Morgan! Poor Fanny I
Oh, what a curse is this drink !"
The man, warming with his theme, had
spoken with an eloquence I had not expected
from his lips. Slightly overmastered by his
feelings, he paused for a moment or two,
and then added:
" It was unfortunate for Joe, at least, that
Slade sold his mill, and became a tavern-
keeper ; for Joe had a sure berth, and wages
regularly paid. He didn't always stick to
his work, but would go off on a spree every
32 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
now and then ; but Slade bore with all this,
and worked harder himself to make up for
his hand's shortcoming. And no matter
what deficiency the little store-room at home
might show, Fanny Morgan never found her
meal barrel empty without knowing where
to get it replenished.
" But, after Slade sold the mill, a sad
change took place. The new owner was lit-
tle disposed to pay wages to a hand who
would not give him all his time during work-
ing hours ; and in less than two weeks from
the day he took possession, Morgan was dis-
charged. Since then; he has been working
about at one odd job and another, earning
scarcely enough to buy the liquor it requires
to feed the inordinate thirst that is consum-
ing him. I am not disposed to blame Simon
Slade for the wrong-doing of Morgan ; but
here is a simple fact in the case if he had
kept on at the useful calling of a miller, he
would have saved this man's family from
want, suffering, and a lower deep of misery
than that into which they have already
fallen. I merely state it, and you can draw
your own conclusion. It is one of the many
facts, on the other side of this tavern ques-
tion, which it will do no harm to mention.
I have noted a good many facts besides, and
one is, that before Slade opened the " Sickle
and Sheaf,'^ he did all in his power to save
his early friend from the curse of intemper-
ance; now he has become his tempter.
NIGHT THE FIRST. 33
Heretofore, it was his hand that provided
the means for his family to live in some
small degree of comfort ; now he takes the
.poor pittance the wretched man earns, and
dropping it in his till, forgets the wife and
children at home who are hungry for the
bread this money should have purchased.
" Joe Morgan, fallen as he is, sir, is no
fool. His mind sees quickly yet ; and he
rarely utters a sentiment that is not full of
meaning. When he spoke of Sla'de's heart
growing as hard in ten years as one of his
old millstones, he was not uttering words at
random, nor merely indulging in a harsh
sentiment, little caring whether it were
closely applicable or not. That the indu-
rating process had begun, he, alas ! was too
sadly conscious."
The landlord had been absent from the
room for some time. He left soon after
Judge Lyman, Harvey Green, and Willy
Hammond withdrew, and I did not see him
again during the evening. His son Frank
was left to attend at the bar ; no very hard
task, for not more than half a dozen called
in to drink from the time Morgan left until
the bar was closed.
While Mr. Lyon was giving me the brief
history just recorded, I noticed a little inci-
dent that caused a troubled feeling to per-
vade my mind. After a man, for whom the
landlord's son had prepared a fancy drink,
had nearly emptied his glass, he sat it down
P.
34 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
upon the counter and went out. A table-
spoon or two remained in the glass, and I
noticed .Frank, after smelling at it two or
three times, put the glass to his lips and sip
the sweetened liquor. The flavor proved
agreeable ; for after tasting it, he raised the
the glass again and drained every drop.
" Frank !" I heard a low voice, in a warn-
ing tone, pronounce the name, and glancing
toward a door partly opened, that led from
the inside of the bar to the yard, I saw the
face of Mrs. Slade. It had the same trou-
bled expression I had noticed before, but
now blended with more of anxiety.
The boy went out at the call of his mother
and when a new customer entered, I noticea
that Flora, the daughter, came in to wait
upon him. I noticed, too, that while she
poured out the liquor, there was a height-
ened color on her face, in which I fancied
that I saw a tinge of shame. It is certain
that she was not in the least gracious to the
person on whom she was waiting, and that
there was little heart in her manner of per-
forming the task.
Ten o'clock found me alone and musing
in the bar-room over the occurrences of the
evening. Of all the incidents, that of the
entrance of Joe Morgan's child kept the
most prominent place in my thoughts. The
picture of that mournful little face was ever
before me ; and I seemed all the while to
hear the word " Father," uttered so touch-
NIGHT THE FIRST. 35
ingly, and yet with such a world of childish
tenderness. And the man, who would have
opposed the most stubborn resistance to his
fellow-men, had they sought to force him
from the room, going passively, almost
meekly out, led by that little child I could
not, for a time, turn my thoughts from the
image thereof! And then thought bore me
to the wretched home, back to which the
gentle, loving child had taken her father,,
and my heart grew faint in me as imagina-
tion busied itself with all the misery there.
And Willy Hammond. The little that I
had heard and seen of him greatly interested
me in his favor. Ah ! upon what dangerous
ground was he treading. How many pit-
falls awaited his feet how near they were
to the brink of a fearful precipice, down
which to fall was certain destruction ! How
beautiful had been his life-promise ! How
fair the opening day of his existence ! Alas I
the clouds were gathering already, and the
low rumble of the distant thunder presaged
the coming of a fearful tempest. Was there-
none to warn him of the danger? Alas I
all might now come too late, for so few who-
enter the path in which his steps were tread-
ing will hearken to friendly counsel, or heed
the solemn warning. Where was he now?
This question recurred over and over again.
He had left the bar-room with Judge Lyman
and Green early in the evening, and had not
made his appearance since. Who and what
36 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
was Green? And Judge Lyman, was he a
man of principle ? One with whom it was
safe to trust a youth like Willy Hammond?
While I mused thus, the bar-room door
opened, and a man past the prime of life,
with a somewhat florid face, which gave a
strong relief to the gray, almost white hair
that, suffered to grow freely, was pushed
back, and lay in heavy masses on his coat
collar, entered with a hasty step. He was
almost venerable in appearance ; yet, there
was in his dark, quick eyes the brightness
of unquenched loves, the fires of which were
kindled at the altars of selfishness and sen-
suality. This I saw at a glance. There was
a look of concern on his face, as he threw
his eyes around the bar-room; and he
seemed disappointed, I thought, at finding
it empty.
" Is Simon Slade here ?"
As I answered in the negative, Mrs. Slade
entered through the door that opened from
the yard, and stood behind the counter.
" Ah, Mrs. Slade ! Good-evening, madam !"
he said.
" Good-evening, Judge Hammond !"
"Is your husband at home?"
"I believe he is," answered Mrs. Slade.
" I think he's somewhere about the house."
" Ask him to step here, will you ?"
Mrs. Slade went out. Nearly five minutes
went by, during which time Judge Ham-
mond paced the floor of the bar-room ua-
NldET THE FIRST. 37
easily. Then the landlord made his appear-
ance. The free, open, manly, self-satisfied
expression of his countenance, which I had
remarked on alighting from the stage in the
afternoon, was gone. I noticed at once the
change, for it was striking. He did not look
steadily into the face of Judge Hammond,
who asked him, in a low voice, if his son had
been there during the evening.
" He was here," said Slade.
"When?"
"He came in some time after dark, and
stayed, maybe, an hour."
''And hasn't been here since ?"
" It's nearly two hours since he left the
bar-room," replied the landlord.
Judge Hammond seemed perplexed.
There was a degree of evasion in Slade' a
manner that he could hardly help noticing.
To me it was all apparent, for I had lively
suspicions that made my observation acute.
Judge Hammond crossed his arms behind
him, and took three or four strides about the
floor.
" Was Judge Lyman here to-night ?" he
then asked.
" He was," answered Slade.
" Did he and Willy go out together?"
The question seemed an unexpected one
/or the landlord. Slade appeared slightly
confused, and did not answer promptly.
"I I rather think they did," he said,
after a brief hesitation.
38 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-BOOM.
" Ah, well! Perhaps he is at Judge Ly-
man's. I will call over there."
And Judge Hammond left the har-room.
" Would you like to retire, sir?" said the
landlord, now turning to me, with a forced
smile I saw that it was forced.
" If you please," I answered.
He lit a candle and conducted me to my
room, where, overwearied with the day's
exertion, I soon fell asleep, and did not
awake until the sun was shining brightly
into my windows.
I remained at the village a portion of the
day, but saw nothing of the parties in whom
the incidents of the previous evening had
awakened a lively interest. At four o'clock
I left in the stage, and did not visit Cedar-
ville again for a year.
NIGHT THE SECOND.
The Changes of a Year.
A CORDIAL grasp of the hand and a few
words of hearty welcome greeted me as I
alighted from the stage at the "Sickle and
Sheaf," on my next visit to Cedarville. At
the first glance, I saw no change in the coun-
tenance, manner, or general bearing of
Simon Slade, the landlord. With him, the
year seemed to have passed like a pleasant
summer day. His face was round, and full,
and rosy, and his eyes sparkled with that
good-humor which flows from intense self-
satisfaction. Everything about him seemed
to say " All right with myself and the-
world."
I had scarcely expected this. From what
I saw during my last brief sojourn at the
" Sickle and Sheaf,' ' the inference was natu-
ral that elements had been called into ac-
tivity which must produce changes adverse
to those pleasant states of mind that threw
an almost perpetual sunshine over the land-
lord's countenance. Howm any hundreds-
of times had I thought of Joe Morgan and
Willy Hammond of Frank and the tempta-
tions to which a bar-room exposed him. The
(39)
40 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
heart of Slade must, indeed, be as hard as
one of his old millstones, if he could remain
an unmoved witness of the corruption and
degradation of these.
" My fears have outrun the actual pro-
gress of things," said I to myself, with a
sense of relief, as I mused alone in the still
neatly arranged sitting-room, after the land-
lord, who sat and chatted for a few minutes,
had left me. " There is, I am willing to be-
lieve, a basis of good in this man's charac-
ter, which has led him to remove, as far as
possible, the more palpable evils that ever
attach themselves to a house of public en-
tertainment. He had but entered on the
business last year. There was much to be
learned, pondered, and corrected. Experi-
ence, I doubt not, has led to many impor-
tant changes in the manner of conducting
the establishment, and especially in what
pertains to the bar."
As I thought thus, my eyes glanced
through the half-open door, and rested on
the face of Simon Slade. He was standing
behind his bar evidently alone in the
room with his head bent in a musing atti-
tude. At first I was in some doubt as to the
identity of the singularly changed counte-
nance. Two deep perpendicular seams lay
sharply denned on his forehead the arch
of his eyebrows was gone, and from each
corner of his compressed lips lines were
seen reaching half-way to the chin. Blend-
NIGHT THE SECOND. 41
ing with a slightly troubled expression, was
a strongly marked selfishness, evidently
brooding over the consummation of its pur-
pose. For some moments I sat gazing on
this face, half-doubting at times if it were
really that of Simon Slade. Suddenly, a
gleam flashed over it an ejaculation was
uttered, and one clinched hand brought
down, with a sharp stroke into the open
palm of the other. The landlord's mind
had reached a conclusion, and was resolved
upon action. There were no warm rays in
the gleam light that irradiated his counte-
nance at least none for my heart, which
felt under them an almost icy coldness.
" Just the man I was thinking about," I
heard the landlord say, as some one entered
the bar, while his whole manner underwent
a sudden change.
" The old saying is true," was answered in
a voice, the tones of which were familiar to
my ears.
" Thinking of the old Harry ?" said Slade
" Yes."
"True, literally, in the present case," I
heard the landlord remark, though in a
much lower tone; "for, if you are not the
devil himself, you can't be farther removed
than a second cousin."
A low, gurgling laugh met this little sally.
There was something in it so unlike a hu-
man laugh that it caused my blood to
trickle, for a moment, coldly along my veins.
42 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
I heard nothing more except the murmur
of voices in the bar, for a hand shut the
partly open door that led from the sitting-
room.
Whose was that voice ? I recalled its
tones, and tried to fix in my thought the
person to whom it belonged, but was unable
to do so. I was not very long in doubt, for
on stepping out upon the porch in front of
the tavern, the well-remembered face of
Harvey Green presented itself. He stood in
the bar-room door, and was talking earnestly
to Slade, whose back was toward me. I saw
that he recognized me, although I had not
passed a word with him on the occasion of
my former visit; and there was a lighting
up his countenance as if about to speak
but I withdrew my eyes from his face to
avoid the unwelcome greeting. When I
looked at him again, I saw that he was re-
garding me with a sinister glance, which was
instantly withdrawn. In what broad, black
characters was the word TEMPTER written on
his face ! How was it possible for any one
to look thereon, and not read the warning
inscription 1
Soon after, he withdrew into the bar-room,
and the landlord came and took a seat near
me on the porch.
" How is the ' Sickle and Sheaf coming
on ?" I inquired.
"First-rate," was the answer " First-
rate."
NIGHT THE SECOND. 43
" As well as you expected ?"
"Better."
" Satisfied with your experiment ?"
" Perfectly. Couldn't get me back to the
rumbling old mill again, if you were to
make me a present of it."
" What of the mill?" I asked. " How does
the new owner come on?"
" About as I thought it would be."
" Not doing very well?"
" How could it be expected, when he
didn't know enough of the milling business
to grind a bushel of wheat right. He lost
half of the custom I transferred to him in
less than three months. Then he broke his
main shaft, and it took over three weeks to
get in a new one. Half of his remaining
customers discovered by this time that they
could get far better meal from their grain at
Harwood's mill near Lynwood, and so did
not care to trouble him any more. The up-
shot of the whole matter is, he broke down
next, and had to sell the mill at a heavy
loss."
"Who has it now?"
"Judge Hammond is the purchaser."
" He is going to rent it, I suppose ?"
" No ; I believe he means to turn it into
gome kind of a factory and, I rather think,
will connect therewith a distillery. This is
a fine grain-growing country, as you know.
If he does set up a distillery, he'll make a
fine thing of it. Grain has been too low in
44 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
this section for some years ; this all the far-
mers have felt, and they are very much
pleased at the idea. It will help them won-
derfully. I always thought my mill a great
thing for the farmers; but what I did for
them was a mere song compared to the ad-
vantage of an extensive distillery."
" Judge Hammond is one of your richest
men?''
"Yes the richest in the county. And
what is more, he's a shrewd, far-seeing man,
and knows how to multiply his riches."
" How is his son Willy coming on ?"
"Oh! first-rate."
The landlord's eyes fell under the search-
ing look I bent upon him.
'"How old is he now?"
" Just twenty."
" A critical age," I remarked.
" So people say ; but I didn't find it so,"
answered Slade, a little distantly.
"The impulses within and the tempta-
tions without are the measure of its dangers.
At his age, you were, no doubt, daily em-
ployed at hard work."
" I was, and no mistake."
" Thousands and hundreds of thousands
are indebted to useful work, occupying
many hours through each day, and leaving
them with wearied bodies at night, for their
safe passage from yielding youth to firm, re-
sisting manhood. It might not be with you
as it is now, had leisure and freedom to go
NIGHT THE SECOND. 45
in and out when you pleased been offered
at the age of nineteen."
" I can't tell as to that," said the landlord,
shrugging his shoulders. " But I don't see
that Willy Hammond is in any especial
danger. He is a young man with many ad-
mirable qualities is social liberal gen-
erous almost to a fault but has good com-
mon sense, and wit enough, I take it, to keep
out of harm's way."
A man passing the house at the moment
gave Simon Slade an opportunity to break
off a conversation that was not, I could pee,
altogether agreeable. As he left me, I arose
and stepped into the bar-room. Frank, the
landlord's son, was behind the bar. He had
grown considerably in the year and from a
rather delicate, innocent-looking boy, to a
stout, bold lad. His face was rounder, and
had a gross, sensual expression, that showed
itself particularly about the mouth. The
man Green was standing beside the bar talk-
ingtohim, and I noticed that Frank laughed
heartily at some low, half-obscene remarks
that he was making. In the midst of these,
Flora, the sister of Frank, a really beautiful
girl, came in to get something from the bar.
Green spoke to her familiarly, and Flora
answered him with a perceptibly height-
ening color.
I glanced toward Frank, half-expecting to
see an indignant flush on his young face.
But no he looked on with a smile 1 u Ah 1"
46 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAB-BOOM.
thought I, " have the boy's pure impulses so
soon died out in this fatal atmosphere?
Can he bear to see those evil eyes he knows
they are evil rest upon the face of his sis-
ter ? or to hear those lips, only a moment
since polluted with vile words, address her
with the familiarity of a friend ?"
" Fine girl, that sister of yours, Frank !
Fine girl !" said Green, after Flora had with-
drawn speaking of her with about as much
respect in his voice as if he were praising a
fleet racer or favorite hound.
The boy smiled, with a pleased air.
" I must try and find her a good husband,
Frank. I wonder if she wouldn't have
me?"
"You'd better ask her," said the boy,
laughing.
" I would, if I thought there was any
chance for me."
" Nothing like trying. Faint heart never
won fair lady," returned Frank, more with
the air of a man than a boy. How fast he
was growing old I
" A banter, by George !" exclaimed Green,
slapping his hands together. " You're a
great boy, Frank ! a great boy ! I shall have
to talk to your father about you. Coming
on too fast. Have to be put back in your
lessons hey !"
And Green winked at the boy, and shook
his finger at him. Frank laughed in a pleased
way, as he replied
NIGHT THE SECOND. 47
"I guess I'll do."
" I guess you will," said Green, as, satisfied
with his colloquy, he turned off and left the
bar-room.
" Have something to drink, sir ?" inquired
Frank, addressing me in a bold, free way.
I shook my head.
" Here's a newspaper," he added.
I took the paper and sat down not to
read, but to observe. Two or three men soon
came in, and spoke in a very familiar way to
Frank, who was presently busy setting out
the liquors they had called for. Their con-
versation, interlarded with much that was
profane and vulgar, was of horses, horse-
racing, gunning, and the like, to all of which
the young bar-keeper lent an attentive ear,
putting in a word now and then, and show-
ing an intelligence in such matters quite be-
yond his age. In the midst thereof, Mr.
Slade made his appearance. His presence
caused a marked change in Frank, who re-
tired from his place among the men, a step
or two outside of the bar, and did not make
a remark while his father remained. It was
plain from this that Mr. Slade was not only
aware of Frank's dangerous precocity, but
had already marked his forwardness by re-
buke.
So far, all that I had seen and heard im-
pressed me unfavorably, notwithstanding
the declaration of Simon Slade that every
thing about the "Sickle and Sheaf" wa
48 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-BOOM.
coming on "first-rate," and that he was
" perfectly satisfied " with his experiment.
Why, even if the man had gained, in money,
fifty thousand dollars by tavern-keeping in
a year, he had lost a jewel in the innocence
of his boy that was beyond all valuation.
" Perfectly satisfied ?" Impossible! He was
not perfectly satisfied. How could he be?
The look thrown upon Frank when he en-
tered the bar-room, and saw him " hale fel-
low, well met," with three or four idle, pro-
fane, drinking customers, contradicted that
assertion.
After supper I took a seat in the bar-
room, to see how life moved on in that place
of rendezvous for the surface-population of
Cedarville. Interest enough in the charac-
ters I had met there a year before remained
for me to choose this way of spending the
time, instead of visiting at the house of a
gentleman who had kindly invited me to
pass an evening with his family.
The bar-room custom, I soon found, had
largely increased in a year. It now required,
for a good part of the time, the active ser-
vices of both the landlord and his son to
meet the calls for liquor. What pained me
most was to see the large number of lads
and young men who came in to lounge and
drink; and there was scarcely one of them
whose face did not show marks of sensuality,
or whose language was not marred by ob-
scenity, profanity, or vulgar slang. The sub-
NIGHT TEE SECOND. 49
jects of conversation were varied enough,
though politics was the most prominent. In
regard to politics, I heard nothing in the least
instructive; but only abuse of individuals
and dogmatism on public measures. They
were all exceedingly confident in assertion ;
but I listened in vain for exposition, or even
for demonstrative facts. He who asseverated
in the most positive manner, and swore the
hardest, carried the day in the petty contests.
I noticed, early in the evening, and at a
time when all the inmates of the room were
in the best possible humor with themselves,
the entrance of an elderly man, on whose
face I instantly read a deep concern. It was
one of those mild, yet strongly-marked faces,
that strike you at a glance. The forehead
was broad, the eyes large and far back in
their sockets, the lips full but firm. You
saw evidences of a strong but well-balanced
character. As he came in, I noticed a look
of intelligence pass from one to another; and
then the eyes of two or three were fixed upon
a young man who was seated not far from
me, with his back to the entrance, playing at
dominos. He had a glass of ale by his side.
The old man searched about the room for
some moments before his glance rested upon
the individual I have mentioned. My eyes
were full upon his face as he advanced to-
ward him, yet unseen. Upon it was not a
sign of angry excitement, but a most touch-
ing sorrow.
50 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
" Edward !" he said, as he laid his hand
gently on the young man's shoulder. The
latter started at the voice, and crimsoned
deeply. A few moments he sat irreso-
lute.
" Edward, my son !" It would have been
a oold, hard heart indeed that softened not
under the melting tenderness of these tones.
The call was irresistible, and obedience a
necessity. The powers of evil had yet too
feeble a grasp on the young man's heart to
hold him in thrall. Rising with a half-re-
luctant manner, and with a shamefacedness
that it was impossible to conceal, he retired
as quietly as possible. The notice of only a
few in the bar-room was attracted by the in-
cident.
" I can tell you what," I heard the indi-
vidual with whom the young man had been
playing at dominos, remark himself not
twenty years of age " if my old man were
to make a fool of himself in this way
sneaking around after me in bar-rooms
he'd get only his trouble for his pains. I'd
like to see him try it, though ! There'd be
a nice time of it, I guess. Wouldn't I creep
off with him as meek as a lamb ! Ho ! ho !
" Who is that old gentleman who came in
just now?" I inquired of the person who
thus commented on the incident which had
just occurred.
" Mr. Hargrove is his name."
" And that was his son ?"
NIGHT THE SECOND. 51
" Yes ; and I'm only sorry he doesn't pos-
sess a little more spirit."
" How old is he?"
" About twenty."
" Not of legal age, then ?"
" He's old enough to be his own master."
" The law says differently," I suggested.
In answer, the young man cursed the law,
snapping his fingers in its imaginary face as
he did so.
"At least you will admit," said I, " that
Edward Hargrove, in the use of a liberty to
go where he pleases and do what he pleases,
exhibits but small discretion."
" I will admit no such thing. What harm
is there, I would like to know, in a social
little game such as we were playing ? There
were no stakes we were not gambling."
I pointed to the half-emptied glass of ale
left by young Hargrove.
"Oh! oh!" half-sneered, half-laughed a
man, twice the age of the one I had ad-
dressed, who sat near by listening to our
conversation. I looked at him for a mo-
ment, and then said
"The great danger lies there, without
doubt. If it were only a glass of ale and a
game of dominos ; but it doesn't stop there,
and well the young man's father knows it."
" Perhaps he does," was answered. " I re-
member him in his younger days ; and a
pretty high boy he was. He didn't stop at
& glass of ale and a game at dominos ; not
52 TEN KIGHTS IN A BAR-BOOX.
he ! I've seen him as drunk as a lord many
a time ; and many a time at a horse-race or
cock-fight, betting with the bravest. I was
only a boy, though a pretty old boy ; but I
can tell you, Hargrove was no saint."
" I wonder not, then, that he is anxious
for his son," was my remark. " He knows
well the lurking dangers in the path he seems
inclined to enter."
" I don't see that they have done him much
harm. He sowed his wild oats, then got mar-
ried and settled down into a good, substan-
tial citizen. A little too religious and phar-
isaical I always thought, but upright in
his dealings. He had his pleasures in early
life, as was befitting the season of youth-^-
why not let his son taste of the same agree-
able fruit? He's wrong, sir; wrong! And
I've said as much to Ned. I only wish the
boy had showed the right spunk this even-
ing, and told the old man to go home about
his business."
"So do I," chimed in the young disciple
in this bad school. " It's what I'd say to
my old man, in double-quick time, if he was
to come hunting after me."
"He knows better than to do that," said
the other, in a way that let me deeper into
the young man's character.
" Indeed he does. He's tried his hand on
me once or twice during the last year, but
fc'M.nd it wouldn't do, no how; Tom Peters
*' ''at of his leading-strings."
NIGHT THE SECOND. 53
"And can drink his glass with any one,
and not be a grain the worse for it."
" Exactly, old boy !" said Peters, slapping
his preceptor on the knee. " Exactly ! I'm
not one of your weak-headed ones. Oh,
no!"
u Look here, Joe Morgan !" the half-
angry voice of Simon Slade now rung
through the bar-room" just take yourself
off home 1"
I had not observed the entrance of this
person. He was standing at the bar with an
emptied glass in his hand. A year had
made no improvement in his appearance.
On the contrary, his clothes were more worn
and tattered ; his countenance more sadly
marred. What he had said to irritate the
landlord, I know not ; but Blade's face was
fiery with passion, and his eyes glared
threateningly at the poor besotted one, who
showed not the least inclination to obey.
"Off with you, I say! And never show
your face here again. I won't have such
low vagabonds as you are about my house.
If you can't keep decent and stay decent,
don't intrude yourself here."
"A rum-seller talk of decency !" retorted
Morgan. " Pah ! You were a decent man
once, and a good miller into the bargain.
But that time's past and gone. Decency
died out when you exchanged the pick and
facing-hammer for the glass and muddler.
Decency 1 Pah ! How you talk ! As if it
54 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-BOOM.
were any more decent to sell rum than to
drink it."
There was so much of biting contempt in
the tones as well as the words of the half-
intoxicated man, that Slade, who had him-
self been drinking rather more freely than
usual, was angered beyond self control.
Catching up an empty glass from the coun-
ter, he hurled it with all his strength at the
head of Joe Morgan. The missile just
grazed one of his temples, and flew by on
its dangerous course. The quick sharp cry
of a child startled the air, followed by ex-
clamations of alarm and horror from many
voices.
" It's Joe Morgan's child I" " He's killed
her!" "Good heavens!" Such were the
exclamations that rang through the room.
I was among the first to reach the spot where
a little girl, just gliding in through the door,
had been struck on the forehead by the
glass, which had cut a deep gash, and
stunned her into insensibility. The blood
flowed instantly from the wound, and
covered her face, which presented a shock-
ing appearance. As I lifted her from the
floor, upon which she had fallen, Morgan,
into whose very soul the piercing cry of his
child had penetrated, stood by my side, and
grappled his arms around her insensible
form, uttering as he did so heart-touching
moans and lamentations.
"What's the matter? Oh, what's tht.
NIGHT THE SECON-D. 55
matter ?" It was a woman's voice,s peak-
ing in frightened tones.
" It's nothing ! Just go out, will you,
Ann ?" I heard the landlord say.
But his wife it was Mrs. Slade having
heard the shrieks of pain and terror uttered
by Morgan's child, had come running into
the bar-room heeded not his words, but
pressed forward into the little group that
stood around the bleeding girl.
" Run for Doctor Green, Frank," she cried
in an imperative voice, the moment her
eyes rested on the little one's bloody face.
Frank came around from behind the bar,
in obedience to the word; but his father
gave a partial countermand, and he stood
still. Upon observing which his mother re-
peated the order, even more emphatically.
" Why don't you jump, you young ras-
cal !" exclaimed Harvey Green. " The child
may be dead before the doctor can get
here."
Frank hesitated no longer, but disappeared
instantly through the door.
" Poor, poor child !" almost sobbed Mrs.
Slade, as she lifted the insensible form from
my arms. "How did it happen? Who
struck her?"
"Who? Curse him! Who but Simon
Slade?'' answered Joe Morgan, through his
clinched teeth.
The look of anguish, mingled with bitter
reproach, instantly thrown upon the land-
66 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAB-BOOM.
lord by his wife, can hardly be forgotten by
any who saw it that night.
l< Oh, Simon! Simon! And has it come
to this already ?' ' What a world of bitter
memories, and sad forebodings of evil, did
that little sentence express. " To this al-
ready " Ah ! In the downward way, how
rapidly the steps do tread how fast the
progress !
" Bring me a basin of water, and a towel,
quickly !" she now exclaimed.
The water was brought, and in a little
while the face of the child lay pure and
white as snow against her bosom. The
wound from which the blood had flowed so
freely was found on the upper part of the
forehead, a little to the side, and extending
several inches back, along the top of the
head. As soon as the blood stains were
wiped away, and the effusion partially
stopped, Mrs. Slade carried the still insensi-
ble body into the next room, whither the
distressed, and now completely sobered
father, accompanied her. I went with them,
but Slade remained behind.
The arrival of the doctor was soon fol-
lowed by the restoration of life to the inani-
mate body. He happened to be at home,
and came instantly. He had just taken the
last stitch in the wound, which required to
be drawn together, and was applying strips
of adhesive plaster, when the hurried en-
trance of some one caused me to look up.
NIGHT THE SECOND. 57
What an apparition met my eyes ! A wo-
man stood in the door, with a face in which
maternal anxiety and terror blended fear-
fully. Her countenance was like ashes
her eyes straining wildly her lips apart,
while the panting breath almost hissed
through them.
"Joe! Joe! What is it? Where is Mary?
Is she dead ?" were her eager inquiries.
"No, Fanny," answered Joe Morgan,
starting up from where he was actually
kneeling by the side of the reviving one, and
going quickly to his wife. " She's better
now. It's a bad hurt, but the doctor says
it's nothing dangerous. Poor, dear child !"
The pale face of the mother grew paler
she gasped caught for breath two or three
times a low shudder ran through her frame
and then she lay white and pulseless in
the arms of her husband. As the doctor
applied restoratives, I had opportunity to
note more particularly the appearance of
Mrs. Morgan. Her person was very slender,
and her face so attenuated that it might al-
most be called shadowy. Her hair, which
was a rich chestnut brown, with a slight
golden lustre, had fallen from her comb, and
now lay all over her neck and bosom in
beautiful luxuriance. Back from her full
temples it had been smoothed away by the
hand of Morgan, that all the while moved
over her brow and temples with a caressing
motion that I saw was unconscious, ana
58 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
which revealed the tenderness of feeling
with which, debased as he was, he regarded
the wife of his youth, and the long suffering
companion of his later and evil days. Her
dress was plain and coarse, but clean and
well-fitting; and about her whole person
was an air of neatness and taste. She could
not now be called beautiful; yet in her
marred features marred by suffering and
grief were many lineaments of beauty;
and much that told of a pure, true woman's
heart beating in her bosom. Life came
slowly back to the stilled heart, and it was
nearly half an hour before the circle of mo-
tion was fully restored.
Then, the twain, with their child, tenderly
borne in the arms of her father, went sadly
homeward, leaving more than one heart
heavier for their visit.
I saw more of the landlord's wife on this
occasion than before. She had acted with a
promptness and humanity that impressed
me very favorably. It was plain, from her
exclamations on learning that her husband's
hand inflicted the blow that came so near
destroying the child's life, that her faith for
good in the tavern-keeping experiment had
never been strong. I had already inferred
as much. Her face, the few times I had seen
her, wore a troubled look ; and I could never
forget its expression, nor her anxious, warn-
ing voice, when she discovered Frank sip-
ping the dregs from a glass in the bar-room.
NIGHT THE SECOND. 59
It is rarely, I believe, that wives consent
freely to the opening of taverns by their hus-
bands; and the determination on the part
of the latter to do so is not unfrequently
attended with a breach of confidence and
good feeling, never afterward fully healed.
Men look close to the money result ; women
to the moral consequences. I doubt if there
be one dram-seller in ten, between whom and
his wife there exists a good understanding
to say nothing of genuine affection. And,
in the exceptional cases, it will generally be
found that the wife is as mercenary, or care-
less of the public good, as her husband. I
have known some women to set up grog-
shops ; but they were women of bad princi-
ples and worse hearts. I remember one case,
where a woman, with a sober, church-going
husband, opened a dram-shop. The hus-
band opposed, remonstrated, begged, threat-
ened but all to no purpose. The wife, by
working for the clothing stores, had earned
and saved about three hundred dollars. The
love of money, in the slow process of accumu-
lation, had been awakened; and, in minis-
tering to the depraved appetites of men who
loved drink and neglected their families, she
saw a quicker mode of acquiring the gold
she coveted. And so the dram-shop was
opened. And what was the result? The
husband quit going to church. He had no
heart for that ; for, even on the Sabbath-day,
the fiery stream was stayed not in his hous*
60 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-BOOM.
Next he began to tipple. Soon, alas! the
subtle poison so pervaded his system that
morbid desire came; and then he moved
along quick-footed in the way to ruin. In
less than three years, I think, from the time
the grog shop was opened by his wife, he
was in a drunkard's grave. A year or two
more, and the pit that was digged for others
by the hands of the wife, she fell into her-
self. Ever breathing an atmosphere, poi-
soned by the fumes of liquor, the love of
tasting it was gradually formed, and she too,
in the end, became a slave to the Demon of
Drink. She died, at last, poor as a beggar
in the street. Ah! this liquor-selling is the
way to ruin ; and they who open the gates,
as well as those who enter the downward
path, alike go to destruction. But this is
digressing.
After Joe Morgan and his wife left the
" Sickle and Sheaf," with that gentle child,
who, as I afterward learned, had not, for a
year or more, laid her little head to sleep
until her father returned home and who,
ii he stayed out beyond a certain hour,
would go for him, and lead him back, a very
angel of love and patience I re-entered the
bar-room, to see how life was passing there.
Not one of all I had left in the room re-
mained. The incident which had occurred
was of so painful a nature that no further
unalloyed pleasure was to be had there dur-
ing the evening, and so each had retired. In
SIGHT THE SECOND. 61
his little kingdom the landlord sat alone,
his head resting on his hand, and his face
shaded from the light. The whole aspect
of the man was that of one in self-humilia-
tion. As I entered he raised his head, and
turned his face toward me. Its expression
was painful.
" Rather an unfortunate affair," said he.
" I'm angry with myself, and sorry for the
poor child. But she'd no business here.
As for Joe Morgan, it would take a saint
to bear his tongue when once set a-going
by liquor. I wish he'd stay away from the
house. Nobody wants his company. Oh
dear !"
The ejaculation, or rather groan, that
closed the sentence, showed how little Slade
was satisfied with himself, notwithstanding
this feeble effort at self-justification.
" His thirst for liquor draws him hither,"
I remarked. " The attraction of your bar to
his appetite is like that of the magnet to the
needle. He cannot stay away."
" He must stay away ["exclaimed the land'
lord, with some vehemence of tone, striking
his fist upon the table by which he sat. " He
must stay away ! There is scarcely an even-
ing that he does not ruffle my temper, and
mar good feelings in all the company. Just
see what he provoked me to do this evening.
I might have killed the child. It makes my
blood run cold to think of it! Yes, sir
he must stay away. If no better can be
62 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
done, I'll hire a man to stand at the door
and keep him out."
" He never troubled you at the mill," said
I. " No man was required at the mill-
door?"
"No!" And the landlord gave emphasis
to the word by an oath, ejaculated with a
heartiness that almost startled me. I had
not heard him swear before. " No, the great
trouble was to get him and keep him there,
the good-for-nothing, idle fellow !"
" I'm afraid," I ventured to suggest, " that
things don't go on quite so smoothly here as
they did at the mill. Your customers are
of a different class."
"I don't know about that; why not?"
He did not just relish my remark.
"Between quiet, thrifty, substantial farm-
ers, and drinking bar-room loungers, are
many degrees of comparison."
" Excuse me, sir !" Simon Slade elevated
his person. " The men who visit my bar-
room, as a general thing, are quite as respec-
table, moral, and substantial as any who
came to the mill and I believe more so.
The first people in the place, sir, are to be
found here. Judge Lyman and Judge Ham-
mond ; Lawyer Wilks and Doctor Maynard ;
Mr. Grand and Mr. Lee; and dozens of
others all our first people. No sir ; you
mustn't judge all by vagabonds like Joe
Morgan."
There was a testy spirit manifested that I
NIOHT THE SECOND. 63
did not care to provoke. I could have met
his assertion with facts and inferences of a
character to startle anyone occupying his
position, who was in a calm, reflective state ;
but to argue with him then would have been
worse than idle ; and so I let him talk on
until the excitement occasioned by my
words died out for want of new fuel.
NIGHT THE THIRD.
Joe Morgan's Child.
" I DON'T see anything of your very par-
ticular friend, Joe Morgan, this evening,"
said Harvey Green, leaning on the bar and
speaking to Slade. It was the night suc-
ceeding that on which the painful and ex-
citing scene with the child had occurred.
" No," was answered and to the word was
added a profane imprecation. " No ; and
if he'll just keep away from here, he may go
to on a hard trotting horse and a porcu-
pine saddle as fast as he pleases. He's tried
my patience beyond endurance, and my
mind is made up that he gets no more
drams at this bar. I've borne his vile
tongue and seen my company annoyed by
him just as long as I mean to stand it.
Last night decided me. Suppose I'd killed
that child ?"
"You'd have had trouble then, and no
mistake."
"Wouldn't I? Blast her little picture!
What business has she creeping in here every
night?"
" She must have a nice kind of a mother,"
remarked Green with a cold sneer.
"I don't know what she is now," said
(64)
NIGHT THE THIRD. 65
Blade, a slight touch of feeling in his voice
"heart-broken, I suppose. I couldn't
look at her last night; it made me sick.
But there was a time when Fanny Morgan
was the loveliest and best woman in Cedar-
ville. I'll say that for her. Oh dear ! What
a life her miserable husband has caused her
to lead."
" Better that he were dead and out of the
way."
" Better a thousand times," answered
Slade. " If he'd only fall down some night
and break his neck,* it would be a blessing
to his family."
"And to you in particular," laughed
Green.
" You may be sure it wouldn't cost me a
large sum for mourning," was the unfeeling
response.
Let us leave the bar-room of the " Sickle
and Sheaf," and its cold-hearted inmates,
and look in upon the family of Joe Morgan,
and see how it is in the home of the poor
inebriate. We will pass by a quick transi-
tion.
"Joe!" the thin white hand of Mrs. Mor-
gan clasps the arm of her husband, who has
arisen up suddenly, and now stands by the
partly opened door. " Don't go out to-night,
Joe. Please, don't go out."
"Father!" A feeble voice calls from the
corner of an old settee, where little Mary lies
with her head bandaged.
C
66 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
" Well, I won't then !" is replied not
angrily, nor even fretfully but in a kind
voice.
" Come and sit by me, father." How ten-
derly, yet how full of concern is that low,
sweet voice. " Come, won't you ?"
" Yes, dear."
" Now hold my hand, father."
Joe takes the hand of little Mary, that in-
stantly tightens upon his.
" You won't go away and leave me to-
night, will you, father? Say you won't."
" How very hot your hand is, dear. Does
your head ache ?"
"A little; but it will soon feel better."
Up into the swollen and disfigured face
of the fallen father, the large, earnest blue
eyes of the child are raised. She does not
see the marred lineaments, but only the
beloved countenance of her parent.
" Dear father !"
" What, love ?"
" I wish you'd promise me something."
"What, dear?"
"Will you promise?"
" I can't say until I hear your request If
I can promise, I will."
" Oh, you can promise you can, father 1"
How the large blue eyes dance and
sparkle.
"What is it, love?"
" That you'll never go into Simon Slade's
bar any more."
NIGHT THE THIRD. 67
The child raises herself, evidently with a
gainful effort, and leans nearer to her father.
Joe shakes his head, and poor Mary drops
back upon her pillow with a sigh. Her lids
fall, and the long lashes lie strongly relieved
on her colorless cheeks.
" I won't go there to-night, dear. So let
your heart be at rest."
Mary's lids unclose, and two round drops,
released from their clasp, glide slowly over
her face.
" Thank you, father thank you. Mother
will be so glad."
The eyes closed again, and the father
moved uneasily. His heart is touched.
There is a struggle within him. It is on his
lips to say that he will never drink at the
"Sickle and Sheaf" again; but resolution
just lacks the force of utterance.
"Father!"
"Well, dear!"
" I don't think I'll be well enough to go
out in two or three days. You know the
doctor said that I would have to keep very
still, for I had a great deal of fever."
" Yes, poor child."
" Now, won't you promise me one thing?"
"What is it, dear?"
" Not to go out in the evening until I get
well."
Joe Morgan hesitated.
" Just promise me that, father. It won't be
long. I shall be up again in a little while.**
68 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM^.
How well the father knows what is in the
heart of his child. Her fears are all for him.
Who is to go after her poor father, and lead
him home when the darkness of inebriety
is on his spirit, and external perception so
dulled that not skill enough remains to shun
the harm that lies in his path?
" Do promise just that, father, dear."
He cannot resist the pleading voice and
look.
" I promise it, Mary ; so shut your eyes
now and go to sleep. I'm afraid this fever
will increase."
" Oh, I'm so glad so glad !"
Mary does not clasp her hands, nor show
strong external signs of pleasure; but how
full of a pure, unselfish joy is that low mur-
mured ejaculation, spoken in the depths of
her spirit, as well as syllabled by her tonguel
Mrs. Morgan has been no unconcerned
witness of all this; but knowing the child's
influence over her father, she has not ven-
tured a word. More was to be gained, she
'was sure, by silence on her part; and so she
has kept silent. Now she comes nearer to
them, and says, as she lets a hand rest on
the shoulder of her husband
" You feel better for that promise already ;
I know you do."
He looks up to her, and smiles faintly.
He does feel better, but is hardly willing to
acknowledge it.
Soon after Mary is sleeping. It does not
NIGHT THE THIRD. 69
escape the observation of Mrs. Morgan that
her husband grows restless ; for he gets up
suddenly, every now and then, and walks
quickly across the room, as if in search of
something. Then sits down, listlessly
sighs stretches himself, and says " Oh
dear!" What shall she do for him ? How
is the want of his accustomed evening stimu-
lus to be met? She thinks, and questions,
and grieves inwardly. Poor Joe Morgan !
His wife understands his case, and pities
him from her heart. But what can she do?
Go out and get him something to drink?
"Oh, no! no! no! Never!" Sheanswered
the thought audibly almost, in the excite-
ment of her feelings. An hour has passed
Joe's restlessness has increased instead of
diminishing. What is to be done? Now
Mrs. Morgan has left the room. She has re-
solved upon something, for the case must be
met. Ah ! here she comes, after an absence
of five minutes, bearing in her hand a cup
of strong coffee.
"It was kind and thoughtful in yon,
Fanny," says Morgan, as with a gratified
look he takes the cup. But his hand trem-
bles, and he spills a portion of the contents
as he tries to raise it to his lips. How dread-
fully his nerves are shattered! Unnatural
stimulants have been applied so long that
all true vitality seems lost.
And now the hand of his wife is holding
the cup to his lips, and he drinks eagerly.
70 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
" This is dreadful dreadful ! Where will
it end ? What is to be done ?"
Fanny suppresses a sob, as she thus gives
vent to her troubled feelings. Twice already
has her husband been seized with the drunk-
ard's madness; and, in the nervous prostra-
tion consequent upon even a brief with-
drawal of his usual strong stimulants, she
sees the fearful precursor of another attack
of this dreadful and dangerous malady. In
the hope of supplying the needed tone she
has given him strong coffee ; and this, for
the time, produces the effect desired. The
restlessness is allayed, and a quiet state of
body and mind succeeds. It needs but a
suggestion to induce him to retire for the
night. After being a few minutes in bed,
sleep steals over him, and his heavy breath-
ing tells that he is in the world of dreams.
And now there comes a tap at the door.
" Come in," is answered.
The latch is lifted, the door swings open,
and a woman enters.
" Mrs. Slade I" The name is uttered in a
tone of surprise.
"Fanny, how are you this evening?"
Kindly, yet half-sadly, the words are said.
" Tolerable, I thank you."
The hands of the two women are clasped,
and for a few moments they gaze into each
other's face. What a world of tender com-
miseration is in that of Mrs. Slade I
" How is little Mary to-night?"
NIGHT THE THIRD. 71
" Not so well, I'm afraid. She has a good
deal of fever."
"Indeed! Oh, I'm sorry I Poor child!
what a dreadful thing it was. Oh, Fanny I
you don't know how it has troubled me.
I've been intending to come around all day
to see how she was, but couldn't get off until
now."
" It came near killing her," said Mrs. Mor-
gan.
"It's in God's mercy she escaped. The
thought of it curdles the very blood in my
veins. Poor child I is this her on the settee ?"
"Yes."
Mrs. Slade takes a chair, and sitting by
the sleeping child, gazes long upon her pale,
sweet face. Now the lips of Mary part
words are murmured what is she saying?
" No, no, mother ; I can't go to bed yet.
Father isn't home. And it's so dark. There's
no one to lead him over the bridge. I'm not
afraid. Don't don't cry so, mother I'm
not afraid ! Nothing will hurt me."
The child's face flushes. She moans, and
throws her arms about uneasily. Hark again.
" I wish Mr. Slade wouldn't look so cross
at me. He never did when I went to the
mill. He doesn't take me on his knee now,
and stroke my hair. Oh dear ! I wish father
wouldn't go there any more. Don't I don't,
Mr. Slade. Oh! oh!" the ejaculation pro-
longed into a frightened cry, " My head ! my
head !''
72 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAB-ROOM.
A few choking sobs are followed by low
moans ; and then the child breathes easily
again. But the flush does not leave her
cheek; and when Mrs. Slade, from whose
eyes the tears come forth drop by drop, and
roll down her face, touches it lightly, she
finds it hot with fever.
" Has the doctor seen her to-day, Fanny ?"
" No, ma'am."
" He should see her at once. I will go for
him ;" and Mrs. Slade starts up and goes
quickly from the room. In a little while she
returns with Doctor Green, who sits down
and looks at the child for some moments
with a sober, thoughtful face. Then he lays
his fingers on her pulse and times its beat
by his watch shakes his head, and looks
graver still.
' ; How long has she had fever? 7 ' he asks.
All day."
You should have sent for me earlier."
: 0h doctor! She is not dangerous, I
hope?" Mrs. Morgan looks frightened.
' She is a sick child, madam."
'You've promised, father" the dreamer
is speaking again " I'm not well enough
yet. Oh, don't go, father; don't! There!
He's gone! Well, well! I'll try and walk
there I can sit down and rest by the way.
Oh dear, how tired I am! Father! Father!"
The child starts up and looks about her
wildly.
" Oh, mother, is it you?" And she sinks
NIGHT THE THIRD 78
back upon her pillow, looking now inquir-
ingly from face to face.
" Father where is father ?'' she asks.
"Asleep, dear."
"Oh! Is he? I'm glad."
Her eyes close wearily.
" Do you feel any pain, Mary ?" inquired
the doctor.
" Yes, sir in my head. It aches and beats
so."
The cry of "Father" has reached the
ears of Morgan, who is sleeping in the next
room, and roused him into consciousness.
He knows the doctor's voice. Why is he
here at this late hour ? " Do you feel any
pain, Mary?" The question he hears dis-
tinctly, and the faintly uttered reply also.
He is sober enough to have all his fears in-
stantly excited. There is nothing in the
world that he loves as he loves that child.
And so he gets up and dresses himself as
quickly as possible, the stimulus of anxiety
giving tension to his relaxed nerves.
" Oh father !" The quick ears of Mary de-
tect his entrance first, and a pleasant smile
welcomes him.
" Is she very sick, doctor ?" he asks, in a
voice full of anxiety.
" She's a sick child, sir ; you should have
sent for me earlier." The doctor speaks
rather sternly, and with a purpose to rebuke.
The reply stirs Morgan, and he seems to
cower half-timidly under the words, as if
Y4 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-BOOM.
they were blows. Mary has already grasped
her father's hand, and holds on to it tightly.
After examining the case a little more close-
ly, the doctor prepares some medicine, and,
promising to call early in the morning, goes
away. Mrs. Slade follows soon after; but,
in parting with Mrs. Morgan, leaves some-
thing in her hand, which, to the surprise of
the latter, proves to be a ten-dollar bill. The
tears start to her eyes, and she conceals the
money in her bosom murmuring a fervent
"God bless her!"
A simple act of restitution is this on the
part of Mrs. Slade, prompted as well by
humanity as a sense of justice. With one
hand her husband has taken the bread from
the family of his old friend, and thus with
the other she restores it.
And now Morgan and his wife are alone
with their sick child. Higher the fever
rises, and partial delirium seizes upon her
over-excited brain. She talks for a time al-
most incessantly. All her trouble is about her
father, and she is constantly referring to his
promise not to go out in the evening until
she gets well. How tenderly and touchingly
she appeals to him ; now looking up into
his face in partial recognition, and now
calling anxiously after him, as if he had left
her and was going away.
" You'll not forget your promise, will you,
father?" she says, speaking so calmly thai
he thinks her mind has ceased to wander.
NIGHT THE THIRD. 7&
*' No, dear ; I will not forget it," he an-
swers, smoothing her hair gently with his
hand.
" You'll not go out in the evening again,
until I get well ?"
" No, dear."
"Father!"
"What, love?"
" Stoop down closer ; I don't want mother
to hear ; it will make her feel so bad."
The father bends his ear close to the lips
of Mary. How he starts and shudders !
What has she said? Only these brief
words :
" I shall not got well, father ; I'm going
to die."
The groans, impossible to repress, that
issued through the lips of Joe Morgan,
startled the ears of his wife, and she came
quickly to the bedside.
" What is it ? What is the matter, Joe ? n
she inquired with a look of anxiety.
"Hush, father. Don't tell her. I only
said it to you." And Mary put a finger on
her lips, and looked mysterious. "There,
mother you go away; you've got trouble
enough, anyhow. Don't tell her, father."
But the words, which came to him like a
prophecy, awoke such pangs of fear and
remorse in the heart of Joe Morgan that it
was impossible for him to repress the signs
of pain. For some moments he gazed at
his wife then stooping forward, suddenly v
76 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-BOOM.
he buried his face in the bedclothes and
sobbed bitterly.
A suggestion of the truth now flashed
through the mind of Mrs. Morgan, sending
a thrill of pain along every nerve. Ere she
had time to recover herself, the low, sweet
voice of Mary broke upon the hushed air
of the room, and she sung:
" Jesus can make a dying bed
Feel soft as downy pillows are,
While on his breast I lean my head,
And breathe my life out, sweetly, there."
It was impossible for Mrs. Morgan longer
to repress her feelings. As the softly
breathed strain died away, her sobs broke
forth, and for a time she wept violently.
" There," said the child," I didn't mean
to tell you. I only told father, because
because he promised not to go to the tavern
any more until I got well ; and I'm not go-
ing to get well. So, you see, mother, he'll
never go again never never never. Oh
dear 1 how my head pains. Mr. Slade threw
it so hard. But it didn't strike father: and
I'm so glad. How it would have hurt him
poor father ! But he'll never go there any
more; and that will be so good, won't it,
mother?"
A light broke over her face; but seeing
that her mother still wept, she said :
" Don't cry. Maybe I'll be better."
NIGHT THE THIRD. 77
And then her eyes closed heavily, and she
slept again.
" Joe," said Mrs. Morgan, after she had in
a measure recovered herself she spoke
firmly. " Joe, did you hear what she said ?"
Morgan only answered with a groan.
"Her mind wanders; and yet she may
have spoken only the truth."
He groaned again.
" If she should die, Joe"
" Don't; oh, don't talk so, Fanny. She's
not going to die. It's only because she's a
little light-headed."
" Why is she light-headed, Joe ?"
" It' s "the fever only the fever, Fanny."
" It was the blow, and the wound on her
head, that caused the fever. How do we
know the extent of injury on the brain?
Doctor Green looked very serious. I'm
afraid, husband, that the worst is before us.
I've borne and suffered a great deal only
God knows how much I pray that I may
have strength to bear this trial also. Dear
child ! She is better fitted for heaven than
for earth, and it may be that God is about
to take her to himself. She's been a great
comfort to me and to you, Joe, more like
a guardian angel than a child."
Mrs. Morgan had tried to speak very
firmly ; but as sentence followed sentence,
her voice lost more and more of its even
tone. With the closing words all self-con-
trol vanished, and she wept bitterly. What
78 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
could her feeble, erring husband do, but
weep with her ?
"Joe," Mrs. Morgan aroused herself as
quickly as possible, for she had that to say
which she feared she might not have the
heart to utter " Joe, if Mary dies, you can-
not forget the cause of her death."
" Oh, Fanny ! Fanny I"
" Nor the hand that struck the cruel
blow."
"Forget it? Never! And if I forgive
Simon Slade "
" Nor the place where the blow was dealt,"
said Mrs. Morgan, interrupting him.
"Poor poor child!" moaned the con-
science-stricken man.
" Nor your promise, Joe nor your prom-
ise given to our dying child."
"Father! Father! Dear father!" Mary's
eyes suddenly unclosed, as she called her
father eagerly.
" Here I am, love. What is it?" And
Joe Morgan pressed up to the bedside.
"Oh! it's you, father! I dreamed that
you had gone out, and and but you
won't, will you, dear father?"
" No, love no."
" Never any more until I get well. "
" I must go out to work, you know, Mary."
" At night, father. That's what I mean.
You won't, will you?"
u No, dear, no."
A soft smile trembled over the child's
NIGHT THE THIRD. 79
face ; her eyelids drooped wearily, and she
fell off into slumber again. She seemed not
so restless as before -did not moan, nor
throw herself about in her sleep.
" She's better, I think," said Morgan, as
he bent over her, and listened to her softer
breathing.
" It seems so," replied his wife. " And
now, Joe, you must go to bed again. I will
lie down here with Mary, and be ready to do
anything for her that she may want."
'*' I don't feel sleepy. I'm sure I couldn't
close my eyes. So let me sit up with Mary.
You are tired and worn out."
Mrs. Morgan looked earnestly into her
husband's face. His eyes were unusually
bright, and she noticed a slight nervous
restlessness about his lips. She laid one of
her hands on his, and perceived a slight
tremor.
"You must go to bed," she spoke firmly.
" I shall not let you sit up with Mary. So
go at once." And she drew him almost by
force into the next room.
" It's no use, Fanny. There's not a wink
of sleep in my eyes. I shall lie awake any-
how. So do you get a little rest."
Even as he spoke there were nervous
twitchings of his arms and shoulders ; and
as he entered the chamber, impelled by hia
wife, he stopped suddenly and said
"What is that?"
" Where ?" asked Mrs. Morgan.
80 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
"Oh, it's nothing I see. Only one of
my old boots. I thought it a great black
cat."
Oh ! what a shudder of despair seized upon
the heart of the wretched wife. Too well
she knew the fearful signs of that terrible
madness from which, twice before, he had
suffered. She could have looked on calmly
and see him die but, " Not this not this !
Oh, Father in heaven!" she murmured, with
such a heart-sinking that it seemed as if
life itself would go out.
" Get into bed, Joe ; get into bed as quickly
as possible."
Morgan was now passive in the hands of
his wife, and obe}red her almost like a child.
He had turned down the bedclothes, and
was about getting in, when he started back
with a look of disgust and alarm.
" There's nothing there, Joe. What's the
matter with you ?"
" I'm sure I don't know, Fanny," and his
teeth rattled together as he spoke. " I
thought there was a great toad under the
clothes."
" How foolish you are !" yet tears were
blinding her eyes as she said this. " It's
only fancy. Get into bed and shut your
eyes. I'll make you another cup of strong
coffee. Perhaps* that will do you good.
You're only a little nervous. Mary's sick-
ness has disturbed you."
Joe looked cautiously under the bed-
NIGHT THE THIRD. 81
clothes, as he lifted them up still farther,
and peered beneath,
" You know there's nothing in your bed ;
see!"
And Mrs. Morgan threw, with a single
jerk, all the clothes upon the floor.
" There now I look for yourself. Now,
shut your eyes," she continued, as she spread
the sheet and quilt over him, after his head
was on the pillow. " Shut them tight and
keep them so until I boil the water and
make a cup of coffee. You know as well as
I do that it's nothing but fancy."
Morgan closed his eyes firmly, and drew
the clothes over his head.
" I'll be back in a very few minutes," said
his wife, going hurriedly to the door. Ere
leaving, however, she partly turned her head
and glanced back. There sat her husband,
upright and staring fearfully.
" Don't, Fanny ! don't go away!" he cried,
in a frightened voice.
" Joe^l Joe ! why will you be so foolish ?
It's nothing but imagination. Now do lie
down and shut your eyes. Keep them shut.
There now."
And she laid a hand over his eyes, and
pressed it down tightly.
" I wish Doctor Green was here," said the
wretched man. " He could give me some-
thing."
" Shall I go for him ?"
"Go, Fanny! Run over right quickly."
82 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
" But you won't keep in bed."
" Yes, I will. There now." And he drew
the clothes over his face. " There ; I'll lie
just so until you come back. Now run,
Fanny, and don't stay a minute."
Scarcely stopping to think, Mrs. Morgan
went hurriedly from the room, and drawing
an old shawl over her head, started with
swift feet for the residence of Doctor Green,
which was not very far away. The kind
doctor understood at a word the sad condi-
tion of her husband, and promised to attend
him immediately. Back she flew at even a
wilder speed, her heart throbbing with vague
apprehension. Oh ! what a fearful cry was
that which smote her ears as she came
within a few paces of home. She knew the
voice, changed as it was by terror, and a
shudder almost palsied her heart. At a
single bound she cleared the intervening
space, and in the next moment was in the
room where she had left her husband. But
he was not there ! With suspended breath,
and feet that scarcely obeyed her will, she
passed into the chamber where little Mary
lay. Not here !
" Joe ! husband !" she called in a faint
voice.
" Here he is, mother." And now she saw
that Joe had crept into the bed behind the
sick child, and that her arm was drawn
tightly around his neck.
" You won't let them hurt me, will you,
NIGHT THE THIRD. 83
dear?" said the poor, frightened victim of a
terrible mania.
" Nothing will hurt you, father," answered
Mary, in a voice that showed her mind to be
clear, and fully conscious of her parent's
true condition.
She had seen him thus before. Ah ! what
an experience for a child !
" You are an angel my good angel,
Mary," he murmured in a voice yet trem-
bling with fear. " Pray for me, my child.
Oh, ask your Father in heaven to save me
from these dreadful creatures. There now !"
he cried, rising up suddenly, and looking
toward the door. "Keep out! Go away I
You can't come in here. This is Mary's
room ; and she's an angel. Ah, ha ! I knew
you wouldn't dare come in here
"A single saint can put to flight
Ten thousand blustering sons of night,"
he added in a half-wandering way, yet with
an assured voice, as he laid himself back
upon his pillow, and drew the clothes over
his head.
"Poor father!" sighed the child, as she
gathered both arms about his neck. " I
will be your good angel. Nothing shall
hurt you here."
u I knew I would.be safe where you were,"
he whispered back " I knew it, and so I
came. Kiss me, love."
84 TEN NIGHTS IN A EAR-ROOM.
How pure and fervent was the kiss laid
instantly upon his lips ! There was a power
in it to remand the evil influences that were
surrounding and pressing in upon him like
a flood. All was quiet now, and Mrs. Mor-
gan neither by word nor movement disturbed
the solemn stillness that reigned in the apart-
ment. In a few minutes the deepened
breathing of her husband gave a blessed in-
timation that he was sinking into sleep.
Oh, sleep ! sleep ! How tearfully, in times
past, had she prayed that he might sleep;
and yet no sleep came for hours and days
even though powerful opiates were given
until exhausted nature yielded ; and then
sleep had a long, long struggle with death.
Now the sphere of his loving, innocent child
seemed to have overcome, at least for the
time, the evil influences that were getting
possession even of his external senses. Yes,
yes. he was sleeping ! Oh, what a fervent
"Thank God!" went up from the heart of
his stricken wife.
Soon the quick ears of Mrs. Morgan de-
tected the doctor's approaching footsteps,
and she met him at the door with a finger on
her lips. A whispered word or two ex-
plained the better aspect of affairs, and the
doctor said, encouragingly,
" That's good, if he will only sleep on."
"Do you think he will, doctor?" was
asked, anxiously.
"He may. But we cannot hope to?
NIGHT THE THIRD. 85
strongly. It would be something very un-
usual."
Both passed noiselessly into the chamber.
Morgan still slept, and by his deep breathing
it was plain that he slept soundly. And
Mary, too, was sleeping, her face now laid
against her father's, and her arms still about
his neck. The sight touched even the doc-
tor's heart and moistened his eyes. For
nearly half an hour he remained ; and then,
as Morgan continued to sleep, he left medi-
cine to be given immediately, and went
home, promising to call early in the morning.
It is now past midnight, and we leave the
lonely, sad-hearted watcher with her sick
I was sitting, with a newspaper in my
hand not reading, but musing at the
"Sickle and Sheaf," late in the evening
marked by the incidents just detailed.
"Where's your mother?" I heard Simon
Slade inquire. He had just entered an ad-
joining room.
"She's gone out somewhere," was an-
swered by his daughter Flora.
" Where ?"
"I don't know."
" How long has she been away ?"
" More than an hour."
"And you don't know where she went
to?"
86 TUN NIGHTS IN A BAR-BOOM.
" No, sir."
Nothing more was said, but I heard the
landlord's heavy feet moving backward and
forward across the room for some minutes.
" Why, Ann I where have you been ?"
The door of the next room had opened and
shut.
" Where I wish you had been with me,"
was answered in a very firm voice.
"Where?"
" To Joe Morgan's."
"Humph!" Only this ejaculation met
my ears. But something was said in a low
voice, to which Mrs. Slade replied with some
warmth,
" If you don't have his child's blood cling-
ing for life to your garments, you may be
thankful."
" What do you mean ?" he asked, quickly.
" All that my words indicate. Little Mary
is very ill!" '
"Well, what of it?"
" Much. The doctor thinks her in great
danger. The cut on her head has thrown
her into a violent fever, and she is delirious.
Oh, Simon ! if you had heard what I heard
to-night."
" What?" was asked, in a growling tone.
" She is out of her mind, as I said, and
talks a great deal. She talked about you."
" Of me ! Well, what had she to say ?"
" She said so pitifully' I wish Mr. Slade
wouldn't look so cross at me. He never did
NIGHT THE THIRD. 87
when I went to the mill. He doesn't take
me on his knee now, and stroke my hair.
Oh dear!' Poor child ! She was always so
good."
"Did she say that?" Slade seemed
touched.
" Yes, and a great deal more. Once she
screamed out, ' Oh don't, don't, Mr. Slade 1
don't! My head! my head !' It made my
very heart ache. I can never forget her pale,
frightened face, nor her cry of fear. Simon
if she should die!"
There was a long silence.
" If we were only back to the mill." It
was Mrs. Slade's voice.
" There, now ! I don't want to hear that
again," quickly spoke out the landlord. " I
made a slave of myself long enough."
" You had at least a clear conscience," his
wife answered.
" Do hush, will you !" Slade was now
angry. " One would think, by the way you
talk sometimes, that I had broken every
command of the Decalogue."
"You will break hearts as well as Com-
mandments, if you keep on for a few years
as you have begun and ruin souls as well
as fortunes."
Mrs. Slade spoke calmly, but with marked
severity of tone. Her husband answered
with an oath, and then left the room, bang-
ing the door after him. In the hush that
foPowed I retired ti my chamber, and lay
88 TEN NIGHTS IN A BA E-ROOM.
for an hour awake, pondering on all I had
just heard. What a revelation was in that
brief passage of words between the landlord
and his excited companion 1
NIGHT THE FOURTH.
Death of Little Mary Morgan.
"WHERE are you going, Ann?" It was
the landlord's voice. Time a little after
dark.
"I'm going over to see Mrs. Morgan,"
answered his wife.
"What for?"
" I wish to go," was replied.
" Well, / don't wish you to go," said Slade,
in a very decided way.
"I can't help that, Simon. Mary, I'm
told, is dying, and Joe is in a dreadful way.
I'm needed there and so are you, as to
that matter. There was a time when, if
word came to you that Morgan or his family
were in trouble "
'' Do hush, will you ?" exclaimed the land-
lord, angrily. " I won't be preached to in
this way any longer."
"Oh, well; then don't interfere with my
movements, Simon ; that's all I have to say.
I'm needed over there, as I just said, and
I'm going."
There were considerable odds against him,
and Slade, perceiving this, turned off, mut-
tering something that his wife did not hear,
and she went on her way. A hurried walk
(89)
90 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAB-BOOM.
brought her to the wretched home of the
poor drunkard, whose wife met her at the
door.
" How is Mary ?" was the visitor's earnest
inquiry.
Mrs. Morgan tried to answer the question ;
but, though her lips moved, no sounds issued
therefrom.
Mrs. Slade pressed her hands tightly in
both of hers, and then passed in with her
to the room where the child lay. A glance
sufficed to tell Mrs. Slade that Death had
already laid his icy fingers upon her brow.
" How are you, dear?" she asked, as she
bent over and kissed her.
" Better, I thank you," replied Mary, in a
low whisper.
Then she fixed her eyes upon her mother's
face, with a look of inquiry.
"What is it, love?"
" Hasn't father waked up yet?"
" No, dear."
" Won't he wake up soon ?"
" He's sleeping very soundly. I wouldn't
like to disturb him."
" Oh, no ; don't disturb him. I thought,
maybe, he was awake."
And the child's lids drooped languidly,
until the long lashes lay close against her
cheeks.
There was silence for a little while, and
then Mrs. Morgan said, in a half-whisper to
Mrs. Slade :
NIGHT THE FOURTH. 91
" Oh, we've had such a dreadful time with
poor Joe. He got in that terrible way again
last night. I had to go for Doctor Green
and leave him all alone. When I came
back, he was in bed with Mary; and she,
dear child ! had her arms around his neck,
and was trying to comfort him ; and would
you believe it, he went off to sleep, and
slept in that way for a long time. The doc-
tor came, and when he saw how it was, left
some medicine for him, and went away. I
was in such hopes that he would sleep it all
off. But about twelve o'clock he started up,
and sprung out of bed with an awful scream.
Poor Mary ! she too had fallen asleep. The
cry wakened her, and frightened her dread-
fully. She's been getting worse ever since,
Mrs. Slade.
" Just as he was rushing out of the room
I caught him by the arm, and it took all my
strength to hold him.
" ' Father ! father !' Mary called after him,
as soon as she was awake enough to under-
stand what was the matter ' Don't go out,
father 1 , there's nothing here.'
" He looked back toward the bed, in a
frightful way.
" * See, father !' and the dear child turned
down the quilt and sheet, in order to con-
vince him that nothing was in the bed.
4 I'm here,' she added. ' I'm not afraid.
Come, father. If there's nothing here to
hurt me, there's nothing to hurt you.'
92 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAB-BOOM.
" There was something so assuring in this,
that Joe took a step or two toward the bed,
looking sharply into it as he did so. From
the bed his eyes wandered up to the ceiling,
and the old look of terror came into his
face.
" ' There it is now ! Jump out of bed, quick !
Jump out, Mary !' he cried. ' See ! it's right
over your head."
u Mary showed no sign of fear as she lifted
her eyes to the ceiling, and gazed steadily,
for a few moments, in that direction.
" ' There's nothing there, father,' said she,
in a confident voice.
'"It's gone now,' Joe spoke in a tone of
relief. ' Your angel-look drove it away.
Aha! There it is now, creeping along the
floor! he suddenly exclaimed, fearfully,
starting away from where he stood.
"'Here, father! Here!' Mary called to
him, and he sprung into the bed again;
while she gathered her arms about him
tightly, saying, in a low, soothing voice
* Nothing can harm you here, father.'
" Without a moment's delay, I gave him
the morphine left by Doctor Green. He took
it eagerly, and then crouched down in the
bed, while Mary continued to assure him of
perfect safety. So long as he was clearly
conscious as to where he was, he remained
perfectly still. But, as soon as partial slum-
ber came, he would scream out, and spring
from the bed in terror, and then it would
NIGHT THE FOURTH. 93
take us several minutes to quiet him again.
Six times during the night did this occur ;
and as often, Mary coaxed him back. The
morphine I continued to give, as the doctor
had directed. By morning the opiates had
done their work, and he was sleeping
soundly. W T hen the doctor came, we re-
moved him to his own bed. He is still
asleep ; and I begin to fell uneasy, lest he
should never awake again. I have heard of
this happening."
"See if father isn't awake," said Mary,
raising her head from the pillow. She had
not heard what passed between her mother
and Mrs. Slade, for the conversation was car-
ried on in low voices.
Mrs. Morgan stepped to the door, and
looked into the room where her husband lay.
" He is still asleep, dear," she remarked,
coming back to the bed.
"Oh! I wish he was awake. I want to
see him so much. Won't you call him,
mother?"
" I have called him a good many times.
But you know the doctor gave him opium.
He can't wake up yet."
"He's been sleeping a very long timej
don't you think so, mother?"
" Yes, dear, it does seem a long time. But
it's best for him. He'll be better when he
wakes."
Mary closed her eyes, wearily. How
deathly white was her face how sunken
94 TEN NIGHTS IN A SAB-BOOM.
her eyes how sharply contracted her feat-
ures I
" I've given her up, Mrs. Slade," said Mrs.
Morgan, in a low, rough, choking whisper,
as she leaned nearer to her friend. " I've
given her up! The worst is over; but, oh!
it seemed as though my heart would break
in the struggle. Dear child ! In all the
darkness of my way, she has helped and
comforted me. Without her, it would have
been the blackness of darkness."
''Father! father!" The voice of Mary
broke out with a startling quickness.
Mrs. Morgan turned to the bed, and laying
her hand on Mary's arm said
"He's still sound asleep, dear."
" No, he isn't, mother. I heard him move.
Won't you go in and see if he is awake ?"
In order to satisfy the child, her mother
left the room. To her surprise, she met the
eyes of her husband as she entered the
chamber where he lay. He looked at her
calmly.
"What does Mary want with me?" he
asked.
"She wishes to see you. She's called you
so many, many times. Shall I bring her in
here?"
44 No. I'll get up and dress myself."
" I wouldn't do that. You've been sick."
" Oh, no. I don't feel sick."
"Father! father!" The clear, earnest voice
of Mary was heard calling.
NIGHT THE FOVK^s:. 95
"I'm coming, dear," answered Morgan.
"Come quick, father, won't you?''
"Yes, love." And Morgan got up and
dressed himself but with unsteady hands,
and every sign of nervous prostration. In a
little while, with the assistance of his wife,
he was ready, and, supported by her, came
tottering into the room where Mary was
lying.
"Oh, father!" What a light broke over
her countenance " I've been waiting for
you so long. I thought you were never
going to wake up. Kiss me, father."
" What can I do for you, Mary ?" asked
Morgan, tenderly, as he laid his face down
upon the pillow beside her.
" Nothing, father. I don't wish for any-
thing. I only wanted to see you."
" I'm here, now, love."
"Dear father!" How earnestly, yet ten-
derly she spoke, laying her small hand upon
his face. You've always been good to me,
father."
" Oh, no. I've never been good to any-
body," sobbed the weak, broken-spirited
man, as he raised himself from the pillow.
How deeply touched was Mrs. Slade, as
she sat, the silent witness of this scene!
" You haven't been good to yourself, father
but you've always been good to us."
" Don't, Mary ! don't say anything about
that," interposed Morgan. "Say that I've
been very bad very wicked. Oh, Mary,
96 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
dear! I only wish that I was as good as
you are ; I'd like to die, then, and go right
away from this evil world. I wish there was
no liquor to drink no taverns no bar-
rooms. Oh dear ! Oh dear ! I wish I was
dead."
And the weak, trembling, half-palsied man
laid his face again upon the pillow beside
his child and sobbed aloud.
What an oppressive silence reigned for a
time through the room !
" Father." The stillness was broken by
Mary. Her voice was clear and even.
" Father, I want to tell you something."
" What is it, Mary ?"
" There'll be nobody to go for you, father."
The child's lips now quivered, and tears
filled into her eyes.
" Don't talk about that, Mary. I am not
going out in the evening any more until you
get well. Don't you remember I prom-
ised?"
" But, father "She hesitated.
"What, dear?"
" I'm going away to leave you and
mother."
"Oh, no no no, Mary! Don't say
that" the poor man's voice was broken.
"Don't say that! We can't let you go,
dear."
" God has called me." The child's voice
had a solemn tone, and her eyes turned rev-
erently upward.
NIGHT THE FOURTH. 97
" I wish he would call me ! Oh, I wish he
would call me !" groaned Morgan, hiding his
face in his hands. " What shall I do when
you are gone? Oh dear ! Oh dear !"
" Father !' ' Mary spoke calmly again.
" You are not ready to go yet. God will let
you live here longer, that you may get
ready."
" How can I get ready without you to
help me, Mary? My angel child !"
" Haven't I tried to help you, father, oh,
so many times?" said Mary.
"Yes yes you've always tried.
" But it wasn't any use. You would go
out you would go to the tavern. It seemed
almost as if you couldn't help it."
Morgan groaned in spirit.
"Maybe I can help you better, father,
after I die. I love you so much, that I am
sure God will let me come to you, and stay
with you always, and be your angel. Don't
you think he will, mother?"
But Mrs. Morgan's heart was too full. She
did not even try to answer, but sat, with
streaming eyes, gazing upon her child 1 s
face.
"Father, I dreamed something about
you, while I slept to-day." Mary again
turned to her father.
"What was it, dear?"
" I thought it was night, and that I was
still sick. You promised not to go out again
until I was well. But you did go out ; and
D
98 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-BOOM.
I thought you went over to Mr. Slade'a
tavern. When I knew this, I felt as strong
as when I was well, and I got up and dressed
myself, and started out after you. But I
hadn't gone far, before I met Mr. Slade's
great bull-dog Nero, and he growled at me
so dreadfully that I was frightened and ran
back home. Then I started again, and went
away round by Mr. Mason's. But there was
Nero in the road, and this time he caught
my dress in his mouth and tore a great piece
out of the skirt. I ran back again, and he
chased me all the way home. Just as I got
to the door, I looked around, and there was
Mr. Slade, setting Nero on me. As soon as
I saw Mr. Slade, though he looked at me
very wicked, I lost all my fear, and turning
around, I walked past Nero, who showed his
teeth, and growled as fiercely as ever, but
didn't touch me. Then Mr. Slade tried to
stop me. But I didn't mind him, and kept
right on, until I came to the tavern, and
there you stood in the door. And you were
dressed so nice. You had on a new hat and
a new coat; and your boots were new, and
polished just like Judge Hammond's. I
said '0 father! is this you?' And then
you took me up in your arms and kissed me,
and said ' Yes, Mary, I am your real father.
Not old Joe Morgan but Mr. Morgan now.'
It seemed all so strange, that I looked into
the bar-room to see who was there. But it
Wasn't a bar-room any longer, but a store
NIGHT THE FOURTH. 9tf
full of goods. The sign of the Sickle and
Sheaf was taken down ; and over the door I
now read your name, father. Oh ! I was BO
glad, that I awoke and then I cried all to
myself, for it was only a dream."
The last words were said very mornfully,
and with a drooping of Mary's lids, until
the tear-gemmed lashes lay close upon her
cheeks. Another period of deep silence fol-
lowed for the oppressed listeners gave na
utterance to what was in their hearts. Feel-
ing was too strong for speech. Nearly five
minutes glided away, and then Mary whis-
pered the name of her father, but without
opening her eyes.
Morgan answered and bent down his ear.
"You will only have mother left," she
said " only mother. And she cries so much
when you are away."
" I won't leave her, Mary, only when I go-
to work," said Morgan, whispering back to-
the child. " And I'll never go out at night
any more."
" Yes ; you promised me that."
"And I'll promise more."
"What, father?"
" Never to go into a tavern again."
"Never?"
" No, never. And I'll promise still
more."
"Father!"
" Never to drink a drop of liquor as long
as I live."
100 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
" Oh, father ! dear, dear father !" And with
& cry of joy Mary started up and flung her-
self upon his breast. Morgan drew his arms
tightly around her, and sat for a long time,
with his lips pressed to her cheek while she
lay against his bosom as still as death. As
death ? Yes ; for, when the father unclasped
his arms, the spirit of his child was with the
angels of the resurrection !
It was my fourth evening in the bar-room
of the "Sickle and Sheaf." The company
was not large, nor in very gay spirits. All
had heard of little Mary's illness, which
followed so quickly on the blow from the
tumbler, that none hesitated about connect-
ing the one with the other. So regular had
been the child's visits, and so gently exerted,
yet powerful, her influence over her father,
that most of the frequenters at the " Sickle
and Sheaf had felt for her a more than
common interest, which the cruel treat-
ment she received, and the subsequent ill-
ness, materially heightened.
" Joe Morgan hasn't turned up this even-
ing," remarked some one.
" And isn't likely to for a while," was an-
swered.
" Why not ?" inquired the first speaker.
" They say, the man with the poker is
after him."
"Oh, dear! that's dreadful. It's the sec-
ond or third chase, isn't it?"
NIGHT THE FOURTH. 101
"Yes."
" He'll be likely to catch him this time."
"I shouldn't wonder."
"Poor devil! It won't be much matter.
His family will be a great deal better with-
out him."
" It will be a blessing to them if he dies."
" Miserable, drunken wretch !" muttered
Harvey Green, who was present. " He's
only in the way of everybody. The sooner
he's off, the better."
The landlord said nothing. He stood
leaning across the bar, looking more sober
than usual.
" That was rather an unlucky affair of
yours, Simon. They say the child is going
to die."
" Who says so?" Slade started, scowled,
and threw a quick glance upon the speaker.
" Doctor Green."
" Nonsense ! Doctor Green never said ? ay
such thing."
" Yes, he did, though."
"Who heard him?"
" I did."
"You did?"
"Yes."
" He wasn't in earnest." A jlight pale-
ness overspread the countenance of the land-
lord.
" He was, though. They had an awful
time there last night."
"Where?"
102 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
" At Joe Morgan's. Joe has the mania,
and Mrs. Morgan was alone with him and
her sick girl all night."
''He deserves to have it; that's all I've
.got to say." Slade tried to speak with a
kind of rough indifference.
" That's pretty hard talk," said one of the
company.
" I don't care if it is. It's the truth. What
else could he expect?"
" A man like Joe is to be pitied," remarked
the other.
" I pity his family," said Slade.
" Especially little'Mary." The words were
uttered tauntingly, and produced murmurs
of satisfaction throughout the room.
Slade started back from where he stood, in
an impatient manner, saying something that
I did not hear.
" Look here, Simon, I heard some strong
suggestions over at Lawyer Phillips' office
to-day."
Slade turned his eyes upon the speaker.
" If that child should die, you'll probably
have to stand a trial for manslaughter."
" No girl-slaughter," said Harvey Green,
with a cold, inhuman chuckle.
" But, I'm in earnest," said the other.
" Mr. Phillips said that a case could be made
out of it." '
" It was only an accident, and all the law-
yers in Christendom can't make anything
more of it," remarked Green, taking the side
NIGHT THE FOURTH. 103
of the landlord, and speaking with more
gravity than before.
"Hardly an accident," was replied.
" He didn't throw at the girl."
" No matter. He threw a heavy tumbler
at her father's head. The intention was to
do an injury, and the law will not stop to
make any nice discriminations in regard to
the individual upon whom the injury was
wrought. Moreover, who is prepared to say
that he didn't aim at the girl?"
" Any man who intimates such a thing is
a cursed liar!" exclaimed the landlord, half-
maddened by the suggestion.
" I won't throw a tumbler at your head,"
coolly remarked the individual whose plain
speaking had so irritated Simon Slade.
" Throwing tumblers I never thought a very
creditable kind of argument though, with
some men, when cornered, it is a favorable
mode of settling a question. Now, as for
our friend the landlord, I am sorry to say
that his new business doesn't seem to have
improved either his manners or his temper a
great deal. As a miller, he was one of the
best-tempered men in the world, and
wouldn't have harmed a kitten. But now
he can swear, and bluster, and throw glasses
at people's heads, and all that sort of thing,
with the best of brawling rowdies. I'm
afraid he's taking lessons in a bad school
I am."
" I don't think you have any right to insult
104 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
a man in his own house," answered Slade,
in a voice dropped to a lower key than the
one in which he had before spoken.
" I had no intention to insult you," said
the other. " I was only speaking suppositi-
tiously, and in view of your position on a
trial for manslaughter, when I suggested that
no one could prove, or say, that you didn't
mean to strike little Mary when you threw
the tumbler."
" Well, I didn't mean to strike her; and I
don't believe there is a man in this bar room
who thinks that I did not one."
" I'm sure I do not," said the individual
with whom he was in controversy. "Nor
I " " Nor I " went round the room.
" But, as I wished to set forth," was con-
tinued, " the case will not be so plain a one
when it finds its way into court, and twelve
men, to each of whom you may be a stranger,
come to sit in judgment upon the act. The
slightest twist in the evidence, the prepos-
sessions of a witness, or the bad tact of the
prosecution, may cause things to look so
dark on your side as to leave you but little
chance. For my part, if the child should
die, I think your chances for a term in the
State's prison are as eight to ten, and I should
call that pretty close cutting."
I looked attentively at the man who said
this, all the while he was speaking, but could
not clearly make out whether he were alto-
gether in earnest, or merely trying to worry
NIGHT THE FOURTH. 105
the mind of Slade. That he was successful
in accomplishing the latter, was very plain ;
for the landlord's countenance steadily lost
color, and became overcast with alarm.
With that evil delight which some men take
in giving pain, others, seeing Slade's anxious
looks, joined in the persecution, and soon
made the landlord's case look black enough,
and the landlord himself almost as fright-
ened as a criminal just under arrest.
" It's bad business, and no mistake," said
one.
" Yes, bad enough. I wouldn't be in his
shoes for his coat," remarked another.
"For his coat? No, not for his whole
wardrobe," said a third.
" Nor for the Sickle and Sheaf thrown into
the bargain," added the fourth.
" It will be a clear case of manslaughter,
and no mistake. What is the penalty ?"
" From two to ten years in the peniten-
tiary," was readily answered.
" They'll give him five, I reckon."
" No not more than two. It will be hard
to prove malicious intention."
" I don't know that. I've heard him curse
the girl and threaten her many a time.
Haven't you?"
" Yes " " Yes " " I have often," ran
around the bar-room.
" You'd better hang me at once," said
, affecting to laugh.
At this moment the door behind Slad
106 TEN MIGHTS IN A BAR-BOOM.
opened, and I saw his wife's anxious face
thrust in for a moment. She said something
to her husband, who uttered a low ejacula-
tion of surprise, and went out quickly.
" What's the matter now?" asked one of
another.
" I shouldn't wonder if little Mary Mor-
gan was dead," was suggested.
" I heard her say dead," remarked one
who was standing near the bar.
"What's the matter, Frank?" inquired
several voices, as the landlord's son came in
through the door out of which his father
had passed.
" Mary Morgan is dead," answered the
fcoy.
" Poor child ! Poor child 1" sighed one, in
genuine regret at the not unlooked-for intel-
ligence. " Her trouble is over."
And there was not one present, but Har-
vey Green, who did not utter some word of
pity or sympathy. He shrugged his shoul-
ders, and looked as much of contempt and
indifference as he thought it prudent to ex-
press.
" See here, boys," spoke out one of the
company, "can't we do something for poor
Mrs. Morgan? Can't we make up a purse
for her?"
" That's it," was quickly responded ; " I'm
good for three dollars ; and there they are,"
drawing out the money and laying it upon
the counter.
NIGHT THE FOURTH. 107
" And here are five to go with them/' said
I, quickly stepping forward, and placing a
five-dollar bill alongside of the first contri-
bution.
" Here are five more," added a third indi-
vidual. And so it went on, until thirty dol-
lars were paid down for the benefit of Mrs.
Morgan.
" Into whose hands shall this be placed?"
was next asked.
" Let me suggest Mrs. Slade," said I. " To
my certain knowledge, she has been with
Mrs. Morgan to-night. I know that she feela
in her a true woman's interest."
" J ust the person ," was answered. " Frank,
tell your mother we would like to see her.
Ask her to step into the sitting-room."
In a few moments the boy came back,
and said that his mother would see us in
the next room, into which we all passed.
Mrs. Slade stood near the table, on which
burned a lamp. I noticed that her eyes
were red, and that there was on her counte-
nance a troubled and sorrowful expression.
" We have just heard," said one of the
company, " that little Mary Morgan is dead."
" Yes it is too true," answered Mrs.
Slade, mournfully. " I have just left there.
Poor child! she has passed from an evil
world."
" Evil it has indeed been to her," was re-
marked.
" You may well say that. And yet, amid
108 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
all the evil, she has been an angel of mercy.
Her last thought in dying was of her miser-
able father. For him, at any time, she would
have laid down her life willingly."
" Her mother must be nearly broken-
hearted. Mary is the last of her children."
" And yet the child's death may prove a
blessing to her."
"How so?"
"Her father promised Mary, just at the
last moment solemnly promised her that,
henceforth, he would never taste liquor.
That was all her trouble. That was the
thorn in her dying pillow. But he plucked
it out, and she went to sleep, lying against
his heart. Oh, gentlemen ! it was the most
touching sight I ever saw."
All present seemed deeply moved.
" They are very poor and wretched," was
said.
" Poor and miserable enough," answered
Mrs. Slade.
" We have just been taking up a collection
for Mrs. Morgan. Here is the money, Mrs.
Slade thirty dollars we place it in your
hands for her benefit. Do with it for her as
you may see best."
" Oh, gentlemen ! " What a quick gleam
went over the face of Mrs. Slade. " I thank
you from my heart, in the name of that un-
happy one for this act of true benevolence.
To you the sacrifice has been small; to her
the benefit will be great indeed. A new life
NIGHT THE FOURTH. 109
will, I trust, be commenced by her husband,
and this timely aid will be something to rest
upon, until he can get into better employ-
ment than he now has. Oh, gentlemen ! let
me urge on you, one and all, to make com-
mon cause in favor of Joe Morgan. His
purposes are good now; he means to keep
his promise to his dying child means to
reform his life. Let the good impulses that
led to this act of relief further prompt you
to watch over him, and, if you see him about
going astray, to lead him kindly back into
the right path. Never oh ! never encour-
age him to drink ; but rather take the glass
from his hand if his own appetite lead him
aside, and by all the persuasive influence
you possess induce him to go out from the
place of temptation.
" Pardon my boldness in saying so much,"
added Mrs. Slade, recollecting herself and
coloring deeply as she did so. " My feelings
have led me away."
And she took the money from the table
where it had been placed and retired toward
the door.
" You have spoken well, madam," was
answered, " and we thank you for reminding
us of our duty."
" One word more and forgive the earnest
heart from which it comes " said Mrs.
Slade, in a voice that trembled on the worda
she uttered. " I cannot help speaking, gen-
tlemen ! Think if some of you be not enter-
110 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
ing the road wherein Joe Morgan has so long
been walking. Save him, in heaven's name I
but see that ye do not yourselves become
castaways!"
As she said this she glided through the
door, and it closed after her.
"I don't know what her husband would
say to that," was remarked after a few mo-
ments of surprised silence.
" I don't care what he would say; but I'll
tell you what 7 will say," spoke out a man
whom I had several times noticed as rather
a free tippler. " The old lady has given us
capital advice, and I mean to take it, for
one. I'm going to try to save Joe Morgan,
and myself too. I've already entered the
road she referred to ; but I'm going to turn
back. So good-night to you all; and if
Simon Slade gets no more of my sixpences he
may thank his wife for it God bless her 1"
And the man drew his hat with a jerk over
his forehead and left immediately.
This seemed the signal for dispersion, and
all retired not by way of the bar-room, but
put into the hall and through the door lead-
ing upon the porch that ran along in front
of the house. Soon after the door was closed,
and a dead silence reigned throughout the
house. I saw no more of Slade tnat night.
Early in the morning I left Cedarville ; the
landlord looked very sober when he bade
me good-bye through the stage-door, and
wished me a pleasant journey.
NIGHT THE FIFTH.
Some of the Consequences of Tavern-Keeping.
NEARLY five years glided away before
business again called me to Cedarville. I
knew little of what passed there in the inter-
val, except that Simon Slade had actually
been indicted for manslaughter, in causing
the death of Morgan's child. He did not
stand a trial, however, Judge Lyman having
used his influence successfully in getting the
indictment quashed. The judge, some people
said, interested himself in Slade more than
was just seemly especially as he had on
several occasions in the discharge of his offi-
cial duties displayed what seemed an over-
righteous indignation against individuals
arraigned for petty offences. The impres-
sion made upon me by Judge Lyman had
not been favorable. He seemed a cold, sel-
fish, scheming man of the world. That he
was an unscrupulous politician \vas plain to
me, in a single evening's observation of his
sayings and doings among the common herd
of a village bar-room.
As the stage rolled, with a gay flourish of
our driver's bugle, into the village, I noted
here and there familiar objects, and marked
the varied evidences of change. Our way
(111 )
112 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
was past the elegant residence and grounds
of Judge Hammond, the most beautiful and
highly cultivated in Cedarville. At least
such it was regarded at the time of my pre-
vious visit. But the moment my eyes rested
upon the dwelling and its varied surround-
ings I perceived an altered aspect. Was it
the simple work of time? or had familiarity
with other and more elegantly arranged
suburban homes marred this in my eyes by
involuntary contrast? Or had the hand of
cultivation really been stayed, and the
marring fingers of neglect suffered undis-
turbed to trace on everything disfiguring
characters ?
Such questions were in my thoughts, when
I saw a man in the large portico of the dwell-
ing, the ample columns of which, capped in
rich Corinthian, gave the edifice the aspect
of a Grecian temple. He stood leaning
against one of the columns, his hat off, and
his long gray hair thrown back and resting
lightly on his neck and shoulders. His head
was bent down upon his breast, and he
seemed in deep abstraction. Just as the
coach swept by he looked up, and in the
changed features I recognized Judge Ham-
mond. His complexion was still florid, but
his face had grown thin, and his eyes were
sunken. Trouble was written in every line-
ament. Trouble? How inadequately does
the word express my meaning ! Ah ! at a
eingle glance what a volume of suffering was
NIGHT THE FIFTH. 113
opened to the gazer's eye. Not lightly had
the foot of time rested there, as if treading
on odorous flowers, but heavily, and with
iron-shod heel.^ This I saw at a glance ; and
then, only the image of the man was present
to my inner vision, for the swiftly rolling
stage-coach had borne me onward past the
altered home of the wealthiest denizen of
Dedarville. In a few minutes our driver
reined up before the " Sickle and Sheaf," and
as I stepped to the ground, a rotund, coarse,
red-faced man, whom I failed to recognize as
Simon Slade until he spoke, grasped my
hand and pronounced my name. I could
not but contrast in thought his appearance
with what it was when I first saw him some
six years previously, nor help saying to my-
self
" So much for tavern-keeping!"
As marked a change was visible every-
where in and around the " Sickle and Sheaf."
It, too, had grown larger by additions of
wings and rooms; but it had also grown
coarser in growing larger. When built, all
the doors were painted white, and the shut-
ters green, giving to the house a neat, even
tasteful appearance. But the white and
green had given place to a dark, dirty brown,
that to my eyes was particularly unattractive.
The bar-room had been extended, and now
a polished brass rod or railing, embellished
the counter, and sundry ornamental attrac-
tions had been given to the shelving behind
114 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
the bar, such as mirrors, gilding, etc. Pict-
ures, too, were hung upon the walls, or, more
accurately speaking, coarse-colored litho-
graphs, the subjects of which, if not really
obscene, were flashing, or vulgar. In the
sitting-room, next to the bar, I noticed little
change of objects, but much in their condi-
tion. The carpet, chairs and tables were the
same in fact, but far from being the same
in appearance. The room had a close, greasy
odor, and looked as if it had not been thor*
oughly swept and dusted for a week.
A smart young Irishman was in the bar.
and handed me the book in which passen~
gers' names were registered. After I had
recorded mine, he directed my trunk to be
carried to the room designated as the one I
was to occupy. I followed the porter, who
conducted me to the chamber which had
been mine at previous visits. Here, too, were
evidences of change ; but not for the better.
Then the room was as sweet and clean as it
could be; the sheets and pillow-cases as
white as snow, and the furniture shining
with polish. Now all was dusty and dingy,
the air foul, and the bed-linen scarcely
whiter than tow. No curtain made softer
the light as it came through the window;
nor would the shutters entirely keep out the
glare, for several of the slats were broken.
A feeling of disgust came over me at the close
smell and foul appearance of everything ; so
after washing my hands and face, and brush-
NIGHT THE FIFTH. 115
ing the dust from my clothes, I went down-
stairs. The sitting-room was scarcely more
attractive than my chamber, so I went out
upon the porch and took a chair. Several
loungers were here; hearty, strong-looking,
but lazy fellows, who, if they had anything
to do, liked idling better than working. One
of them had leaned his chair back against
the wall of the house, and was swinging his
legs with a half-circular motion, and hum-
ming "Old Folks at Home." Another sat
astride of his chair, with his face turned to-
ward, and his chin resting upon, the back.
He was in too lazy a condition of body and
mind for motion or singing. A third had
slidden down in his chair until he sat on his
back, while his feet were elevated above his
head and resting against one of the pillars
that supported the porch, while a fourth lay
stretched out on a bench, sleeping, his hat
over his face to protect him from buzzing
and biting flies.
Though all but the sleeping man eyed me
inquisitively, as I took my place among
them, not one changed his position. The
rolling of eyeballs cost but little exertion,
and with that effort they were contented.
" Hallo 1 who's that?" one of these loungers
suddenly exclaimed as a man went swiftly
by in a light sulky; and he started up and
gazed down the road, seeking to penetrate
the cloud of dust which the fleet rider had
swept up with hoofs and wheels.
116 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAB-ROOM.
" I didn't see." The sleeping man aroused
himself, rubbed his eyes, and gazed along
the road.
" Who was it, Matthew ?" The Irish bar-
keeper now stood in the door.
" Willy Hammond," was answered by
Matthew.
" Indeed ! Is that his new three-hundred-
dollar horse ?"
"Yes."
u My ! but he's a screamer !"
" Isn't he 1 Most as fast as his young
master."
" Hardly," said one of the men, laughing.
" I don't think anything in creation can beat
Hammond. He goes it with a perfect rush."
"Doesn't he! Well, you may say what
you please of him, he's as good-hearted a
fellow as ever walked; and generous to a
fault."
" His old dad will agree with you in the
last remark," said Matthew.
" No doubt of that, for he has to stand the
bil]s/' was answered.
" Yes, whether he will or no, for I rather
think Willy has, somehow or other, got the
upper hand of him."
" In what way ?"
" It's Hammond and Son, over at the mill
and distillery."
" I know; but what of that?"
" Willy was made the business man
Btensibly in order, as the old man thought,
NIQHT THE FIFTH. 117
to get him to feel the responsibility of the
new position, and thus tame him down."
"Tame him down! Oh, dear! It will
take more than business to do that. The
curb was applied too late."
"As the old gentleman has already dis-
covered, I'm thinking, to his sorrow."
" He never comes here any more ; does he
Matthew ?"
" Who ?"
"Judge Hammond."
"Oh, dear, no. He and Slade had all
sorts of a quarrel about a year ago, and he's
never darkened our doors since."
" It was something about Willy and "
the speaker did not mention any name, but
winked knowingly and tossed his head
toward the entrance of the house, to indicate
some member of Slade's family.
" I believe so."
" D'ye think Willy really likes her?"
Matthew shrugged his shoulders, but made
no answer.
" She's a nice girl," was remarked in an
undertone, "and good enough for Ham-
mond's son any day; though, if she were
my daughter, I'd rather see her in Jericho
than fond of his company."
" He'll have plenty of money to give her.
She can live like a queen."
" For how long ?"
" Hush !" came from the lips of Matthew.
" There she is now."
118 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
I looked up and saw, at a short distance
from the house, and approaching, a young
lady, in whose sweet, modest face I at once
recognized Flora Slade. Five years had de-
veloped her into a beautiful woman. In her
alone, of all that appertained to Simon
Slade, there was no deterioration. Her eyes
were as mild and pure as when first I met
her at gentle sixteen, and her father said
" My daughter" with such a mingling of
pride and affection in his tone. She passed
near where I was sitting, and entered the
house. A closer view showed me some marks
of thought and suffering; but they only
heightened the attractions of her face. I
failed not to observe the air of respect with
which all returned her slight nod and smile
of recognition.
" She's a nice girl, and no mistake the
flower of this flock," was said, as soon as she
passed into the house.
" Too good for Willy Hammond, in my
opinion," said Matthew, " clever and gen-
erous as people call him."
"Just my opinion," was responded.
"She's as pure and good, almost, as an
angel; and he ? I can tell you what he's
not the clear thing. He knows a little too
much of the world on its bad side, I
mean."
The appearance of Slade put an end to
this conversation. A second observation of
his person and countenance did not remove
NIGHT THE FIFTH. 11S
the first unfavorable impression. His face
had grown decidedly bad in expression, as
well as gross and sensual. The odor of hia
breath, as he took a chair close to where I
was sitting, was that of one who drank habit-
ually and freely ; and the red, swimming
eyes evidenced, too surely, a rapid progress
toward the sad condition of a confirmed in-
ebriate. There was, too, a certain thickness
of speech, that gave another corroborating
sign of evil progress.
" Have you seen anything of Frank this
afternoon ?" he inquired of Matthew, after we
had passed a few words.
" Nothing," was the bar-keeper's answer.
" I saw him with Tom Wilkins as I came
over," said one of the men who was sitting
on the porch.
" What was he doing with Tom Wilkins ?"
said Slade, in a fretted tone of voice. " He
doesn't seem very choice of his company."
" They were gunning."
"Gunning!"
" Yes. They both had fowling-pieces. I
wasn't near enough to ask where they were
going."
This information disturbed Slade a good
deal. After muttering to himself for a little
while, he started up and went into the house.
" And I could have told him a little more,
had I been so inclined," said the individual
who mentioned the fact that Frank was with
Tom Wilkins.
120 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
" What more ?" inquired Matthew.
" There was a buggy in the case ; and a
champagne basket. What the latter con-
tained you can easily guess."
" Whose buggy ?"
" I don't know anything about the buggy ;
but if 'Lightfoot' doesn't sink in value a
hundred dollars or so before sundown, call
me a false prophet."
" Oh, no," said Matthew, incredulously
" Frank wouldn't do an outrageous thing
like that. Lightfoot won't be in a condition
to drive for a month to come."
"I don't care. She's out now; and tht
way she was putting it down when I sa^
her would have made a locomotive lool
cloudy."
" Where did he get her ?" was inquired,
" She's been in the six- acre field, over by
Mason's Bridge, for the last week or so,'"
Matthew answered. " Well ; all I have to
say," he added, " is that Frank ought to be
slung up and well horsewhipped. I never
saw such a young rascal. He cares for no
good, and fears no evil. He's the worst boy
I ever saw."
" It would hardly do for you to call him a
boy to his face," said one of the men, laugh-
ing.
" I don't have much to say to him in any
way," replied Matthew, " for I know very
well, that if we ever do get into a quarrel,
there'll be a hard time of it. The same house
NIGHT THE FIFTH. 121
will not hold us afterward that's certain.
So I steer clear of the young reprobate."
" I wonder his father don't put him to
some business," was remarked. "The idle
life he now leads will be his ruin."
" He was behind the bar for a year or two."
" Yes ; and was smart at mixing a glass
but"
" Was himself becoming too good a cus-
tomer?"
" Precisely. He got drunk as a fool before
reaching his fifteenth year."
"Good gracious!" I exclaimed, involun-
tarily.
" It's true, sir," said the last speaker, turn-
ing to me. " I never saw anything like it.
And this wasn't all. Bar-room talk, as you
maybe know, isn't the most refined and vir-
tuous in the world. I wouldn't like my son
to hear much of it. Frank was always an
eager listener to everything that was said,
and in a very short time became an adept in
slang and profanity. Fm no saint myself;
but it's often made my blood run cold to
hear him swear."
"I pity his mother," said I, for my
thought turned naturally to Mrs. Slade.
"You may well do that,'' was answered.
" I doubt if Cedarville holds a sadder heart
It was a dark day for her, let me tell you,
when Simon Slade sold his mill and built
his tavern. She was opposed to it in the be-
ginning."
122 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
" I have inferred as much."
" I know it," said the man. " My wife has
been intimate with her for years. Indeed,
they have always been like sisters. I re-
member very well her coming to our house,
about the time the mill was sold, and crying
about it as if her heart would break. She
saw nothing but trouble and sorrow ahead.
Tavern-keeping she had always regarded as
a low business; and the change from a re-
spectable miller to a lazy tavern-keeper, as
she expressed it, was presented to her mind
as something disgraceful. I remember, very
well, trying to argue the point with her as-
suming that it was quite as respectable to
keep tavern as to do anything else ; but I
might as well have talked to the wind. She
was always a pleasant, hopeful, cheerful
woman before that time ; but, really, I don't
think I've seen a true smile on her face
Bince."
" That was a great deal for a man to lose,"
said I.
" What ?" he inquired, not clearly under-
standing me.
" The cheerful face of his wife."
" The face was but an index of her heart,"
said he.
" So much the worse."
" True enough for that. Yes, it was a
great deal to lose."
" What has he gained that will make up
for this?"
NIGHT THE FIFTH. 123
The man shrugged his shoulders.
" What has he gained ?" I repeated. " Can
you figure it up?"
" He's a richer man, for one thing."
"Happier?"
There was another shrug of the shoulders,
M I wouldn't like to say that."'
"How much richer?"
" Oh, a great deal. Somebody was saying,
only yesterday, that he couldn't be worth
less than thirty thousand dollars.''
" Indeed? So much."
" Yes."
" How has he managed to accumulate so
rapidly?"
" His bar has a large run of custom. And,
you know, that pays wonderfully."
" He must have sold a great deal of liquor
in six years."
" And he has. I don't think I'm wrong
in saying that in the six years which have
gone by since the 'Sickle and Sheaf was
opened more liquor has been drank than in
the previous twenty years.' '
" Say forty,'' remarked a man who had
been a listener to what we said.
" Let it be forty then," was the according
answer.
"How comes this?" I inquired. "You
had a tavern here before the Sickle and
Sheaf was opened."
" I know we had, and several places be-
sides where liquor was sold. But, everybody
124 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
far and near knew Simon Slade the miller,
and everybody liked him. He was a gooa
miller, and a cheerful, social, chatty sort of
a man, putting everybody in a good humor
who came near him. So it became the talk
everywhere, when he built this house, which
he fitted up nicer than anything that had
been seen in these parts. Judge Hammond,
Judge Lyman, Lawyer Wilson, and all the
big-bugs of the place at once patronized the
new tavern ; and, of course, everybody else
did the same. So, you can easily see how
he got such a run."
" It was thought in the beginning," said I,
" that the new tavern was going to do won-
ders for Cedarville.' 1
" Yes," answered the man laughing, " and
so it has."
"In what respect?"
" Oh, in many. It has made some men
richer, and some poorer."
" Who has it made poorer?"
" Dozens of people. You may always take
it for granted, when you see a tavern-keeper,
who has a good run at his bar, getting rich,
that a great many people are getting poor."
"How so?" I wished to hear in what
way the man, who was himself, as was plain
to see, a good customer at somebody's bar,
reasoned on the subject.
" He does not add to the general wealth.
He produces nothing. He takes money from
his customers, but gives them no article of
NIGHT THE FIFTH. 125
value in return nothing that can be called
property, personal or real. He is just so
much richer and they just so much poorer
for the exchange. Is it not so?"
I readily assented to the position as true,
and then said
" Who, in particular, is poorer?"
" Judge Hammond, for one."
" Indeed ! I thought the advance in his
property, in consequence of the building of
this tavern, was so great, that he was reap-
ing a rich pecuniary harvest."
'' There was a slight advance in property
along the street after the Sickle and Sheaf
was opened, and Judge Hammond was ben-
efited thereby. Interested parties made a
good deal of noise about it; but it didn't
amount to much, I believe."
"What has caused the judge to grow
poorer?"
" The opening of this tavern, as I just
said."
" In what way did it affect him?"
" He was among Slade's warmest support-
ers, as soon as he felt the advance in the
price of building lots, called him one of the
most enterprising men in Cedarville a real
benefactor to the place and all that stuff.
To set a good example of patronage, he came
over every day and took his glass of brandy,
and encouraged everybody else that he could
influence to do the same. Among those who
followed his example was his son Willy.
126 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAB-BOOM.
There was not, let me tell you, in all the
country for twenty miles around, a finer
young man than Willy, nor one of so much
promise, when this man-trap" he let his
voice fall, and glanced around, as he thus
designated Blade's tavern " was opened ;
and now, there is not one dashing more reck-
lessly along the road to ruin. When too late,
his father saw that his son was corrupted, and
that the company he kept was of a danger-
ous character. Two reasons led him to pur-
chase Blade's old mill, and turn it into a fac-
tory and a distillery. Of course, he had to
make a heavy outlay for additional build-
ings, machinery, and distilling apparatus.
The reasons influencing him were the pros-
pect of realizing a large amount of money,
especially in distilling, and the hope of sav-
ing Willy, by getting him closely engaged
and interested in business. To accomplish,
more certainly, the latter end, he unwisely
transferred to his, son, as his own capital,
twenty thousand dollars, and then formed
with him a regular copartnership giving
Willy an active business control.
"But the experiment, sir," added the man,
emphaticall}'-, " has proved a failure. I heard
yesterday that both mill and distillery were
to be shut up, and offered for sale."
" They did not prove as money-making as
Was anticipated ?"
" No, not under Willy Hammond's man-
agement. He had made too many bad ao-
NIGHT THE FIFTH. 127
quaintances men who clung to him because
he had plenty of money at his command,
and spent it as freely as water. One half of
his time he was away from the mill, and
while there, didn't half attend to business.
I've heard it said and I don't much doubt
its truth that he's squandered his twenty
thousand dollars, and a great deal more be-
sides."
u How is that possible?"
" Well, people talk, and not always at ran-
dom. There's been a man staying here, most
of his time, for the last four or five years,
named Green. He does not do anything, and
don't seem to have any friends in the nigh-
borhood. Nobody knows where he came
from, and he is not at all communicative on
that head himself. Well, this man became
acquainted with young Hammond after
Willy got to visiting the bar here, and at-
tached himself to him at once. They have,
to all appearance, been fast friends ever
since ; riding about, or going off on gunning
or fishing excurr'ons almost every day, and
secluding themselves somewhere nearly
every evening. That man, Green, sir, it is
whispered, is a gambler; and I believe it.
Granted, and there is no longer a mystery as
to what Willy does with his own and his
father's money."
I readily assented to this view of the case.
''And so assuming that Green is a gam-
bler," said I, " he has grown richer, in con-
128 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
sequence of the opening of a new and more
attractive tavern in Cedarville."
" Yes, and Cedarville is so much the poorer
for all his gains ; for I've never heard of his
buying a foot of ground, or in any way en-
couraging productive industry. He's only
a blood-sucker."
" It is worse than the mere abstraction of
money," I remarked ; " he corrupts his vic-
tims, at the same time that he robs them."
"True."
"Willy Hammond may not be his only
victim,"*! suggested.
"Nor is he, in my opinion. I've been
coming to this bar, nightly, for a good many
years a sorry confession for a man to make,
I must own," he added, with a slight tinge
of shame; " but so it is. Well, as I was say-
ing, I've been coming to this bar, nightly, for
a good many years, and I generally see all
that is going on around me. Among the
regular visitors are at least half a dozen
young men, belonging to our best families
who have been raised with care, and well
educated. That their presence here is un-
known to their friends, I am quite certain
or, at least, unknown and unsuspected by
some of them. They do not drink a great
deal yet; but all try a glass or two. Toward
nine o'clock, often at an earlier hour, you
will see one and another of them go quietly
out of the bar, through the sitting-room, pre-
ceded, or soon followed, by Green and Slade.
NIGHT THE FIFTH. 129
At any hour of the night, up to one or two,
and sometimes three o'clock, you can see
light streaming through the rent in a cur-
tain drawn before a particular window,
which I know to be in the room of Harvey
Green. These are facts, sir, and you can
draw your own conclusion. I think it a
very serious matter."
" Why doesSladego out with these young
men ?" I inquired. u Do you think he gam-
bles, also?"
" If he isn't a kind of a stool-pigeon for
Harvey Green, then I'm mistaken again."
" Hardly. He cannot, already, have be-
come so utterly unprincipled."
" It's a bad school, sir, this tavern-keep-
ing," said the man.
I readily grant you that."
"And it's nearly seven years since he
commenced to take lessons. A great deal
may be learned, sir, of good or evil, in seven
years, especially if any interest be taken in
the studies."
"True."
"And it's true in this case, you may de-
pend upon it. Simon Slade is not the man
he was seven years ago. Anybody with
half an eye can see that. He's grown sel-
fish, grasping, unscrupulous and passionate.
There could hardly be a greater difference
between men than exists between Simon
Slade the tavern-keeper, and Simon Slade
the miller."
E
130 TEN NIGHTS IF A BAB-BOOM.
" And intemperate, also ?" I suggested.
" He's beginning to take a little too much,"
was answered.
" In that case, he'll scarcely be as well off
five years hence as he is now."
" He's at the top of the wheel, some of us
think."
" What has led to this opinion ?"
" He's beginning to neglect his house, for
one thing."
" A bad sign."
" And there is another sign. Heretofore,
he has always been on hand, with the cash,
when desirable property went off, under
forced sale, at a bargain. In the last three
or four months several great sacrifices have
been made, but Simon Slade showed no in-
clination to buy. Put this fact against an-
other, week before last he sold a house and
lot in the town for five hundred dollars less
than he paid for them a year ago and for
just that sum less than their true value."
" How came that ?" I inquired.
"Ah! there's the question I He wanted
money, though for what purpose he has not
intimated to any one, as far as I can learn."
" What do you think of it ?"
" Just this. He and Green have been
hunting together in times past ; but the pro-
fessed gambler's instincts are too strong to
let him spare even his friend in evil. They
have commenced playing one against th
other."
NIGHT THE FIFTH. 131
" Ah ! you think so ?"
" I do ; and if I conjecture rightly, Simon
Slade will be a poorer man, in a year from
this time, than he is now."
Here our conversation was interrupted.
Some one asked my talkative friend to go
and take a drink, and he, nothing loath, left
me without ceremony.
Very differently served was the supper I
partook of on that evening, from the one
set before me on the occasion of my first
visit to the " Sickle and Sheaf." The table-
cloth was not merely soiled, but offensively
dirty ; the plates, cups and saucers, dingy
and sticky; the knives and forks unpol-
ished ; and the food of a character to satisfy
the appetite with a very few mouthfuls.
Two greasy-looking waiteresses tended on the
table, at which neither landlord nor land-
lady presided. I was really hungry when
the supper-bell rang ; but the craving of my
stomach soon ceased in the atmosphere of
the dining-room, and I was the first to leave
the table.
Soon after the lamps were lighted, com-
pany began to assemble in the spacious
bar-room, where were comfortable seats,
with tables, newspapers, backgammon-
boards, dominos, etc. The first act of
nearly every one who came in was to call
for a glass of liquor; and sometimes the
same individual drank two or three times in
the course of half an hour, on the invitation
132 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
of new-comers who were conviviaily In-
clined.
Most of those who came in were strangers
to me. I was looking from face to face to
see if any of the old company were present,
when one countenance struck me as famil-
iar. I was studying it, in order, if possible,
to identify the person, when some one ad-
dressed him as " Judge."
Changed as the face was, I no-tf recognized
it as that of Judge Lyman. Five years had
marred that face terribly. It seemed twice
the former size ; and all its bright expression
was gone. The thickened and protruding
eyelids half-closed the leaden eyes, and the
swollen lips and cheeks gave to his counte-
nance a look of all-predominating sensual-
ity. True manliness had bowed itself in
debasing submission to the bestial. He
talked loudly, and with a pompous dogma-
tism mainly on political subjects but
talked only from memory ; for any one
could see that thought came into but feeble
activity. And yet, derationalized, so to
speak, as he was, through drink, he had
been chosen a representative in Congress, at
the previous election, on the anti-temper-
ance ticket, and by a very handsome major-
ity. He was the rum candidate ; and the
rum interest, aided by the easily swayed
" indifferents," swept aside the claims of
law, order, temperance, and good morals;
and the district from which he was chosen
NIGHT TEE FIFTH. 133
as a National Legislator sent him up to the
National Councils, and said in the act
" Look upon him we have chosen as out
representative, and see in him a type of our
principles, our quality, and our condition as
a community."
Judge Lyman, around whom a little circle
soon gathered, was very severe on the tem-
perance party, which for two years had op-
posed his election, and which at the last
struggle showed itself to be a rapidly grow<
ing organization. During the canvass a
paper was published by this party, in which
his personal habits, character, and moral
principles were discussed in the freest man-
ner, and certainly not in a way to elevate
him in the estimation of men whose opinion
was of any value.
It was not much to be wondered at that
he assumed to think temperance issues
at the polls were false issues, and that when
temperance men sought to tamper with elec-
tions the liberties of the people were in dan-
ger; nor that he pronounced the whole body
of temperance men as selfish schemers and
canting hypocrites. "The next thing we
will have," he exclaimed, warming with his
theme, and speaking so loud that his voice
eounded throughout the room and arrested
every one's attention, " will be laws to fine
any man who takes a chew of tobacco or
lights a cigar. Touch the liberties of the
people in the smallest particular and all
134 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAB-BOOM.
guarantees are gone. The Stamp Act, against
which our noble forefathers rebelled, was a
light measure of oppression to that contem-
plated by these worse than fanatics."
"You are right there, judge; right for
once in your life, if you (hie) were never
right before !" exclaimed a battered-looking
specimen of humanity, who stood near the
speaker, slapping Judge Lyman on the
shoulder familiarly as he spoke. " There's
no telling what they will do. There's (hie)
my old uncle Josh Wilson, who's been keeper
of the poor-house these ten years. Well,
they're going to turn him out, if ever they
get the upper hand in Bolton county."
" If? That word involves a great deal,
Harry," said Lyman. " We mus'n't let
them get the upper hand. Every man has a
duty to perform to his country in this mat-
ter, and every one must do his duty. But
what have they got against your Uncle
Joshua ? What has he been doing to offend
this righteous party ?"
" They've nothing against him (hie), I be-
lieve. Only, they say, they're not going to
have a poor-house in the county at all."
" What ! Going to turn the poor wretc'hes
out to starve ?" said one.
" Oh, no ! (hie)," and the fellow grinned,
half-shrewdly and half-maliciously, as he
answered "no, not that. But when they
carry the day, there'll be no need of poor-
houses. At least that's their talk and I
NIGHT THE FIFTH. 135
guess maybe there's something in it, for I
never knew a man to go to the poor-house
who hadn't (hie) rum to blame for his pov-
erty. But, you see, I'm interested in this
matter. I go for keeping up the poor-house
(hie) ; for I guess I'm travelling that road,
and I shouldn't like to get to the last mile-
stone (hie) and find no snug quarters no
Uncle Josh. You're safe for one vote, any-
how, old chap, on next election day 1" And
the man's broad hand slapped the member's
shoulder again. " Huzza for the rummies !
That's (hie) the ticket! Harry Grimes
never deserts his friends. True as steel."
"You're a trump !" returned Judge Ly-
nn an, with low familiarity. " Never fear
about the poor-house and Uncle Josh.
They're all safe."
" But look here, judge," resumed the man.
" It isn't only the poor-house ; the jail is to
go next."
"Indeed?"
"Yes, that's their talk; and I guess they
ain't far out of the way neither. What
takes men to jail? You can tell us some-
thing about that, judge, for you've jugged a
good many in your time. Didn't pretty
much all of 'em drink rum (hie)?"
But the judge answered nothing.
"Silence (hie) gives consent," resumed
Grimes. "And they say more; once give
'em the upper hand and they're confident
of beating us and the court-house will be
136 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-BOOM.
to let. As for judges and lawyers, they'll
starve or go into some better business. So
you see (hie), judge, your liberties are in
danger. But fight hard, old fellow, and if
you must die (hie) die game !"
How well Judge Lyman relished this
mode of presenting the case was not very
apparent; he was too good a politician and
office-seeker to show any feeling on the sub-
ject, and thus endanger a vote. Harry
Grimes's vote counted one, and a single vote
sometimes gained or lost an election.
" One of their gags," he said, laughing.
" But I'm too old a stager not to see the
flimsiness of such pretensions. Poverty and
crime have their origin in the corrupt heart,
and their foundations are laid long and long
before the first step is taken on the road to
inebriety. It is easy to promise results, for
only the few look at causes and trace them
to their effects."
" Rum and ruin (hie). Are they not cause
and effect?" asked Grimes.
"Sometimes they are," was the half-
extorted answer.
" Oh, Green ! is that you ?" exclaimed the
judge, as Harvey Green came in with a soft,
cat-like step. He was evidently glad of a
chance to get rid of his familiar friend and
elector.
I turned my eyes upon the man, and read
his face closely. It was unchanged. The
same cold, sinister eye ; the same chiselled
NIGHT THE FIFTH. 137
mouth, so firm now, and now yielding so
elastically; the same smile "from the teeth
outward the same lines that revealed his
heart's deep, dark selfishness. If he had
indulged in drink during the five interven-
ing years, it had not corrupted his blood,
nor added thereto a single degree of heat.
"Have you seen anything of Hammond
this evening?" asked Judge Lyman.
" I saw him an hour or two ago," answered
Green.
" How does he like his new horse ?"
" He's delighted with him."
"What was the price?"
" Three hundred dollars."
"Indeed!"
The judge had already arisen, and he and
Green were now walking side by side across
the bar-room floor.
"I want to speak a word with you," I
heard Lyman say.
And then the two went out together. I
saw no more of them during the evening.
Not long afterward Willy Hammond came
in. Ah ! there was a sad change here ; a
change that in no way belied the words of
Matthew the bar-keeper. He went up to
the bar, and I heard him ask for Judge Ly-
man. The answer was in so low a voice
that it did not reach my ear.
With a quick, nervous motion, Hammond
threw his hand toward a row of decanters
on the shelf behind the bar-keeper, who im-
138 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAB-BOOM.
mediately set one of them containing brandy
before him. From this he poured a tumbler
half full, and drank it off at a single draught,
unmixed with water.
He then asked some further question,
which I could not hear, manifesting, as it
.appeared, considerable excitement of mind.
In answering him, Matthew glanced his
*eyes upward, as if indicating some room in
the house. The young man then retired,
hurriedly, through the sitting-room.
" What's the matter with Willy Hammond
^to-night?" asked some one of the bar-keeper.
" Who's he after in such a hurry?''
"He wants to see Judge Lyman," replied
Matthew.
" Oh !"
"I guess they're after no good" was re-
marked.
" Not much, I'm afraid."
Two young men, well dressed, and with
faces marked by intelligence, came in at the
moment, drank at the bar, chatted a little
while familiarly with the bar-keeper, and
then quietly disappeared through the door
leading into the sitting-room. I met the
eyes of the man with whom I had talked
during the afternoon, and his knowing wink
brought to mind his suggestion that in one
of the upper rooms gambling went on
nightly, and that some of the most promis-
ing young men of the town had been drawn,
\through the bar attraction, into this vortex
NIGHT THE FIFTH. 139
of ruin. I felt a shudder creeping along my
nerves.
The conversation that now went on among
the company was of such an obscene and
profane character that, in disgust, I went
out. The night was clear, the air soft, and
the moon shining down brightly. I walked
for some time in the porch, musing on what
I had seen and heard, while a constant
stream of visitors came pouring into the bar-
room. Only a few of these remained. The
larger portion went in quickly, took their
glass, and then left, as if to avoid observation
as much as possible.
Soon after I commenced walking in the
porch I noticed an elderly lady go slowly
by, who, in passing, slightly paused, and evi-
dently tried to look through the bar-room
door. The pause was but for an instant. In
less than ten minutes she came back, again
stopped this time longer and again moved
off slowly, until she passed out of sight. I
was yet thinking about her, when, on lifting
my eyes from the ground, she was advancing
along the road, but a few rods distant. I
almost started at seeing her, for there no
longer remained a doubt on my mind that
she was some trembling, heart-sick mother
in search of an erring son whose feet were
in dangerous paths. Seeing me, she kept
on, though lingeringly. She went but a short
distance before returning ; and this time she
moved in closer to the house, and reached a
L40 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
position that enabled her eyes to range
through a large portion of the bar-room. A
nearer inspection appeared to satisfy her.
She retired with quicker steps, and did not
again return during the evening.
Ah ! what a commentary upon the uses
of an attractive tavern was here ! My heart
ached as I thought of all that unknown
mother had suffered, and was doomed to
suffer. I could not shut out the image of
her drooping form as I lay upon my pillow
that night; she even haunted me in my
dreams.
NIGHT THE SIXTH.
More Consequences.
THE landlord did not make his appear-
ance on the next morning until nearly ten
o'clock, and then he looked like a man who
had been on a debauch. It was eleven be-
fore Harvey Green came down. Nothing
about him indicated the smallest deviation
from the most orderly habit. Clean shaved,
with fresh linen, and a face every line of
which was smoothed into calmness, he
looked as if he had slept soundly on a quiet
conscience, and now hailed the new day
with a tranquil spirit.
The first act of Slade was to go behind the
bar and take a stiff glass of brandy and
water ; the first act of Green, to order beef-
steak and coffee for his breakfast. I noticed
the meeting between the two men, on the
appearance of Green. There was a slight
reserve on the part of Green, and an uneasy
embarrassment on the part of Slade. Not
even the ghost of a smile was visible in
either countenance. They spoke a few words
together, and then separated as if from a
sphere of mutual repulsion. I did not ob-
.serve them again in company during the
lay.
(141)
142 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
"There's trouble over at the mill," was
remarked by a gentleman with whom I had
some business transactions in the afternoon.
He spoke to a person who sat in his office,
" Ah ! what's the matter ?" said the other.
" All the hands were discharged at noon,
and the mill ehut down."
" How comes that ?"
''They've bten losing money from the
Start."
" Rather bad practice, I should say."
" It involves some bad practices, no
doubt."
"On Willy's part?"
"Yes. He is reported to have squan-
dered the means placed in his hands, after
a shameless fashion."
" Is the loss heavy ?"
" So it is said."
" How much ?"
"Reaching to thirty 01 forty thousand
dollars. But this is rumor,. *nd, of course,
an exaggeration."
" Of course. No such loss as that could
have been made. But what was done with the
money? How could Willy have spent it?
He dashes about a great deal, buys fast
horses, drinks rather freely, and all that;
but thirty or forty thousand dollars couldn't
escape in this way."
At the moment a swift trotting horse,
bearing a light sulky and a man, went by.
"There goes young Hammond's three
NIGHT THE SIXTH. 143
hundred dollar animal," said the last
speaker.
" It was Willy Hammond's yesterday.
But there has been a change of ownership
since then, I happen to know."
"Indeed?"
"Yes. The man Green, who has been
loafing about Cedarville for the last few
years after no good, I can well believe
came into possession to-day."
" Ah ? Willy must be very fickle-minded.
Does the possession of a coveted object so
soon bring satiety ?"
"There is something not clearly under-
stood about the transaction. I saw Mr. Ham-
mond during the forenoon, and he looked
terribly distressed."
" The embarrassed condition of things at
the mill readily accounts for this."
" True ; but I think there are causes of
trouble beyond the mere embarrassments."
" The dissolute, spendthrift habits of his
son," was suggested. " These are sufficient
to weigh down the father's spirits, 1 to bow
him to the very dust."
"To speak out plainly," said the other,
" I am afraid that the young man adds an-
other vice that of drinking and idleness."
"What?"
"Gaming."
"No!"
" There is little doubt of it in my mind.
And it is further my opinion, that his fine
144 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAB-ROOM.
horse, for which he paid three hundred dol-
lars only a few days ago, has passed into the
hands of this man Green in payment of a
debt contracted at the gaming table."
" You shock me. Surely, there can be no
grounds for such a belief."
" I have, I am sorry to say, the gravest
reasons for what I allege. That Green is a
professional gambler, who was attracted here
by the excellent company that assembled at
the ' Sickle and Sheaf in the beginning of
the lazy miller's pauper-making experi-
ment, I do not in the least question. Grant
this, and take into account the fact that
young Hammond has been much in his
company, and you have sufficient cause for
the most disastrous effects."
" If this be really so," observed the gen-
tleman, over whose face a shadow of con-
cern darkened, " then Willy Hammond may
not be his only victim."
" And is not, you may rest assured. If
rumor be true, other of our promising young
men are being drawn into the whirling cir-
cles that narrow toward a vortex of ruin."
In corroboration of this, I mentioned the
conversation I had held with one of the fre-
quenters of Slade's bar-room on this very
subject; and also what I had myself ob-
served on the previous evening.
The man, who had until now been sitting
quietly in a chair, started up, exclaiming as
he did so
NIGHT THE SIXTH. 145
" Merciful heavens ! I never dreamed of
this ! Whose sons are safe ?"
" No man's," was the answer of the gen-
tleman in whose office we were sitting " no
man's while there are such open doors to
ruin as you may find at the ' Sickle and
Sheaf.' Did not you vote the anti-temper-
ance ticket at the last election?"
"I dM," was the answer; "and from
principle."
" On what were your principles based?"
was inquired.
" On the broad foundations of civil lib-
erty."
" The liberty to do good or evil, just as
the individual may choose?"
" I would not like to say that. There are
certain evils against which there can be no
legislation that would not do harm. No
civil power in this country has the right to
say what a citizen shall eat or drink."
" But may not the people, in any commu-
nity, pass laws, through their delegated law-
makers, restraining evil-minded persons
from injuring the common good ?"
"Oh, certainly certainly."
" And are you prepared to affirm that a
drinking-shop, where young men are cor-
rupted ay, destroyed, body and soul does
.lot work an injury to the common good?"
" Ah I but there must be houses of public
entertainment."
" No one denies this. But can that be a
146 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
really Christian community which provide*
for the moral debasement of strangers, at
the same time that it entertains them ? Is
it necessary that, in giving rest and enter-
tainment to the traveller, we also lead him
into temptation ?"
"Yes but but it is going too far to
legislate on what we are to eat and drink.
It is opening too wide a door for fanatical
oppression. We must inculcate temperance
as a right principle. We must teach our
children the evils of intemperance, and send
them out into the world as practical teachers
of order, virtue and sobriety. If we do this
the reform becomes radical, and in a few
years there will be no bar-rooms, for none
will crave the fiery poison."
" Of little value, my friend, will be, in far
too many cases, your precepts, if temptation
invites our sons at almost every step of their
way through life. Thousands have fallen,
and thousands are now tottering, soon to
fail. Your sons are not safe, nor are mine.
We cannot tell the day nor the hour when
they may weakly yield to the solicitation of
some companion, and enter the wide-open
door of ruin. And are we wise and good
citizens to commission men to do the evil
work of enticement? To encourage them to
get gain in corrupting and destroying our
children ? To hesitate over some vague ideal
of human liberty when the sword is among
us, slaying our best and dearest ? Sir ! while
NIGHT THE SIXTH. 147
you hold back from the work of staying the
flood that is desolating our fairest homes,
the black waters are approaching your own
doors."
There was a startling emphasis in the
tones with which this last sentence was ut-
tered, and I did not wonder at the look of
anxious alarm that it called to the face of
him whose fears it was meant to excite.
" What do you mean, sir?" was inquired.
"Simply, that your sons are in equal dan-
ger with others."
"And is that all?"
" They have been seen of late in the bar-
room of the ' Sickle and Sheaf.' "
"Who says so?"
" Twice within a week I have seen them
going in there," was answered.
" Good heavens ! No !"
"It is true, my friend. But who is safe? If
we dig pits, and conceal them from view, what
marvel if our own children fall therein ?"
" My sons going to a tavern !" The man
seemed utterly confounded. "How can I
believe it? You must be in error, sir."
" No. What I tell you is the simple truth.
And if they go there "
The man paused not to hear the conclu-
sion of the sentence, but went hastily from
the office.
"We are beginning to reap as we have
sown," remarked the gentleman, turning to
me as his agitated friend left the office. "As
148 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
I told them in the commencement it would
be, so it is happening. The want of a good
tavern in Cedarville was over and over again
alleged as one of the chief causes of our want
of thrift, andwhenSlade opened the 'Sickle
and Sheaf,' the man was almost glorified.
The gentleman who has just left us failed
not in laudation of the enterprising landlord,
the more particularly, as the building of the
new tavern advanced the price of ground on
the street, and made him a few hundred dol-
lars richer. Really, for a time, one might
have thought, from the way people went on,
that Simon Slade was going to make every
man's fortune in Cedarville. But all that
has been gained by a small advance in prop-
erty is as a grain of sand to a mountain
compared with the fearful demoralization
that has followed."
I readily assented to this, for I had myself
seen enough to justify the conclusion.
As I sat in the bar-room of the " Sickle
and Sheaf" that evening, I noticed, soon
after the lamps were lighted, the gentleman
referred to in the above conversation, whose
sons were represented as visitors to the bar,
come in quietly and look anxiously about
the room. He spoke to no one, and after
satisfying himself that those he sought were
not there, went out.
" What sent him here, I wonder ?" mut-
tered Slade, speaking partly to himself and
partly aside to Matthew, the bar-keeper.
NIGHT THE SIXTH, 149
*' After the boys, I suppose," was answered.
" I guess the boys are old enough to take
care of themselves"."
" They ought to be," returned Matthew.
" And are," said Slade. " Have they been
here this evening?"
" No, not yet."
While they yet talked together, two young
men whom I had seen on the night before,
and noticed particularly as showing signs of
intelligence and respectability beyond the
ordinary visitors at a bar-room, came in.
" John," I heard Slade say, in a low, con-
fidential voice to one of them, " your old man
was here just now."
" No !" The young man looked startled
almost confounded.
" It's a fact. So you'd better keep shady."
"What did he want?"
" I don't know."
" What did he say ?"
"Nothing. He just came in, looked
around, and then went out."
" His face was dark as a thunder-cloud,"
remarked Matthew.
" Is No. 4 vacant?" inquired one of the
young men.
"Yes."
" Send us up a bottle of wine and some
cigars. And when Bill Harding and Harry
Lee come in, tell them where they can find
us."
"All right," said Matthew. "And now
150 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
take a friend's advice and make yourselves
scarce."
The young men left the room hastily.
Scarcely had they departed ere I saw the
same gentleman come in, whose anxious face
had, a little while before, thrown its shadow
over the apartment. He was the father in
search of his sons. Again he glanced
around, nervously, and this time appeared to
be disappointed. As he entered, Slade went
out.
" Have John and Wilson been here this
evening?" he asked, coming up to the bar
and addressing Matthew.
" They are not here," replied Matthew,
evasively.
" But haven't they been here?"
" They may have been here ; I only came
in from my supper a little while ago."
" I thought I saw them entering only a
moment or two ago."
" They're not here, sir." Matthew shook
his head and spoke firmly.
"Where is Mr. Slade?"
" In the house, somewhere."
" I wish you would ask him to step here "
Matthew went out, but in a little while
came back with word that the landlord was
not to be found.
"You are sure the boys are not here?"
said the man, with a doubting, dissatisfied
manner.
"See for yourself, Mr. Harrison!"
NIGHT THE SIXTH. 151
"Perhaps they are in the parlor?"
"Step in, sir," coolly returned Matthew.
The man went through the door into the
sitting-room, but came back immediately.
"Not there?" said Matthew. The man
shook his head. " I don't think you will
find them about here," added the bar-keeper.
Mr. Harrison this was the name by
which Matthew had addressed him stood
musing and irresolute for some minutes.
He could not be mistaken about the entrance
of his sons, and yet they were not there.
His manner was much perplexed. At length
he took a seat, in a far corner of the bar-
room, somewhat beyond the line of observa-
tion, evidently with the purpose of waiting
to see if those he sought would come in.
He had not been there long before two
young men entered, whose appearance at
once excited his interest. They went up to
the bar and called for liquor. As Matthew
set the decanter before him, he leaned over
the counter and said something in a whis-
per.
"Where?" was instantly ejaculated, in
surprise, and both of the young men glanced
uneasily about the room. They met the
eyes of Mr. Harrison, fixed intently upon
them. I do not think, from the way they
swallowed their brandy and water, that it
was enjoyed very much.
" What the deuce is he doing here ?" I
heard one of them say, in a low voice.
152 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-BOOM.
" After the boys, of course."
" Have they come yet?"
Matthew winked as he answered, " All
safe."
"In No. 4?"
" Yes. And the wine and cigars all wait-
ing for you."
" Good."
"You'd better not go through the parlor.
Their old man's not at all satisfied. He
half suspects they're in the house. Better
go off down the street, and come back and
enter through the passage."
The young men, acting on this hint, at
once retired, the eyes of Harrison following
them out.
For nearly an hour Mr. Harrison kept his
position, a close observer of all that trans-
pired. I am very much in error, if, before
leaving that sink of iniquity, he was not
fully satisfied as to the propriety of legislat-
ing on the liquor question. Nay, I incline
to the opinion that, if the power of suppres-
sion had rested in his hands, there would
not have been, in the whole State, at the
expiration of an hour, a single dram-selling
establishment. The goring of his ox had
opened his eyes to the true merits of the
question. While he was yet in the bar-
room, young Hammond made his appear-
ance. His look was wild and excited. First
he called for brandy, and drank with the
eagerness of a man long athirst.
NIGHT THE SIXTH. 153
" Where is Green ?" I heard him inquire,
as he set his glass upon the counter.
" Haven't seen anything of him since sup-
per," was answered by Matthew.
" Is he in his room ?"
" I think it, probable."
" Has Judge Lyman been about here to-
night?"
" Yes. He spouted here for half an hour
against the temperance party, as usual, and
then" Matthew tossed his head toward the
door leading to the sitting-room.
Hammond was moving toward this door,
when, in glancing around the room, he en-
countered the fixed gaze of Mr. Harrison a
gaze that instantly checked his progress.
Returning to the bar, and leaning over the
counter, he said to Matthew,
" What has sent him here ?"
Matthew winked knowingly.
" After the boys ?" inquired Hammond.
" Yes."
" Where are they ?"
"Upstairs."
" Does he suspect this ?"
"I can't tell. If he doesn't think them
here now, he is looking for them to come
in."
" Do they know he is after them ?"
" O yes."
" All safe then ?
" As an iron chest. If you want to see
them, just rap at No. 4."
154 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
Hammond stood for some minutes lean-
ing on the bar, and then, not once again
looking toward that part of the room where
Mr. Harrison was seated, passed out through
the door leading to the street. Soon after-
ward Mr. Harrison departed.
Disgusted, as on the night before, with
the unceasing flow of vile, obscene, and pro-
fane language, I left my place of observa-
tion in the bar-room and sought the open
air. The sky was unobscured by a single
cloud, and the moon, almost at the full,
shone abroad with more than common
brightness. I had not been sitting long in
the porch, when the same lady, whose move-
ments had attracted my attention, came in
sight, walking very slowly the deliberate
pace assumed, evidently, for the purpose of
better observation. On coming opposite the
tavern, she slightly paused, as on the even-
ing before, and then kept on, passing down
the street, until she was beyond observation.
"Poor mother!" I was still repeating to
myself, when her form again met my eyes.
Slowly she advanced, and now came nearer
to the house. The interest excited in my
mind was so strong that I could not repress
the desire I felt to address her, and so stepped
from the shadow of the porch. She seemed
startled, and retreated backward several
paces.
"Are you in search of any one? 1 ' I in-
quired, respectfully.
NIGHT THE SIXTH. 155
<*
The woman now stood in a position that
let the moon shine full upon her face, re-
vealing every feature. She was far past the
meridian of life ; and there were lines of
suffering and sorrow on her fine counte-
nance. I saw that her lips moved, but it
was some time before I distinguished the
words.
" Have you seen my son to-night ? They
say he comes here."
The manner in which this was said caused
a cold thrill to run over me. I perceived
that the woman's mind wandered. I an-
swered
" No, ma'am ; I haven't seen anything
of him."
My tone of voice seemed to inspire her
with confidence, for she came up close to
me, and bent her face toward mine.
" It's a dreadful place," she whispered,
huskily. *' And they say he comes here.
Poor boy 1 He isn't what he used to be."
" It is a very bad place." said I. " Come"
and I moved a step or two in the direction
from which I had seen her approaching
" come, you'd better go away as quickly as
possible.'"
"But if he's here," she answered, not
moving from where she stood, " I might save
him, you know."
" I am sure you won't find him, ma'am,"
I urged. " Perhaps he is home, now."
"Oh, no I no!" And she shook her head
156 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAE-EOOM.
mournfully. " He never comes home until
long after midnight. I wish I could see in-
side of the bar-room. I'm sure he must be
there."
" If you will tell me his name I will go in
and search for him."
After a moment of hesitation, she an-
swered,
" His name is Willy Hammond."
How the name, uttered so sadly, and yet
with such moving tenderness by the mother's
lips, caused me to start almost to tremble.
" If he is in the house, ma'am," said I,
firmly, " I will see him for you." And I left
her and went into the bar.
" In what room do you think I will find
young Hammond?" I asked of the bar-
keeper.
He looked at me curiously, but did not
answer. The question had come upon him
unanticipated.
" In Harvey Green's room ?" I pursued.
" I don't know, I am sure. He isn't in
the house to my knowledge. I saw him go
out about half an hour since.''
" Green's room is No. ?"
" Eleven," he answered.
" In the front part of the house ?"
" Yes."
I asked no further question, but went to
No. 11, and tapped on the door. But no
one answered the summons. I listened, but
could not distinguish the slightest sound
NIGHT THE SIXTH. 157
within. Again I knocked ; but louder. If
my ears did not deceive me, the chink of
coin was heard. Still there was neither
voice nor movement.
I was disappointed. That the room had
inmates, I felt sure. Remembering, now,
what I had heard about light being seen in
this room through a rent in the curtain, I
went down-stairs, and out into the street
A short distance beyond the house I saw,
dimly, the woman's form. She had only
just passed in her movements to and fro.
Glancing up at the window, which I now
knew to be the one in Green's room, light
through the torn curtain was plainly visi-
ble. Back into the house I went, and up to
No. 11. This time I knocked imperatively,
and this time made myself heard.
" What's wanted ?" came from within. I
knew the voice to be that of Harvey Green.
I only knocked louder. A hurried move-
ment and a low murmur of voices was heard
for some moments ; then the door was un-
locked and held partly open by Green,
whose body so filled the narrow aperture
that I could not look into the room. See-
ing me, a dark scowl fell upon his counte-
nance.
" What d'ye want ?" he inquired, sharply.
tc Is Mr. Hammond here ? If so, he is
wanted down-stairs."
" No, he's not," was the quick answer.
a What sent you here for him, hey ?"
158 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-BOOM.
" The fact that I expected to find him in
your room," was my firm answer.
Green was about shutting the door in my
face, when some one placed a hand on his
shoulder and said something to him that I
could not hear.
" Who wants to see him ?" he inquired of
me.
Satisfied, now, that Hammond was in the
room, I said, slightly elevating my voice,
" His mother."
The words were an "open sesame" to the
room. The door was suddenly jerked open,
and with a blanching face the young man
confronted me.
" Who says my mother is down-stairs ? 9
he demanded.
" I come from her in search of you," said
I. "You will find her in the road, walking
up and down in front of the tavern."
Almost with a bound he swept by me,
and descended the stairway at two or three
long strides. As the door swung open, I
saw, besides Green and Hammond, the land-
lord and Judge Lyman. It needed not the
loose cards on a table near which the latter
were sitting to tell me of their business in
that room.
AB quickly as seemed decorous, I followed
Hammond. On the porch I met him, 'com-
ing in from the road.
" You have deceived me, sir,'* said he,
sternly almost menacingly.
NIGHT TEE SITU *.. 159
"No, sir," I replied. "What I told you
was but too true. Look ! There she is now."
The young man sprung around, and stood
before the woman, a few paces distant.
" Mother ! oh, mother ! what has brought
you here?" he exclaimed, in an undertone,
as he caught her arm, and moved away. He
spoke not roughly, nor angrily but with
respect half reproachfulness and an un-
mistakable tenderness.
"Oh, Willy! Willy I" I heard her answer.
"Somebody said you came here at night,
and I couldn't rest. Oh, dear! They'll
murder you! I know they will. Don't,
oh!"
My ears took in the sense no further,
though her pleading voice still reached my
ears. A few moments, and they were out
of sight.
Nearly two hours afterward, as I was as-
cending to my chamber, a man brushed
quickly by me. I glanced after him, and
recognized the person of young Hammond.
He was going to the room of Har^v Green !
NIGHT THE SEVENTH.
Sowing the Wind.
THE state of affairs in Cedarville, it waa
plain, from the partial glimpses I had re-
ceived, was rather desperate. Desperate, I
mean, as regarded the .various parties
brought before my observation. An eating
cancer was on the community, and so far as
the eye could mark its destructive progress,
the ravages were fearful. That its roots
were striking deep, and penetrating, con-
cealed from view, in many unsuspected di-
rections, there could be no doubt. What
appeared on the surface was but a milder
form of the disease, compared with its hid-
den, more vital, and more dangerous ad-
vances.
I could not but feel a strong interest in
some of these parties. The case of young
Hammond had from the first awakened con-
cern ; and now a new element was added in
the unlooked-for appearance of his mother
on the stage, in a state that seemed one of
partial derangement. The gentleman at
whose office I met Mr. Harrison on the day
before the reader will remember Mr. H.
as having come to the " Sickle and Sheaf"
in search of his sons was thoroughly con-
(160)
NIGHT THE SEVENTH. 161
versant with the affairs of the village, and I
called upon him early in the day in order to
make some inquiries about Mrs. Hammond.
My first question, as to whether he knew the
lady, was answered by the remark
"Oh, yes. She is one of my earliest
friends."
The allusion to her did not seem to
awaken agreeable states of mind. A slight
shade obscured his face, and I noticed that
he sighed involuntarily.
" Is Willy her only child ?"
" Her only living child. She had four ;
another son and two daughters ; but she lost
all but Willy when they were quite young.
And," he added, after a pause "it would
have been better for her, and for Willy too,
if he had gone to the better land with them."
" His course of life must be to her a terri-
ble affliction," said I.
" It is destroying her reason," he replied,
with emphasis. "He was her idol. No
mother ever loved a son with more self-de-
votion than Mrs. Hammond loved her beau-
tiful, fine-spirited, intelligent, affectionate
boy. To say that she was proud of him, is
but a tame expression. Intense love al-
most idolatry was the strong passion of
her heart. How tender, how watchful was
her love ! Except when at school, he was
scarcely ever separated from her. In order
to keep him by her side, she gave up her
thoughts to the suggestion and maturing of
F
162 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
plans for keeping his mind active and inter-
ested in her society and her success was
perfect. Up to the age of sixteen or seven-
teen, I do not think he had a desire for
other companionship than that of his
mother. But this, you know, could not
last. The boy's maturing thought must go
beyond the home and social circle. The
great world, that he was soon to enter, was
before him ; and through loopholes that
opened here and there he obtained partial
.glimpses of what was beyond. To step
forth into this world where he was soon to
be a busy actor and worker, and to step
forth alone, next came in the natural order
of progress. How his mother trembled
with anxiety as she saw him leave her side.
Of the dangers that would surround his
path, she knew too well ; and these were
magnified by her fears at least so I often
said to her. Alas ! how far the sad reality
has outrun her most fearful anticipations.
" When Willy was eighteen he was then
reading law I think I never saw a young
man of fairer promise. As I have often
heard it remarked of him, he did not appear
to have a single fault. But he had a dan-
gerous gift rare conversational powers,
united with great urbanity of manner.
Every one who made his acquaintance be-
came charmed with his society ; and he soon
found himself surrounded by a circle of
young men, some of whom were not the best
NIGHT THE SEVENTH. 163-
companions he might have chosen. Still,
his own pure instincts and honorable prin-
ciples were his safeguard ; and I never have
believed that any social allurements would
have drawn him away from the right path
if this accursed tavern had not been opened
by Slade."
"There was a tavern here before the
'Sickle and Sheaf was opened," said I.
" Oh, yes. But it was badly kept, and the
bar-room visitors were of the lowest class.
No respectable young man in Cedarville
would have been seen there. It offered na
temptations to one moving in Willy's circle.
But the opening of the 'Sickle and Sheaf *
formed a new era. Judge Hammond him-
self not the purest man in the world, I'm
afraid gave his countenance to the estab-
lishment, and talked of Simon Slade as an
enterprising man who ought to be encour-
aged. Judge Lyman and other men of posi-
tion in Cedarville followed his bad example
and the bar-room of the ' Sickle and Sheaf
was at once voted respectable. At all times
of the day and evening you could see the
flower of our young men going in and out,
sitting in front of the bar-room, or talking
hand and glove with the landlord, who, from
a worthy miller, regarded as well enough in
his place, was suddenly elevated into a man
of importance, Avhom the best in the village
were delighted to honor.
" In the beginning Willy went with thp
164 TEN NIGHT* IN A BAR-ROOM.
tide, and in an incredibly short period was
acquiring a fondness for drink that startled
and alarmed his friends. In going in
through Blade's open door he entered the
downward way, and has been moving onward
with fleet footsteps ever since. The fiery
poison inflamed his mind at the same time
that it dimmed his noble perceptions. Fond-
ness for mere pleasure followed, and this led
him into various sensual indulgences and
exciting modes of passing the time. Every
one liked him he was so free, so compan-
ionable, and so generous and almost every
one encouraged, rather than repressed, his
dangerous proclivities. Even his father for
-a time treated the matter lightly, as only the
first flush of young life. ' I commenced
sowing my wild oats at quite as early an
age,' I have heard him say. ' He'll cool off,
and do well enough. Never fear.' But his
mother was in a state of painful alarm from
the beginning. Her truer instincts, made
doubly acute by her yearning love, perceived
the imminent danger, and in all possible
ways did she seek to lure him from the path
in which he was moving at so rapid a pace.
Willy was always very much attached to his
mother, and her influence over him was
strong; but in this case he regarded her
fears as chimerical. The way in which he
walked was to him so pleasant, and the
companions of his journey so delightful, that
he could not believe in the prophesied evil;
NIGHT THE SEVENTH. 165>
and when his mother talked to him in her
warning voice, and with a sad countenance,
lie smiled at her concern and made light of
her fears.
" And so it went on, month after month,
and year after year, until the young man's
sad declensions were the town talk. In.
order to throw his mind into a new channel
to awaken, if possible, a new and better
interest in life his father ventured upon,
the doubtful experiment we spoke of yester-
day: that of placing capital in his hands,
and making him an equal partner in the
business of distilling and cotton-spinning.
The disastrous I might say disgraceful re-
sult you. know. The young man squan-
dered his own capital, and heavily embar-
rassed his father.
" The effect of all this upon Mrs. Ham-
mond has been painful in the extreme. We
can only dimly imagine the terrible suffer-
ing through which she has passed. Her
present aberration was first visible after a
long period of sleeplessness, occasioned by
distress of mind. During the whole of two
weeks, I am told, she did not close her eyes;
the most of that time walking the floor of
her chamber and weeping. Powerful ano-
dynes, frequently repeated, at length brought
relief. But when she awoke from a pro-
longed period of unconsciousness, the bright-
ness of her reason was gone. Since then
she has never been clearly conscious of what
166 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
was passing around her ; and well for her, I
have sometimes thought it was, for even
obscurity of intellect is a blessing in her
case. Ah me ! I always get the heartache
when I think of her."
" Did not this event startle the young man
from his fatal dream, if I may so call his
mad infatuation ?" I asked.
" No. He loved his mother, and was
deeply afflicted by the calamity ; but it
.seemed as if he could not stop. Some ter-
rible necessity appeared to be impelling him
onward. If he formed good resolutions
and I doubt not that he did they were
blown away like threads of gossamer the
moment he came within the sphere of old
associations. His way to the mill was by
the ' Sickle and Sheaf;' and it was not easy
for him to pass there without being drawn
into the bar, either by his own desire for
drink, or through the invitation of some
pleasant companion who was lounging in
front of the tavern."
" There may have been something even
more impelling than his love of drink," said
'"What?"
I related, briefly, the occurrences of the
preceding night.
"I feared nay, I was certain that he
was in the toils of this man. And yet your
confirmation of the fact startles and con-
founds me," said he, moving about his office
NIGHT THE SEVENTH. 16T
in a disturbed manner. " If my mind has
questioned and doubted in regard to young
Hammond, it questions and doubts na
longer. The word 'mystery' is not now
written over the door of his habitation.
Great Father ! and is it thus that our young
men are led into temptation ; thus that their
ruin is premeditated, secured ; thus that the
fowler is permitted to spread his net in the
open day, and the destroyer licensed to work
ruin in darkness? It is awful to contem-
plate!"
The man was strongly excited.
" Thus it is," he continued ; "and we who*
see the whole extent, origin, and downward
rushing force of a widely sweeping desola-
tion, lift our voices of warning almost in,
vain. Men who have everything at stake
sons to be corrupted and daughters to be-
come the wives of young men exposed to-
corrupting influences stand aloof, question-
ing and doubting as to the expediency of
protecting the innocent from the wolfish de-
signs of bad men, who, to compass their
own selfish ends, would destroy them body
and soul. We are called fanatics, ultraists,
designing, and all that, because we ask our
law-makers to stay the fiery ruin. Oh, no !
we must not touch the traffic. All the dearest
and best interests of society may suffer, but
the rum-seller must be protected. He must
be allowed to get gain, if the jails and poor-
houses are filled and the graveyards made
168 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
fat with the bodies of young men stricken
down in the flower of their years, and of
wives and mothers who have died of broken
hearts. Reform, we are told, must commence
at home. We must rear temperate children,
and then we shall have temperate men.
That when there are none to desire liquor,
the rum-seller's traffic will cease. And all
the while society's true benefactors are en-
gaged in doing this, the weak, the unsus-
pecting, and the erring must be left an easy
prey, even if the work requires for its accom-
plishment a hundred years. Sir ! a human
soul destroyed through the rum-seller's in-
fernal agency is a sacrifice priceless in value.
No considerations of worldly gain can, for
an instant, be placed in comparison there-
with. And yet souls are destroyed by thou-
sands every year ; and they will fall by tens
of thousands ere society awakens from its
fatal indifference and lays its strong hand
of power on the corrupt men who are scat-
tering disease, ruin and death broadcast over
the land !
" I always get warm on this subject," he
added, repressing his enthusiasm. " And
who that observes and reflects can help grow-
ing excited ? The evil is appalling, and the
indifference of the community one of the
strangest facts of the day."
While he was yet speaking, the elder Mr.
Hammond came in. He looked wretched.
The redness and humidity of his eves
NIGHT THE SEVENTH. 169
showed want of sleep, and the relaxed mus-
cles of his face exhaustion from weariness
and suffering. He drew the person with
whom I had been talking aside, and contin-
ued in earnest conversation with him for
many minutes often gesticulating violently.
I could see his face, though I heard nothing
of what he said. The play of his features
was painful to look upon, for every changing
muscle showed a new phase of mental suf-
fering.
" Try and see him, will you not ?" he said,
as he turned,- at length, to leave the office.
" I will go there immediately," was
answered.
" Bring him home, if possible."
" My very best efforts shall be made."
Judge Hammond bowed, and went out
hurriedly.
" Do you know the number of the room
occupied by the man Green?" asked the
gentleman as soon as his visitor had retired.
"Yes. It is No. 11."
"Willy has not been home since last
night. His father, at this late day, suspects
Green to be a gambler. The truth flashed
upon him only yesterday; and this, added
to his other sources of trouble, is driving
him, so he says, almost mad. As a friend,
he wishes me to go to the ' Sickle and Sheaf*
and try and find Willy. Have you seen
anything of him this morning ? n
I answered in the negative.
170 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAB-BOOM.
"Nor of Green?"
" No."
" Was Slade about when you left the tav-
ern?"
" I saw nothing of him."
" What Judge Hammond fears may be all
too true that in the present condition of
Willy's affairs, which have reached the point
of disaster, his tempter means to secure the
largest possible share of property yet in his
power to pledge or transfer; to squeeze from
his victim the last drop of blood that re-
mains, and then fling him ruthlessly from
his hands."
"The young man must have been ren-
dered almost desperate, or he would never
have returned as he did last night. Did you
mention this to his father?"
" No. It would have distressed him the
more without effecting any good. He is
wretched enough. But time passes, and
none is to be lost now. Will you go with
me?"
I walked to the tavern with him, and we
went into the bar together. Two or three
men were at the counter, drinking.
" Is Mr. Green about this morning ?" was
asked by the person who had come in search
of young Hammond.
" Haven'
t seen anything of him."
"Is he in his room?"
"I don't know."
" Will you ascertain for me ?"
NIGHT THE SE VENTH. 171
" Certainly. Frank," and he spoke to
the landlord's son, who was lounging on a
settee, " I wish you would see if Mr. Green
is in his room."
" Go and see yourself. I'm not your
waiter," was growled back, in an ill-natured
voice.
" In a moment I'll ascertain for you, 35
said Matthew, politely.
After waiting on some new customers,
who were just entering, Matthew went up-
stairs to obtain the desired information.
As he left the bar-room, Frank got up and
went behind the counter, where he mixed
himself a glass of liquor, and drank it off,
evidently with real enjoyment.
" Rather a dangerous business for one so
young as you are," remarked the gentleman
with whom I had come, as Frank stepped
out of the bar and passed near where we
were standing. The only answer to this was
an ill-natured frown, and an expression of
face which said, almost as plainly as words,
" It's none of your business."
" Not there," said Matthew, now coming
in.
"Are you certain?"
"Yes, sir."
But there was a certain involuntary hesi-
tation in the barkeeper's manner which led
to a suspicion that his answer was not in
accordance with the truth. We walked out
together, conferring on the subject, and both
172 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAB-ROOM.
concluded that his word was not to be re-
lied upon.
" What is to be done ?" was asked.
" Go to Green's room," I replied, " and
knock at the door. If he is there, he may
answer, not suspecting your errand."
" Show me the room."
I went with him, and pointed out No. 11.
He knocked lightly, but there came no
sound from within. He repeated the knock ;
all was silent. Again and again he knocked,
but there came back only a hollow reverbe-
ration.
"There's no one there," said he, return-
ing to where I stood, and we walked down-
stairs together. On the landing, as we
reached the lower passage, we met Mrs.
Slade. I had not, during this visit at Ce-
darville, stood face to face with her before.
Oh ! what a wreck she presented, with her
pale, shrunken countenance, hollow, lustre-
less eyes, and bent, feeble body. I almost
shuddered as I looked at her. What a
haunting and sternly rebuking spectre she
must have moved, daily, before the eyes of
her husband.
" Have you noticed Mr. Green about, this
morning ?" I asked.
" He hasn't come down from his room
yet," she replied.
" Are you certain ?" said my companion.
"I knocked several times at the door just
now, but received no answer."
NIGHT TEE SEVENTH. 173
" What do you want with him ?" asked
Mrs. Slade, fixing her eyes upon us.
" We are in search of Willy Hammond,
and it has been suggested that he is with
Green."
" Knock twice lightly, and then three
times more firmly," said Mrs. Slade; and as
she spoke she glided past us with a noiseless
tread.
" Shall we go up together?"
I did not object, for, although I had no
delegated right of intrusion, my feelings
were so much excited in the case that I went
forward, scarcely reflecting on the propriety
of so doing.
The signal knock found instant answer.
The door was softly opened, and the un-
shaven face of Simon Slade presented itself.
" Mr. Jacobs !" he said, with surprise in
his tones. " Do you wish to see me?"
" No, sir; I wish to see Mr. Green," and
with a quick, firm pressure against the door,
he pushed it wide open. The same party
was there that I had seen on the night be-
fore, Green, young Hammond, Judge Ly-
man, and Slade. On the table at which the
three former were sitting were cards, slips
of paper, an inkstand and pens, and a pile
of bank-notes. On a side-table, or, rather,
butler's tray, were bottles, decanters ana
glasses.
"Judge Lyman ! Is it possible ? r ex-
claimed Mr. Jacobs, the name of my com-
174 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
panion ; " I did not expect to find you
here."
Green instantly swept his hands over the
table to secure the money and bills it con-
tained ; but, ere he had accomplished his
purpose young Hammond grappled three
or four narrow strips of paper and hastily
tore them into shreds.
"You're a cheating scoundrel !" cried Green,
fiercely, thrusting his hand into his bosom
as if to draw from thence a weapon ; but the
words were scarcely uttered ere Hammond
sprung upon him with the fierceness of a
tiger, bearing him down upon the floor.
Both hands were already about the gam-
bler's neck, and, ere the bewildered specta-
tors could interfere, and drag him off, Green
was purple in the face, and nearly stran-
gled.
" Call me a cheating scoundrel !'' said
Hammond, foaming at the mouth as he
spoke. " Me ! whom you have followed
like a thirsty bloodhound. Me ! whom you
have robbed, and cheated, and debased
from the beginning ! Oh ! for a pistol to rid
the earth of the blackest-hearted villain that
walks its surface. Let me go, gentlemen!
I have nothing left in the world to care for,
there is no consequence I fear. Let me
do society one good service before I die!"
And with one vigorous effort he swept
.himself clear of the hands that were pinion-
ing him, and sprung again upon the gambler
NIGHT THE SEVENTH. 175
with the fierce energy of a savage beast.
By this time Green had got his knife free
from its sheath, and, as Hammond was clos-
ing upon him in his blind rage, plunged it
into his side. Quick almost as lightning
the knife was withdrawn, and two more
stabs inflicted ere we could seize and disarm
the murderer. As we did so, Willy Ham-
mond fell over with a deep groan, the blood
flowing from his side.
In the terror and excitement that followed
Green rushed from the room. The doctor,
who was instantly summoned, after care-
fully examining the wound and the condi-
tion of the unhappy young man, gave it a8
his opinion that he was fatally injured.
Oh ! the anguish of the father, who had
quickly heard of the dreadful occurrence,
when this announcement was made. I
never saw such fearful agony in any human
countenance. The calmest of all the anx-
ious group was Willy himself. On his
father's face his eyes were fixed as if by a
kind of fascination.
" Are you in much pain, my poor boy ?"
sobbed the old man, stooping over him, until
his long white hair mingled with the damp
locks of the sufferer.
"Not much, father," was the whispered
reply. " Don't speak of this to mother yet.
I'm afraid it will kill her."
What could the father answer ? Nothing !
And he was silent.
176 TEN NIGHTS IN A SAB-BOOM.
" Does she know of it ?" A shadow went
over his face.
Mr. Hammond shook his head.
Yet, even as he spoke, a wild cry of dis-
tress was heard below. Some indiscreet per-
son had borne to the ears of the mother the
fearful news about her son, and she had
come wildly flying toward the tavern, and
was just entering.
" It is my poor mother," said Willy, a
flush coming into his pale face. " Who
could have told here of this?"
Mr. Hammond started for the door, but
ere he had reached it the distracted mother
entered.
" Oh! Willy, my boy! my boy!" she ex-
claimed, in tones of anguish that made the
heart shudder. And she crouched down on
the floor, the moment she reached the bed
whereon he lay, and pressed her lips oh, so
tenderly and lovingly! to his.
"Dear mother! Sweet mother! Best of
mothers !" He even smiled as he said this,
and into the face that now bent over him
looked up with glances of unutterable fond-
ness.
"Oh, Willy ! Willy ! Willy 1 my son, my
son 1" And again her lips were laid closely
to his.
Mr. Hammond now interfered, and en-
deavored to remove his wife, fearing for the
consequence upon his son.
" Don't, father !" said Willy ; " let her re-
NIGHT THE SEVENTH. 177
main. I am not excited nor disturbed. I
am glad that she is here now. It will be
best for us both."
"You must not excite him, dear," gaid
Mr. Hammond " he is very weak."
"I'll not excite him," answered the mother.
' I'll not speak a word. There, love y" and
she laid her fingers softly upon the lips of
her son " don't speak a single word."
For only a few moments did she sit with
the quiet formality of a nurse who feels how
much depends on the repose of her patient.
'Then she began weeping, moaning, and
wringing her hands.
"Mother!" The feeble voice of Willy
-stilled instantly the tempest of feeling.
" Mother, kiss me I"
She bent down and kissed him.
"Are you there, mother?" His eyes
moved about, with a straining motion.
"Yes, love, here I am."
" I don't see you, mother. It's getting so
dark. Oh, mother ! mother !" he shouted,
suddenly starting up and throwing himself
forward upon her bosom " save me 1 save
me !"
How quickly did the mother clasp her
arms around him how eagerly did she
strain him to her bosom ! The doctor, fear-
ing the worst consequences, now came for-
ward, and endeavored to release the arms of
Mrs. Hammond, but she resisted every at-
tempt to do so.
178 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
" I will save you, my son," she murmured
in the ears of the young man. " Your
mother will protect you. Oh ! if you had
never left her side, nothing on earth could
have done you harm."
"He is dead!" I heard the doctor whis-
per, and a thrill of horror went through me.
The words reached the ears of Mr. Ham-
mond, and his groan was one of almost mor-
tal agony.
"Who says he is dead?" came sharply
from the lips of the mother as she pressed
the form of her child back upon the bed
from which he had sprung to her arms, and
looked wildly upon his face. One long
scream of horror told of her convictions, and
she fell lifeless across the body of her dead
son I
All in the room believed that Mrs. Ham-
mond had only fainted. But the doctor's
perplexed, troubled countenance as he or-
dered her carried into another apartment,
and the ghastliness of her face when it was
upturned to the light, suggested to every one
what proved to be true. Even to her ob-
scured perceptions the consciousness that
her son was dead came with a terrible vivid-
ness so terrible that it extinguished her
life.
Like fire among dry stubble ran the news
of this fearful event through Cedarville.
The whole town was wild with excitement.
The prominent fact that Willy Hammond
NIGHT THE SEVENTH. 179
had been murdered by Green, whose real
profession was known by many, and now
declared to all, was on every tongue ; but a
hundred different and exaggerated stories as
to the cause and the particulars of the event
were in circulation. By the time prepara-
tions to remove the dea'd bodies of mother
and son from the "Sickle and Sheaf"
to the residence of Mr. Hammond were om-
pleted, hundreds of people men, wo >ien,
and children were assembled around the
tavern; and many voices were clamorous
for Green, while some called out for Judge
Lyman, whose name, it thus appeared, had
become associated in the minds of the peo-
ple with the murderous affair. The appear-
ance, in the midst of this excitement, of the
two dead bodies, borne forth on settees,
did not tend to allay the feverish state of
indignation that prevailed. From more than
one voice I heard the words, "Lynch the
scoundrel!"
A part of the crowd followed the sad pro-
cession, while the greater portion, consisting
of men, remained about the tavern. All
bodies, no matter for what purpose assem-
bled, quickly find leading spirits who,
feeling the great moving impulse, give it
voice and direction. It was so in this case.
Intense indignation against Green was firing
every bosom; and when a man elevated
himself a few feet above the agitated mass
of humanity, and cried o'lt
180 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
<( The murderer must not escape !"
A wild, resounding shout, terrible in its
fierceness, made the air quiver.
" Let ten men be chosen to search the
house and premises," said the leading spirit.
" Ay ! ay ! Choose them ! Name them !"
was quickly answered.
Ten men were called by name, who in-
stant <y stepped in front of the crowd.
"fiaarch everywhere; from garret to cel-
lar; from hayloft to dog-kennel. Every-
where! everywhere 1" cried the man.
And instantly the ten men entered the
house. For nearly a quarter of an hour the
crowd waited with increasing signs of impa-
tience. These delegates at length appeared,
with the announcement that Green was no-
where about the premises. It was received
with a groan.
" Let no man in Cedarville do a stroke of
work until the murderer is found," now
shouted the individual who still occupied
his elevated position.
"Agreed! agreed! No work in Cedar-
ville until the murderer is found," rang our
fiercely.
" Let all who have horses, saddle and
bridle them as quickly as possible, and as-
semble, mounted, at the Court House."
About fifty men left the crowd hastily.
" Let the crowd part in the centre, up and
down the road, starting from a line in front
of me."
NIGHT THE SEVENTH. 181
This order was obeyed.
" Separate again, taking the centre of the
road for a line."
Four distinct bodies of men stood now in
front of the tavern.
" Now search for the murderer in every
nook and corner, for a distance of three
miles from this spot, each party keeping to
its own section ; the road being one divid-
ing line, and a line through the centre of
this tavern the other. The horsemen will
pursue the wretch to a greater distance."
More than a hundred- acquiescing voices
responded to this, as the man sprung down
from his elevation and mingled with the
crowd, which began instantly to move away
on its appointed mission.
As the hours went by, one, and another,
and another of the searching party returned
to the village, wearied with their efforts, or
confident that the murderer had made good
his escape. The horsemen, too, began to
come in, during the afternoon, and by sun-
down the last of them, worn out and disap-
pointed, made their appearance.
For hours after the exciting events of the
forenoon there were but few visitors at the
"Sickle and Sheaf." Slade, who did not
show himself among the crowd, came down
soon after its dispersion. He had shaved
and put on clean linen, but still bore many
evidences of a night spent without sleep.
His eyes were red and heavy and the eye-
loJ TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
lids swollen, while his skin was relaxed
and colorless. As he descended the stairs I
was walking in the passage. He looked shy
at me, and merely nodded. Guilt was
written plainly on his countenance, and
with it was blended anxiety and alarm.
That he might be involved in trouble he
had reason to fear, for he was one of the
party engaged in gambling in Green's room,
as both Mr. Jacobs and I had witnessed.
" This is dreadful business," said he, as
we met, face to face, half an hour afterward.
He did not look me steadily in the eyes.
" It is horrible !" I answered. " To cor-
rupt and ruin a young man, and then mur-
der him ! There are few deeds in the cata-
logue of crime blacker than this."
" It was done in the heat of passion," said
the landlord, with something of apology in
his manner. " Green never meant to kill
him."
"In peaceful intercourse with his fellow-
men, why did he carry a deadly weapon?
There was murder in his heart, sir."
" That is speaking very strongly."
" Not stronger than facts will warrant," I
replied. " That Green is a murderer in
heart, it needed not this awful consumma-
tion to show. With a cool, deliberate pur-
pose, he has sought, from the beginning, to
destroy young Hammond."
" It is hardly fair," answered Slade, " in
the present feverish excitement against
NIGHT THE SEVENTH. 183
Green, to assume such a questionable posi-
tion. It may do him a great wrong."
" Did Willy Hammond speak only idle
words when he accused Green of having
followed him like a thirsty bloodhound?
of having robbed, and cheated, and debased
him from the beginning ?"
" He was terribly excited at the moment."
" Yet," said I, "no ear that heard his words
could for an instant doubt that they were
truthful utterances wrung from a maddened
heart."
My earnest, positive manner had its effect
upon Slade. He knew that what I asserted
the whole history of Green's intercourse with
young Hammond would prove ; and he had,
moreover, the guilty consciousness of being
a party to the young man's ruin. His eyes
cowered beneath the steady gaze I fixed
upon him. I thought of him as one impli-
cated in the murder, and my thought must
have been visible in my face.
"One murder will not justify another,"
said he.
" There is no justification for murder on
any plea," was my response.
"And yet, if these infuriated men find
Green they will murder him."
" I hope not. Indignation at a horrible
crime has fearfully excited the people. But
I think their sense of justice is strong
enough to prevent the consequences you
apprehend."
184 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
" I would not like to be in Green's shoes, 5 *
said the landlord, with an uneasy movement.
I looked him closely in the face. It was
the punishment of the man's crime that
seemed so fearful in his eyes not the crime
itself. Alas ! how the corrupting traffic had
debased him.
My words were so little relished by Slade
that he found some ready excuse to leave
me. I saw but little more of him during
the day.
As evening began to fall, the gambler's
unsuccessful pursuers, one after another,
found their way to the tavern, and by the
time night fairly closed in the bar-room
was crowded with excited and angry men,
chafing over their disappointment, and loud
in their threats of vengeance. That Green had
made good his escape was now the general
belief, and the stronger this conviction be-
came, the more steadily did the current of
passion begin to set in a new direction. It
had become known to every one that be-
sides Green and young Hammond, Judge
Lyman and Slade were in the room engaged
in playing cards. The merest suggestion as
to the complicity of these two men with
Green in ruining Hammond, and thus driv-
ing him mad, was enough to excite strong
feeling against them ; and now that the mob
had been cheated of its victim, its pent-up
indignation sought eagerly some new chan-
nel.
NIGHT THE SEVENTH. 185
" Where's Slade ?" some one asked, in a
loud voice, from the centre of the crowded
bar-room. " Why does he keep himself out
of sight?"
" Yes ; where's the landlord ?" half a dozen
voices responded.
i " Did he go on the hunt?" some one in-
quired.
" No !" " No !" " No !" ran around the
room. "Not he."
"And yet the murder was committed in
his own house, and before his own eyes !"
" Yes, before his own eyes!" repeated one
another indignantly.
" Where's Slade ? Where's the landlord ?
Has anybody seen him to-night? Matthew,
where's Simon Slade?"
From lip to lip passed these interrogations,
while the crowd of men became agitated,
and swayed to and fro.
" I don't think he's home," answered the
bar-keeper in a hesitating manner, and with
visible alarm.
" How long since he was here?"
"I haven't seen him for a couple of
hours."
" That's a lie !" was sharply said.
" Who says it's a lie ?" Matthew affected
to be strongly indignant.
"I do !" And a rough, fierce-looking man
confronted him.
"What right have you to say so?" asked
Matthew, cooling off considerably.
186 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAB-ROOM.
" Because you lie I" said the man, boldly.
" You've seen him within a less time than
half an hour, and well you know it. Now,
if you wish to keep yourself out of this
trouble, answer truly. We are in no mood
to deal with liars or equivocators. Where is
Simon Slade?"
" I do not know," replied Matthew, firmly.
"Is he in the house?"
" He may be, or he may not be. I am
just as ignorant of his exact whereabouts as
you are."
" Will you look for him ?"
Matthew stepped to the door, opening
from behind the bar, and called the name of
Frank.
" What's wanted ?" growled the boy.
" Is your father in the house ?"
"I don't know, nor don't care," was re-
sponded in the same ungracious manner.
" Some one bring him into the bar-room,
and we'll see if we can't make him care a
little."
The suggestion was no sooner made than
two men glided behind the bar and passed
into the room from which the voice of Frank
had issued. A moment after they reap-
peared, each grasping an arm of the boy, and
bearing him like a weak child between them.
He looked thoroughly frightened at this
unlooked-for invasion of his liberty.
" See here, young man.'' One of the lead-
ing spirits of the crowd addressed him as
NIGHT THE SEVENTH. 187
soon as he was brought in front of the
counter. " If you wish to keep out of
trouble, answer our questions at once, and to
the point. We are in no mood for trifling.
Where's your father?"
" Somewhere about the house, I believe,"
Frank replied, in an humbled tone. He was
no little scared at the summary manner in
which he had been treated.
" How long since you saw him ?"
" Not long ago."
' Ten minutes ?"
' No ; nearly half an hour."
' Where was he, then ?"
{ He was going upstairs."
' Very well, we want him. See him and
tell him so."
Frank went into the house, but came back
into the bar-room, after an absence of nearly
five minutes, and said that he could not
find his father anywhere."
" Where is he, then ?" was angrily de-
manded.
" Indeed, gentlemen, I don't know."
Frank's anxious look and frightened manner
ohowed that he spoke truly.
"There's something wrong about this
something wrong wrong," said one of the
men. "Why should he be absent now?
Why has he taken no steps to secure the
man who committed a murder in his own
house, and before his own eyes?"
" I shouldn't wonder if he aided him to
188 TEN NIGHTS IN A SAB-BOOM.
escape," said another, making this serious
charge with a restlessness and want of evi-
dence that illustrated the reckless and un-
just spirit by which a mob is ever governed.
"No doubt of it in the least!" was the
quick and positive response. And at once
this erroneous conviction seized upon every
one. Not a single fact was presented. The
simple, bold assertion that no doubt existed
in the mind of one man as to Blade's having
aided Green to escape was sufficient for the
unreflecting mob.
"Where is he? Where is he? Let us
find him. He knows where Green is, and
he shall reveal the secret."
This was enough. The passions of the
crowd were at fever heat again. Two or
three men were chosen to search the house
and premises, while others dispersed to take
a wider range. One of the men who volun-
teered to go over the house was a person
named Lyon, with whom I had formed some
acquaintance, and several times conversed
with on the state of affairs in Cedarville.
He still remained too good a customer at
the bar. I left the bar at the same time
that he did, and went up to my room. We
walked side by side, and parted at my door,
I going in and he continuing on to make
his searches. I felt, of course, anxious and
much excited, as well in consequence of the
events of the day as the present aspect of
things. My head was aching violently, and
NIGHT THE SEVENTH, 189
in the hope of getting relief I laid myself
down. I had already lighted a candle and
turned the key in my door to prevent intru-
sion. Only for a short time did I lie listen-
ing to the hum of voices that came with a
hoarse murmur from below, to the sound of
feet moving along the passages, and to the
continual opening and shutting of doors,
when something like suppressed breathing
reached my ears. I started up instantly
and listened ; but my quickened pulses
were now audible to my own sense, and ob-
scured what was external.
" It is only imagination," I said to myself.
Still I sat upright, listening.
Satisfied at length that all was mere fancy,
I laid myself back on the pillow and triea
to turn my thoughts away from the sug-
gested idea that some one was in the room.
Scarcely had I succeeded in this when my
heart gave a new impulse, as a sound like a
movement fell upon my ears.
"Mere fancy !" I said to myself, as some
one went past the door at the moment. "My
mind is over-excited."
Still I raised my head, supporting it with
my hand, and listened, directing my atten-
tion inside and not outside of the room. I
was about letting my head fall back upon
the pillow when a slight cough, so distinct
as not to be mistaken, caused me to spring
to the floor and look under the bed. The
mystery was explained. A pair of eyes
190 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
glittered in the candlelight. The fugitive,
Green, was under my bed. For some mo-
ments I stood looking at him, so astonished
that I had neither utterance nor decision,
while he glared at me with a fierce defiance.
I saw that he was clutching a revolver.
" Understand," he said, in a grating whis-
per, " that I am not to be taken alive."
I let the blanket, which had concealed
him from view, fall from my hand, and then
tried to collect my thoughts.
" Escape is impossible," said I, again lift-
ing the temporary curtain by which he was
hid. " The whole town is armed and on the
search, and should you fall into the hands
of the mob in its present state of exaspera-
tion, your life would not be safe an instant.
Remain, then, quiet where you are until I
can see the sheriff, to whom you had better
resign yourself, for there's little chance for
you except under his protection."
After a brief parley he consented that
things should take this course, and I went
out, locking the room door after me, and
started in search of the sheriff. On the in-
formation I gave the sheriff acted promptly.
With five officers, fully armed for defence in
case an effort were made to get the prisoner
out of their hands, he repaired immediately
to the " Sickle and Sheaf." I had given the
key of my room into his possession.
The appearance of the sheriff with his
posse was sufficient to start the suggestion
NIGHT THE SEVENTH. 191
that Green was somewhere concealed in the
house, and a suggestion was only needed to
cause the fact to be assumed and unhesitat-
ingly declared. Intelligence went through
the reassembling crowd like an electric cur-
rent, and ere the sheriff could manacle and
lead forth his prisoner the stairway down
which he had to come was packed with
bodies and echoing with oaths and maledic-
tions.
" Gentlemen, clear the way !" cried the
sheriff, as he appeared with the white and
trembling culprit at the head of the stairs.
" The murderer is now in the hands of the
law, and will meet the sure consequences of
his crime."
A shout of execration rent the air ; but
not a single individual stirred.
" Give way there ! Give way !" And the
sheriff took a step or two forward, but the
prisoner held back.
" Oh, the murdering villain ! The cursed
blackleg ! Where's Willy Hammond ?' ' was
heard distinctly above the confused ming-
ling of voices.
" Gentlemen ! the law must have its
course, and no good citizen will oppose the
law. It is made for your protection for
mine and for that of the prisoner."
"Lynch law is good enough for him,"
shouted a savage voice. " Hand him over
to us, sheriff, and we'll save you the trou-
ble of hanging him, and the county the
192 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-BOOM.
cost of a gallows. We'll do the business
right."
Five men, each armed with a revolver,
now ranged themselves around the sheriff,
and the latter said firmly,
" It is my duty to see this man safely con-
veyed to prison, and I'm going to do my
duty. If there is any more blood shed here,
the blame will rest with you." And the
body of officers pressed forward, the mob
slowly retreating before them.
Green, overwhelmed with terror, held
back. I was standing where I could see his
face. It was ghastly with mortal fear.
Grasping his pinioned arms, the sheriff
forced him onward. After contending with
the crowd for nearly ten minutes, the officers
gained the passage below ; but the mob was
denser here, and blocking up the door,
resolutely maintained their position.
Again and again the sheriff appealed to
the good sense and justice of the people.
" The prisoner will have to stand a trial,
and the law will execute sure vengeance."
"No, it wont!" was sternly responded.
"Who'll be judge in the case?" was
asked.
" Why, Judge Lyman !" was contemptu-
ously answered.
"A blackleg himself!" was shouted by
two or three voices.
"Blackleg judge, and blackleg lawyers!
Oh, yes! The law will execute sure ven-
NIGHT THE SEVENTH. 193
geance! Who was in the room gambling
with Green and Hammond ?"
" Judge Lyman !" " Judge Lyman !" was
answered back.
" It won't do, sheriff I There's no law in
the country to reach the case but Lynch
law, and that the scoundrel must nave.
Give him to us!"
"Never! On, men, with the prisoner I"
cried the sheriff, resolutely, and the posse
made a rush toward the door, bearing back
the resisting and now infuriated crowd.
Shouts, cries, oaths and savage imprecations
blended in wild discord, in the midst of
which my blood was chilled by the sharp
crack of a pistol. Another and another shot
followed, and then, as a cry of pain thrilled
the air, the fierce storm hushed its fury in
an instant.
"Who's shot? Is he killed?"
There was a breathless eagerness for the
answer.
" It's the gambler !" was replied. " Some-
body has shot Green."
A low muttered invective against the vic-
tim was heard here and there ; but the an-
nouncement was not received with a shout
of exultation, though there was scarcely a
heart that did not feel pleasure at the sacri-
fice of Harvey Green's life.
It was true as had been declared. Whether
the shot was aimed deliberately, or guided
by an unseen hand to the heart of the gam-
G
194 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAB-ROOM.
bier, was never known ; nor did the most
careful examination, instituted afterward by
the county, elicit any information that even
directed suspicion toward the individual
who became the agent of his death.
At the coroner's inquest, held over the
dead body of Harvey Green, Simon Slade
was present. Where he had concealed him-
self while the mob were in search of him
was not known. He looked haggard, and
his eyes were anxious and restless. Two
murders in his house, occurring in a single
day, were quite enough to darken his spirits,
and the more so as his relations with both
the victims were not of a character to awaken
anything but self-accusation.
As for the mob, in the death of Green its
eager thirst for vengeance was satisfied.
Nothing more was said against Slade, as a
participator in the ruin and death of young
Hammond. The popular feeling was one of
Eity rather than indignation toward the
indlord, for it was seen that he was deeply
troubled.
One thing I noticed, and it was that the
drinking at the bar was not suspended for a
moment. A large proportion of those who
made up the crowd of Green's angry pur-
suers were excited by drink as well as in-
dignation, and I am very sure that, but for
the maddening effects of liquor, the fatal
shot would never have been fired. After
the fearful catastrophe, and when every
NIGHT THE SEVENTH. 195
mind was sobered, or ought to have been
sobered, the crowd returned to the bar-room,
where the drinking was renewed. So rapid
were the calls for liquor, that both Matthew
and Frank, the landlord's son, were kept
busy mixing the various compounds de-
manded by the thirsty customers.
From the constant stream of human beings
that flowed toward the " Sickle and Sheaf,"
after the news of Green's discovery and
death went forth, it seemed as if every man
and boy within a distance of two or three
miles had received intelligence of the event.
Few, very, of those who came but went first
into the bar-room, and nearly all who en-
tered the bar-room called for liquor. In an
hour after the death of Green, the fact that
his dead body was laid out in the room im-
mediately adjoining seemed utterly to pass
from the consciousness of every one in the
bar. The calls for liquor were incessant;
and, as the excitement of drink increased,
voices grew louder, and oaths more plenti-
ful, while the sounds of laughter ceased not
for an instant.
" They're giving him a regular Irish
wake," I heard remarked, with a brutal
laugh.
I turned to the speaker, and to my great
surprise saw that it was Judge Lyman, more
under the influence of drink than I remem-
bered to have seen him. He was about the
last man I expected to find here. If he knew
196 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAB-BOOM.
of the strong indignation expressed toward
him a little while before by some of the very
men now excited with liquor, his own free
drinking had extinguished fear.
" Yes, curse him 1" was the answer. " If
they have a particularly hot corner ' away
down below,' I hope he's made its acquaint-
ance before this."
" Most likely he's smelled brimstone,"
chuckled the judge.
"Smelled it! If old Clubfoot hasn't
treated him with a brimstone bath long be-
fore this, he hasn't done his duty. If I
thought as much, I'd vote for sending his
majesty a remonstrance forthwith."
*Ha1 ha!" laughed the judge. "You're
warm on the subject."
"Ain't I? The blackleg scoundrel ! Hell's
too good for him."
" H-u-s-h ! Don't let your indignation run
into profanity," said Judge Lyman, trying
to assume a serious air ; but the muscles of
his face but feebly obeyed his will's feeble
effort.
" Profanity ! Pooh ! I don't call that pro-
fanity. It's only speaking out in meeting,
as they say it's only calling black black
and white 'white. You believe in a hell,
don't you, judge?"
" I suppose there is one, though I don't
know very certain."
" You'd better be certain !" said the other,
meaningly.
NIGHT THE SEVENTH. 197
"Why SO?"
" Oh ! because if there is one, and you
don't cut your cards a little differently,
you'll be apt to find it at the end of your
journey."
" What do you mean by that?" asked the
judge, retreating somewhat into himself and
trying to look dignified.
" Just what I say," was unhesitatingly an-
swered.
"Do you mean to insinuate anything?"
asked the judge, whose brows were begin-
ning to knit themselves.
" Nobody thinks you a saint," replied the
man, roughly.
" I never professed to be."
" And it is said" the man fixed his gaze
almost insultingly upon Judge Lyman's face
" that you'll get about as hot a corner in
the lower regions as is to be found there,
whenever you make the journey in that di-
rection."
" You are insolent !" exclaimed the judge,
his face becoming inflamed.
" Take care what you say, sir !" The man
spoke threateningly.
" You'd better take care what you say."
" So I will," replied the other. " But"
"What's to pay here?" inquired a third
party, coming up at the moment, and inter-
rupting the speaker.
" The devil will be to pay," said Judge
Lyman. " if somebody don't look out sharp."
198 TEN NIGHTS IN A SAB-ROOM.
"Do you mean that for me, ha?" The
man between whom and himself this slight
contention had so quickly sprung up began
stripping back his coat-sleeves, like one
about to commence boxing.
" I mean it for anybody who presumes to
offer me an insult."
The raised voices of the two men now
drew toward them the attention of every one
in the bar-room.
" The devil ! There's Judge Lyman I" I
heard some one exclaim, in a tone of surprise.
" Wasn't he in the room with Green when
Willy Hammond was murdered?" asked
another.
" Yes, he was ; and what's more, it is said
he had been playing against him all night,
he and Green sharing the plunder."
This last remark came distinctly to the
ears of Lyman, who started to his feet in-
stantly, exclaiming fiercely
" Whoever says that is a cursed liar!"
The words were scarcely out of his mouth
before a blow staggered him against the wall,
near which he was standing. Another blow
felled him; and then his assailant sprang
over his prostrate body, kicking him and
stamping upon his face and breast in the
most brutal, shocking manner.
"Kill him! He's worse than Green!"
somebody cried out, in a voice so full of
cruelty and murder that it made my blood
curdle. " Remember Willy Hammond '"
NIGHT THE SEVENTH. 199
The terrible scene that followed, in which
were heard a confused mingling of blows,
cries, yells, and horrible oaths, continued for
several minutes, and ceased only when the
words " Don't, don't strike him any more!
He's dead !" were repeated several times.
Then the wild strife subsided. As the crowd
parted from around the body of Judge Ly-
man, and gave way, I caught a single glance
at his face. It was covered with blood, and
every feature seemed to have been literally
trampled down, until all was a level surface I
Sickened at the sight, I passed hastily from
the room into the open air, and caught my
breath several times before respiration again
went on freely. As I stood in front of the
tavern, the body of Judge Lyman was borne
out by three or* four men and carried off in
the direction of his dwelling.
" Is he dead ?" I inquired of those who
had him in charge.
" No," was the answer. " He's not dead,
but terribly beaten," and they passed on.
Again the loud voices of men in angry
strife arose in the bar-room. I did not re.-
turn there to learn the cause, or to witness
the fiend-like conduct of men, all whose
worst passions were stimulated by drink into
the wildest fervor. As I was entering my
room, the thought flashed through my
mind that, as Green was found there, it
needed only the bare suggestion that I
had aided in his concealment to direct
200 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
toward me the insane fury of the drunken
mob.
" It is not safe to remain here." I said
this to myself, with the emphasis of a strong
internal conviction.
Against this my mind opposed a few fee-
ble arguments ; but the more I thought of
the matter the more clearly did I become
satisfied that to attempt to pass the night
in that room was to me a risk it was not
prudent to assume.
So I went in search of Mrs. Slade, to ask
her to have another room prepared for me.
But she was not in the house ; and I learned,
upon inquiry, that since the murder of
young Hammond she had been suffering
from repeated hysterical and fainting fits,
and was now, with her daughter, at the
house of a relative, whither she had been
carried early in the afternoon.
It was on my lip to request the chamber-
maid to give me another room ; but this I
felt to be scarcely prudent, for if the popular
indignation should happen to turn toward
me, the servant would be the one questioned,
most likely, as to where I had removed my
quarters.
" It isn't safe to stay in the house," said I,
speaking to myself. " Two, perhaps three,
murders, have been committed already-.
The tiger's thirst for blood has been stimu-
lated, and who can tell how quickly he ma*'
spring again, or in what direction ?"
NIGHT THE SEVENTH. 201
Even while I said this, there came up
from the bar-room louder and madder
shouts. Then blows were heard, mingled
with cries and oaths. A shuddering sense
of danger oppressed me, and I went nastily
down stairs and out into the street. As I
gained the passage I looked into the sitting-
room, where the body of Green was laid out.
Just then the bar-room door was burst open
by a fighting party who had been thrown,
in their fierce contention, against it. I paused
only for a moment or two, and even in that
brief period of time saw blows exchanged
over the dead body of the gambler!
" This is no place for me," I said, almost
aloud, and hurried from the house, and took
my way to the residence of a gentleman
who had shown me many kindnesses dur-
ing my visits at Cedarville. There was
needed scarcely a word of representation
on my part to secure a cordial tender of a
bed.
What a change ! It seemed almost like a
passage from Pandemonium to a heavenly
region, as I seated myself alone in the quiet
chamber a cheerful hospitality had assigned
me, and mused on the exciting and terrible
incidents of the day. They that sow the
wind shall reap the whirlwind. How marked
had been the realization of this prophecy,
couched in such strong but beautiful im-
agery !
On the next day I was to leave Cedarville.
202 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-EOOM.
Early in the morning I repaired to the
"Sickle and Sheaf." The storm was over,
and all was calm and silent as desolation.
Hours before the tempest had subsided,
but the evidences left behind of its ravaging
fury were fearful to look upon. Doors,
chairs, windows and tables were broken,
and even the strong brass rod that orna-
mented the bar had been partially wrenched
from its fastenings by strong hands, under
an impulse of murder that only lacked a
weapon to execute its fiendish purpose.
Stains of blood, in drops, marks, and even
dried-up pools, were to be seen all over the
bar-room and passage floors, and in many
places on the porch.
In the sitting-room still lay the body of
Green. Here, too, were many signs to indi-
cate a fierce struggle. The looking-glass was
smashed to a hundred pieces, and the shiv-
ered fragments lay yet untouched upon the
floor. A chair, which it was plain had been
used as a weapon of assault, had two of its
legs broken short off, and was thrown into
a corner. And even the bearers on which
the dead man lay were pushed from their
true position, showing that even in its mor-
tal sleep the body of Green had felt the
jarring strife of elements he had himself
helped to awaken into mad activity. From
his face the sheet had been drawn aside,
but no hand ventured to replace it, and there
it lay, in its ghastly paleness, exposed to the
NIGHT TEE SEVENTH. 208
light, and covered with restless flies, attracted
by the first faint odors of putridity. With gaze
averted, I approached the body and drew
the covering decently over it.
No person was in the bar. I went out into
the stable yard, where I met the hostler, with
his head bound up. There was a dark blue
circle around one of his eyes, and an ugly-
looking red scar on his cheek.
" Where is Mr. Slade ?" I inquired.
" In bed, and likely to keep it for a week,"
was answered.
" How comes that?"
"Naturally enough. There was righting
all around last night, and he had to come in
for a share. The fool ! If he'd just held his
tongue he might have come out of it with a
whole skin. But, when the rum is in, the
wit is out, with him. It's cost me a black
eye and a broken head, for how could I stand
by and see him murdered outright?"
"Is he very badly injured?"
" I rather think he IB. One eye is clean
gone."
"Oh, shocking!"
" It's shocking enough, and no mistake."
"Lost an eye!"
" Too true, sir. The doctor saw him this
morning, and says the eye was fairly gouged
out and broken up. In fact, when we car-
ried him upstairs for dead last night his
eye was lying upon his cheek. I pushed it
back with my own hand !"
204 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
"Oh, horrible!" The relation made me
sick. " Is he otherwise much injured ?"
" The doctor thinks there are some bad
hurts inside. Why, they kicked and tram-
pled upon him as if he had been a wild
beast ! I never saw such a pack of blood-
thirsty devils in my life."
" So much for rum," said I.
" Yes, sir; so much for rum," was the em-
phatic response. " It was the rum, and
nothing else. Why, some of the very men
who acted the most like tigers and devils
are as harmless persons as you will find in
Cedarville when sober. Yes, sir ; it was the
rum, and nothing else. Rum gave me this
broken head and black eye."
" So you had been drinking also ?"
" Oh, yes. There's no use in denying
that."
" Liquor does you harm."
" Nobody knows that better than I do."
" Why do you drink, then?"
"Oh, just because it comes in the way.
Liquor is under my eyes and nose all the
time, and it's as natural as breathing to take
a little now and then. And when I don't
think of it myself, somebody will think of it
for me, and say 'Come, Sam, let's take
something.' So you see, for a body such as
I am, there isn't much help for it."
" But ain't you afraid to go on in this
way? Don't you know where it will all
end ?"
NIGHT THE SEVENTH. 205
" Just as well as anybody. It will make
an end of me or of all that is good in me.
Rum and ruin, you know, sir. They go to-
gether like twin brothers."
" Why don't you get out of the way of
temptation ?" said I.
" It's easy enough to ask that question,
sir ; but how am 1 to get out of the way of
temptation ? Where shall I go and not find
a bar in my road, and somebody to say
' Come, Sam, let's take a drink ?' It can't be
done, sir, nohow. I'm a hostler, and don't
know how to be anything else."
" Can't you work on a farm ?"
" Yes, I can do something in that way.
But when there are taverns and bar-rooms,
as many as three or four in every mile all
over the country, how are you to keep clear
of them? Figure me out that."
" I think you'd better vote on the Maine
Law side at next election," said I.
" Faith, and I did it last time 1" replied
the man, with a brightening face " and if
I'm spared, I'll go the same ticket next
year."
"What do you think of the Law?" I
asked.
" Think of it ! Bless your heart ! if I was
a praying man, which I'm sorry to say I
ain't my mother was a pious woman, sir "
his voice fell and slightly trembled " if I
was a praying man, sir, I'd pray night and
morning, and twenty times every day of my
206 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
life, for God to put it into the hearts of the
people to give us that Law. I'd have some
hope then. But I haven't much as it is.
There's no use in trying to let liquor alone."
" Do many drinking men think as you
do?"
"lean count up a dozen or two myself.
It isn't the drinking men who are so much
opposed to the Maine law as your politi-
cians. They throw dust in the people's eyes
about it, and make a great many who know
nothing at all of the evils of drinking in
themselves believe some bugbear story about
trampling on the rights of I don't know
who, nor they either. As for rum-sellers'
rights, I never could see any right they had
to get rich by ruining poor devils such as I
am. I think, though, that we have some
right to be protected against them."
The ringing of a bell here announced the
arrival of some traveller, and the hostler left
me.
I learned during the morning that Mat-
thew the bar-keeper, and also the son of
Mr. Slade, were both considerably hurt
during the affrays in the bar-room, and were
confined, temporarily, to their beds. Mrs.
Slade still continued in a distressing and
dangerous state. Judge Lyman, though
shockingly injured, was not thought to be in
a critical condition.
A busy day the sheriff had of it, making
arresta of various parties engaged in the last
NIGHT THE SEVENTH. 207
night's affairs. Even Slade, unable as he
was to lift his head from his pillow, was re-
quired to give heavy bail for his appearance
at court. Happily I escaped the inconve-
nience of being held to appear as a witness,
and early in the afternoon had the satisfac-
tion of finding myself rapidly borne away
in the stage-coach. It was two years before
I entered the pleasant village of Cedar ville
again.
NIGHT THE EIGHTH.
Reaping the Whirlwind.
I WAS in Washington City during the suc-
ceeding month. It was the short or closing
session of a regular Congressional term.
The implication of Judge Lyman in the
affair of Green and young Hammond had
brought him into such bad odor in Cedar-
ville, and the whole district from which he
had been chosen, that his party deemed it
wise to set him aside and take up a candi-
date less likely to meet with so strong, and,
it might be, successful an opposition. By
so doing they were able to secure the elec-
tion once more against the growing temper-
ance party, which succeeded, however, in
getting a Maine Law man into the State
Legislature. It was, therefore, Judge Ly-
man's last winter at the Federal capital.
While seated in the reading-room at Ful-
ler's Hotel, about noon, on the day after my
arrival in Washington, I noticed an indi-
vidual, whose face looked familiar, come in
and glance about, as if in search of some
one. While yet questioning in my mind
who he could be, I heard a man remark to a
person with whom he had been conversing
( 103}
NIGHT THE EIGHTH. 203
" There's that vagabond member away
from his place in the House, again."
" Who? 1 ' inquired the other.
" Why, Judge Lyman," was answered.
" Oh I" said the other, indiflferently " it
isn't of much consequence. Precious little
wisdom does he add to that intelligent
body."
" His vote is worth something at least,
when important questions are at stake."
" What does he charge for it ?" was coolly
inquired.
There was a shrug of the shoulders and
an arching of the eyebrows, but no answer.
" I'm in earnest, though, in the question,"
said the last speaker.
'* Not in saying that Lyman will sell his
vote to the highest bidders ?"
" That will depend altogether upon whom
the bidders may be. They must be men
who have something to lose as well as gain
men not at all likely to bruit the matter,
and in serving whose personal interests no
abandonment of party is required. Judge
Lyman is always on good terms with the
lobby members, and may be found in com-
E any with some of them daily. Doubtless
is absence from the House now is for the
purpose of a special meeting with gentle-
men who are ready to pay well for votes in
favor of some bill making appropriations
of public money for private or corporate
benefit."
210 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-BOOM.
" You certainly cannot mean all you say
to be taken in its broadest sense," was re-
plied to this.
"Yes; in its very broadest. Into just
this deep of moral and political degradation
has this man fallen, disgracing his constitu-
ents and dishonoring his country."
" His presence at Washington doesn't
speak very highly in favor of the community
he represents."
" No ; still, as things are now, we cannot
judge of the moral worth of a community
by the men sent from it to Congress. Repre-
sentatives show merely the strength of
parties. The candidate chosen in party
primary meetings is not selected because he
is the best man they have, and the one fittest
to legislate wisely in national affairs ; but
he who happens to have the strongest per-
sonal friends among those who nominate, or
who is most likely to poll the highest vote.
This is why we find, in Congress, such a
large preponderance of tenth-rate men.'*
" Men, such as you represent Judge Ly-
man to be, would sell their country like an-
other Arnold."
"Yes; if the bid were high enough."
" Does he gamble ?"
" Gambling, I might say, is a part of his
profession. Very few nights pass, I am told,
without finding him at the gaming table."
I heard no more. At all this, I was not in
the least surprised, for my knowledge of the
NIGHT THE EIGHTH. 211
man's antecedents had prepared me for alle-
gations quite as bad as these.
During the week I spent at the Federal
Capital I had several opportunities of see-
ing Judge Lyman, in the House and out of
it, in the House only when the yeas and
nays were called on some important meas-
ure, or a vote taken on a bill granting special
privileges. In the latter case his vote, as I no-
ticed, was generally cast on the affirmative
side. Several times I saw him staggering
on the Avenue, and once brought into the
House for the purpose of voting, in so
drunken a state that he had to be supported
to his seat. And even worse than this
when his name was called, he was asleep,
and had to be shaken several times before he
was sufficiently aroused to give his vote !
Happily, for the good of his country, it
was his last winter in Washington. At the
next session a better man took his place.
Two years from the period of my last visit
to Cedarville I found myself approaching
that quiet village again. As the church-
spire came in view, and house after house
became visible, here and there, standing out
in pleasant relief against the green back-
ground of woods and fields, all the exciting
events which rendered my last visit so mem-
orable came up fresh in my mind. I was
yet thinking of Willy Hammond's dreadful
212 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
death, and of his broken-hearted mother,
whose life went out with his, when the stage
rolled by their old homestead. Oh, what a
change was here ! Neglect, decay and di-
lapidation were visible, let the eye fall where
it would. The fences were down, here and
there ; the hedges, once so green and nicely
trimmed, had grown rankly in some places,
but were stunted and dying in others ; all
the beautiful walks were weedy and grass-
grown, and the box-borders dead ; the gar-
den, rainbow-hued in its wealth of choice
and beautiful flowers when I first saw it,
was lying waste, a rooting-ground for hogs.
A glance at the house showed a broken
chimney, the bricks unremoved from the
spot where they struck the ground ; a moss-
grown roof, with a large limb from a light-
ning-rent tree lying almost balanced over
the eaves, and threatening to fall at the
touch of the first wind-storm that swept
over. Half of the vines that clambered
about the portico were dead, and the rest,
untrained, twined themselves in wild disor-
der, or fell grovelling to the earth. One of
the pillars of the portico was broken, as
were, also, two of the steps that went up to
it. The windows of the house were closed,
but the door stood open, and as the stage
went by my eyes rested for a moment
upon an old man seated in the hall. He
was not near enough to the door for me to
get a view of his face, but the white flowing
NIGHT THE EIGHTH. 213
hair left me in no doubt as to his identity.
It was Judge Hammond.
The " Sickle and Sheaf" was yet the stage-
house of Cedarville, and there, a few min-
utes afterward, I found myself. The hand
of change had been here also. The first ob-
ject that attracted my attention was the
sign-post, which, at my earlier arrival, some
eight or nine years before, stood up in its new
white garment of paint as straight as a
plummet-line, bearing proudly aloft the
golden sheaf and gleaming sickle. Now,
the post, dingy and shattered, and worn
from the frequent contact of wheels and
gnawing of restless horses, leaned from its
Li'im perpendicular at an angle of many de-
grees, as if ashamed of the faded, weather-
worn, lying symbol it bore aloft in the sun-
shine. Around the post was a filthy mud-
pool, in which a hog lay grunting out its
sense of enjoyment. Two or three old empty
whisky barrels lumbered up the dirty porch,
on which a coarse, bloated, vulgar-looking
man sat leaning against the wall his chair
tipped back on its hind legs squinting at
me from one eye, as I left the stage and
came forward toward the house.
" Ah ! is this you ?" said he, as I came
near to him, speaking thickly, and getting
up with a heavy motion. I now recognized
the altered person of Simon Slade. On look-
ing at him closer, I saw that the eye which
I had thought only shut was in fact de-
214 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
stroyed. How vividly, now, uprose in im-
agination the scenes I had witnessed during
my last night in his bar-room the night
when a brutal mob, whom he had inebri-
ated with liquor, came near murdering
him.
" Glad to see you once more, my boy !
Glad to see you ! I I I'm not just you
see. How are you ? How are you ?"
And he shook my hand with a drunken
show of cordiality.
I felt shocked and disgusted. Wretched
man ! down the crumbling sides of the pit
he had digged for other feet he was himself
sliding, while not enough strength remained
even to struggle with his fate.
I tried for a few minutes to talk with' him,
but his mind was altogether beclouded, and
his questions and answers incoherent, so I
left him and entered the bar-room.
" Can I get accommodations here for a
couple of days?" I inquired of a stupid,
sleepy-looking man, who was sitting in a
chair behind the bar.
"I reckon so," he answered, but did not
rise.
I turned, and walked a few paces toward
the door, and then walked back again.
" I'd like to get a room," said I.
The man got up slowly, and going to a
desk, fumbled about in it for awhile. At
length he brought out an old, dilapidated
blank-book, and throwing it open on the
NIQHT THE EIGHTH. 215
counter, asked me, in an indifferent man-
ner, to write down my name.
" I'll take a pen, if you please."
" Oh, yes !" And he hunted about again
in the desk, from which, after awhile, he
brought forth the blackened stump of a
quill, and pushed it toward me across the
counter.
" Ink," said I fixing my eyes upon him
with a look of displeasure.
"I don't believe there is any," he mut-
tered. "Frank," and he called the land-
lord's son, going to the door behind the bar
as he did so.
"What d'ye want?" a rough, ill-natured
voice answered.
"Where's the ink?"
" Don't know anything about it."
" You had it last. What did you do with
it?"
" Nothing !" was growled back.
" Well, I wish you'd find it."
" Find it yourself, and " I cannot re-
peat the profane language he used.
" Never mind," said I. " A pencil will do
just as well." And I drew one from my
pocket. The attempt to write with this, on
the begrimed and greasy page of the register
was only partially successful. It would
have puzzled almost any one to make out
the name. From the date of the last entry
it appeared that mine was the first arrival for
over a week of any person desiring a room.
216 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-BOOM.
As I finished writing my name Frank
came stalking in, with a cigar in his mouth
and a cloud of smoke around his head. He
had grown into a stout man though his
face presented little that was manly, in the
true sense of the word. It was disgustingly
sensual. On seeing me a slight flush tinged
his cheeks.
" How do you do?" he said, offering me
his hand. " Peter," he turned to the lazy-
looking bar-keeper " tell Jane to have No.
11 put in order for a gentleman immedi-
ately, and tell her to be sure and change the
bed-linen."
" Things look rather dull here," I re-
marked, as the bar-keeper went out to do as
he had been directed.
" Rather ; it's a dull place, anyhow."
" How is your mother ?" I inquired.
A slight, troubled look came into his face
as he answered
"No better."
"She's sick, then?"
" Yes ; she's been sick a good while, and
I'm afraid will never be much better." His
manner was not altogether cold and indiffer-
ent, but there was a want of feeling in his
voice.
"Is she at home?"
" No, sir."
As he showed no inclination to say mote
on the subject, I asked no further questions,
and he soon found occasion to leave me.
NIGHT THE EIGHTH. 217
The bar-room had undergone no material
change, so far as its furniture and arrange-
ments were concerned; but a very great
change was apparent in the condition of
these. The brass rod around the bar, which
at my last visit was brightly polished, was
now a greenish-black, and there came from
it an unpleasant odor of verdigris. The
walls were fairly coated with dust, smoke
and fly-specks, and the windows let in the
light but feebly, through the dirt- obscured
glass. The floor was filthy. Behind the
bar, on the shelves designed for a display of
liquors, was a confused mingling of empty
or half-filled decanters, cigar-boxes, lemons
and lemon-peel, old newspapers, glasses, a
broken pitcher, a hat, a soiled vest, and a
pair of blacking-brushes, with other incon-
gruous things, not now remem bered. The air
of the room was loaded with offensive vapors.
Disgusted with everything about the bar,
I went into the sitting-room. Here tbere
was some order in the arrangement of the
Jingy furniture; but you might have writ-
ten your name in dust on the looking-glass
and table. The smell of the torpid atmos-
phere was even worse than that of the bar-
room. So I did not linger here, but passed
through the hall and out upon the porch,
to get a draught of pure air.
Slarle still sat leaning against the wall.
" Fine day this," said he, speaking in a
mumbling kind of voice.
218 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAB-BOOM.
" Very fine," I answered.
" Yes, very fine."
"Not doing so well as you were a fe*
years ago," said I.
" No you see these these 'ere blamed
temperance people are ruining everything."
"Ah I Is that so?"
" Yes. Cedarville isn't what it was when
fou first came to the 'Sickle and Sheaf.' I
I you see. Curse the temperance peo-
ple! They've ruined everything, you see.
Everything ! Ruined"
And he muttered and mouthed his words
in such a way that I could understand but
little he said, and in that little there was
scarcely any coherency. So I left him, with
a feeling of pity in my heart for the wreck
he had become, and went into the town to
call upon one or two gentlemen with whom
I had business.
In the course of the afternoon I learned
that Mrs. Slade was in an insane asylum
about five miles from Cedarville. The ter-
rible events of the day on which young
Hammond was murdered completed the
work of mental ruin, begun at the time her
husband abandoned the quiet, honorable
calling of a miller and became a tavern-
keeper. Reason could hold its position no
longer. When word came to her that Willy
and his mother were both dead she uttered
a wild shriek and fell down in a fainting fit.
From that period the balance of her mind
NIGHT THE EIGHTH. 219
was destroyed. Long before this her friends
saw that reason wavered. Frank had been
her idol. A pure, bright, affectionate boy
he was when she removed with him from
their pleasant cottage-home, where all the
surrounding influences were good, into a
tavern, where an angel could scarcely re-
main without corruption. From the mo-
ment this change was decided on by her
husband a shadow fell upon her heart. She
saw before her husband, her children and
herself a yawning pit, and felt that in a very
few years all of them must plunge down
into its fearful darkness.
Alas ! how quickly began the realization
of her worst fears in the corruption of her
worshipped boy ! And how vain proved all
effort and remonstrance looking to his
safety, whether made with himself or his
father ! From the day the tavern was
opened, and Frank drew into his lungs full
draughts of the changed atmosphere by
which he was now surrounded, the work of
moral deterioration commenced. The very
smell of the liquor exhilarated him unnatu-
rally ; while the subjects of conversation, so
new to him, that found discussion in the
bar-room, soon came to occupy a prominent
place in his imagination, to the exclusion of
those humane, childlike, tender and heav-
enly thoughts and impressions it had been
the mother's care to impart and awaken.
Ah! with what an eager zest does the
320 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAE-ROOM.
Heart <irink in of evil. And how almost
hopeless is the case of a boy surrounded, as
Frank was, by the corrupting, debasing as-
sociations of a bar-room ! Had his father
meditated his ruin, he could not have more
surely laid his plans for the rearful consum-
mation; and he reaped ass he had sown.
With a selfish desire to get gain he embarked
in the trade of corruption, ruin and death,
weakly believing that he and his could pass
through the fire harmless. How sadly A few
years demonstrated his error we have seen.
Flora, I learned, was with her mother, de-
voting hor life to her. The dreadful death
of Willy Hammond, for whom she had con-
ceived a stiong attachment, came near de-
priving her of *eason also. Since the day
on which that oiwful tragedy occurred she
had never even looked upon her old home.
She went away with her unconscious mother,
and ever since had remained with her, de-
voting her life to her comfort. Long befor-o
this all her own and mother's influence over
her brother had come to an end. It mat-
tered not how she sought ic &tay his feet, So.
swiftly moving along the downward way,
whether by gentle entreaty, earnest remon-
strance, or tears ; in either case, wounds fo*
her own heart were the sure consequences,
while his steps never lingered a moment. A'
swift destiny seemed hurrying him on to
ruin. The change in her father once so
tender, so cheerful in his tone, so proud of
NIGHT THE EIGHTH. 221
and loving toward his daughter was an-
other source of deep grief to her pure young
spirit. Over him, as well as over her brother,
all her power was lost ; and he even avoided
her, as though her presence were an offence
to him. And so when she went out from
her unhappy home she took with her no de-
oire to return. Even when imagination bore
her back to the "Sickle and Sheaf," she felt
an intense, heart-sickening repulsion toward
the place where she had first felt the poi-
soned arrows of life; and in the depths of
her spirit she prayed that her eyes might
never look upon it again. In her almost
cloister-like seclusion she sought to gather
the mantle of oblivion about her heart.
Had not her mother's condition made
Flora's duty a plain one, the true, unselfish
instincts of her heart would have doubtless
led her back to the polluted home she had
left, there, in a kind of living death, to min-
ister as best she could to the comfort of a
debased father and brother. But she was
spared that trial that fruitless sacrifice.
Evening found me once more in the bar-
room of the " Sickle and Sheaf." The sleepy,
indifferent bar-keeper was now more in his
element, looked brighter, and had quicker
motions. Slade, who had partially recov-
ered from the stupefying effects of the heavy
draughts of ale with which he washed down
his dinner, was also in a better condition,
though not inclined to talk. He was sitting
222 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
at a table, alone, with his eyes wandering
about the room. Whether his thoughts were
agreeable or disagreeable it was not easy to
determine. Frank was there, the centre of a
noisy group of coarse fellows, whose vulgar
sayings and profane expletives continually
rung through the room. The noisiest,
coarsest and most profane was Frank Slade,
yet did not the incessant volume of bad lan-
guage that flowed from his tongue appear in
the least to disturb his father.
Outraged, at length, by this disgusting ex-
hibition, that had not even the excuse of an
exciting cause, I was leaving the bar-room,
when I heard some one remark to a young
man who had just come in
" What ! you here again, Ned? Ain't you
afraid your old man will be after you, as
usual?"
"No," answered the person addressed,
chuckling inwardly, "he's gone to a prayer-
meeting."
" You'll at least have the benefit of his
prayers," was lightly remarked.
I turned to observe the young man more
closely. His face I remembered, though I
could not identify him at first. But when I
heard him addressed soon after as Ned Har-
grove, I had a vivid recollection of a little
incident that occurred some years before,
and which then made a strong impression.
The reader has hardly forgotten the visit of
Mr. Hargrove to the bar-room of the "Sickle
NIGHT THE EIGHTS. 22b
and Sheaf," and the conversation among
some of its inmates, which his withdrawal,
in company with his son, then occasioned.
The father's watchfulness over his boy, and
his efforts to save him from the allurements
and temptations of a bar-room, had proved,
as now appeared, unavailing. The son
was several years older ; but it was sadly
evident, from the expression of his face,
that he had been growing older in evil faster
than in years.
The few words that I have mentioned as
passing between this young man and an-
other inmate of the bar-room caused me to
turn back from the door, through which I
was about passing, and take a chair near to
where Hargrove had seated himself. As I
did so, the eyes of Simon Slade rested on
the last-named individual.
" Ned Hargrove 1 " he said, speaking
roughly " if you want a drink, you'd better
get it and make yourself scarce."
"Don't trouble yourself," retorted the
young man, " you'll get your money for the
drink in good time."
This irritated the landlord, who swore at
Hargrove violently, and said something
about not wanting boys about his place who
couldn't stir from home without having
" daddy or mammy running after them."
"Never fear!" cried out the person who
had first addressed Hargrove " his old
man's gone to a prayer-meeting. We shan't
224 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-EOOM.
have the light of his pious countenance here
to-night."
I fixed my eyes upon the young man to
see what effect this coarse and irreverent al-
lusion to his father would have. A slight
tinge of shame was in his face ; but I saw
that he had not sufficient moral courage to
resent the shameful desecration of a parent's
name. How should he, when he was him-
self the first to desecrate that name?
" If he were forty fathoms deep in the in-
fernal regions," answered Slade, " he'd find
out that Ned was here, and get half an
hour's leave of absence to come after him.
The fact is, I'm tired of seeing his solemn,
sanctimonious face here every night. If the
boy hasn't spirit enough to tell him to mind
his own business, as I have done more than
fifty times, why let the boy stay away him-
self."
" Why don't you send him off with a flea
in his ear, Ned ?" said one of the company,
a young man scarcely his own age. " My
old man tried that game with me, but he
soon found that I could hold the winning
cards."
" Just what I'm going to do the very next
time he comes after me."
" Oh, yes ! So you've said twenty times,"
remarked Frank Slade, in a sneering, inso-
lent manner.
Edward Hargrove had not the spirit to
resent this ; he only answered,
NIGHT THE EIGHTH. 225
" Just let him show himself here to-night,
and you will see."
" No, we won't see," sneered Frank.
" Wouldn't it be fun I" was exclaimed.
" I hope to be on hand, should it ever come
off."
" He's as 'fraid as death of the old chap,"
laughed a sottish-looking man, whose age
ought to have inspired him with some re-
spect for the relation between father and
eon; and doubtless would, had not a long
course of drinking and familiarity with de-
basing associates blunted his moral sense.
" Now for it I" I heard uttered, in a quick,
delighted voice. " Now for fun 1 Spunk up
to him, Ned ! Never say die 1"
I turned toward the door, and there stood
the father of Edward Hargrove. How well
I remembered the broad, fine forehead, the
steady yet mild eyes, the firm lips, the ele-
vated, superior bearing of the man I had
once before seen in that place, and on a like
errand. His form was slightly bent now,
his hair was whiter, his eyes farther back in
his head, his face thinner and marked with
deeper lines, and there was in the whole ex-
pression of his face a touching sadness.
Yet, superior to the marks of time and suf-
fering, an unflinching resolution was visible
in his countenance that gave to it a dignity
and extorted involuntary respect. He stood
still, after advancing a few paces, and then,
his searching eyes having discovered his son,
TI
226 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAB-BOOM.
he said mildly, yet firmly, and with such
a strength of parental love in his voice that
resistance was scarcely possible:
" Edward I Edward 1 Come, my son."
"Don't go." The words were spoken in
an undertone, and he who uttered them
turned his face away from Mr. Hargrove, so
that the old man could not see the motion
of his lips. A little while before he had
spoken bravely against the father of Ed-
ward, now he could not stand up in his
presence.
I looked at Edward. He did not move
from where he was sitting, and yet I saw
that to resist his father cost him no light
struggle.
" Edward." There was nothing impera-
tive nothing stern nothing commanding
in the father's voice, but its great, its almost
irresistible power, lay in its expression of
the father's belief that his son would in-
stantly leave the place. And it was this
power that prevailed. Edward arose, and,
with eyes cast upon the floor, was moving
away from his companions, when Frank
Slade exclaimed,
" Poor, weak fool !"
It was a lightning flash of indignation,
rather than a mere glance from the human
eye, that Mr. Hargrove threw instantly upon
Frank, while his fine form sprung up erect.
He did not speak, but merely transfixed him
with a look. Frank curled his lip impo-
NIGHT THE EIGHTH. 227
tently, as he tried to return the old man's-
withering glances.
" Now look here !" said Simon Slade, in
some wrath, " there's been just about enough,
of this. I'm getting tired of it. Why don't
you keep Ned at home ? Nobody wants
him here."
" Refuse to sell him liquor," returned Mr.
Hargrove.
''It's my trade to sell liquor," answered
Slade, boldly.
" I wish you had a more honorable call-
ing," said Hargrove, almost mournfully.
" If you insult my father I'll strike you
down !" exclaimed Frank Slade, starting up
and assuming a threatening aspect.
" I respect filial devotion, meet it where I
will," calmly replied Mr. Hargrove, "I
only wish it had a better foundation in this-
case. I only wish the father had merited ' x
I will not stain my page with the fearful
oath that Frank Siade yelled, rather than
uttered, as with clenched fist he sprung to-
ward Mr. Hargrove. But ere he had reached
the unruffled old man who stood looking
at him as one would look into the eyes of a.
wild beast, confident that he could not stand
the gaze a firm hand grasped his arm, and
a rough voice said
" Avast there, young man ! Touch a hair
of that white head, and I'll wring vour neck
off."
" Lyon !" As Frank uttered the man'&
228 TEN NIGHTS IN A DAB-ROOM.
name he raised his fist to strike him. A
moment the clenched hand remained poised
in the air, then it fell slowly to his side, and
he contented himself with an oath and a vile
epithet.
u You can swear to your heart's content.
Tt will do nobody any harm but yourself,"
Coolly replied Mr. Lyon, whom I now recog-
nized as the person with whom I had held
several conversations during previous visits.
" Thank you, Mr. Lyon/' said Mr. Har-
grove, " for this manly interference. It is
no more than I should have expected from
you."
" I never suffer a young man to strike an
old man,' 1 said Lyon, firmly. " Apart from
that, Mr. Hargrove, there are other reasons
why your person must be free from violence
where I am."
" This is a bad place for you, Lyon," said
Mr. Hargrove, " and I've said so to you a
good many times." He spoke in rather an
undertone. " Why will you come here ?"
"It's a bad place, I know," replied Lyon,
speaking out boldly, " and we all know it.
But habit, Mr. Hargrove habit. That's the
cursed thing! If the bar-rooms were all
shut up there would be another story to tell.
Get us the Maine law, and there will be some
chance for us."
" Why don't you vote the temperance
ticket ?'' asked Mr. Hargrove.
"Why did I? you'd better ask," said Lyon.
NIGHT THE EIGHTH. 22
" I thought you voted against us."
"Not I. Ain't quite so blind to my own
interests as that. And, if the truth were
known, I should not at all wonder if every
man in this room, except Slade and his son,
voted on your side of the house."
" It's a little strange, then," said Mr. Har-
grove, " that with the drinking men on our
side, we failed to secure the election."
" You must blame that on your moderate
men, who see no danger and go blind with
their party," answered Lyon. " We have
looked the evil in the face, and know its
direful quality."
"Come! I would like to talk with you,
Mr. Lyon."
Mr. Hargrove, his son, and Mr. Lyon went
out together. As they left the room, Frank
Slade said
' What a cursed liar and hypocrite he isP
'Who?" was asked.
'Why, Lyon," answered Frank, boldly.
' You'd better say that to his face."
' It wouldn't be good for him," remarked
one of the company.
At this Frank started to his feet, stalked
about the room, and put on all the disgust-
ing airs of a drunken braggart. Even hi
father saw the ridiculous figure he cut, and
growled out
" There, Frank, that'll do. Don't make a
miserable fool of yourself!"
At which Frank retorted with so much of
230 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
insolence that his father flew into a tower-
ing passion, and ordered him to leave the
bar-room.
" You can go out yourself if you don't
like the company. I'm very well satisfied,"
answered Frank.
" Leave this room, you impudent young
scoundrel!"
" Can't go, my amiable friend," said
Frank, with a cool self-possession that mad-
dened his father, who got up hastily and
moved across the bar-room to the place
where he was standing.
" Go out, I tell you ." Slade spoke reso-
lutely.
" Would be happy to oblige you," Frank
said, in a taunting voice, "but, 'pon my
word, it isn't at all convenient."
Half-intoxicated as he was, and already
nearly blind with passion, Slade lifted his
hand to strike his son, and the blow would
have fallen had not someone caught his arm
and held him back from the meditated vio-
lence. Even the debased visitors of this bar-
room could not stand by and see nature out-
raged in a bloody strife between father and
eon, for it was plain from the face and quickly
assumed attitude of Frank that if his father
had laid his hand upon him he would have
struck him in return.
I could not remain to hear the awful im-
precations that father and son in their im-
potent rage called down from heaven upon
NIGHT THE EIGHTH. 231
each other's heads. It was the most shock-
ing exhibition of depraved human nature-
that I had ever seen. And so I left the bar-
room, glad to escape from its stifling atmos-
phere and revolting scenes.
NIGHT THE NINTH.
A Fearful Consummation.
NEITHER Slade nor his son was present at
the breakfast table on the next morning.
As for myself, I did not eat with much appe-
tite. Whether this defect arose from the
state of my mind or the state of the food set
before me I did not stop to inquire, but left
the stifling, offensive atmosphere of the din-
ing-room in a very few moments after enter-
ing that usually attractive place for a hungry
man.
A few early drinkers were already in the
bar-room men with shattered nerves and
cadaverous faces, who could not begin the
day's work without the stimulus of brandy
or whisky. They came in with gliding foot-
steps, asked for what they wanted in low
voices, drank in silence, and departed. It
was a melancholy sight to look upon.
About nine o'clock the landlord made his
appearance. He, too, came gliding into the
bar-room, and his first act was to seize upon
a brandy decanter, pour out nearly half a
pint of the fiery liquid and drink it off.
How badly his hand shook so badly that
he spilled the brandy both in pouring it out
and in lifting the glass to his lips ! What a
(232)
NIGHT THE NINTH. 233
shattered wreck he was ! He looked really
worse now than he did on the day before,
when drink gave an artificial vitality to his
system, a tension to his muscles, and light
to his countenance. The miller of ten years
ago, and the tavern-keeper of to-day ! Who
could have identified them as one ?
Slade was turning from the bar when a
man came in. I noticed an instant change
in the landlord's countenance. He looked
startled, almost frightened. The man drew
a small package from his pocket, and after
selecting a paper therefrom, presented it to
Slade, who received it with a nervous reluc-
tance, opened and let his eye fall upon the
writing within. I was observing him closely
at the time, and saw his countenance flush
deeply. In a moment or two it became pale
again paler even than before.
" Very well all right. I'll attend to it,"
said the landlord, trying to recover himself,
yet swallowing with every sentence.
The man, who was no other than the
sheriffs deputy, and who gave him a sober,
professional look, then went out with a firm
step and an air of importance. As he passed
through the outer door Slade retired from
the bar-room.
" Trouble coming," I heard the bar-keeper
remark, speaking partly to himself and
partly with the view, as was evident from his
manner, of leading me to question him.
But this I did not feel that it was right to do.
234 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAB-BOOM.
" Got the sheriff on him at last," added
the bar-keeper.
"What's the matter, Bill?" inquired a
man who now came in with a bustling, im-
portant air, and leaned familiarly over the
bar. " Who was Jenkins after ?"
" The old man," replied the bar-keeper, in
a voice that showed pleasure rather than re-
gret.
"No!"
"It's a fact." Bill, the bar-keeper, act-
ually smiled.
" What's to pay ?" said the man.
" Don't know, and don't care much."
"Did he serve a summons or an execu-
tion?"
" Can't tell."
" Judge Lyman 's suit went against him."
"Did it?"'
" Yes ; and I heard Judge Lyman swear
that if he got him on the hip he'd sell him
out, bag and basket. And he's the man to
keep his word."
" I never could just make out," said the
bar-keeper, " how he ever came to owe Judge
Lyman so much. I've never known of any
business transactions between them."
" It's been dog eat dog, I rather guess,"
said the man.
"What do you mean by that?" inquired
the bar-keeper.
" You've heard of dogs hunting in pairs ?"
"Oh, yes."
NIGHT THE NINTH. 235
" Well, since Harvey Green got his de-
serts, the business of fleecing our silly young
fellows who happened to have more money
than wit or discretion has been in the hands
of Judge Lyman and Slade. They hunted
together, Slade holding the game while the
Judge acted as blood-sucker. But that busi-
ness was interrupted about a year ago, and
game got so scarce that, as I suggested, dog
began to eat dog. And here comes the end
of the matter, if I'm not mistaken. So mix
us a stiff toddy. I want one more good
drink at the 'Sickle and Sheaf before the
colors are struck."
And the man chuckled at his witty effort.
During the day I learned that affairs stood
pretty much as this man had conjectured.
Ly man's suits had been on sundry notes,
payable on demand ; but nobody knew of
any property transactions between him and
Slade. On the part of Slade no defence had
been made, the suit going by default. The
visit of the sheriff's officer was for the pur-
pose of serving an execution.
As I walked through Cedarville on that
day the whole aspect of the place seemed
changed. I questioned with myself often
whether this were really so or only the effect
of imagination. The change was from cheer-
fulness and thrift to gloom and neglect.
There was to me a brooding silence in the
air, a pause in the life-movement, a folding
of the hands, so to speak, because hope had
236 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
failed from the heart. The residence of Mr.
Harrison, who some two years before had
suddenly awakened to a lively sense of the
evil of rum-selling, because his own sons
were discovered to be in danger, had been
one of the most tasteful in Cedarville. I had
often stopped to admire the beautiful shrub-
bery and flowers with which it was sur-
rounded ; the walks so clear the borders
so fresh and even the arbors so cool and
inviting. There was not a spot upon which
the eye could rest that did not show the
hand of taste. When I now came opposite
to this house I was no longer in doubt as to
the actuality of a change. There was no
marked evidences of neglect, but the high
cultivation and nice regard for the small de-
tails were lacking. The walks were cleanly
swept; but the box-borders were not so
carefully trimmed. The vines and bushes,
that in former times were cut and tied so
evenly, could hardly have felt the keen
touch of the pruning-knife for months.
As I paused to note the change, a lady,
somewhat beyond the middle age, came from
the house. I was struck by the deep gloom
that overshadowed her countenance. Ah !
said I to myself, as I passed on, how many
dear hopes that once lived in that heart
must have been scattered to the winds. As
I conjectured, this was Mrs. Harrison, and I
was not unprepared to hear, as I did a few
hours afterward, that her two sons had fallen
NIGHT THE NINTH. 23}
into drinking habits ; and not only this, had
been enticed to the gaming-table. Unhappy
mother! What a lifetime of wretchedness
was compressed for thee into a few short
years !
I walked on, noting here and there
changes even more marked than appeared
about the residence of Mr. Harrison. Judge
Lyman's beautiful place showed utter ne-
glect ; and so did one or two others that on
my first visit to Cedarivlle charmed me with
their order, neatness, and cultivation. In
every instance I learned, on inquiring, that
the owners of these, or some members of
their families, were, or had been, visitors at
the u Sickle and Sheaf," and that the ruin,
in progress or completed, began after the
establishment of that point of attraction in
the village.
Something of a morbid curiosity, excited
by what I saw, led me on to take a closer
view of the residence of Judge Hammond
than I had obtained on the day before. The
first thing that I noticed on approaching the
old, decaying mansion were handbills posted
on the gate, the front door, and on one of the
windows. A nearer inspection revealed their
import. The property had been seized, and
was now offered at sheriff's sale!
Ten years before Judge Hammond was
known as the richest man in Cedarville ;
and now the homestead he had once so loved
to beautify where all that was dearest to
238 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
him in life once gathered worn, disfigured
and in ruins, was about being wrested from
him. I paused at the gate, and leaning over
it looked with saddened feelings upon the
dreary waste within. No sign of life was
visible. The door was shut the windows
closed not the faintest wreath of smoke was
seen above the blackened chimney-tops.
How vividly did imagination restore the life,
and beauty, and happiness that made their
home there only a few years before the
mother and her noble boy, one looking with
trembling hope, the other with joyous confi-
dence, into the future the father proud of
his household treasures, but not their wise
and jealous guardian.
Ah ! that his hands should have unbarred
the door and thrown it wide for the wolf to
enter that precious fold ! I saw them all in
their sunny life before me, yet even as I
looked upon them their sky began to darken.
I heard the distant mutterings of the storm,
and soon the desolating tempest swept down
fearfully upon them. I shuddered, as it
passed away, to look upon the wrecks left
scattered around. What a change!
" And all this," said I, " that one man.
tired of being useful and eager to get gain^
might gather in accursed gold !"
Pushing open the gate I entered the yard
and walked around the dwelling, my foot-
steps echoing in the hushed solitude of the de-
serted place. Hark! was that a human voice?
NIGHT THE NINTH. 239
I paused to listen.
The sound came once more distinctly to
my ears. I looked around, above, every-
where, but perceived no living sign. For
nearly a minute I stood still, listening.
Yes, there it was again a low, moaning
voice, as of one in pain or grief. I stepped
onward a few paces, and now saw one of the
doors standing ajar. As I pushed this door
wide open the moan was repeated. Follow-
ing the direction from which the sound
came, I entered one of the large drawing-
rooms. The atmosphere was stifling, and
all as dark as if it were midnight. Groping
my way to a window, I drew back the bolt
and threw open a shutter. Broadly the light
fell across the dusty, uncarpeted floor, and
on the dingy furniture of the room. As it
did so the moaning voice which had drawn
me thither swelled on the air again, and now
I saw lying upon an old sofa the form of a
man. It needed no second glance to tell me
that this was Judge Hammond. I put my
hand upon him and uttered his name, but
he answered not. I spoke more firmly, and
slightly shook him, but only a piteous moan
was returned.
"Judge Hammond !" I now called aloud,
and somewhat imperatively.
But it availed nothing. The poor old man
aroused not from the stupor in which mind
and body were enshrouded.
" He is dying I" thought I, and instantly
240 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAB-ROOM.
left the house in search of some friends to
take charge of him in his last sad extremity.
The first person to whom I made known the
fact shrugged his shoulders, and said it was
no affair of his, and that I must find some-
body whose business it was to attend to him.
My next application was met in the same
spirit, and no better success attended my
reference of the matter to a third party. No
one to whom I spoke seemed to have any
sympathy for the broken-down old man.
Shocked by this indifference, I went to one
of the county officers, who, on learning the
condition of Judge Hammond, took imme-
diate steps to have him removed to the
Almshouse, some miles distant.
" But why to the Almshouse?" I inquired,
on learning his purpose. "He has property."
"Everything has been seized for debt,"
was the reply.
" Will there be nothing left after his cred-
itors are satisfied ?"
" Very few, if any, will be satisfied," he
answered. "There will not be enough to
pay half the judgments against him."
" And is there no friend to take him in,
no one, of all who moved by his side in the
days of prosperity, to give a few hours' shel-
ter and soothe the last moments of his un-
happy life ?"
" Why did you make application here?"
was the officer's significant question.
I was silent.
NIGHT THE NINTH. 241
"Your earnest appeals for the poor old
man met with no words of sympathy ?"
" None."
" He has, indeed, fallen low. In the days
of his prosperity he had many friends, so-
called. Adversity has shaken them all like
dead leaves from sapless branches."
" But why ? This is not always so.''
" Judge Hammond was a selfish, worldly
man. People never liked him much. His
favoring so strongly the tavern of Slade, and
his distillery operations, turned from him
some of his best friends. The corruption
and terrible fate of his son and the insanity
and death of his wife all were charged
upon him in people's minds, and everyone
seemed to turn from him instinctively after
the fearful tragedy was completed. He
never held up his head afterward. Neigh-
bors shunned him as they would a criminal.
And here has come the end at last. He
will be taken to the Poorhouse, to die there
a pauper !"
"And all," said I, partly speaking to my-
self, '' because a man too lazy to work at an
honest calling must needs go to rum-
selling."
" The truth, the whole truth, and nothing
but the truth," remarked the officer with
emphasis, as he turned from me to see that
his directions touching the removal of Mr.
Hammond to the Poorhouse were promptly
executed.
242 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
In my wanderings about Cedarville during
that day I noticed a small bw* very neat
cottage a little way from the centre of the
village. There was not around it a great
profusion of flowers and shrubbery, but the
few vines, flowers and bushes that grew
green and flourishing about the door and
along the clean walks added to the air of
taste and comfort that so peculiarly marked
the dwelling.
"Who lives in that pleasant little spot?"
I asked of a man whom I had frequently
seen in Slade's bar-room. He happened to
be passing the house at the same time that
I was.
"Joe Morgan," was answered.
"Indeed!" I spoke in some surprise.
" And what of Morgan ? How is he doing ?"
" Very well."
"Doesn't he drink?"
" No. Since the death of his child he
has never taken a drop. That event sobered
him, and he has remained sober ever sb3e."
"What is he doing?"
" Working at his old trade."
"That of a miller?"
"Yes. After Judge Hammond broke
down, the distillery apparatus and cotton-
spinning machinery were all sold and re-
moved from Cedarville. The purchaser of
what remained, having something of the fear
of God, as well as regard for man in his
heart, set himself to the restoration of the
NIGHT THE NINTH. 243
old order of things, and in due time the re-
volving millwheel was at its old and bettei
work of grinding corn and wheat for bread.
The only two men in Cedarville competent
to take charge of the mill were Simon Slade
and Joe Morgan. The first could not be
had, and the second came in as a matter of
course.
" And he remains sober and industrious?"
" As any man in the village," was the an-
Bwer.
I saw but little of Slade or his son during
the day. But both were in the bar-room at
night, and both in a condition sorrowful to
look upon. Their presence, together, in the
bar-room, half-intoxicated as they were,
seemed to revive the unhappy temper of the
previous evening as freshly as if the sun
had not risen and set upon their anger.
During the early part of the evening con-
siderable company was present, though not
of a very select class. A large proportion
were young men. To most of them the fact
that Slade had fallen into the sheriff's hands
was known ; and I gathered from some aside
conversation which reached my ears that
Frank's idle, spendthrift habits had hast-
ened the present crisis in his father's affairs.
He too was in debt to Judge Lyman on
what account it was not hard to infer.
It was after nine o'clock, and there was
not half a dozen persons in the room, when
I noticed Frank Slade go behind the bar for
244 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
the third or fourth time. He was just lift-
Ing a decanter of brandy when his father,
who was considerably under the influence
of drink, started forward and laid his hand
upon that of his son. Instantly a fierce
light gleamed from the eyes of the young
man.
" Let go of my hand !" he exclaimed.
" No, I won't. Put up that brandy bottle
you're drunk now."
'" Don't meddle with me, old man 1" an-
grily retorted Frank. " I'm not in the mood
to bear anything more from you."
"You're drunk as a fool now," returned
Slade, who had seized the decanter. " Let go
the bottle!"
For only an instant did the young man
hesitate. Then he drove his half clenched
hand against the breast of his father, who
went staggering away several paces from the
counter. Recovering himself, and now al-
most furious, the landlord rushed forward
upon his son, his hand raised to strike him.
"Keep off!" cried Frank. "Keep off!
If you touch me. I'll strike you down !" at
the same time raising the half-filled bottle
threateningly.
But his father was in too maddened a
stafra to fear any consequences, and so
prOsed forward upon his son, striking him
>r ihe face the moment he came near enough
do so.
Instantly the young man, infuriated by
NIGHT THE NINTH. 245
drink and evil passions, threw the bottle at
his father's head. The dangerous missile
fell, crashing upon one of his temples, shiv-
ering it into a hundred pieces. A heavy,
jarring fall too surely marked the fearful
consequences of the blow. When we gath-
ered around the fallen man, and made an
effort to lift him from the floor, a thrill of
horror went through every heart. A mortal
paleness was already on his marred face and
the death-gurgle in his throat ! In three
minutes from the time the blow was struck
his spirit had gone upward to give an ac-
count of the deeds done in the body.
" Frank Slade, you have murdered your
father!"
Sternly were these terrible words uttered.
It was some time before the young man
seemed to comprehend their meaning. But
the moment he realized the awful truth he
uttered an exclamation of horror. Almost
at the same instant a pistol-shot came sharply
on the ear. But the meditated self-destruc-
tion was not accomplished. The aim was
not surely taken, and the ball struck harm-
lessly against the ceiling.
Half an hour afterward and Frank Slade
was a lonely prisoner in the county jail !
Does the reader need a word of 'comment
on this fearful consummation ? No : and
we will offer none.
NIGHT THE TENTH.
The Closing Scene at the "Sickle and Sheaf."
ON the day that succeeded the evening
of this fearful tragedy, placards were to be
seen all over the village announcing a mass
meeting at the "Sickle and Sheaf" that
night.
By early twilight the people commenced
assembling. The bar, which had been closed
all day, was now thrown open and lighted,
and in this room where so much of evil had
been originated, encouraged and consum-
mated, a crowd of earnest-looking men were
soon gathered. Among them I saw the fine
person of Mr. Hargrove. Joe Morgan or
rather Mr. Morgan was also of the number.
The latter I would scarcely have recognized
had not some one near me called him by
name. He was well dressed, stood erect,
and, though there were many deep lines on
his thoughtful countenance, all traces of his
former habits were gone. While I was ob-
serving him he arose, and addressing a few
words to the assemblage, nominated Mr.
Hargrove as chairman of the meeting. To
this a unanimous assent was given.
On taking the chair, Mr. Hargrove made a
brief address, something to this effect :
( 246 )
NIGHT THE TENTH. 247
" Ten years ago," said he, his voice evinc-
ing a slight unsteadiness as he began, but
growing firmer as he proceeded, " there was
not a happier spot in Bolton county than
Cedarville. Now the marks of ruin are
everywhere. Ten years ago there was a
kind-hearted, industrious miller in Cedar-
ville, liked by everyone, and as harmless as
a little child. Now his bloated, disfigured
body lies in that room. His death was vio-
lent, and by the hand of his own son 1"
Mr. Hargrove's words fell slowly, dis-
tinctly, and marked by the most forcible em-
phasis. There was scarcely one present who
did not feel a low shudder run along his
nerves as the last words were spoken in a
huksy whisper.
" Ten years ago," he proceeded, "the mil-
ler had a happy wife and two innocent,
glad-hearted children. Now his wife, bereft
of reason, is in a mad-house, and his son
the occupant of a felon's cell, charged with
the awful crime of parricide !"
Briefly he paused, while his audience
etood gazing upon him with half-suspended
respiration.
" Ten years ago," he went on, " Judge
Hammond was accounted the richest man
in Cedarville. Yesterday he was carried, a
friendless pauper, to the Almshouse, and to-
day he is the unmourned occupant of a
pauper's grave ! Ten years ago his wife was
the proud, hopeful, loving mother of a most
248 TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM.
promising son. I need not describe what
Willy Hammond was. All here knew him
well. Ah ! what shattered the fine intellect
of that noble-minded woman? Why did
her heart break? Where is she? Where
is Willy Hammond ?"
A low, half-repressed groan answered the
speaker.
"Ten years ago you, sir," pointing to a
sad-looking old man and calling him by
name, " had two sons generous, promising,
manly-hearted boys. What are they now?
You need not answer the question. Too
well is their history and your sorrow known.
Ten years ago I had a son, amiable, kind,
loving, but weak. Heaven knows how I
sought to guard and protect him ! But he
fell also. The arrows of destruction dark-
ened the very air of our once secure and
happy village. And who was safe? Not
mine, nor yours !
" Shall I go on ? Shall I call up and pass
in review before you, one after another, all
the wretched victims who have fallen in
Cedarville during the last ten years ? Time
does not permit. It would take hours for
the enumeration ! No, I will not throw ad-
ditional darkness into the picture. Heaven
knows it is black enough already I But
what is the root of this great evil ? Where
lies the fearful secret? Who understands
the disease ? A direful pestilence is in the
air it walketh in darkness and wasteth at
NIGHT THE TENTH. 249
noonday. It is slaying the first-born in our
houses, and the cry of anguish is swelling
on every gale. Is there no remedy ?"
"Yesl yes! There is a remedy I" was the
spontaneous answer from many voices.
" Be it our task, then, to find and apply it
.,this night," answered the chairman, as he
took his seat.
" And there is but one remedy," said Mor-
gan, as Mr. Hargrove sat down. " The ac-
cursed traffic must cease among us. You
must cut off the fountain if you would dry
up the stream. If you would save the
young, the weak and the innocent on you
God has laid the solemn duty of their pro-
tection you must cover them from the
tempter. Evil is strong, wily, fierce and
active in the pursuit of its ends. The young,
the weak and the innocent can no more re-
sist its assaults than the lamb can resist the
wolf. They are helpless, if you abandon
them to the powers of evil. Men and breth-
ren 1 as one who has himself been wellnigh
lost as one who daily feels and trembles at
the dangers that beset his path I do con-
jure you to stay the fiery stream that is
bearing everything good and beautiful among
you to destruction. Fathers ! for the sake of
your young children, be up now and doing.
Think of Willy Hammond, Frank Slade, and
a dozen more whose names I could repeat,
and hesitate no longer 1 Let us resolve this
night that from henceforth the traffic shall
250 TEN NIGHT3 IN A BAR-BOOM.
cease in Cedarville. Is there not a large ma-
jority of citizens in favor of such a measure ?
And whose rights or interests can be affected
by such a restriction? Who, in fact, has
any right to sow disease and death in our
community ? The liberty, under sufferance
to do so, wrongs the individual who uses it
as well as those who become its victims.
Do you want proof of this ? Look at Simon
Slade, the happy, kind-hearted miller, and
at Simon Slade, the tavern-keeper. Was he
benefited by the liberty to work harm to
his neighbor? No ! no! In heaven's name,
then, let the traffic cease I To this end I
offer these resolutions :
" Be it resolved by the inhabitants of
Cedarville, That from this day henceforth no
more intoxicating drink shall be sold within
the limits of the corporation.
" Resolved, further, That all the liquors in
the 'Sickle and Sheaf be forthwith de-
stroyed, and that a fund be raised to pay the
creditors of Simon Slade therefor, should
they demand compensation.
" Resolved, That in closing up all other
places where liquor is sold regard shall be
had to the right of property which the law
secures to every man.
" Resolved, That with the consent of the
legal authorities all the liquor for sale in
Cedarville be destroyed, provided the owners
thereof be paid its full value out of a fund
specially raised for that purpose."
NIOHT THE TENTH. 251
But for the calm yet resolute opposition
of one or two men these resolutions would
have passed by acclamation. A little sober
argument showed the excited company that
no good end is ever secured by the adoption
of wrong means.
There were in Cedarville regularly consti-
tuted authoritieSjWhich alone had the power
to determine public measures, or to say what
business might or might not be pursued by
individuals. And through these authorities
they must act in an orderly way.
There was some little chafing at this view
of the case. But good sense and reason
prevailed. Somewhat modified, the resolu-
tions passed, and the more ultra-inclined
contented themselves with carrying out the
second resolution to destroy forthwith all
the liquor to be found on the premises
which was immediately done. After which
the people dispersed to their homes, each
with a lighter heart and better hopes for the
future of their village.
On the next day, as I entered the stage
that was to bear me from Cedarville, I saw
a man strike his sharp axe into the worn,
faded and leaning post that had for so many
years borne aloft the "Sickle and Sheaf;"
and just as the driver gave word to his
horses, the false emblem which had invited
so many to enter the way of destruction fell
crashing to the earth.
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