MINNIE HERMON ; OR, THE CURSE OF RUM. 01 Sole for ttye &i BY THURLOW WEED BROWN. . EMBRACING ALSO THE LIFE AND WORK OF FRANCIS MURPHY AND DR. HENRY A. REYNOLDS. BY GEORGE T. FERRIS, A.M. NEW YORK AND CINCINNATI : HENRY S. GOODSPEED & COMPANY. BOSTON B. R. STURGES ; ST. JOHN, N. B. W. E. ERSKINE ; TORONTO, ONT. J. L. TROY & Co. ; ASHLAND, O. C. C. WICK & Co. ; CHICAGO J. W. GOODSPEEP 1878. Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1818, by H. 8. GOODSPEED, In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. CONTENTS. CHAPTER L A MARKED CHARACTER INTRODUCED TO THE READER, . , , 31 CHAPTER 11. THE MANUSCRIPT, t . . 38 CHAPTER III MINNIE II KRMOS, . ... 50 CHAPTER IV. A NEW PROJECT, 53 CHAPTER V. THE SPELL BROKEN EVIL COUNSELS PREVAIL, ...... 68 CHAPTER VL THE " HOME " A WRONG REGULATED ... 74 CHAPTER VIL DEATH rs rat Arrrc, .88 CHAPTER VHI A WEDDING AT THE COTTAGK ONLY M: GLASS " . . 94 2051352 VI CHAPTER IX. FIRST FRCITS, HO CHAPTER X. THE AUTHOR TALKS A LAPSE OF TEN TEARS IN OVTR HISTORY THE CHANGE, . . . ^ . . . CHAPTER XL A WINTER SCBNE, 185 CHAPTER XIL THREE MEETINGS, AND WHAT WAS SAID A PRATER ANSWERED, 145 CHAPTER XIII. MABEL DUNHAM, 159 CHAPTER XIV. GOING FROM HOME, ., - ." ../.,. . 167 CHAPTER XV. UHMOORED FROM THE HEARTH, .175 CHAPTER XVI. THE STRANGER IN THE TARPAULIN, 180 CHAPTER XVII. THETHIAL, ,186 CHAPTER XVIII. THE GAUX>WS CHEATED OF A PREY THE PEOPLE OF A SIGHT, 208 CHAPTER XIX. THE WATT FAMILY, . 212 CONTENTS. VJi CHAPTER XX. "MORAL SUASION," 221 CHAPTER XXI A. BEACON ON THE WASTE 232 CHAPTER XXII. BREAKING GROUND AGAIN, . 244 CHAPTER XXIIL LIGHT IN A DARK PLACE, . 265 CHAPTER XXIV. WASHINGTONIANISM THE OLD MAN'S Sronr. , , . . 281 CHAPTER XXV. HIGH LIFE, 305 CHAPTER XXVL CLEAN TICKETS STICKING TO PARTY 319 CHAPTER XXVII. POISON IN THE CUP SIGNATURE OF THE DEAD A GUEST NOT IN- VITED, 353 CHAPTER XXVIIL Two MORNING CALLS A LIVE MAN FOR A DEAD ONE, . 870 CHAPTER XXIX. RiE WICKED PLOT THE WICKED TRIUMPH, ...... 388 CHAPTER XXX. ANOTHER VICTIM IN THE NET THK WICKED STILL TRICMPH, . 896 viii CONTENTS. CHAPTER XXXL THK SECRET Our A FATAL WAGER, ...... 408 CHAPTER XXXIL GROUPING OF SCESES, 423 CHAPTER XXXIII. A STAR IN THE EAST THE PLAGUE STAYED, 444 CHAPTER XXXIV. Two RESCUES, 473 CHAPTER XXXV Ift WHICH THE READER WILL FIND BOMB OLD ACQCAINT ANCES, AND LEARN WHAT BECAME OF THEM, ..... 494 CHAPTER XXXVI. THE JOY OF DOING GOOD MlNNIE AND WALTER BECOME INTER- ESTED IN THE GOOD TEMPLAR MOVEMENT- WALTER MADE GRAND WORTHY TEMPLAR .... 511 CHAPTER XXXVH. TWENTY TEARS LATER. REMOVAL OF MINNIE AND WAI/TEB TO OHIO THE PREVALENCE OF INTEMPERANCE THERE THE WOMEN'S CRTJSADE IDA'S LETTER TO CARRIF HUDSON, . 618 THE LITE AND WORK OF FRANCIS MDEPHT 543 THE LIFE AND WORK OF DR. HENRY A. REYNOLDS 813 PREFACE. OUR Preface, reader, shall have the merit of brevity, and shall detain you but a moment. You will bear in mind that every chapter in the book is drawn from life, with the necessary change of names and dates the only difficulty having been in selecting from the mass of materials collected during an active participation in the Temperance Reform. Those living who have a vivid re- membrance of the scenes herein detailed, will appreciate our object in sketching them. The history of the " Watt Family " was written with a throbbing nib, and its truth sealed with the endorsement of a scalding tear. If our record shall arouse a single heart to a more in- veterate hatred against the Great Wrong, our object wil] have been accomplished. Pass on. MOTHER STEWART, THE LEADER OF THE "WOMEN'S MOVEMENT." INTRODUCTION. FOR i'orty days and forty nights the rain poured down from the open windows of the heavens, until the flood covered the earth, and the sun, after the storm, smiled down upon the watery waste, where a world lay entombed. Solitary and alone, without helm, mast, or sail, like a speck on the world-wide ocean, floated the ark with its freight. The olive branch, borne upon a weary but glad wing, proclaimed the subsiding of the deluge. The sunbeams kissed the vapors as they rolled up from the retiring waters, and the bow of promise lifted its arch into the clouds. Noah went out and planted a vineyard. He par- took of its fruits, and lay in his tent in the slumbers of drunkenness. The frailties of a good man are used to justify the drinking usages of to-day. The scourge of a world passed away, had commenced its progress again in the new. From that vineyard the tide has swept on, gathering in depth and power, imtil the debris of human ruin has been left on every shore where human foot has trodden. Stream has mingled \dth stream, and wave followed wave, (xiii) xiv INTRODUCTION. until every land and people have been scourged. In the hamlet, the city, the country, or wilderness, the influence has been the same. Nations have been drunken to madness. New woes and keener sor- rows have been sent out to stalk through the world, followed by red-handed crime and ghastly death. Beneath those oblivious waves, the brightest hopes of earth and heaven have gone down ; and up and down the world the stricken millions have wasted away, and prematurely mingled with a mother dust. North, east, south and west, the plague has spread. The white sails of commerce have borne it across oceans. The pioneer has carried it across the wilder- ness. The trader has scaled the mountain range, and thus, in civilized and savage clime, the noon-day scourge has sped on in its mission of ruin. In the hut of the savage, or where science, letters and art have elevated and refined, the effects have been the same. The very heart of human society has been poisoned, until along every artery of health and strength, the hot currents have swept in their blight- ing power. The shadow has fallen across nearly every hearth-side, and at the altar's base ; and lingered there like the foot-prints of unutterable woe. Most every house has had one dead in it every circle haa been broken. Homes are ruined and deserted, and fields turned to waste. The wife and the children are driven out from the home-roof, and to-day the mothers of America, like Niobe of old, as they weep at their broken altars, are attempting to shield INTKODUOTION. XV fcheir offspring from the shafts which fall thickly around, and quiver in the tender hearts they love. It is Intemperance that we speak of ; the history of whose desolations has outstripped the wildest imagery of tragic fiction, and laughed to scorn the efforts of the tongue, pen or pencil. If hell hag one more potent enginery of human degradation and crime upon earth than another, it is Intemperance. Its very sound sends a thrill back to the heart, and a Gorgon monster slowly rises up from its heart of blood among the graves. The gloomy night of Intemperance long rested upon tha world, and no day-star in the horizon. The death slumber was deep and profound. Like the fabled city which was petrified into stone, no trumpet blast rang out to awaken to life. Woe and want went band in hand. Vice and violence stalked unobstruct- ed, and crime laughed and reeled in its drunkenness of blood. Alone in the sky, the malign light of the death-beacon followed man from the cradle to the grave. The monster sat at every gathering. At the birth, marriage, or death ; in the home, shop, or field ; at the social re-union, or the festive day in hut, palace, or council-hall, it plied its work. The fair young bride stood at the altar in the light of her bright life-dream, and handed the goblet to him she had chosen to accompany in the pilgrimage of life. At the social board, the father followed the mar- riage prayer with a glass. In the silence of the night, where the living had just passed to the rest XVI CTERODTTCTION. of death, the dec anter kept its watch with the watch- ers. What wonder, then, that Intemperance, like the red ploughshare of ruin, went under almost every hearth ! A missionary once found a heathen mother in tears. She wrung her hands as she left her hot kissses upon the lips of a beautiful child, calm in the slumbers of death. The little treasure had been bit- ten by a serpent. The woman was one of the ser- pent-worshippers, and the reptile, which had robbed her of her first and only child, lay coiled at the hearth-side of the home it had made desolate, safe from the avenging hand of the superstitious mother. She would not destroy it. Need we wonder at the superstition of the benighted heathen ! To-dayj America is a nation of serpent worshippers. We look around us, and how many homes are there where the serpent is coiled, yet madly cherished by those who have mourned the loved and the good, poisoned to death by its fangs ! And at the same time we see a great and free people hesitating about crushing these serpents ! The darker rites and fearful religion of the poor Pagan can but share our sympathies. We are proud of our country and its institutions. There is no land like our land ; no people -like our people ; no lakes like our lakes ; no streams like our streams ; no prairies like our prairies, or mountains like our mountains, as they sit upon a continent and nod to each other in the clouds. American enter- prise and American genius, irventive and literary, is INTRODUCTION. XV11 startling a world from its slumbers. The heart of our republic throbs up* n two shores ; and jet, at the heart of all our free institutions a cancer is tugging with never-resting energy. For its removal, Chris- tians and philanthropists are marshaling. It is but little over half a century since a land so favored groaned in bondage unbroken. ~No light had broke in ; no star had beamed out to guide our wise men to a Saviour. Humanity wept over the desola- tions. Patriotism saw its first stars pale and set in darkness. Religion saw its most gifted ones fall to rise no more. The strongest were in shackles, and the friend of his country and of man looked out sadly upon the scene, and saw no morning light in the dark night. Foreigners stigmatized us as a nation of drunkards. Thus, unobstructed, the work went on. The great deep of popular opinion had not been stirred by a single breath, but lay in its stillness until miasma had bred in its sluggish bosom, and rolled up to sicken and destroy. The thunder of popular wil] slumbered uninvoked in the ballot-box, or, like the three-mouthed dog of hell, sleeplessly guarded the wrongs there entrenched. A scourge was abroad in the land, yet a free and Christian people slept over their wrongs, and yielded without an effort to the annual conscription of Intemperance. But a better era was to dawn upon our country. A brazen serpent was lifted. The trumpet-blasts of Temperance Reformers started the petrified cities into life. The plume tossed in the conflict, the war- Xv'll INTRODUCTION. horse plunged and chafed, and in the light of the coming morning the Banner of Temperance rolled out like a beacon of hope and promise to gladden a world. A breath has swept the valley of Hiimom, and the sleepers arise. The ocean is swept by the storm, and hope springs up in the human heart. The light comes slowly, but it bears healing upon its wings, and heralds redemption to a rum-scourged world. There is joy in heaven and upon earth. The mother weeps tears of joy, and clasps her child to her bosom, with a prayer of gratitude for the promise which speaks of a better day for her and hers. And so the great moral revolution has commenced a war of extermination, ending only when the rum traffic shall exist no longer. A free people are girding for the conflict with a hoary curse, saying to its armies, as they wage the strife from pillar to pillar " Thus far, and no farther." The history of the Temperance Reformation is not yet written. The strife is yet in progress. But that history will occupy the brightest pages of our country's annals, and command the admiration of the world. "We look back with a full heart and kindling eye upon that history. There is a moral sublimity and beauty in the record. It is like the beaming of the setting sunlight across the ocean. Storms may have swept the surface, and its waves daslied angrily upon the shore ; but in its calm there is a wake of crim- son and gold a beautiful pathway, where angels might fcread. The course of our reform has been marked INTRODUCTION. XIX "by the most important results. It lias carried bless- ings to myriads of hearts and homes. There is an angel in its waters, and peace, happiness and hope spring up where desolation has vdthered up the greenness of earth. It is destined to revolutionize the sentiment of a world. It enlists all that is lovely and noble in the human heart the eloquence of poetry, and the inspiration of genius ; the fervor of patriotism, and the zeal of religion. Its principles are as plain to the mind as the sun at mid-day, and as just as God. It is the gospel of redemption to a ram-cursed world the John the Baptist of the Chris- . tkn religion. Like the Christian religion, its fruits bear full evidence of its blessed character. When John heralded the coming of the Saviour, he did not startle the world by the brilliancy of his promises. He did not announce that Christ was coming with a crown of gold upon his head and a monarch's sceptre in his hand, with legions of conquering warriors bristling in armor, and in his train the kings and princes the rich and powerful, and elite of earth. No : the dumb should speak, the deaf should hear, the blind see, the lame walk, the dead be raised, and the gospel be preached to the poor. And thus along the pathway of Christianity, wherever its spirit has gained a foothold, there are eloquent records of its principles and influences. So with the Temperance Reform. The heralds did not announce that the fashionable and the wealthy, the titled great, the aristocracy of the land, would exclusively XX DTERODUCTIOK. lend it their countenance. But tie blind have seen, the deaf have heard, the stone has been rolled away from the grave of drunkenness, and the lost restored ; devils have been cast out of those cut among the tombs, and its gospel has been preached to the poor. The reform was designed by a kind God to lift up and restore poor fallen humanity, and not to add brilliancy to fashion, or popularity to men. The prodi- gals, who have wasted all in riotous living and hun- gered for the husks, have turned back from their dark wanderings, and the temperance cause has met them half-way, and rejoiced that the lost were found. The so-called fashionable have murmured, and turned away with scorn from such manifestations. They would so have scorned the meek Saviour, because he called after the sinner, and wept with and comforted the poor and afflicted. The hand of Providence has marked the course of our cause. Step by step, it has moved onward, ever going deeper into the hearts and consciences of men. It has had its reverses, as has every great moral revolution which has agitated the world; but its first standard, " torn but flying," floats out prouder to- day than ever before. There is a hydra influence against it one sleepless and gigantic. But ours is the majority, for God is with us. At times it has been beaten its waves have rolled back and again mingled with their kindred waters ; but they have re- turned to the shock with other waves and deeper flow, sweeping on with the strength and grandeur of INTRODUCTION. XXI its power. Wealth has opposed it, fashion has sneered at it, interest lias fought it, demagogues have stabbed it, and Iscariots have betrayed and sold it; but, like the oak matured in the storm, it has taken root, until its towering trunk sways defiance to the fiercest wrath of the tempest. And it will live, and flourish, and gloriously triumph: The blessings of the Temperance Reform are sufficient to reward for an age of effort. One home made joyous one broken heart healed and made happy one man restored to manhood, family, so- ciety, and God is a prouder and more enduring monument than ever towered in marble. What a change it has wrought in public sentiment ! Look back and many of us can remember it to the time when tippling was interwoven with eveiy cus- tom of society, and infancy sucked drunkenness from the mother's breast. We know that intemper- ance yet sits like a nightmare upon the bosom of so- ciety; but there are millions of homes, and fields, and systems from which it has been forever banished. Where is now the physician that prescribes rum to the mother, or a mother who swallows such prescrip tions, or feeds them to the child ? Where is the family table where the morning bitters sit with the food which gives life and strength ? Where is the mechanic who carries it to his shop ? The fanner who furnishes it to his laborers in the field ? The marriage where the health and happiness of the bride must be given in wine '( The funeral where it XX ii INTRODUCTION. must mingle with the tears of the bereaved ? They are scarce. A blessed light has dawned upon com omnity, and it is found that man can be born, mar- ried, and die without the spirit of alcohol. In the progress of the reform, nearer and still nearer to the enemy, the ground has been broken. The first position was not the one of to-day. The old pledge was the entering wedge, but it did not banish the insidious tempter from our own ranks. It coiled still in the wine-cup, and in the more com- mon alcoholic beverages. Experience demonstrated the folly of chaining the mad dog, and the total ab- stinence pledge was adopted. Then came a war among temperance men, but the right triumphed ; for, it was found that the old pledge was a danger- ous ground for drinking men. Then came the Washingtonian movement, like a storm, and its floods swept on with startling intensity and power. There are ten thousand trophies where it moved ; but the force of the torrent long since spent itself. The flames have died out upon its altars, as a general thing, and its legions disbanded, or enlisted in new organizations. In the commencement of our reform, and for a number of years, the mass of ' its friends considered "moral suasion" as the only means of success. It would have accomplished its work, were all men susceptible to moral influences. But it would not answer the ends designed. While human nature is such as to require penal laws in tlie restraint and ESTTRODTJCTION. XXH1 punishment of its excesses, moral influences will never keep man from the commission of wrong. God's government is not based upon moral suasion alone. His laws are prohibitory, as are the lawa upon our statute books. And against all this array of enactments, human and divine, wicked men con tinue to trample upon the rights of others. If laws will not prevent the commission of wrong, who would expect moral influences alone to protect the interests of society from the vicious and abandoned ? And more especially would it fall far short of accom- plishing such an object, when coming in contact with evils sustained and guarded Tyy legislation. Seldom, while avarice has a home in the human heart, can bad men be influenced, by moral considerations, to abandon a traffic which law tolerates, and protects, and clothes with respectability. With a license law existing and shielding the seller from punishment, how long before he could be prevailed upon to abandon a lucrative business ? In most instances time might end and find the traffic in its full strength, and those engaged in it as indifferent to our en- treaties and appeals, as they are to-day. It was thought that the fountain must be dried the Upas uprooted and destroyed forever. Hence the idea of prohibition and protection. And this sentiment found a response in the hearts of the friends of the cause, enthusiastic and unanimous. Here was the great battle-ground, and around this banner the contending interests rallied. Eloquence INTRODUCTION. had been spent in vain, heretofore, so far as having any effect upon those engaged in the traffic. God's truth had thundered against them. Facts had been oiled on facts, until they towered in fearful judg- ment against them. Arguments unanswerable had been adduced, and appeals of the most earnest and touching pathos been made. All had been in vain. Entrenched behind law, and flanked by the unscru- pulous demagogism of the country, they looked unmoved upon the ruin wrought by their own hands, and laughed all our efforts to scorn. A new system of warfare must be adopted, or the strife would be tor time. As in times past, so Providence, at this juncture, directed the movements. Then appeared a light in the east, and clear and startling above the din of the strife, came a new battle-cry, thrilling like an electric shock, and everywhere arousing oui wearied hosts. A new banner out, and its magic words filled all hearts with zeal, faith and hope. " The Maine Law " was an emblem of triumph. It was thought to be the mystic writing upon the wall, announcing the downfall of the Babylon whose ini- quities had so long, cursed the earth, and the politi- cal Belshazzars already looked upon the record of sure-coming doom, and trembled. The new plan was as simple as potent. It embodied, in a stringent form, the principles of prohibition and protection. Like all other laws for the prevention of crime, it struck at the cause, leaving the streams to dry up, when no longer fed by the fountain. It dispensed with arguments and appeals. It left no dripping INTRODUCTION. XXV heads to multiply others, but attacked the hydra in his den, and with the hot irons of fine and imprison- ment, seared as it went. From various causes the MAINE LAW failed to accomplish the grand results hoped for it, by those who fought under the banner. Still, much good was done, and the last great day shall marshal an army, saved from the power of the second death, as one of the benefits of the Maine Law agitation. Again the banner of the Temperance Reformation is flung to the breeze. Before the emblem of joy was seen in the East. Now it unfurls its folds over the valleys of the great "West, and, from present ap- pearances, the " movement " will go on till the broad Union is made to feel its po ./er. Grand results have already been accomplished. Many desolate homes have been made happy. Every day the telegraph brings us news of victory. May " God defend the right " in the battle In what is called the " Woman's Movement," the method of procedure is for women to meet early in the morning in one of the churches, hold a prayer and^ singing meeting for an hour or so, and then start forth in bands of ten or twenty, visiting the various saloons and drug stores where liquor is sold, present- ing a form of pledge to cease retailing liquors, with a request to sign and stop selling liquor. If they comply, the ladies pass on to another ; but if they are met with a refusal, then they exhort, persuade, hold a prayer-meeting, sing a hymn, etc., and pass XXVI INTRODUCTION. on, promising to " call again." Sometimes the pray- er-meetings continue for hours with fervent petition, earnest entreaty, and persistent pleading. This is repeated every day till the dealers are subdued. Day after day, in winter's cold and sleet, these meetings are continued, until very many towns are redeemed from the sale of liquor. Various instrumentalities have operated in bring- ing the Temperance Reform up to its present com- manding position. Able men have written and spoken, and from the rostrum and the pulpit public opinion has been educated. But the great engine has been the Press. This giant friend of man in a free country, has scattered its light, its facts, argu ments and appeals, into millions of hearts and homes. It has invoked a storm slowly, but none the less effectually. The mutterings of years past are deep- ening into startling peals, and the red language of popular indignation and wrath glows ominously bright across the sky. The deep of public opinion is rocking to its depths. The Temperance Press, at first struggling with 'almost overwhelming difficulties, has slowly increased in ability and power, and to-day exerts a controling influence upon public sentiment. The literature of our reform is assuming a more refined t and elevated character, and clothing great truths in pure and more attractive garb ; and never was there a wider field for the exercise of intellectual effort. The wildest dreams of fiction seem tame in comparison with the stern INTRODUCTION. XXVll and sober realities of our cause. Tragedies, more fearfully dark and startling than Avon's bard ever sketched, are thickly traced on the record of rum's history. Scenes which would niock the artist's pen- cil are of daily occurrence. The desolate home, with its heart-broken wife and mother, with her pale cheek channeled with tears of unutterable woe, as she bends weeping over the drunken wreck of her youth's idol ; the child-group shivering in the blast or cling- ing to that mother, as they moan for bread; the orphan turned out, with no friend but God, into the wide world ; youth wrecked and palsied with prema- ture age ; manhood reeling amid the ruins of mind and moral beauty, the sepulchre of a thousand hopes ; genius driveling in idiocy and crumbling into ruin ; the virtuous and noble-minded turning away from truth and honor, and plunging into every vice ; the parent and citizen wandering away from a home- heaven, through a devious and dark pilgrimage, to a dishonored grave ; the home-idol shivered and broken, the .altar cast down, and an Eden transformed into a hell; childhood and innocence thrust out from the love-light of a mother's eye, to wallow in all that is low and vile ; Poverty and Want looking with pinch- ed and piteous gaze upon the scanty tribute of charity ; foul and festering Vice, with sickly and bloated fea- tures, leering and droolling in licentious beastiality ; Madness, with fiery eye and haggard mien, weeping and wailing and cursing in the rayless night of intel- lectual chaos ; Crime, with its infernal "ha! ha!" as XXV111 INTRODUCTION. it stalks forth from its work of death, with its red hand dripping with the hot and smoking life-tide of its victim ; these, and ten thousand other combina- tions of warp and woof, are woven into tales of won- drous intensity and power. The hovel, the dram shop, the subterranean den, and the mansion of fash- ion and wealth, have all furnished the material for tales of startling interest. When fiction even has called up its weird creations, they have been but copies of the facts already transpired. The moral is always there. Thus poetry and romance have com- bined to place the realities of two opposing principles in striking contrast. Such is the object of the fol- lowing tale, from the perusal of which we will no longer detain the kind reader. That the " new move- ment " may triumph, and the dark shadow of Intem- perance pass away, is the earnest prayer of him who has thus far claimed attention. The door is open, and the reader can go in and examine the structure of the author':? fabric at leisure. LADIES IN THE "WOMEN'S MOVEMENT.' MINNIE HEBMOfl CHAPTER I. A MARKED CHARACTER INTRODUCED TO THE READER. ON one of the coolest days of the autumn of 18 , by invitation, we visited, for the purpose of lecturing, one of the pleasantest villages in southern New- York. The sun was far down in an unclouded sky, its beams mellowing in the blue haze which curtained the distant hills, and lingering like a smile from bliss upon the variegated woodlands. Without seeking the friend who had in vited us to enjoy his hospitality, we passed through the village, and turned from the highway into the fields, and up- ward to where a picturesque eminence promised a more attractive view of the autumn scene. The paths and the hollows were filled with the rustling leaves, the faded garniture of summer and yet a more beautiful carpeting than art ever wove. From beneath a leaning maple, we turned to gaze long upon the landscape stretched beneath us. The woods upon the hills were draped in that gorgeous beauty 32 MINNIE HE.KHON. of the American autumn, a sea of rustling waves crested with golden and crimson foam, flecked here and there with the dark hue of the evergreens. The symmetrical forms of the maple and the walnut dotted the farm lands of the husbandman with pyramids of russet and flame-like canvass. The Susquehanna wound through the valley and away to the south, glowing and shimmering in the sunbeams. We turned away from that which had yielded us so much pleasure, and still further above us saw a stranger, evidently enjoying the same pros- pect. His tall form stood out in striking relief from its background of distant sky, his attitude and mien graceful and imposing, as with head bared and hat in hand, he stood with folded arms, looking down upon the valley. As we stepped out from under the low- hanging branches, the rustling leaves attracted bis attention. He returned our salutation with a manner BO easy and dignified, that we at once recognized one of more than ordinary mind and polish. The true gentleman never forgets his position under any cir- cumstances, much less in recognizing and returning the courtesies of a stranger. Passing the village grave-yard, where the white slabs gleamed in the setting sun, we noticed seven highly finished ones standing closely together, and the same name chiseled upon all. The grass towered rankly upon the mounds, and the mould had long gathered at the base of the marble. The mounds were of the same length, thickly strewn with the A MARKED CHARACTER. 33 leaves of the willow which dropped its boughs until they nearly swept the ground. As we emerged from the lane leading to the b'irial grounds, we again en- countered the tall stranger of the hillside, leaning with a sad and thoughtful countenance over the fence near where we had stood by the seven graves. The afternoon following, while standing upon the church steps with a friend, awaiting the gathering of the people, a note was slipped into our hand by a friend. It read thus : " We are not used to harsh language here yet ; bo guarded. Hon. Mr. Fenton will hear you. He is a citizen of talent and influence, and we wish to have him in our Division ; but he is a drinking man, owns the tavern, and is extremely sensitive. Touch him gently. A FRIEND." And so the Hon. Mr. Fenton, and a rumseller, would hear us. And must we hesitate in laying bare the iniquities of the traffic, because a gentleman of wealth, talent and standing was engaged in it ? Thrusting the note into our pocket, we determined to take our own course appeal kindly to men, but boldly and truthfully speak of the wrong. A sea of heads was before us, curiosity drawing many to attend the long talked of demonstration. Conspicuous in the centre of the audience, his keen grey eye scanning the speaker with a stern and steady gaze, sat our tall acquaintance. " "That," whispered 34 MINNIE HEitMON. a clergyman at our side, "is the Ron. Mr. Fentou. If you are severe, he will answer you." We were satisfied from whence the note of advice. Careles*sly we commenced our remarks upon the prevalence and universal spread of intemperance. Quick answering tears, from a sad looking woman on the first seat, responded to the truth of the remarks made, and filled our own heart with tears. Warming as the interest increased, we continued : " In the inild sunlight of this blessed day, we look over your heads and out through the raised windows, where your kindred are at rest upon the kind bosom of our common mother. We know not the history of this community, but the destroyer has been among you. Undisturbed by our voice, the sleepers are resting on where the rank grass weaves its mat over their graves. Wherever the living carry their dead the cold arms of earth have been rudely opened to wrap the victims of the scourge. Innocence, manhood and old age; the strong, the beautiful, the loved, and the true, have alike been consigned to premature graves. How cruel the blows which crushed from their hearts, life and its throbbing hopes ! The kind marble heralds not their sad histories ; but garnered in kindred hearts, are the memories of wrongs which over ask a tribute of bitter tears, as the living stand by their graves. Have no circles been broken in this community ? Have no loved ones been torn away from hearts which dripped tear-drops of blood, to go down in darkness to their graves? And no bright A MARKED CHARACTER. 35 resurrection morn to burst upon then long night of sleep ? Who of you have friends in that old yard, whom you feel were wrenched away from heart and home by torturing inches, and worse than murdered? Is there a parent an old mother a broken-hearted wife a sister of never swerving love a child who has no parent but God who does not go in there to weep over a grave where Hope never smiles and Faith never whispers " All is well ? " Make our heart a store-house of the dark records of your history, and from this desk we will tread the grass-grown alleys, and here and there lay our hands upon cold and silent wit- nesses, proclaiming in the sad eloquence of enduring marble, the triumphs of the common scourge. Here is one, and there another ! But for rum, they might have sat at your hearths this day. And who slew them ? Is there no hand here among you red with a brother's blood ? Look ! and if so, turn away to a better life, and yield no more incense to the shrine of blood ! " The " Hon. Mr. Fenton " sat with his eye upon us as we proceeded, his chin resting upon his palm as ho leaned upon the pew before him. A lone tear slowly gathered on the lid, and coursing down his cheek, dropped upon the open hand. As our introduction ended, he involuntarily raised his head and looked vjpon his hand, as though blood had gathered there in judgment against him, then bowing himself upon his hands, he remained until the meeting was dismissed. As we passed down the desk, Mr. Fenton came boldly forward and stopd at the door. The audience 36 MINNIE HERMOX. were instantly hushed, expecting a war of words be- tween him and the stranger. Reaching out, he clasped our extended hand in both of his, and stood, with swimming eyes, silently before us. We knew thero would be no strife between us, for a better manhood gave utterance in the eye, and his grasp was almost convulsive in its energy. " You are an honest man ! " passionately exclaimed Mr. Fenton. " You have uttered the truth solemn, fearful truth. My hands are red with more than a brother's blood. God forgive me ! Let me tell you where they sleep, those / have loved and lost ! " Mr. Fenton took our arm within his own, and to- gether we passed into the yard just back of the church. He passed by the seven graves, and silently looked down upon them, while his broad chest heaved with strong emotion. " There" said he, with wild energy, " there they are all all! There are my father and mother j the one died a drunkard and the other broken-hearted. In the next four graves are my my boys. Brave, noble boys they were, too, as ever parent loved. In their strong manhood, they too, died drunkards! And here merciful God ! at my feet, is my injured, my murdered wife ! " and kneeling like a child, and throwing his strong arms over the grave, he wept as a child would weep. " O ! if God can forgive, may the last of a once happy band be gathered with tliee at last; and the hand which wrought thy ruin be washed with pardon of its cruel crime. O, what a A MARKED CHARACTER. 37 fearful infatuation has rested upon me," he continued, as he raised himself from his kneeling posture. " I see it all now. Here by the graves of my kindred niy all, before you, sir, and these people, my injured wife in Heaven, and God, I solemnly swear that this hand never shall again extend tJie ruinous cup to my fellow man. My life shall be spent, so far as it is possible, in undoing the wrong I have committed." In the clear air of that bright autumn afternoon, a ehout, free and full witli gladness, went up from the people in testimony of the high resolve. Bonfires were kindled in the evening, and joy beamed upon each countenance, lit up by the glare with greater in- tensity, as the blue flame of the burning liquors burst up and wreathed and hissed with the red ones of the burning timbers. " And so may my soul burn in hell, if I ever har- bor the cursed poison again ! " Startled by the fierce energy of the speaker, we turned, to find Mr. Fenton looking upon the scene with a pale and compressed lip. CHAPTEE II. THE MANUSCRIPT. OUR host was early astir, every move character- ized by a new and more hopeful life. Before we had arise/i, all the machinery of drinking had been re moved from the bar, and citizens were already gath- ered on the piazza, in earnest conversation upon the events of the previous day. Mr. Fenton persisted in accompanying us across the river, talking sadly of the past and hopefully of the future. " At parting, he laid a heavy roll of pa- pers in our hands, with a rapid history of their con- tents and of the manner in which they came into his possession. A friend of his, in early life, became in* temperate, through the plotting of a villain ; and in one of his fits of madness, turned his family from the door, and under charge of murder, was confined in prison, awaiting his trial. He was tried and con- demned, but escaped before the day of execution. This manuscript, the labor of long days of imprison- ment, was handed me under seal, while in the place, with the simple injunction that, should the writer never be heard of again, his friend should make such use of it as he saw fit. You," said Mr. Fenton, "know much of the history of intemperance and its WALTER'S MOTHER. T1II<: MANUSCRIPT. 41 terrible ruin ; but yet, the within may furnish you with something equally as interesting as that you have already learned. You will find the impress of no or- dinary mind, and its publication, in whole or in part may interest others as well as yourself." The writing was more in the style of a private diary than otherwise. We shall give, in the course of our history, the substance of the matter, occasion- ally transcribing whole chapters as we find them written. " OLD MEMORIES. " The ocean of life may present a calm, unbroken surface to the eye the very picture of repose ; while beneath the dark and turbid currents are surging to and fro, black and angry, as they toss and leap against one another. " The sky may smile without a cloud, as its blue depths are bathed in a flood of sunshine ; and yet tho lightning be heating its red bolts, and the storm troops marshaling for the onset. " The human countenance may be as calm as that ocean, while bitter waters are welling up in the heart, as bright with sunshine as that sky unclouded, and yet the fierce tempest be sweeping across the soul, or the echoes of Sorrow's wail lingering amid the ruins of hopes which have been destroyed. The wildest im- agery of fiction is more than surpassed by the reali- ties of the ' fitful fever ' which we treat so lightly, and yet so madly cling to at its ending. 42 MINNIE HERMON. " "Wliile carelessl} 7 touching my guitar, the fingers unconsciously swept the strings tc the measure of an old and sacred air, holy with the inseparable associa- tions of scenes that never die ! That touch was like the gush of long pent-up waters, and the flood of other days is again rushing through the soul, a mingled tide of sweet and bitter currents, now bathed with sun- light, and again dark with gloom. '' I drop the guitar and gaze long and dreamily into the fire, watching the vision of years as they troop by. I am young again ! Ah ! but 't was a dream, for the growl of my dog has dispelled the illu- sion, and I awake to find a tear on my lids, from which bright beams of silver are dancing to the wa- ning embers in the grate. That tear has escaped from a sacred fount, sealed long and long ago. " I touch the strings again. The thoughts flow calm- er, and a strong impulse urges me to write. And why should I profane the sanctuary where early hopes and dreams are buried ? Some will sneer at the rev- elation. And yet to see the words as they are traced upon the sheet, will be like looking on the faces of those long since at rest. There 4s no one here to see me if I weep ; and these weather-beaten cheeks will welcome a shower from the heart's flood, which has been so unexpectedly stirred to its earlier depths. " My manhood's hopes have gone out in darkest night, and infamy rests upon the once proud and untar- nished name of Walter Brayton. An evil destiny has followed me and I am now incarcerated in a dungeon, THE MANUSCRIPT. 43 through the success of as foul a plot as human fiends ever conceived, to accomplish another's ruin. The world cares not for one whose career has ended so ignominiously, and it may never see my name vindi- cated from the stigma which now so unjustly rests upon it. The fickle populace has forgot its idol, and none but her whom I have most deeply injured stands by my side, while all else has been beaten down by the storm which has come upon me. She clings to me with a devotion which no destiny, however dark, can wrench away. A ' life history ' may never be seen by other eyes than my own, if ever completed ; but the long days will speed on lighter wing, even while I am tracing dark chapters in my cell. My crushed manhood's tears shall attest the truth of what I shall write, eloquent, it may be, in warning to who- ever may trace these lines, to shun a course which has so trodden down as proud a spirit and aspiring ambition as ever throbbed in the bosom of early manhood. " "When eighteen years of age, my father removed from New Jersey, to a small and retired country settlement in one of the northern counties of New York. He had once been a merchant of business and standing had mingled in the highest commercial circles, and I never could divine the reason of his lo- cating in such a section of the country. "There are faint remembrances of my early home. There is a vague, shadowy outline of a dark old dwelling, now lingering in my mind. All is dim. 44 MINNIE FTEKMON. misty, uncertain. I can hardly trace those outlines at this late day, for the foot-prints of years have gone over them. The impressions seem half dreams and half realities. The remembrance is gloomy, withal, arid as I wander back, I shrink involuntarily at the spectral shadows which people and throng around that dream-land tenement. " There was an old room, with high, sombre walls, and deep windows, over which hung rich, heavy cur- tains, nearly shutting out the light 'of day. Dark, massive chairs and sofas stood against the walls. And I remember that I dreaded the mirror which gave back the spectral outlines of the old nurse, and step- ped back with a noiseless tread to the half-opened door. Once I looked out of those windows only once. As I parted the faded curtains, the net-work of cobwebs brought down a cloud of the black and ugly looking creatures, and drove me away in a fright. " But there was one room which I remember with more dread than I do the old parlor. It was across the hall, and I never saw the light of day break in upon its darkness but once. I was a child, and through the open door crept in and across to the window. I then clambered upon the sill, and with childish curiosity, pulled aside the curtains. Oh, what a flood of warm, pure sunshine gushed into the dark place ; I remember it distinctly, and how red and beautiful the sun itself appeared just above the sea of roofs ! I clapped my tiny hands and shouted THE MANr SCRIPT. 4-5 with glee, upon which the old nurse stole up behind me, and bore me away to the kitchen. " I can remember but one more visit to that room. Everything wore a mysterious and saddened aspect. People trod lightly over the floor, and spoke in whispers. I watched all with sobered interest. At last an old lady friend took me in her arms and car- ried me in. A lamp burned dimly in the gloom, and jthe old clock ticked with painful distinctness in the hushed apartment. " The nurse then raised me np, and held me where I could look upon the bed. As I looked down with a shrinking fear, I beheld a pale, calm face, the eyes closed as if in slumber, but oh, how still ! A dread crept over me the first startling knowledge of death. The nurse laid my hand upon the cheek 'twas cold how cold ! and as that strange chill crept back to my child-heart, I wept. I felt that something sad and sorrowful had taken place ; that some one whom I loved had gone some friend and the young heart welled up its flood of unchecked grief. ... A mother had gone to her rest ! " I remember but one place with pleasure in that old dwelling. It was where the sun shone brightly, and the vines crept thickly over the lattice-work. As I look back upon that obscure mirror of childhood, I see a happy throng, and merry sport they had. But the most hallowed dream of all, is that of a sad, kind face, which hung over me and touched mine so ten- derly. I know that she had a low, silvery voice, for 4:6 MINNIE HERMON. it fell soothingly upon my childish fears and pains, and its tender echoes have never died away in my heart. I have heard no such tones since, save as they float up and linger on the tide of memory. The voice of a MOTHER speaks in those echoes ! " But how my pen has wandered under the influence of these old memories ! Ah, well ! I have not talked of these things before in long years, and my old heart yearns for sympathy. "After our settlement in the new home, I became a tall, thoughtful boy. Care had written deep lines upon my father's face, and he said but little. Grief, too, had furrowed his features deeply, and a silvery white was fast mingling with his locks of jet black. But he was cold, stern, passionless, unchanging. " I never saw my father manifest the least emotion but once. As I entered the parlor one morning, he was standing before a portrait that I had loved from my childhood. My step aroused him, and as he turned, I saw a tear upon either cheek. He passed out of the room, and I took his place before the pic- ture, and stood looking dreamily until my own cheeks were wet with tears. 1 wept before the shadow of a substance which had forever passed away. " Bitter knowledge came to me as I arrived at young manhood. My father had been a drunkard ; my mother had been ill-treated by the husband of her youth, and had died broken-hearted. My love for her intensified as I learned the painful history, and I looked still more fondly upon that picture in the par- THE MANUSCKI1T. 47 lor, and thought that, had I been a man while she was living, I could have been her protector. " It was by accident that I learned this sad history of wrong and neglect in him whom I had so loved as my father. In a drawer of old papers I found a letter. From a careless glance at the commence- ment, my attention became riveted, and I read with a throbbing heart until, through the blinding tears, I saw at the bottom my own mother's name. The letter had evidently been written at different dates, and was blotted with tears. " ' MY SISTEK : Crushed and broken beneath the ruins of all my early hopes, I turn to you to ask youi forgiveness, and to pour into your too kind bosom the sorrows that overwhelm me. My heart aches aches with its knowledge of blighted hopes, and of the fearful and bitter truths which have so thickly come upon me : my brain aches and turns almost to madness, as the history of a year sweeps over me. Oh, Martha ! how I long to die to lie down in the cold and quiet rest of the grave ! " ' Do you remember, Martha, the night before I was married, what you said to me a we stood under the old elrn in the garden ? and how bitterly I spoke and repelled the warning you whispered to me in tears ? You would forgive me, I know you would, were you to see me now. My poor heart bleeds at every pore ; my cheek has faded and fallen away ,* B 48 MINNIE HKRMON. and you would not recognize in this ghastly wreck Uie wayward girl of our dear old home. "All is dark. Not a ray of hope on earth. I weep over my sleeping babes ; but I must die. God pro- tect them. . . . " ' That bright future, Martha, is all gloom black, black as night. I have wept, and prayed, and besought. He mocks me. Great God ! Martha, he mocks me in his drunken madness ! He wildly laughs as I weep. To-day, I held our babe to him for a caress ; he cruelly struck the innocent sleeper with his hand ! " ' I am dying, Martha ! Do not weep ; I long for rest. God will protect my babe. The consumption of sorrow and suffering is wasting my weary heart. " ' Our neighbors are kind, or we should suffer. Your ever kind heart will bleed when you know that the daughter of Colonel Wilder is in want. But I tell it to warn you. Never, as you hope for peace on earth, trust the man who drinks. . . " ' Frederick appears utterly indifferent. He spends his nights principally at the tavern, and is sullen when at home. Oh, it is hard to die thus. . . My cup overflows. Would to God that I had died when rny mother died ! Frederick came in this eve- ning at the earnest appeal of our friends. How changed he is, as well as myself! He spoke bitterly to me, and demanded my wedding jewels he had THE MANUSCRIPT. 49 gambled, and lost ! He attempted to take the beau- tiful Bible our mother gave me, and as I lay iny hand upon it in mute appeal, he oh, Martha ! he struck me a heavy blow Consciousness has re turned, and the Bible is gone! . . . 1^ shall die to-night. God protect the boy " ' ELLEN.' " I mingled my own bitter tears with those that had long since become dry upon the blotted page, and went forth into the world with my boy-bosom throb- bing with the hate of manhood against the curse which had killed my mother." CHAPTER III. MINNIE HEKMON; " FOR along time after removing to Oakvale, 1 found no kindred spirit with which to commune. My father was reserved, seldom smiled, or addressed a pleasant word to his only child. " My young and impetuous nature must find employ- ment in hunting. Day after day for weeks at a time, with fishing rod or gun, I ranged the dense forests which stretched away for miles in the immediate vi- cinity of Oakvale. I had found every overhanging crag, every waterfall and dark ravine, and threaded every stream. Thus engaged, I had not noticed the arrival of strangers in the village, and should have cared but little if I had. " The winter somewhat restrained my sports, but, with the early spring, I was abroad again with dog and gun. Immediately back of Oakvale was a moun- tain stream, which plunged down a succession of falls into a deep, dark chasm, and rolled away through the valley. Recent rains had raised it to a swollen and angry tide, the cascades presenting one unbroken sheet of spray and foam. Nearly half way up tho first fall was a wide, projecting mass of rock, over- hanging the abyss so far that the spectator could ob- tain a complete view of the whole gorge above, un- MINNIE HERMON. 51 obstructed by the dense growth of overhanging spruce. The path to this landing place was through a wide fissure in the rocks, the rugged masses and dark ever- greens rising upon either side until the sunbeams were shut entirely out. From this opening a circui- tous and narrow path wound to the foot of the mountain. "From early morn until late in the afternoon, I had followed a deer with ill success. Thrice had he taken to the river, across which I had followed him, until I was wet, weary and hungry. The dog did not close np with rigor, or the sport might have been soon ended. The deer at last crossed through the village and entered the river at the base of the mountain. Unleashing a fresh dog at home, I took the ferry and followed, sure of soon putting an end to the work. The dog drove the chase so closely that he entered the path to the table rock, and struggled with despe- rate vigor up the steep ascent. As he entered the rocky path I felt sure of him, for there was no egress but into the foaming basin beneath. " The more rapid baying of the hound put new vigoi into my weary steps, and I hurried forward. Enter- ing the defile, I found the stag at bay, and the dog vainly attempting to reach him. Beyond and imme- diately upon the tall rock, over the chasm, was an apparition, so unexpected and startling, that my steps were fastened to the rock, and I looked in utter be- wilderment, scarcely knowing whether it was real or imaginary Slightly leaning forward, with handa 52 MINNIE I-IKKMON. clasped and lips parted, and with a countenance of deathly paleness, stood the loveliest female figure I had ever beheld. She was beautiful in her terror her hair hanging in heavy masses as it had fallen from its fastenings upon her exquisitely arched neck. A noble Newfoundland stood bristling and growling be- fore her. At the instant the old dog came up, and with a fierce yell sprang at the stag, the latter turn- ing upon his heels like lightning, and darting for the rock where the female stood. " ' Down down on your face ! ' I screamed ; but he lowered his antlers, and, like an arrow, shot over into the boiling gulf, carrying stranger, dogs, and all with him. A shriek carne up distinctly above the roar of the waters, and I reached out to grasp the rock for support. As quickly I became strangely calm again, and rushed to the brink with a sickening sen- sation. My own dog and the deer were swimming in company down the swift current, but the New- foundler, with the shoulders of his insensible mistress in his grasp, was swimming about as if at a loss where to strike out. Leaning over the rock, I swung my hat and shouted until the dog heard me, and with little hope of being understood, I urged him down the stream. The noble brute understood me, and struck out into the current. Reckless of life or limb, 1 turned and ran to the foot of the precipice, reaching the bend in the river just as the nearly exhausted dog and his burden swept around the point. He had exhausted himself in stemming the tide in the attempt MLVNJIC IIERMON. 53 to reach the shore ; and as he shot past, he turned upon me an eye whose strangely sad intelligence spoke mutely the language of despair. Leaping into the current, I struck out, and soon reached the dog and his prize, and after beating the current unti nearly despairing, succeeded in reaching the shore. " It was a long time before life letnrned to the insen- sible form of the beautiful stranger ; but she was a prize worth saving ! She was the only child of a middle-aged man, who had just moved into the vil- lage, with the remains of a broken fortune. Her his- tory had been a sad one, as had mine ; and our spirits, kindred in misfortunes, craved each other's compan- ionship. " A dark tempter had wrought the ruin of Mr. Her- inon, and his wife had gone to her grave in the midst of the desolation. But like a star gleaming above the clouds of the storm, was the faith and de- votion of the daughter. "Minnie Herman was just budding into woman hood, and one of the most beautiful creatures of female purity and loveliness it had ever been my for- tune to become acquainted with. She was as gentle as a midsummer's breath, and as pure and lovely as that midsummer's flowers : and yet, she was a rock amid the wrecked fortunes of her father. Her spirit stood proudly up, and with that strange energy pecu- liar to woman under such circumstances, looked calmly upon the storm, while the spirit of the strong man bowed to the earth. 54: MINNIE HF;RMON. " Minnie possessed every virtue which sheds a lustre upon the character of woman. She was not wild or wayward; a tinge of sadness mingled with the lovely calmness of her countenance ; her very motion, and look, and tone, were calm, falling upon all around like mellow sunlight. All loved Minnie llermon. " I loved her with the intense, idolatrous devotion of youth. Our natures were similar ; our histories, too, were much the same ; and a feeling of common sym- pathy seemed to draw our hearts into closer com- munion the more we learned of each other's history. Each turned with sadness from the past, for we both had a drunken father, and both had lost a mother. " We were happy. The old woods stretched down the mountain side to the outskirts of the village ; streams leaped and danced to the valley's bed, and then babbled onward to the river. Many a wild nook was hidden among the mountains, and there we rambled and dreamed, with nature around us. " Not a word had ever passed our lips of love / and yet each heart knew all. Even as we watched the gliding streams, or the sunlight as it faded out over the hills, hearts conversed while lips moved not ; and the warp and woof of a holy tie were weaving into our destinies. " Minnie was no ordinaiy woman. Her mind had suffered nothing from the education of so called fash- ionable life : its native in some respects more than masculine strength was unimpaired. The circum- stances of her fathers failure had brought out all the MINNIE AND WALTER. MINNIE HEKMON. 57 energies of her character, by thro wing her back upon her own resources. She had improved all her advan- tages, and still retained the original nobleness and purity of her nature. " And thus we spent some of our brightest years, dreaming together as we watched the drifting of the summer clouds, which were mirrored in the bosom of the lake which slept among the hills. " Dreams are like clouds ! a cloud was drifting ovoi our sky, surcharged with a bitter storm." B* 3 CHAPTER IV. A NEW PROJECT. " THE business of the little village was increasing and it was talked of that the little community needed a tavern : its business interests required such an ' ac- commodation,' it was thought. And so the matter was gravely discussed ; and as Mr. Hermon seemed to be best located for the accommodation of ' the pub- lic,' he was urged to open a tavern. Of course rum must be sold ; for, at that day, a tavern could not have been kept without it. That fatal idea has filled a world with dead men's bones. " I had not yet heard of the project on foot. On entering the dwelling of Hermon one evening, I found Minnie in tears. Her eyes were red and swollen with weeping, and long, convulsive sobs were struggling for utterance. I was startled, but soon learned the cause of her trouble, for she told me all. " The remembrance of the past swept over her like the shadow of gloom, and she shrank from the dark- ened future. Her father had that evening informed her of the new project, and of his determination to carry it out. " I. saw it all at a glance. 1 not only saw the troub- les which were thickening over the head of Minnie, A NEW PEOJECT. 59 but felt their malign influence sweeping across my own sky. A presentiment of swift-coming evil dark- ened in the heart, as my mind dwelt with painful in- tensity upon the history of my own mother and her unhappy death. "At the close of the last section, I spoke to the read- er of a cloud which was fast drifting across the sky of Minnie Hermon and myself. I had no definite conception of what that cloud would be, yet a feel- ing of dread came over me. I felt its approach. lt.G shadow seemed to fall into my pathway, and I looked for the coming of some bitter trouble. I always be- lieved in presentiments, and the darkest one of my life warned me of some approaching trial. "At the close of a spring day, I wandered up the mountain to the accustomed retreat ; but the golden sunbeams faded out one by one, and Minnie came not. That same foreboding of evil came over me again, until the music of the waterfall murmured with a tone of sadness, and the low breathings of the old forest were like sighs in the evening breeze. " I returned to the village and sought the residence of Mr. Hermon. I found him in company with my father and several other of the more prominent citi- zens of the place, busily discussing some matter in tho parlor. " ' It will be worth a hundred dollars a year to the place,' remarked our merchant, as I entered. " 'And besides, be a great accommodation to the traveling public,' continued Deacon Smith. 60 MINNIE HEKMON. " * It will bring a great deal of business to the place,' lisped a young lawyer, who had just hung out hia shingle in the village. " ' .Not only that, but it will make business right here amongst us,' said the doctor, a man of much talent, and beloved by all with whom he associated " ' We can then hold our general parades here,' re- marked Colonel James, and his eyes twinkled at the idea of his appearance in epaulettes in his own com- munity. " ' Farmers from the country will always find it a convenient stopping-place to stop when here to trade, or to get their milling done,' said a young farmer of wealth, who lived some three miles out of the village. " * The thing will give us a reputation abroad,' con- tinued my father, as the party all left to continue the discussion of this new plan at the store. " "What this new project might be, which met with such cordial approbation from the leading men in the village, I had not learned. "As the company passed out, Minnie entered the room from an opposite direction. She met my usual greeting with a strange and embarrassing silence. 1 urged her to explain, when she only answered with a fresh burst of grief. " She wept herself into calmness, and then revealed to me the cause of her sorrows. "The subject of the discussion in the parlor was ex- plained, and I at once saw the nature of the cloud which hung ominously in our sky. A faint, sickening A NEW PROJECT. 63 sensation crept to my heart while I listened to the footfalls of the tempter which was to transform our Eden into a realm of darkness. That tempter as- sumed no definite shape to my inexperienced mind. I saw nothing clearly, tut yet I shuddered at Minnie's revelation. A low hiss murmured upon my ear, and a sound of demoniac laughter audibly started me from my chair. I involuntarily turned, but nothing but the pure moonlight beamed in at the window. " "Why is it that the approach of some evil is so fitartingly foreshadowed ? "A TAVERN was to be opened in the village. Thia was the new project, and its necessity was urged by nearly all the inhabitants, in such kind of reasoning as was heard at the house of Ilermon. A public house was needed, said such people, and as Mr. Her mon was the best situated to open one, his house was hit upon for the tavern. Though I spoke words of cheer to Minnie, she could not smile, and there was a weight at my own heart, which gave the lie as they fell. She looked upon the project as the very foun- tain head of unutterable woe to her and hers. I re- marked, against my own convictions, that all might be well, but she solemnly answered : " < Walter, you do not know all that I know of theso taverns. I have seen my father leave his home and spend his time and money there, in the dead of win- ter, and poverty and want close around our hearth- side, until my own sunny childhood has been crushed, and the mother of my idolatry grew palo 62 MINNIE HERMON. and emaciated for the want of fuel and bread ! Oh, God ! it is horrible to think of. I could have coined my young blood to have warmed and fed to have saved her. I saw her thin and staggering form foiled to the hearth by my father's hand! Do you see this ? ' and she pointed to a broad scar on the back of her head. ' The same hand and the same weapon laid me senseless as I raised my child-hands to save my mother. And yet, a kinder father or happier home child never knew, than I once had. My heart burns within me until I well-nigh go mad, as the deep- rooted hatred against the cause of all our misery is aroused anew at the mention of a tavern. I have starved, Walter aye starved for the want of bread. I have waded the cold winter drifts until my very heart was chilled to its centre, and then been laughed at by the crowd assembled. Pinched with cold and hunger, I have begged for a wasting mother. That mother died in a hovel, and was buried as a pauper, the very fingers of death robbed of a wedding-ring wherewith to purchase rum ! The tavern did it all. May God's curse rest upon them ! ' " Minnie bowed her face in her hands, and wept long and bitterly. I thought of my own mother, and of the letter which so fearfully revealed her sad his- tory, and mingled my own tears with hers. " Late at night, I returned with a heavy heart to my father's house. "The next morning, I asked my father what it was which he and his friends were so earnestly talking A NEW PROJECT. 63 about at Mr. Hern ion's. There was a slight flush upon his cheek as he looked me in the eye, and ab- ruptly answered, " 'A tavern, sir ! ' " That ' sir,' stung me. The tone and the look wera somewhat startling. I at once saw that it was a mat- ter which he did not wish to talk with me about ; but I became emboldened, and determined to discounte- nance the project, though all the magnates of the vil- lage should favor it. 1 spoke confusedly, yet with all the impetuous earnestness of youth. I felt that I was right. I dared to denounce taverns as a curse as places where men were made to neglect and abuse their own families and disgrace themselves. " I had unthinkingly touched a tender spot, and his black eye kindled and flashed as he bent his full gazo upon me. There was a paleness about his lips, and he breathed huskily through his clenched teeth, while a bitter and scornful smile gave his countenance a dark and forbidding outline. I knew he was deeply angered, yet feared him not. At any other time, I should have shrunk from such portents, but my young blood was up at his menacing appearance, and some mysterious influence unclosed a torrent of warm words from my lips. I followed up my blows, he glaring at me, and his broad bosom heaving under excitement. " 'Boy ! ' at last he fiercely hissed between his hard- Bet teeth as his rage found vent in words, i Soy ! no more out of your head. I'll not be thus outraged by 64: MEN M IE HEBMON. your impudence. I can attend to yours. Go, sir, your presence can be dispensed with.' " He literally stamped and chafed, but while he boiled with passion, I became perfectly cool. 1 con- fess that there was something of revenge in nay cool- ness. The letter of my mother came up before me, and every word glowed like hot lava in my blood and burned upon my tongue's end. A pent-up tide of bitterness against my father gushed fiercely up, and I eagerly availed myself of the opportunity of re- vealing the knowledge I had so painfully acquired, of intemperance, and its fatal effects upon my mother. He had not dreamed of such knowledge on my part, and readily supposed that I knew more of his early course than I really did. My unguarded and hot words stung him like serpents, and he grew purple with rage. Walking menacingly up to where I stood, he raised his clenched hand, and with a fearful oath or- dered me to be gone. " 'Zeave the room, you young reptile,' he fiercely said, his hand still raised. The blow which fell years ago upon the dying mother, blistered upon my own cheek, and I fearlessly retorted while looking him full in the face, " 'Strike ! the hand that basely crushed a broken hearted mother, would have little hesitation in striking the child.' " My father's face grew livid as I deliberately pro- nounced the words, and instead of striking me, as I expected he would, he turned away like a drunken A NEW PROJECT. 65 man, and reseated himself in his chair. I left the room, regretting the harsh words I had spoken, and yet not altogether displeased with the effect they evi- dently produced upon him. " Ever after, in our conversation, my father treated me with marked coolness and reserve. I was grieved at this, for I felt that from ray heart I wished his own good in what I had said of a mother. Oh, if I could at that time have enjoyed the light of that world-wide flame which has since been kindled upon the temper- ance altar, I feel that I could have headed-off the new project. " I freely and frankly told Minnie of the conversa- tion which had passed between my father and myself. " ' We are doomed,' said she, in reply. ' I have warned father. I have reminded him of the promise the sacred and solemn vow he made at the bedside of my dying mother, as she placed my childish hands in his never to visit a tavern, or drink again. I told him of that mother's sufferings of my own of his fearful fall, and long and dark pilgrimage of deg- radation. I knelt to him and wet his hands with my tears as I wept in the fullness of my grief, and be- sought him by all that was dark in the past, com- fortable in the present, and blissful in the future, to abandon the tavern project. But, Walter, I have no hope that he will, and I fear that my poor heart has hardly tasted the bitterness yet to come. I can al- ready see the result of this he is determined. The tear that for a moment gathered in his eye, as I spoke 66 . MINNIE HERMON. of my sainted mother in heaven, was chased away by a flash of untamed passion, and he rudely bade me desist. "Walter, the accursed work has already com- menced! I learned that he had been then drinking, and I have since found a bottle hidden away in tho closet ! God pity me ! ' "The truth flashed upon me ; my own father had been drinking at the time he exhibited such passion. I had not dreamed that it was rum instead of rage which caused him to reel as he turned away from rne that morning. Our merchant kept liquors for medi- cinal purposes, and it was there where the damning fires of intemperance had been covertly kindled anew. " I now felt myself older by years, than a few days. Age had crept into my young heart, and chased tho smile from my countenance. I felt that I stood in the position of a protector to Minnie, for our whole com munity were enlisted for the new tavern. I felt tho full baptism of manhood come upon me, and spoke boldly and frankly to her of love, and offered my hand in marriage. She laid her hand in mine, and with all the wealth of her deep and pure affection, returned mine. I urged her to an immediate union, and thus joined, to seek a retreat of our own, and to- gether meet and turn aside the storm which was ga- thering around us. But she would not yet consent. She said she was the only kin of her father, and could not consent to leave him alone and unwatched over in the troubles which were evidently coining upon him. A NEW PROJECT. 67 " ' No, Walter, do not urge me. My love would lead me with you to the ends of the earth, and through any trial, but it seems to me that duty says, stay. I fear the worst ; and if my father again falls into that fearful abyss, who will care for him if I do not ? I know all you would say of his past negli- gence nay 5 cruelty but should I leave him while there is a single hope ? It may be that I can save him. At any rate, if I cannot stay the cloud whose shadow already falls so darkly around us, I can cling to him when it bursts.' " My youthful earnestness my strong love of Minnie, grew impatient under such reasoning ; but she was firm, and I loved her the more as I witnessed her deep and changeless devotion to the welfare of her father. It revealed still more of that angelic worth which had bound me so closely to the unassu ming girl. Her heroic spirit gave me nerve, and I left her with a stronger reliance upon my own man- hood, to meet whatever of ill might be in store for me." CHAPTEE Y. THE SPELL BROKEN EVIL COUNSELS PREVAIL. " THE people were infatuated with the new project. The remonstrances of Minnie and myself were but the feather's weight against the determination of the leading men of the community. I was looked upon as a meddlesome, impertinent young fellow, and she as a silly girl, whose feelings in the matter were in- fluenced by me. The place demanded a publio house, and the traveling public could not be accommodated without one. The tavern must be opened. " Minnie avowed her determination once more to at- tempt to persuade her father to abandon the project of opening the tavern. " Late one evening, Mr. Hermon sat by the parlor window, looking dreamily out upon the landscape which lay like a fairy realm under its wealth of moon- beams. Clear and calm, its smile stole silently in upon the carpet, and lingered like the messenger of innocence and purity upon the feverish cheek of the old man. With as noiseless a step, the lights and the shadows of other days lay mingled in the heart. The holy beauty and the associations of the hour were weavmg a spell over the heavings of a troubled spirit, and the old man looked upward. Minnie well under- stood the wayward moods of her father, and knew, as THE SPELL BEOKEN. 69 she had watched him from her seat upon the sofa, that his better nature was uppermost. With a gentle touch she swept the strings of her harp, her soul vi- brating in every tone as she bowed over the instru- ment and wept. It had been her mother's harp, and the air was a favorite one of hers ; its touching sweet- ness often banishing the frown from her father's brow, and melting his stern nature to tenderness. " A tear glittered a moment on the cheek of Her- mon, though brushed hastily away. But Minnie saw it, and, uniting her voice with the harp, she gave the words of the familiar hymn with all the sad fervor which her heart could feel. There was a tear in hei tones, and they mingled like the low sweep of an an- gel's wing upon the stillness around. Hermon bowed his face ere the last words had died away. That hymn had opened the fountain of a thousand memo- ries, and he could not but weep. " With a beating heart, Minnie stole across the room and kneeled at her father's feet, weaving her arms around his knees and looking up in his face. " * My own dear father ! here, upon my knees, I need not tell you how much I love you. You know that no fortune can drive me from you. In the dark past I have clung more closely, as every other friend de- serted. Father ! look upon your only kin. As you love me my sainted mother who smiles upon us to- night, as you love yourself and Heaven, tell me now that you will have nothing to do with this tavern business. Will you not, my father ? ' And the 70 MINNIE HERMON. pleading girl caught his hand, and warmed it with her tears. Emotion stirred the strong man as he felt the pure gush upon his parched hand, and his heart was moved to say as she wished. The dark tempter was weakened in that bitter hour, and before the daughter's pleading; but yet the fearful bonds were upon him. The large drops stood out upon his fore- head, and Hermon would have joyed to have escaped the toils which were weaving around him. " ' But I have promised, my child,' at last said her father, hesitatingly. . " ' God help you to break that promise ! ' fervently replied Minnie. ' Happiness and Heaven are worth more than faith kept with wrong. I need not tell you all that I feel, father ; but bitter wo is upon us if you keep the promise. As you promised my moth- er, so promise me this night, and we will still be happy. Will you not?' "Minnie had arisen, and was imprinting a kiss oil the old man's cheek, when footsteps were heard in the hall. My father and Deacon McGarr wished to Bpeak with Mr. Hermon. " The holy spell was broken, and the tempter was triumphant. "When Minnie again saw her father, the usual frown was upon -his features, and the fume of mm was upon his lip. No effort of hers could obtain a word from him in relation to the matter sc pain- fully interesting to her. The next morning witnessed demonstrations which destroyed all her hopes of de- feating the plan. THE SPELL BROKEN'. 71 " The carpenters and masons were soon at work re- pairing, remodeling, and adding to, the dwelling of Mr. Hermon. A ' bar-room ' was built on, and the upper story of the main building made into a 'ball room.' Sheds and stables were erected on the beau tiful yard below the dwelling ; the bright and smooth greensward was cut up with hoofs and wheels, and covered with lumber, and stone, and sand. The wide- topped maples, now loaded with all the gorgeous wealth of their autumn garniture of gold and crimson, were considered in the way of ' improvements,' and were cut down. I watched the axe as stroke after stroke eat to the heart's core, and every blow hurt my own. I had passed some of the brightest hours of my ex- istence beneath their wide branches, and when the rustling pyramids fell to the ground with a sigh, I felt that old friends had been severed from the earth. Their limbless trunks were rudely dragged awa;y through the dirt, and the scattered leaves rudely trodden under foot. " The dwelling of Mr. Hermon assumed an entire new aspect. The sound of the hammer, the saw, and the trowel, rang out through the quiet village, and kept alive the discussion about the tavern. Citizens assembled at evening to smoke and talk the matter over, each suggesting this and that improvement good matrons stopped from their shopping or visiting to gaze over their specks at the change, while the 'ball-room' elicited the liveliest attention 01 the misses. The boys looked on with childish wonder 72 and gratification, and danced around the blazing pile of shavings which the carpenters had fired in the street at nightfall. " The tavern was soon completed. The ' bar ' was nicely arranged, and received the unanimous admira- tion of the villagers ; for all, as they came in every evening to see how the thing ' got along,' had sugges- tions to make. A small piazza was built in front of the bar-room, and a broad bench placed the entire length, for the accommodation of customers. A new cedar pump had been put into the well, the top ' peaked ' and painted white. " The tavern awaited the furniture. The neighbors made a ' bee ' and cleared away the rubbish in front, and drew in gravel around the shed and ' stoop.' The jug passed around freely during the afternoon, and at night a garrulous group gathered on the benches under the stoop, and for the hundredth time spoke of the great benefits which were to result from the tavern. " A ' sign ' was needed to announce the home for the traveler. After much consultation and suggestion of many names, that of ' Traveler's Home ' was fixed apon. The sign was soon completed, with scrolls and gilded spear points, and swung up near the pump be- twixt two tall posts. On the centre of the board, the painter had placed a beehive, as an emblem of indus- try and thrift, and beneath, the motto, 'peace and plenty.' The sign made a very neat appearance, and for a few days received the same attentions from tho villagers as had the other improvements. THE SPELL BBOKEN. 73 " One more arrangement, and the tavern would be ready to go into operation. There was a law regula- ting the sale of liquors and the keeping of public houses, allowing none but moral men to engage in so honorable and necessary an avocation. The tavern must be legally kept. " At that day, the man who had dared to intimate that a tavern could be kept without liquor, would have been hooted at as a fool or madman. For how could travelers be entertained without ' accommoda- tions ? ' The weary wayfarer would suffer alternately with heat and cold, if there was nothing to ' take.' A man or beast entertained at a public house where liquors were not sold ! " The supervisor and the justices of the peace were notified of the completion of Mr. Hermon's tavern, and applied to as a board of excise, for a license to keep it legally, or according to law. That grave body assembled the last of October, for it was important that a public house should be opened before the fall election." CHAPTER VI. THE "HOME" A WRONG REGULATED. THE reader will remember that we have been in- troducing our characters upon the stage while the arrangements were completing for the licensing of the 'Traveler's Home.' There are many more actora to be introduced before the drama all passes before the reader. Late in the evening before the day of the meet- ing of the excise board, the villagers were gathered on the steps of the ' Home,' or setting on the benches, all deeply interested in the success of the new enter prise, and calculating on the benefits to the place by a large increase of business. Deacon McGarr, one of the justices, the supervisor, and several others of the magnates, were conversing in a low and earnest tone, of the probable rise in the value of the village lots and water privileges. Conspicuous above all was the village blacksmith. We must give an outline of ' Jim Gaston,' IF thc- huge Vulcan was familiarly called by his neighbors, as he will again appear in some of the futr.ro chapters. Gaston's proportions were giant-like, he being; six feet and eight inches in height, and of immense breadth of shoulders and strength of limb. His fist was as THE "HOME." 75 large as his own sledge, and calloused with industri- ous toil. His huge head was buried in a dense un- dergrowth of black, bushy hair, features coarse and bronzed, but pleasant with the smile of undeviating good nature. In his broad bosom was as warm and true a heart as ever beat for family or friend, and all who knew him respected him as a genial-hearted, hard-working, honest man. With all his physical strength, Gaston had never been known to have an angry word in his life, with a customer or neighbor. On the contrary, he had on several occasions prompt* ly, though good-naturedly, used his strength in de- fence of the weaker against the stronger. His own broad smile and happy disposition were infectious, and, winter or summer, early or late, his stentorian voice was heard, the accompaniment of his hammei 1 and anvil. Gaston, in his red flannel shirt, his open bosom and heavy neck and face begrimmed with smut from his day's toil at the forge, was cracking his good-humored jokes, as he sat on a pile of lumber in front of the stoop, and his deep hearty laugh rolling out from a wide throat. He was watching a merry group of children who were playing " hide and seek " in the thickening twilight, as happy as the happiest of them all. One pale and diminutive little fellow had nestled closely under the massive legs of the good-natured blacksmith, and a larger one behind his wide shoul- ders. "While the boy on the " gool" was hunting his comrades under the shed, Gaston clasped the boy at 76 MINNIE HERMON. his back, and carelessly walked with him to the gool without suspicion, and dropped him upon it. No child laughed harder tian he at the little ruse. Such are the outlines of " Jim Gaston," the blacksmith. The evening had well advanced, and Deacon McGarr arose to go. At that moment Hermon came out of the bar-room with a glass and decanter in his hand, and passed to the end of the stoop where McGarr was lingering and talking with Gaston a moment, about some work to be done early in the morning. " Deacon," said Hermon, " I suppose there is no doubt about my having a license to sell ; and as I al- ready have my liquors on hand, perhaps you would like to try a glass. I rather pride myself on my choice selection." " Well, I don't know what have you in the do- canter? " and McGarr's eye glistened as he rolled a huge tobacco quid from his cheek into his hand and tossed it into the street, wiping his palm on his pants. " Brandy, Deacon fourth proof, and as smooth as oil. I can vouch for its quality," and Hermon poured a stiff horn into the tumbler, and handed it to McGarr. Sure enough, the brandy went down like oil, and McGarr gave an approving ahem as he wiped his lips with the back of his hand ; then planting his feet well apart and throwing out his capacious person with a pompous swing as he raised upon his toes, ho pulled his large tin tobacco-box from his pocket, and THE "HOME." 77 compressing a startling roll in his thumb and three fin- gel's, twisted it into his mouth, and with his tonguo thrust it to the accustomed receptacle in the cheek ; then putting his thumbs in the arm-hples of his vest, and sticking out his little fingers in ludicrous efforts to show off his importance by discussing the qualities of the liquor he had drank at different times, spitting dSgnifiedly, working his little fingers, and swaying backwards and forwards alternately upon his toes and heels. The decanter went round, and all drinked of the brandy, though the most of them made horrible faces as the raw liquid went down their throats. Among the latter was Gaston and the oldest son of McGarr. As the unwieldy blacksmith strangled and gasped for water and the tears stood in his eyes, the older part of the company enjoyed a hearty laugh. The matter was more serious with young McGarr, and the children who remained were merry at his tears and wry faces. " It is nothing to laugh at," said old McGarr, evi- dently a little piqued, as he stroked his chin with his hand ; " Harry is but a mere boy, and has not the ex- perience of older people." The company ceased laughing, and young McGan took courage and looked up, with a boldness which gave promise of speedy manhood in the matters spoken of. His ambition was aroused to arrive at that point where he could swallow the dram as well as older men. ' A fatal ambition. 78 MINNIE liEBMON. The villagers bad all departed to their homes, and the long, wide street was hushed and still. Not a light was to be seen, or a footfall heard. Thick, mur- ky clouds had gathered around the horizon, and the increasing night wind sighed dismally through the branches of the maple which had been left standing near the shed of the "Traveler's Home." From the window of the sitting-room there now came the hum of voices, low, half whispering and sad, like the falling of tear-drops in the stillness of the night. It was Minnie Hennon and Walter Bray- ton, in sad communion upon the matter so fearfully interesting to them. " Is there no way, "Walter, by which this scheme can be defeated ? I am as certain that ruin will come of it, as that the morning will dawn. Oh, were I a man ! " " What would you, what could you do, Minnie, to avert the result? The house is all arranged, the liquors are here, and to-morrow the board meets to give your father a license. Tell me." Walter spoke earnestly and sadly, for her words had wounded him. Minnie had lost her resolute tone, and hung her head as she thought she had said too much. " Pardon me, Walter, for I spoke from the strength of feeling and not soberly. I don't know that any- thing can be done. I have plead, but it all does no good. I have said all that I dare to ; but, Walter, father is changed of late he frowns and curses an he did when mother was living." TIIK 1IOMK. 79 ""Well, Minnie," said Brayton, with assumed con- fidence, "let us hope for the best. I have made up my mind to attend the meetings of the board to- morrow, and protest against the matter." " It will do no good, "Walter, they will all be against you." " No matter ; your father they all will be offend- ed, but they shall hear me," and Walter Brayton, firm in the strength of an honest purpose, raised him- self to his full height, as if eager to grapple with some imaginary enemy. With the sky overcast and the darkness around (hem, Minnie and Walter whispered kindly words to each other and parted. She listened to his retreating footsteps and to the sighing wind, and closed the door with darkening thoughts. It had rained during the night, enough to prevent the farmers from attending their usual avocations on the following day. This, with the interest which the uew tavern created, attracted a large number of peo- ple to the village, and when the hour came for the as- sembling of the board, the " Home " was thronged. The members were proud of their positions, and of appearing before their townsmen on an occasion of BO much importance, and so, to make the matter as public as possible, they adjourned from the small sit- ting-room to the new and capacious ball chamber. Even this room was soon filled, and the benches by the walls were soon crowded, and a large number standing in the open space. No one could correctly 80 MINNIE HEEMON. determine what particular tiling had called the large assembly together, but an unusual official proceeding was to take place, and the interest was intense. They were to see a tavern licensed ! There was a busy hum among the people, and all were anxiously awaiting the commencement of the proceedings. At last Deacon McGarr took it upon himself to walk around behind the table, and after looking wisely through his spectacles upon the assembly, proceeded to call the board to order ; whereupon the other mem- bers modestly took their places at the table. The supervisor was a white-haired old gentleman an honest and well-meaning old farmer, but little used to public business. The remaining members were of the average material selected in country towns for such positions. McGarr was still standing, one hand in his panta- loons pocket and the other resting upon the back of " the statute, which had occupied a conspicuous place before him, he still looking solemnly over his specta- cles, as if to awe into perfect silence before he pro- ceeded farther. Just at this juncture there was a bustle at the door, and the tall form of Colonel "VYes- ton appeared conspicuous. McGarr assumed a bland smile and beckoned the Colonel towards him, and while the wealthy young farmer was elbowing his way through the crowd, the Deacon had officially driven some of the smaller fry from their seats, and secured a wide berth for him near the table. Close THE "HOME/* 81 in the wake of "Western swayed the huge form of the blacksmith, his face covered with smut and smiles. The Deacon did not esteem Gaston as important a personage, and left him standing in the crowd, his shoulders and open flannel shirt bosom conspicuous above the heads of them all. After Weston had taken his seat, McGarr looked as sternly and solemnly as ever over his spectacles, and then elevating his face and looking through them, his hands locked under the skirts of his coat behind him, after spitting with due precision, he broke the impressive silence. " I suppose, gentlemen, you are all aware of the object which has convened us here." The Deacon dropped his head impressively and looked over his spectacles, after adjusting them more carefully upon his nose and again putting his hands together under his coat tails. Finding that the si- lence was duly respected, he spit again, and con- tinued. " I say, gentlemen, we are met here as a board of exercise, for the purpose of granting a license to Mr. Hermon, to keep a tavern. I need n't 'lucidate on the advantages of a tavern in a place like this. No, gentlemen, it is plain to every one, that a house for the accommodation of the public, is highly needed among us. Ipersume there is not a single descending voice against a tavern not one." Mr. McGarr, at the conclusion of the last sentence, given in an emphatic tone, jerked his thick body vio-' 82 MINNIE HERMON. lently forward to make it still more emphatic, his specs falling from his nose upon the table. A titter ran round the outside of the room, among the young- er portion of the audience, and the Deacon colored deeply at such an interruption of his speech. But he wiped his specs, and as he again put them on, he dropped his brow, rolled his quid to the other side of his mouth, and again looked silently around over his glasses. "Gentlemen and la gentlemen. "We need a tavern. Our feller citizen, Mr. Hermon, has prepared to keep one, and wants a license. He is a man of excellent moral character, and we are obliged as a board of exercise, to give him one. The law is plain on this j?Mi." As he concluded, he took his specs off with one hand, and with the other dropped the ; ' statoo " emphatically upon the table. "With a self- satisfied air, he pulled away his coat skirts and sat down, crossing his legs and resting his thumbs in his vest. As he looked around to see what effect his speech had made upon the spectators, he slowly stroked his chin, and drummed on the floor with his foot. No one said a word, and McGarr, with a conde- scending air, finally suggested that perhaps others might wish to make a few remarks upon the subject " before them. "Whereupon the supervisor raised about half way up, with his hand resting upon the post of his chair, and stammered out the idea that there ought to be a tavern in the place, and then sat down, THE "HOME." S3 drawing a long breath. During this time, Mr. Tler- mon was standing in front of the table, with his hat in his hand, his chin resting upon the crown. Old Mr. Bray ton was resting upon the corner of the table. " Gentlemen, as you have given opportunity, I wish to make a few remarks." All turned as these words, in low and tremulous but pleasant and distinct tones, arrested their atten- tion. Deacon McGarr so far forgot his dignity as to raise himself partially from his chair, and look towards that part of the room from whence the voice proceeded ; then putting his. hand behind his ear, in a listening attitude, he requested the gentle- man to speak louder. Thus assured, the speaker stood upon the bench where all could see him. It was Walter Brayton. His countenance was flushed, and he hesitated with embarrassment, but he was committed and all eyes were turned upon him. "I see, my friends, that I shall be alone in what 1 have to say, but before God I believe I am in the right, and I must speak honestly. Alone though I may be, I most earnestly and solemnly protest against this whole affair. I know that I shall offend when I say it, but I think I can see that your tavern, instead of being a benefit, will be a deep and lasting injury. It ought never to be." Walter spoke rapidly, but with an honest energy which riveted attention. His were novel thoughts at that day, and his a bold and embarrassing position. 4 84 MINNIE HERMON. But there wa the ring of the true metal in his manly tones, and had he been spared in his strength until a later day, his moral heroism would have made him a leader whose words would have been a trumpet's blast. Deacon McGarr looked more sternly than ever over his glasses, and chewed his quid rapidly, casting- in- quiring looks from the father to the son. The elder Brayton sat with a frown and compressed lip, and Ilermon looked angrily towards McGarr. " Does the young man know what he is talking about?" asked McGarr, with attempted sternness, eyeing Walter over his glasses. " Yes, sir," replied the latter, respectfully but firm- ly ; "I am talking of a tavern which you propose this day to empower to sell intoxicating liquors to jour neighbors. I know that I am talking to older men, but I believe that the result of your action wil] bring desolation and sorrow to your homes and fami lies in the future. This is a peaceful, happy commu- nity now, but you commence the retail of spirituous liquors, and in my humble opinion, every one of you, gentlemen of the board, will regret it." " Does the young man dare to imprecate the board of exercise? Such language cannot be permitted. The young man will please take his seat. Boys like he should not presume to label the board. What does he know about licensed taverns, and by whose authority does he come here to instruct men like we are?" THE " HOME." 85 McGarr grew pale with anger as he proceeded, and sat down with tlie air of one who felt that he had an- nihilated his man. But he was mistaken in the metal of Walter Bray ton. The sneering tone and everbear- ing manner of the Deacon aroused the lion in him; and with a kindling eye and erect form he burst fortli in a torrent of burning eloquence, which startled and thrilled by its power. The natural orator was there, and that audience, against him though they were, listened in wrapt attention. " Yes," he spoke in conclusion, his clear ringing voice slightly tremulous with emotion, "your tavern will prove a curse. I cannot foretell all its results, but it will prove a curse. Deacon McGarr, in a man- ner and tone unworthy one of his profession, has sneered at my youth. My boyhood is no crime. Boy as I am, I could reveal a history which would draw tears from every eye a history of hopes ruined of suffering and of death." "This cannot be tolerated; your stories have no- thing to do with the matter before the board," ex- claimed McGarr, in a loud and angry tone. " You will take your seat, sir." " I have done, Deacon McGarr my painful duty is performed." Here Walter caught his father's eye, uow flashing with anger, and he continued. "You ask me by what authority I come here. I have the same right as every other American citizen. In behalf of the women and children of this commu- nity ; of a sorrowing, broken-hearted mother who is 86 MINNIE HERMON at rest in her grave by that well-won. Bible wliicli /urn snatched from her dying pillow ; by ten thou- sand histories of wrong and Buffering, I most solemnly protest against this proceeding. You will see the time when you'will curse this day with hearts of deepest bitterness, every one of you. I have done/' " And it ought to be cursed ! " A strangely deep and startling voice broke in upon ihe stillness which followed the speech of Walter Brayton. There was a movement to see from whence it came, and McGarr, livid with ill-suppressed rage, called out, "Who is that?" " One your tavern is to benefit, Deacon McGarr/ 1 find he stepped up in fair view, arid fixed his fiery red but piercing eye full upon the dignitary he addressed. We recognize our acquaintance in the seaman's jacket and broad-brimmed tarpaulin. "The man is drunk he is drunk, put him out Constable Gaston, put him out I order you ! " The dignity of the waspish official had been too deeply insulted, and he fairly danced with excess of rage. " Put him out, I say I order you to put him out," and the exasperated Deacon snatched his glasses off and pointed to where the seaman still stood, looking calmly and sneeringly upon the scene. Gaston good- naturedly laid his huge hand on the man's shoulders and led him peacefully down stairs. That speech of Walter Brayton's was a glorious ono THE " HOME." 87 for that day, but the granting of the license was a foregone conclusion, and as soon as the excitement had subsided, the board, after some favorable remarks from Colonel Weston, proceeded to complete the business which had called them together, and the " Travelers Home " was licensed. That evening and the following day the " Home " was open to all, and liquors free. The first results were in progress. CHAPTER Yli. DEATH IN THE ATTIO. DARKNESS rests like a pall upon the streets which are now deserted. The busy throng which has swept the thoroughfares until late at night, has ceased to flow, and the great metropolis no longer throbs its living tide through the accustomed arteries. The snow has been falling fast for an hour, and the sharp gusts sweep round the corner and go wailing down the dim avenues, as if sorrowing for human woe. The lamp lights gleam pale and sickly out through the storm. The policemen, or some reveller, and the winds, alone disturb the silence that reigns. Turn downward where the lepers of want and vice have gathered as if in sympathy. The foul crater is active, for its more deadly fumes ascend in the dark- ness of the night. Down below the surface of earth, are pits where the ruffianly and the vile are at their revels. There. is a faint, deathly glare from the dirty windows, and, in spite of the wintry blast, an occa- sional breath of the rum hell reeking beneath. And then there often comes up some startling ha ! ha ! to mingle with the shrieking of the wind. Here is a dark alley, scarce wide enough to admit a person, and running back where no light breaks in DEATH IN THE ATTIC. 89 upon the impenetrable darkness. The foot strikes a step and we climb upward upon a creaking fright of stairs. The snow and wind whirl fiercely over the roof and shake the crazy structure to its founda- tion, but we lean closer to the walls and mount upward. Five stories up, and we stand upon a narrow plat- form and peer down with a whirling brain into the black ocean below. Turning into a narrow hall, we stand before a shattered door, revealing a feeble light within. Even in this winter night, the miasma of pollution floats through the building like a pestilence. What a scene, as we enter that chamber ! Here poverty and want grin in their ghastly loneliness and solitude. The silence of desolation broods over all, and the faint lamp-light flickering to its wane, is like the beam which creeps up from the exhalations of the grave. There is not a coal in the grate, nor a chair in the room. The gusts of wind sift the snow through the cracks by the door, and an involuntary chill steals over the surface and then into the heart. Starvation, gaunt, pinched and spectral, stalks before the imagination, and mingles a footfall with every gust that rattles the shattered door. And do human creatures dwell in such abodes ao this ? Hist ! There is a sound in that dark corner. There is a sigh as if a life of agony were crushed at once from the heart. And then a spectre form slowly rises and 90 MINNIE HERMON. stalks towards the light. It is a woman, but God! how thm and haggard ! A fiercer gust shakes the old building. She stands in a listening attitude, as its low wail dies away, and then, wildly staring at va- cancy, takes her seat mechanically upon a box by tho light. Her face is thin, and every feature the foot- print of unutterable agony. The eyes are sunken and inflamed, but as tearless as her cheek and lip are bloodless. The latter is thin and drawn closely, as if in mortal suffering, over her teeth. She leans towards- the waning taper, and takes a garment in her hand upon which she has been sew- ing. How fearfully tearless and calm she appears. We look until some nightmare fascination chains us to the spot. Save a startling wildness about the eye, it would not seem that those features had ever been stirred by a human passion. She holds her hands towards the light in the attempt to thread her needle, but fails ; and still, with her hands extended, stares at the dim taper. There is a stirring in the heap of rags beside her, and the woman starts as if stung by an adder. The faintest flush passes over her cheek, and she mutters to herself as she more hurriedly essays to thread tho needle. From that heap of rags a boy has come forth! Child of ten years, perhaps he stands before that spectral mother, and in husky whispers asks for bread. She stares strangely into his face, and still mutters to herself. DEATH IN THE ATTIC. 91 The boy is almost naked and shivering with cold, and upon those childish features hunger has written enough to pierce the hardest heart. The very look is a hopeless, heart-breaking agony. The child bows his head in that woman's lap with a sob-like moan, and then moves with a languid step to the grate and lays his fingers, already blue with cold, upon the frosty iron. The chill causes him to start, and he re- turns moaning to the woman. The hand has fallen in her lap, and the boy lays his cold cheek down upon it and weeps. She laughs ! but it is the low, horrible ha ! ha ! of the maniac ! " Mother ! dear mother, give me one mouthful of bread. Hain't there bread enough .where Pa has gone ? Mother, will God give me bread if I say my prayers ? " The child kneels, and the prayer his mother taught him goes feebly up against the wail of the blast, and then, with weariness and hunger, the little pleader falls to sleep on his knees, his head on his mother's hand. That mother smiles as she still stares at vacancy. The storm has passed, and the morning light of the Sabbath dawns upon the great city. Tho church bells are pealing out the Sabbath melody, and gay throngs of people are wending along to the richlv furnished churches. Here are shawls whicL 92 MINNIE HERMON. a queen might envy, and equipages of princely splendor. Early this Sabbath morning, a cold-hearted land- lord goes up the lone stairway for the promised pit- tance of rent, and knocks at the door, which the reader has already entered. He awaits but a moment and angrily enters. " No playing games with me, madam. That money or leave. D'ye hear, woman ? " The ruffian was used to scenes of suffering, but he started back at the one before him. That pale, hag- gard woman-spectre was still seated by the lamp now burned out, the garment and needle in her hand, and that horrible smile upon her features, and that wild eye gazing into vacancy. The lamp had burned down and died out in its socket. The lamp of life, too, had waned during that cold, dreary night, and a corpse sat there, holding the needle in the emaciated fingers, and smiling in death. The boy slept against the rigid and pulseless form of the toil-worn, heart-broken, hungered mother. That day the officer entered the fireless chamber to remove the dead seamstress. In that dark corner, where the woman was first seen, was the husband. He had been a corpse for more than ten days, and she toiling to escape starvation, and watching with the shroudless, unburied dead. The two found a home and an endless rest in " Pot- ter's Field," and the pinched and starving boy, bread in the alms-house. DEATH IN THE ATTIC. 93 Another act in the great tragedy of intemperance had been played out, and the curtain of wintry clod and snow closed upon the principal actors. The fashionable throng passed from their churches, while the starved paupers went to their graves. CHAPTEE YIII. A -WEDDING AT THE COTTAGE "ONLY ONE GLASS.' ACROSS the stream, upon the overhanging bank, was one of the loveliest spots in the village. The village doctor dwelt here. The cottage was nearly hidden in a dense grove of sugar maples, dotted here and there with green pyramids of the spruce and the fir, and the clean gravel walk wound deviously among the shrubbery from the threshold ta the gate, through a rich carpeting of green. Autumn had already commenced its language of beauty upon the foliage ; and, mixed with the more copious green of summer, was the golden yellow, with scattering tufts of scarlet, gleaming like wreaths of flame in the pure October sunlight. The eaves of the cottage were green with moss, and the wild vines had crept up one corner and clung closely to the old water trough, and dropped in graceful festoons before the quaint old window in the gable. Back of the dwelling were two old pear trees, reaching far up into the sky, and their trunks green with the moss of years. A little farther, and the grape had climbed into a wild plum, and an impenetrable canopy of cool green network hung gracefully above the old seat at the roots. Sloping back from the gar- den, -was a meadow reaching down until the turf dip- ONLY ONE GLASS. A WEDDING AT THE COTTAGE. 97 ped its lorg green fringe into the stream. Back of all, the hills beat up against the sky with their robing of dark evergreen, flecked here and there with the crimsoning maple or yellow birch. One might hunt for years and not find a lovlicr epot. Ten years before the time of which we are writing, there was sorrow in the old cottage. The sun smiled sweetly in the west and into the high old windows, but there were dark shadows on hearts within. An old man was wrestling with death. Delirium was upon him, and he raved in his madness of a stranger name, and cursed and died. The orphan child who had never known a mother, wept in all the bitterness of childhood's grief upon the corpse of her father. She knew not that the madness which swept the sky of his life's last evening, was the madness of the bowl. She found herself alone in the old cottage, a beauti- ful, sorrowing orphan. But childhood's sorrows pass away. The sun smiles upon the tear-drops of the passing storm. Ten years went by, and the orphan child had bloomed into faultless womanhood, and moved a star in the circles around her, for she was as good as she waa lovely. The gifted and noble young Howard had settled in llie place and commenced the practice of medicine. His talent, professional skill, and high moral worth, made him at once a favorite. Re was a young man of rare promise, though without means. His practice 98 MINNIE HERMON. led him to form the acquaintance of the lovely orphan, and a strong mutual attachment sprang up between them. One evening in June there was a gathering at th cottage, and light-he&rted throngs rustled up the walks to the shadowy old porch. Lights streamed from the windows, and pleasant voices went out upon the still and balmy air. Merry groups gathered upon the soft greensward, or tripped with low whispers through the balcony, hidden by green jealousies and pendant boughs. An ocean of pure moonlight bathed the world in its mellow flood. A wedding party has gathered Howard and tho fair orphan are to stand at the altar. All was light and joy in the old cottage. The " Doctor " was a favorite, and the invitation had been general ; and the old and the young of both sexes were gathered on the occasion. There was a sound of merry voices floating from the open windows out upon the calm night air, with a pleasant mingling of laughter and music. The par eon had not yet made his appearance, and spirits were buoyant and tongues unfettered. "Is what I hear true, Colonel, about the Doctor? Or is it some neighborhood gossip ? " This question was put by Miss Anson, (next to tho orphan heiress, the belle of the village,) to Colonel Weston, a young and wealthy farmer, as they were promenading arm in arm up and down the grave] walk in front of tne mansion. A WEDDING AT THE COTTAGE. 99 " To what do you allude, Miss Anson ? " answered Tfeston. " "Why, have n't you heard ? why, it is the neigh- borhood talk that the Doctor refuses to have wine at his wedding!" " Is it possible ! I had not heard it before. But surely he will not so far depart from propriety and fashionable custom, as to treat his friends and guests thus disrespectfully ? " " I don't know about that. Miss Knight told me last evening, and she says that Miss Nelson's brother told her, that the Doctor positively refused to have wine at his wedding. I fear thero is something in it." " Surely,"- replied the Colonel, in unfeigned aston- ishment, " the Doctor cannot be so beside himself. I know he is somewhat eccentric in these matters, but what unaccountable whim has come over him now?" " I don't know. But if he persists, it will do him a great injury. It is already the town talk. Some friend should see him and talk him out of it. Not have wine at a wedding ! and belonging, too, to the first society ? " Miss Anson felt indignant at such a contemplated violation of fashion and good breeding, and proceeded to commiserate the feelings of the bride under cir cumstances so mortifying to her pride and good taste. "Well, well," said Colonel "Weston, musingly, " this will never do. I will see Doctor Howard my- self. He must not take a step so objectionable and 100 MINNIE HERMON. improper. Let me surrender my pleasant post, Miss Anson, to Mr. Mason for a few moments, while I go to do my friend a kindness." " I will most cheerfully accept the trust, Colonel Weston, and shall not look anxiously for your re- turn. Colonel "Weston bowed, and passed into the house. " Have you heard anything of this strange freak of Doctor Howard, about not having any wine at his wedding, Mr. Mason ? " " I suppose I know something of the matter, and must say that I regret that it is true. The house- keeper came yesterday and got the wine at our store, but it was without the knowledge of Howard. Mis tress sent her." " How strange you talk ! What on earth can have possessed the man to take such a course?" " Indeed, Miss Anson, it is as strange to me as to all his friends. If he persists in such folly, it will in- jure him most deeply throughout the community. Such a breach of propriety would hardly be for- given." " Inj ure him ? indeed it will ! His friends should look to the matter. Colonel Weston has already gone to reason him out of his singular determination. Not have wine at a wedding ? Who ever heard of the like ? " " Let us hope, Miss Anson, that this matter will all yet pass off properly. No one would regret more than myself, such conduct in a gentleman of Doctor Howard's character and standing." A "WEDDING AT THE COrTAGE. 101 The matter had already got noised about, and other groups were discussing the question with as much earnestness as though the future happiness and posi- tion of the young couple depended upon the circula- tion of wine among the wedding guests. While the groups in the yard and on the veranda, were discussing the matter in whispers, there was an- other discussion in the chamber. There was Doctor Howard and his young bride, awaiting the arrival of the parson. " Well, Henry," spoke Miss James, in low tones, "I do not wish to insist on having the wine handed around. On my own part, I care nothing about it; but what will the people say ? " " Let us not care, dear one, what people say. I do not like to be a slave to custom, and especially to a custom which I know to be wrong." " You speak earnestly, Henry, of a very fashiona ble custom. What objection can you have how do you know it is wrong ? I am sure I am anxious to see the matter in the light that you do, but I fear our friends will be offended if we banish wine on this oc- casion. Do you not ? " "They might, but it seems to me that if they knew what I know, they would shun the accursed cup of the enchantress." The bride was startled at the depth and energy of Howard's tones, and watched with interest the shad- ows that passed over his fine countenance. There was sadness there, for the gifted and noble man was 102 MINNIE HEKMON. looking away upon the dark canvass of childhood, where still lingered the scene of a boy, hui gry and oold, weeping himself to rest in the lap of a dead mother in the garret. The boy had learned in after years, the cause of his early bereavement and suffer ing. and shrunk from the glass as he would from a serpent's hiss. " No, no," sadly spoke Howard, as he aroused him- self from his musing, " do not over persuade me in this matter. I may be asking much, but there is a shadow of a coming ill resting upon me, and I cannot shake it off, and it seems strongly associated with this wine business. Agree with me in this, Ellen, and I will bless you always." Howard stood before her, and a tear came upon her own lid as she saw his sad face. She laid hei hand in his affectionately and smiled. " You have conquered let it go as you wish. I seill not press you now, but some time hence I will ask you why you so earnestly urge this strange wish, for I am sure there is much behind it all, which you have not told me." There was a hush in the room, and the talking nearly ceased the parson had arrived. As his tall form and cold, severe countenance appeared in the hall, a change fell upon the spirits of the company. He bowed stiffly, and turned his dull grey eye search- ingly upon those in the room. That face will become familiar to the reader the parson is Snyder The marriage ceremony was completed. Conver- A WEDDING AT THE COTTAGE. 103 sation had just commenced briskly again, when the old house-keeper beckoned Howard from tne hall door. As he passed into the hall, he found young Mason expostulating with the old lady about the wine question. Mason insisted that the wish of Howard was a mere whim, and that, as a friend, he should take the liberty of sending around the wine. This the old lady refused assent to without the knowledge of Howard, and so beckoned him out. Upon learning the reason why he was called out, a shade of anger settled upon his features, and he asked sternly why the matter had thus been broached, after his wishes had been made known. " Nay, but you must pardon us," replied Mason. " As a friend, I insist that on this occasion you shall not persist in so wide a departure from the customs of well-regulated society. You wrong yourself and give offence to your friends. The people will think, Howard, that you are mad." " I do not see," replied Howard, promptly, " why the people, as you call them, should interfere or med- dle with a matter of this kind, which only concerns me and mine. I have my own reasons for this de- parture from what you call the customs of well-regu- lated society a custom, however, which, permit me honestly to affirm, it were far more honorable to re- pudiate than to adopt. If you are my friends, you ought not to insist longer upon this violatior of my earnest wishes. You will pardon my seeming warmth, for you who know me will believe that I 104 MINNIE HERMON. have reasons for my course which are satisfactory to myself." Howard turned on his heel and was passing through Ihe group which had gathered, when Colonel Weston came up he having learned the subject under dis- cussion. The Colonel was an impulsive, frank, bold man, and had already tested the wine by the favor of the old house-keeper. " High times, indeed, Howard, when you delib- erately attempt to freeze up the happiness of this oc casion, by withholding that which gives joy its purest flow. As a commanding officer, I shall order you under arrest, and declare martial law. Mason, fol- low me." With a laugh and a graceful bow, Colonel Weston turned away, followed by Mason. Howard passed slowly into the parlor, where he had hardly entered into the gayeties of the occasion, when in came Wes- ton and Mason, with the server and wine. A deep red flush passed over Howard's face as he saw them, and his eye kindled with anger. On any other occa- sion he would have openly resented the insult. But he was taken by surprise, and remained in his seat, feeling deeply indignant. Weston came up and handed the wine to the bride. She looked doubtingly in the face of Howard, and mechanically took a glass from the server. " Nay, my noble friend," said Weston, as he passed it to Howard, "no frowns, for I am alone responsible. But, sir, you surely will follow Mrs. Ho-vard's exam- A WEDDING AT THE COTTAGE. 105 pie, and take a glass of wine on your wedding night." There was a silence in the room and all eyes were turned upon the parties. More especially were the guests watching Howard. The silence was embar- rassing, and the bride looked appealingly to him to relieve her from the unpleasant position. The wine trembled in her hand, and the smile passed from her face as she saw the half-sad, half-angry expression upon that of her husband. None knew the mad whirl of Howard's thoughts, or saw the dark vision passing before him. Twenty years later, and none of this decision and moral coui age would have hesitated a moment. But an old and dangerous custom was hanging over him, and he knew not which way to turn or what to do. His bet- ter angel bent sadly over him, watching the wily efforts of the tempter to fasten the first cords of the tatal mesh upon a new victim. "Take it, Howard," urged "Westou, with a smile, "one glass would not harm an angel. This is a night and an occasion to honor with the flowing beaker. "We must wish you and your bride long years of hap- piness in the future in the mellow blood of the grape. You surely will not disappoint your friends on your wedding night." Weston bent his eye full upon Howard with a win- ning smile, and held the full glasses nearer to him. Howard, alone within himself, wrestled bravely against the wily approach of the insidious enemy, and he lifted his eyes to his bride, the full round 106 MINNIE HEKMON. drops stood thickly upon a brow more than usually pale, and his features wore an expression of pain. " Why, how ungallant you are Doctor Howard re- fuse a glass of wine on your wedding night, and your lady waiting your action ! Colonel, shall we drink to the bride ? Surely so lovely a one deserves euch a compliment upon such an occasion." "Weston followed the example of Miss Anson, and they both stood with glasses in hand. The bride leaned towards Howard and whispered in his ear : " One glass just this once, for my sake, and never again." "Never again ! " The company started as the words were echoed in a deep measured tone from some unknown source. But no one chose to speak of the occurrence, and Misa Anson, looking towards the spot where the parson was standing, said : " You, reverend sir, will have to set this refractory gallant an example, and with Weston and myself, drink to the bride. Should he not drink ? " Elder Snyder stepped forward and took a glass. Now, at the appeal of the bride, however, Howard had reached out to take one from the server, when the company were again startled by that mysterious voice. " Touch it not ! " Elder Snyder frowned and raised himself to his full height, as he turned his eyes upon all in the room, to see who had dared to i aterrupt the charm which was A WEDDING AT THE COTTAGE. 10? wea%'ing. Pale and embarrassed, Howard sat with the cnp in his hand, that gaze still fixed upon some scene hidden from the gaze of the guests. It was a scene for the pencil. The party had gathered in a group, the tall form and dark features of the false teacher, the manly-looking Weston, and the light form of the beautiful Miss Anson leaning slightly against his shoulder, the lovely bride, and the victim yielding slowly to the coils which were closing round him. It was a noble group of noble men and fair women, and yet one over which a good angel might have wept. " This," said the pastor, as he held the glass be- tween his eyes and the lamp, " is one of the good gifts of God to man, the blood of the grape, the beverage of the high, the noble and the good of all ages. It " And of the lost and the damned!" All turned to see whence came that voice, now- more startingly energetic and ringing with bitter- ness. A deeper frown gathered on the features of Elder Snyder, and he, in dogged tones, continued : " It is a beverage which our Saviour used. Ho made it at the wedding (the Elder emphasized the word,) and dispensed it at the last supper. The Scriptures plainly enjoin the use of wine. Noah drinked it, it was given to those that were ready to perish, it maketh the heart merry, cureth our infirm- itieo, and causeth the poor to forget his poverty, and the afflicted their sorrow. It gives a man strength and jo;y, and enables him to bear more cheerfully the 108 MINNIE HERMON 1 . changing scenes of life. The Redeemer made and drank wine. It would be sinful for us to set at naught such teachings, and put away so great a bles- sing. I will drink to the happiness of those whom God has this night joined together." Elder Suyder turned off the wine with the air of one who expected all to follow his example. And they all did, Howard among the rest. " At last it stingeth like an adder and hiteth like a serpent ! " "Who is that?" angrily asked Elder Snyder, as that strange and startling voice again fell like a ser- pent's hiss upon the ears of the company. " The lost one of a false teacher ! " slowly came back in reply, with more thrilling distinctness than before. All eyes were turned toward the veranda window, where now stood a tall, broad-shouldered man, dressed in a coarse suit of sailor's clothes, a weather-beaten tarpaulin on his head, and his hair standing out wiry and matted under the broad brim. His eye was grossly red. and was cast full upon the group, at last resting keenly and firmly upon Elder Snyder. There was a fearful intensity in the gaze, and the sallow features of the pastor reddened and glowed with increased anger. " From whence do you come and why are ycu here to intrude upon respectable people ? " angrily continued Elder Snyder, as he walked menacingly towards the window. " Came from my mother's grave to see a wine-bib- A WEDDING AT THE COTTAGE. 109 bing priest, and only one glass at a wedding! H&, hat" The strange and unaccountable apparition turned away, and that peculiar wild and sneering laughter rung shrill upon the air, and fell like an omen of evil npon the darkened heart of Howard. " Only one glass ! " And will it be so, reader ? CHAPTER IX. FIRST FRUITS. ON the morning after the wedding, Doctor Howard arose with an aching head and troubled thoughts. The " only one glass" had been the voice of the tempter; but once launched on the treacnerous tide, he was driven away from shore. Friends grew more friendly as wine went round, and glass followed glass until Howard the resolute and strong-willed How- ard reeled on his wedding night. He became wild as the subtle currents shot through his veins, and by the time the company dispersed, his garrulous and slavering nonsense had pained and mortified his truest friends. Yet not one of them for the first moment felt that they had contributed to the disgrace of their friend. But such things were not looked upon then as now, and the guests went to their homes, mellow themselves, and as ready to get mellow again on the morrow. It was early when Howard dressed himself and passed out into the cool morning air. Its breath was grateful to his hot and throbbing brow, but it reached not the throbbing thoughts in his heart. " As you value your soul's interest, remember your motlier never touch the intoxicating cup ! " He felt the words of that mother burning like a brand upon his feverish A COMMON SIGHT IN OAKVALE. FIRST FRUITS. 113 cheek, and her eyes looking into his heart. In a let- ter left for his perusal, Howard had learned the his- tory of his mother the ruin and horrible death of his father ; and it all now came before him, until ho shrunk within himself as from accusing spectres. The man who never takes the first step from the path of right is never endangered. That step once taken, others follow with fearful ease. The anchor once lifted from the heart's integrity, the vessel drifts away before the storms that beat in from every quar- ter. To-day a man stands firm, and looks proudly in the face of his fellows, and feels himself a man. He has his own self-respect. To-morroM 7 he is for once induced to step aside, and like a breach in the wall the enemy comes in like a flood. A trifling act in itself the one glass drinked with a friend, may seal the fate of the unwary. Howard had lost strength. He had been beaten in the contest beaten when he felt that he was right. The idea of being a drunkard had not ye.t oc- curred to him. It was only his own loss of firmness and self-respect, and a shadowy sense of some un- known danger, that now weighed him down. The festivities which followed the wedding were not calculated to fasten the resolutions which weio giving away. Wine was everywhere, and everybody used it. He himself began to think that it would be a bold and unpardonable breach of custom to refuse it with his friends. The decanter and tumbler seemed to be the insignia of fashionable societv. Thus he 114 MINKIE HEKMON. reasoned as day followed day and glass followed glass, the strong and noble purpose which had been BO sacredly cherished to the noon of his manhood, crowing less strong under the steady approaches of the tempter. On the day after the meeting of the board, Howard was riding rapidly up the road, when he was accosted from the steps of the " Home." " Halloo, Howard ! Where now at that break-neck pace ? Hold up a minute." The voice was Colonel Weston's, and, as Howard turned his head, he saw a number of people standing on the stoop. His first impulse was to put spurs to his horse, but Weston was a favorite friend, and he reined up. As "Weston carm? up and laid his hand on the mane of the horse, Howard noticed that he was considerably under the influence of liquor. There was a silly leer upon his countenance, and his man- ner had that bold and half insolent air about it, so contrary to his usually quiet and gentlemanly de- meanor. " Whoop ! my (hie) boy, which way. I say ? " and the Colonel grasped tightly the arm of Howard, and roughly attempted to pull him from the saddle. " 1 beg your pardon, Colonel, but you will not detain me. for I am in haste to call on a sick pa- tient. " FIRST FRUITS. 115 "Devil take your patient; you must get oil' and take a drink," and again, with that strong grasp pe- culiar to drunken men, Weston wrenched him nearly from his saddle "You must get off and take a drink. Why, I haven't seen you before since your wedding. Get off, old boy, I say, .and drink with us!" and he fetched Howard a heavy slap on the thigh with the awkwardness peculiar to those in liquor, and laughed boisterously. Howard was shocked, and mildly essayed to re- lease himself from the Colonel's grasp. " No you don't, my boy ; you must drink. Soldiers, nnhorse (hie) him," and he led the horse up the stepa into the stoop, amid the laughter of the half-drunken crowd. Howard was fairly pulled from his saddle and led into the bar-room and the liquor called on. "One drink, Doctor, with your friends," as he bowed and played the buffoon before the bar. How- ard remained silent while the liquors were mixing. As Weston took his glass from the counter, he again essayed to release himself by pleading haste to see his patient. " Xo you don't, Doctor you must drink with ns," end ho handed another glass to Howard. The latter took it mechanically, and was about to e.'-t it on the counter, when the Colonel grasped it, and. setting down his own, wound his left arm around Howard's neck, attempted to pour the liquor down 116 MINNIE HERMOJNr. his throat. The act was so quick that the latter had not time to close his month before the glass was be- tween his teeth, and the liquor running down his face and neck into his bosom. He strangled badly, which pleased the rum-maddened crowd all the more Weston was wild with rum, and swore that Howard should drink. The latter grew .indignant and began to denounce such rudeness. Weston caught another tumbler of the liquor which had been prepared, and sprung upon Howard with all the reckless, frenzied strength of partial intoxication, crowding the glass against his lips and teeth until the blood mingled with the stains of the brandy from the corners of his mouth. " By ! Doctor, you must take in your bits," continued Weston, and, in the excitement of the mo ment, he caught Howard by the throat, and continued pushing the now empty glass into his open and bleed- ing mouth. The crowd were all wild with merriment, and stood upon the chairs and benches to see the sport. Weston set the glass down upon the counter and called for more liquor. Herinon poured it out. As Weston, with his hand yet clinched in the Doc- tor's cravat, was passing the glass again to his lips, against his indignant expostulations, Howard released his right arm from the tipsy fellow who was holding it, and dealt Weston a blow on the temple which laid him prostrate on the floor. Ther3 was stillness for a moment, and Howard was released from the grasp of those who were holding him. As Weston came to K1KST FRUITS. 117 and began to rise, he literally frothed with rage, and Bprnng at the Doctor like a madman. The latter evaded his clutch, and he plunged headlong amongst the- crowd. " For shame ! Are ye men or devils ? " All were startled at the sound of a female voice, and, as they turned, saw Minnie Hermon standing in the stairway, pale and trembling, but her eyes kindling at the scene before her. A rocket could not have produced more confusion among them. The majority abruptly went out, leaving Weston, now abashed and cowering, and Hermon, alone behind the bar. Howard w r ashed his face at the pump and rode away, and, as he thought over the scene in the bar-room of the " Home," a sigh came from his heart and a tear from his eye. He looked at his bruised hand, and wondered how he came to strike one he esteemed so much. But there will be stranger scenes there. Deacon McGrarr lived just below the " Home," and on the afternoon of the same day the affair occurred which we have related, he was to have a wagon-house raised. As a matter of course, rum must be had at a " raising." A two-gallon jug was sent to the " Home " and filled, and the hands invited. Deacon McGarr had drinked liberally in the earlier part of the day, and felt happy and witty. About one o'clock the hands began to gather, and very naturally lingered on the stoop and steps of the "Home." When the hour came for commencing operations, McGarr came over, and, for the purpose of supporting the new tav- 118 MINNIE HEEMON. ern, " treated all round." In high glee the company then followed him to the ground and commenced operations. To those who are familiar with the drinking usdges of other days, we need not speak in detail of a " rais- ing." Enough to say that horns of whisky were deemed just as absolutely necessary as pikes or pins. As each "bent" was raised to its place, the jug was u passed round " by some boy, accompanied by one with a pail of cold water. As soon as a " bent " was raised, some of the more active ones mounted to the top. By the time the plates were ready to go on, a number were thus gathered above, and the jug must, be passed up and welcomed by such. Before the building was all up, a large class was noisy and mellow. Among others who first went upon the frame, was Weston. Naturally athletic, he now felt doubly so under the influence of his deep potations. MeGan would have persuaded him from the dangerous risk, but Weston was reckless. The plates were framed to go on to the ends of the beams, requiring much care in holding them and en- tering the tenons. The timbers were yet damp from the rain during the night, and required caution in handling them without accident. The ends of the plates were first carried up to the beams, then car- ried forward and balanced up and shoved to their places, preparatory to entering the tenons. When ready to carry out, a man lay down and locked his HIIST Fiicrrs. 119 amis around the beam, and with his feet against the plate, pushed it as it lay, as near the tenons as was safe. Weston was at the end, and straightened with all his strength, and the piece slid upon the slippery beam near a foot and a half clear from his feet. A dozen voices from below earnestly cautioned him to be care- ful if the plate should go off it would kill some one. " Let 'em look out for themselves," he replied, with a peculiar laugh, and again backed until his feet reached the timber, and then straightened with all his power. There was a yell from twenty voices be- low, and the heavy stick fell to the ground. A sharp cry of pain told its effect. Hermon's leg was under it, and ground to a pumice. The groans of the wounded man, as he was borne bleeding to the "Home," sobered Weston, as he saw the result of his folly, and the big drops gathered on his brow. Si- lently and thoughtfully he went from the frame, and passed after the group to the tavern. " Come, boys," said Gaston, the blacksmith, " we can do no good over there, let's up with the plate again, and put on the rafters." Another drink round and they took hold with a will, for Gaston set them an example. The stick was soon in its place and the rafters up. Young McGarr was the last one standing on the ridge. His father saw that he had drank too much, and called him down. He started to obey, but met the jug again coming up, and took a drink with the rest. The hot draught made him bold and reckless, and 120 MINNIE HERMON. ho swore he would walk the ridge-pole with jug in hand before he left the frame. No entreaty or threat- ening could change his mad determination, and he clambered carelessly to the ridge. They watched him with breathless attention, for it was plain to see that he was intoxicated. Deacon McGarr was pale, and his lip was pressed between his teeth until the blood started from under them. Young McGarr succeeded in walking the entire length, and, as he arrived at the end, he turned, and, swinging the jug in the air, huzza'd and turned it up to his lips. As he threw his head back in the act, he fell from the ridge, his head striking upon a green beech log, and his body doubling lifelessly down in a heap. McGarr shrieked and jumped to save his boy, and the shriek was echoed with more piercing, soul- harrowing distinctness from the house, where the boy's mother had been watching the scene with trembling lips and limb. Gastoii lifted the boy in his arms, leaving masses of his brains upon the log and ground, and the blood ebbing out with a spin- ning sound from the crushed head. The mother looked once upon the bleeding and disfigured mass, and sank insensible to the ground. On a board the crushed boy was borne to the house, while equally as tenderly the corpse-like mother was carried after in the arms of Gaston. Deacon McGarr followed like a child in his first great sorrow. The jug was left in fragments, thickly sprinkled with the blood of the young victim. CHAPTEK X. THE AFTI10K TALKS A LAPSE OF 'TEN YEAKS IN OUB HISTORY THE CHANGE. IN one of the villages of Pennsylvania it is writ- ten the members of the excise board were assem- bled, as usual, for the purposes of granting licenses for the sale of intoxicating liquors. After smoking, and chatting upon general subjects for a time, the customary motion was put, and opportunity given for remark. Up in one corner of the room the attenua- ted form of a woman arose, spectral-like in features, and meanly clad, and looking upon the members pres- ent from sockets hollow and ghastly. In tones of sadness, growing more full and intense as she pro- ceeded, the strange intruder commenced a history of sorrow, of ruin and wrong, which fell upon the aston ished group like a spell. Her form raised as she gathered strength, and her tones grew fierce, and a hectic flush came out upon the palid cheek. Fixed to their seats and gazing upon the kindling eye, the excisemen listened to the blistering record. Prom the smouldering ruins of life's hopes blasted, the sca- thing truths leaped out. She had heard of their meeting, and from the almshouse came forth to de- nounce the wickedness they were about to commit. Hers had been the history of thousands a history 122 MINNIE 1IEKMON. now being wrought out in thousands of hearts and homes. Across the river, a luxurious home, a noble husband, and three promising sons had woven her life's happiness with the golden woof of light and love. They were tempted and fell. The home pass- ed into the tempter's hands, her husband and children to premature graves, and she to the pauper's home. Years of darkness and anguish could be known only to the God of the widow and the fatherless. " You gee me now," she continued, with her tall form lean- ing forward and her long finger extended and trem- bling with emotion, resting unerringly upon the mem- bers of the board, " and know from whence I come. You know my history, and how bitterly all my hopes of this world have been wrecked. And you, sirs, caused it all. At your store my husband learned to drink, and you dwell in my home. You, false teach- er," pointing to a deacon, " lured my noble boys to your grocery, and they now are in drunkards' graves. You destroyed them. But for you, husband, sons all might have now blessed my old age. I have come from the county poor-house to lift a voice against your acts. Look at me, and then if you dare, before high Heaven, grant licenses to sell intoxicating drinks ! " The silence of death rested upon the listeners to the pauper's freezing words, interrupted only as one ^fter another of the .cowering officials stole like guilty ^retches from the room, not staying to accomplish foe work for which they assembled. From her quiv- THE ADTHOR TALKS THE CHANGE. 123 ering finger the words had fallen like drops of blis tering lava into their coward hearts. As the mind has swept back through the history of the past, we have often thought of the pauper and her speech. If those who suffer if the ragged and the sorrowing, should come from their abodes of wretchedness, where, unseen, the scalding tear and the heavy sigh mark the crushing progress of woe, and in squalid garb and touching mien, gather around the excise boards of our country, and raise their protest against the wrong, we doubt whether there is a mem- ber of these bodies so utterly lost to every feeling of sympathy and shame as to put his name to the license of death. Let the sorrowing mother upon her staff, with her thin, white hairs, going down in sorrow to the grave, totter to the board, and with a dim eye and shaking voice, speak of children murdered, and an old heart running over with bitter memories. Let a wife steal forth from a home where a husband- demon reigns in the domestic hell. Yoked to a living corpse, she stands up with a ragged babe in her arms a weeping heart attempting to shield the tenderest and most innocent of her idols from the storm and with every hope buried in ruin, she demands why her home is desolated, her heart broken, and hei babes robbed of bread. The sister comes, and with wringir.g hands claims that the noble and manly -heart- ed brother should be restored, for she has wept over him and clung to him with a sister's changeless love lior tears, and prayers, and holy affection weaker than 124 MINNIE HHRMON. the gossamer web against the stronger than iron chains that bound him. Orphan children throng from hut and hovel, and public asylum, and lift their child- ish hands in supplication, asking at the hands of the guilty, those who rocked their cradles, and fed, and loved them. The maniac comes, a*nd in insane gib- berish and glaring eye, stares upon the " Court of Death." The murderer, now sober and crushed, lifts his manacled hands, red with blood, and charges his ruin his own and his children's infamy, upon those who commission the Angel of the Plague. The felon comes from his prison tomb, the pauper from his dark retreat, where rurn has driven him to seek an evening's rest and a pauper's grave. From the grave the sheeted dead stalk forth, and in spectral ranks gather around the scene, the eyeless sockets turned upon the actors, and the bared teeth grinning most ghastly scorn. The lost float up in shadowy forms, and wail in whispered despair. Demons, who rejoice in wrongs which make men more devilish than they, blush at the more than infernal wrong. Angels turn weeping away, and wonder that man can love his brother man, and still license the destruction of his hopes for two worlds. God upon his throne looks in anger upon the stupendous iniquity, and hurls a woe upon the hand which putteth the bottle to a neighbor's lip to make him drunken. Were every excise board girt by such an array, no man on earth would make himself an instrument in all tnis destruc- tion. But their guilt is really the same. The injured THE AUTHOR TALKS THE CHANGE. 125 old mothers, the wives and the sisters, are found wherever rum is sold. The orphans plead eloquently in every community. The asylum, the alms-house, the dungeon and the scaffold bear their evidence, written in the unmistakable language of tears and blood. The dead heave their sodded graves on every hand, and revelation turns shudderingly away from the dark future of the thousands who die as the months roll round, while above, a God who counts the sparrows as they fall, sits in judgment and takes note of all. And yet we write with a burning cheek the excise boards of a free people meet with cool in- difference and ask of a reckless few, " How many pieces of silver will you give us if we will betray the wives and the children the helpless and the inno- cent, into your hands How many!" The tribute is paid, and the people, with the price of blood in their coffers, hold the garments, while their licensed instruments stone men, women and children to death ! No sane man on earth, if the fountains of evil were forever sealed, would ask that they might be again opened. Then why, in the name of crushed humanity and a hoped-for heaven, will men cling to the waning destinies of the monster iniquity ? The pursuit of an honorable avocation is a benefit to community. In the intercourse of trade, there \% an equivalent rendered. The interests of the produ- cer and the consumer are mutually advanced. In dustry produces an aggregate prosperity and secures a prompt and adequate reward. Upright and perse- 120 MINNIE HKRMON. vering labor, in any branch of business, vibrates through the whole social system, and helps to build up, adorn, and strengthen every honorable interest. The craftsman, the merchant, the professional man, tlie agriculturist all who live by honest toil, are benefactors, and each fills an appropriate and neces- sary place in the social structure. There is no special regulation of these interests. They are useful and indispensable. Their pursuit tends to the general good. They do not exist or prosper at the ruin or extinction of others. The tradesman does not find the mercantile profession a legalized monopoly, and himself precluded, by penal statutes, from selling such as his neighbors sell. Talent and application master the legal and the medical professions, and the young man goes out to build up his fortunes where- ever his prospects lure the brightest. The blacksmith asks no license to wield his hammer. The farmer does not annually ask and pay for a permit to put ii his crops, to harvest and to sell. Whoever buys of him gets an equivalent for his money ; and order, har- mony and increase, mark the machinery of society. But what a disturbing element is rum, in all soci ety ! It is the Pandorian box of unadulterated evil, with hardly a hope at the bottom. Nowhere on the green earth of God has it proved other than an un- icixed curse. There is not a redeeming fact in its history. A darker, more cheerless, beaconless waste, never stretched away before the misguided pilgrim There is n ot a ray of sunshine in ages of gloom. The -THE AUTHOR TALKS THE CHANGE. 127 most ardent and honest friend of the rum traffic can- not point to one blessing it has conferred upon man since its first footprints cursed the earth. "We have seen the system in its palmy days, but it was the plague in mid-day strength, stalking from house to house, its presence withering the greenness of the happiest life, and filling the land with wailing and unutterable woe. Commissioned by government, it has gone forth, the Angel of the Plague, and happy for hearts and homes, if they mourned for none but the first-born. In palace or hovel in wealth or want, the shadow has fallen upon man and his hopes, Jie one to sicken and die, and the other to wither. It enters society branded as an enemy. The very power which sends it to our villages and hamlets, has writ- ten its character. It glides over our threshold in fet- cers, society mockingly decking its tail with legula- ting enactments, and leaving every fang bared for the work of death, and from tens of thousands of retreats endorsed and protected by government, the monsters go hissing forth with the injunction to deso- late and kill within the prescribed limits, and accord- ing to law. The thief is imprisoned and the murder- er is put out of the way ; but here is a worse than a thief or a murderer the subtle embodiment of all crime ; allowed to carry on its devilish work under re- strictions, and the effects sanctioned by legislation. It never yet entered a community without proving a curse. Some man has been degraded ; some wife has been made to weep in anguish ; some child has 128 MINNIE HERMON. been turned out of door to go hungry for bread ; some pauper lias been sent to the almshouse, or felon to the dungeon ; some scene of blood and violence has been perpetrated, and the maddened .instrument sent to the scaffold ; some family has prematurely found a rest in the grave, and an escape from woes which will ever beggar description. Oakvale was not an exception. A lovelier, me re peaceful hamlet of happy settlers, was never hidden among the hills. Tears went by, and scarce a cloud had fallen upon the cordial and friendly intercourse which had marked the history of the mountain re- treat. The lives of the people passed with the calm- ness and purity of a summer's day. Scarce a ripplo disturbed the sylvan quiet of the scene. Industry, virtue, integrity and kindly feeling marked the un- restrained intercourse of the genial and true-hearted people. The streets were quiet, only as stirred by the silver-voiced happiness of the schoolchildren, and the game of ball, the wrestle, or the leaping match, were the noisiest sports which awoke the quiet of the vil- lage green. The path to the village church was well beaten, and all was neat about the unpretending structure. The dwellings wore an air of comfort and thrift, and the yards and grounds were neat and at- tractive. The Sunday school was full, the Sabbath universally regarded, and the old-fashioned notions of truth and honor deeply rooted in a majority of hearts. Age was respected, and the white-haired grand-sirea went do\vn to their graves like the shocks fully ripened THE AUTHOR TALKS -THE CII YNGE. 129 for thlMiarvest. The moustache and the rattan were unknown the dice table, and the saloon. Tho young men were stalwart framed and industrious. Pianos, fashionable calls, and indolence in the parlor^ were scarcely known, and yet there was true refine- ment ; and from the kitchen, full, rounded forms and hearts all womanly passed out to mingle better cur- rents in the busy world. Litigation was unknown ; for each minded his own affairs, kept his fences up, kept his cattle and hogs within bounds, and treated his neighbor with kindness and sincerity. No gun ever broke upon the Sabbath stillness, nor boisterous gathering filled the streets ; but the seasons came with their promise, and its harvest fulfillment, their flockg and herds, and household industry prospered, and peace, plenty, and contentment, the love of virtue and the fear of God, made Oakvale a spot where the current of life coursed ever with an even flow. It was years afterwards, and when the population and business of Oakvale had greatly increased, that the "Home" was opened in the village. Ten yeara more had gone by, and what a transformation ! It seemed incredible, and the stranger who saw it in its earlier history, would look sadly upon the change, and believe it wrought by some infernal magic. The rural neatness and quiet were there no more. The "Home" was a floodgate through which a thou- sand pernicious and evil influences swept in upon the society of the peaceful vale, a fatal undercurrent, un- dermining industry and virtue, and mingling the 130 MINNIE HERMON. most corrupting influences with the thoughts and habits of the people. From occasional visits to the tavern, the practice increased, until scarce one of the male population was not in the habit of spending his evenings at the tavern. A love of gossip was soon engendered, and every man's business and conduct was at times made the subject of conversation. In the conversation of the people, the change was as marked as in everything else. As the youth and the children listened, they caught the infection, and the oath, the rude and coarse speech, came from mouths prematurely foul by bad example and association. Ill-breeding soon marked the language of the boys, and slang phrases were current and eagerly learned and banded with a gusto. A low-bred pettifogger had followed in the wake of " business," arid petty lawsuits were frequent, and always held at the tav- ern, drawing a crowd whenever held. Fights were of common occurrence, or petty disputes engendered in ill blood ; and discord crept strangely in between families where years of uninterrupted harmony had marked their intercourse. Additional liquor shops, under the euphonious name of " saloons," had been opened, " ball-alleys " and " billiard-rooms." These places .were a rendezvous on the Sabbath, the youth deserting the church for the dram-shop. They are ever craters of obscenity and profanity, and the youth of Oakvale were fast graduating in these devilish schools. The nights were occasionally hideous with unearthly yellings. Balls and " oyster parties " were THE AUTHOR TALKS THE CHANGE. 131 frequent, and respectable voting men, at such times were seen intoxicated. The blacksmith was often seen setting upon the steps of the " Home " in his leathern apron, and customers coming from his shop after him. The miller would leave his grist, an staid farmers would turn aside from their business and drink, and spend an hour in chat. Company and general parades were now held at Oakvale, elec- tions, town-meetings, etc., and drunkenness was com- mon. Horse-racing, also, was frequent, and " turkey shoots," raffling and drinking, with frequent quarrels, and now and then a fight, contributed to demoralize the habits and foster the worst elements of those en- gaged in them. " Business " had surely increased in Oakvale, and to the tavern belonged the credit. The change wrought in a few years was broad and impressive. The farms were neglected, the fences out of repair, and the yards and corners of the fences grown up to weeds. The barns and outhouses were dilapida- ted boards off, and hovels unroofed. Hardly a farm retained the well-ordered and tidy appearance of industrious care, so conspicuous at the commence- ment of our history. Clap-boards were off, chimney tops crumbling away, and window-panes broken, old hats and rags, and pieces of board, indicating, in un- mistakable .anguage, the cause of all. Some houses were entirely in ruins, and the rank dock standing thickly in the yard, and the winds of winter whistling through the shattered structures. Fences were down ]32 MINNIE ITEEMON. and fields t irned to waste ; the path to the church was overgrown with grass, and the sheds were falling to pieces, and the steps decaying, and the weather- beaten blinds unhinged, or slamming in the winds. The topmost section of the steeple had rotted and been blown off in a storm, and the bell, rusty and bare, frowned silently down upon the general deso- lation. The lightning-rod had been broken, and the end swung loose and unconnected. The village bu- rial-ground had not escaped. Length after length of the board fence had fallen, and the cattle from the streets had broken the stones, and the hogs had rooted over the grounds. Unruly boys had torn away the school-house shed, while whole clapboards had been stripped from the building itself, the lath and the protruding mortar and naked studs, present- ing to the passer-by the very picture of neglect. But if the footsteps of intemperance were so blight- ing upon the appearance of buildings and fields, it was still more marked upon the population. The pathways to the groggeries were well beaten by the traveling public. Farms, shops and professions, were neglected. The happiest home had lost its attrac- tions. The ruddy flame upon the evening hearth, the holy communion of the family circle, or the change- less ties of conjugal affection, were rent like threads for the false light of the dramshop. Even the church could not stay the work ; its aisles had long been si- lent ; the dust had gathered upon its communion altar and its Bible, and the spider spun his web in the THE AUTHOR TALKS- THE CHANGE. 133 pulpit unmolested. For ns with red and watery eyes, hats with torn crowns, broken tops and distorted br'ras ; garments thread-bare and ragged, the panta- loons fagged at the ancle and lodged upon gringy- looking boots run over at the heel ; with swollen cheeks, and hands thrust to the elbows into their pockets, were constantly stealing to the dram-shops. By daylight, and before a chimney top had sent up a wreath of smoke, they could be seen standing by the dens, or knocking for admittance, creeping about over the stoops in the meantime, and shivering in tho keen morning cold of the winter. How quickly their ears detected the sound of the bolt as it was drawn, and as quickly tossing the quid into the street and fetching their hand across their thigh as a nap- kin, cleared their throats and entered. They came out with the palms drawn across their lips, gave the hoarse ahem, and in the same manner retraced their steps to their doors. Women, with countenances pale and furrowed with sorrow and care, and wrapped closely in scanty garb, were seen gliding gloomily through the streets ; and children, their uncovered hands purple in the cold, and their little forms shrink- ing at every breath, and often bending under the burden of the jug, thus bearing to their own homes the cause of their own wretchedness and hunger. " Business " had increased ! Oakvale had become a shire town, and two railroads had opened broad thoroughfares to and from. A courthouse and jail had been erected, and the new state-prison buildings 134 MINNIE HEKMON. were rapidly going up. Men had died in the drunk- en brawl, by delirium tremens, and in the winter's path ; the widow and her children had gone out from their broken homes to seek an asylum in the county poor-house ; felons were in the jail, or at work on the prison walls, and red-handed murder had lifted a drip- ping hand at noonday, and the people were feasted with a view of the scaffold and its dangling tribute. A score of groggeries were seething and united in the work of ruin, and Oakvale had become a byword and reproach throughout the country for drunkenness and all its consequent and kindred evils. The change waa a sad one, indeed. And yet no plague had come from the hand of God to destroy the people ; no storm had swept down their fences or unroofed their barns and hovels; and the seasons had ever brought the seed time and harvest. But the blight was there. It rested upon house, and field, and toil ; hunger and wretchedness brooded at the hearth ; families were scattered, and fields turned to waste ; and want, mis- ery, indolence and vice resting like a deathly night- mare upon the quiet and happy hamlet of " long ago, ;j " Business " was increasing ! CHAPTER XI. A WINTER SCENE. IT waa in early winter, and the hubs lay up rough and bare through the snow. The wind was cutting cold, and shrieked dismally as it swept around the " Home." Scattering flakes of snow were sifting from the cold and sombre sky. People were already gath- ering in the bar-room, for nearly every citizen in the place had learned to love his drams ; and the fire shone most welcomely in the old-fashioned hearth. Hermon, just recovered, in a measure, from a severe fit of sickness, was kneeling before a keg, drawing his morning bitters. One after another the customers went up to the bar and followed the example, con- versation flowing more fluently as the liquor com- menced its effects. " Did you see Mat Ricks when he went away last night ? " "Yes what of it?" " Why, he was most devilish drunk, if Pm any judge." " No live man a better judge," dryly remarked old Barney Kits, already intoxicated, and his lidless balls running water before the fire. A laugh followed the hit, and the speaker continued : 6 186 MINNIE HEEMON. " Old Ricks has made a perfect fool of himself latoly. He drinks like a fish. They say he abnsea his family, too, most shamefully." "He is not the only one who does that," again put in old Kits. Lame Tim, the speaker, turned an angry eye upon his tormentor, and chewed his tobacco nervously ; yet he dare not measure wit with the in- veterate wag, as drunk as he was. " How is it, Tim," asked Gaston, " has old Ricks' farm all gone ? " " O, yes, all gone to.smash ; nothing left at all. I knew 'twould be so." " But his wife had property ? " " Went with the rest. Jones has got it all." " Sold his water and whisky well," put in old Barney. " But what will become of his family ? " " Go to the poor-house, of course. I guess the old woman will come down some in her notions after this. Always was mighty nice feelin'. After all, I could n't help kind o' pittyin' on her when she came down here and cried, and took on so about the spoons her mother gave her swow I could n't." A scowl from old Hermcn told garrulous old Tim that he had gone too far, and he changed the subject by taking another drink. Doctor Howard at that moment drove up, and en- tered the bar-room in his bundle of furs, calling for a h6t punch. While warming himself, he remained silent and thoughtful. This was enough for Tim A WINTER SCENE. 137 He must know who was sick, what ailed him, and how long they were going to live ; and with a pre- paratory ahem, he commenced : " Anybody sick this morning, Doctor?" " No more than usual." " I thought ma'be somebody might be ailin' this mornin'." " I'presume there is," and the sententious Doctor continued to nib his hands before the welcome blaze. " Come from over the hill ? " " Came from over the hill." Old Barney grinned, and attempted to wink at the discomfited Tim. But the latter loved news next to a dram, and he returned to the attack. " Plaguy cold this morning, Doctor ! " "Exactly found that out myself." " Anybody sick over the hill ?" " Nobody sick all dead." "Why, nobody but old Ricks' folks lived there. ' "Exactly and the folks are dead, or will be." " You don't say so ! How 'd they die ? " " Go and see," and with the curt answer, Doctor Howard jumped into his sleigh and left. There was truth in his briefly told story. On tho previous evening, Ricks, with his father, an old rev- olutionary soldier, had caroused at the " Home " un- til a late hour, and with a jug apiece, had started out in the storm, amid many a drunken gibe as they stum- bled over the hubs. In crossing the mountain at day- light, Doctor Howard had found the old man, lying 138 MINNIE HERMON. upon his face, frozen to death ! He had struggled \vhere he had fallen until the hubs were crimsoned with blood, and his face most horribly bruised. His hat lay crushed under his shoulders, and the handle of the broken jug was grasped firmly in death. The snow had lodged in his thin white locks, but his bald head was as bare to the night blast as the crag above him. Doctor Howard turned his horse and drove over the brow of the hill to the dwelling. A childish voice bade him " come in," in answer to his rap, and as he entered, crept into the farther corner. Doctor Howard was used to scenes of distress, but he hesitated on the threshold, and stared for a full moment as he stood. It was but a moment, however, and he quickly asked the boy what it all meant. He only answered with a frightened look towards the bed. There lay Ricks, snoring in the deep slumbers of drunkenness, his clothes on, and the uncorked jug before him upon the stand. At the foot of the bed was a spectacle to freeze the blood. Stretched at full length was Mrs. Ricks, and upon the floor, mats of hair, its whitish blue ends indicating its violent wrenching from the living head. It had been wrenched from her head, and the bloody scalp lay bare in hideous spots. Above the ear the blade of the iron tire-shovel had cleft the skull, driving the Lair into the brain, and splitting the ear through the rim. The blood had oozed out and ran down into the eye, where it was now frozen, the other glaring wildly in death and covered with frost A WINTER SCENE. 139 "Who did this?" asked Howard of the boy, as he brushed a tear from his eye. "Father!" whispered the child, creeping stealthily to the Doctor's side and looking from behind him towards the bed, and then, with his gaze still on the Bleeping drunkard, he stole behind an old partition, and with wild eyes and bloodless lips brought some- thing away in his hands, and scarce noticed by the Doctor, laid it by the side of the dead mother. Turning his eye at the moment, Howard started as at the sight of a serpent. There was the elbow and hand and little foot of a labef " For God's sake ! what what is this ? " he asked, as he stooped to be sure that his eyes did not deceive him. "Father father," whispered the child, still keep- ing his gaze upon the bed " threw baby ont of the bed 'cause it cried, and then into the fire, and then struck me 'cause I screamed." The tale the sight, was horrible, and it was no dream ; and there lay the imbruted murderer in hia slumbers. Howard spoke sharply In the ear of the drunkard, but it was difficult to awake him. Tho moment he did awake, he called for Henry to hand him liquor. Ere Howard was aware, the terrified boy had taken the jug, when a fearful oath from his father startled him so suddenly that he dropped the jug upon the floor. " Hell ! " now roared the thoroughly awakened sot, and caught the boy violently by the arm. Henry 140 MINNIE HERMON. screamed with agony, and Howard noticed that tho arm was broken above the elbow and turned unre- sistingly in the cruel grasp. It required but a mo- ment to arrest the act, yet with that strange tena- city which characterizes the drunkard's grasp, it bid defiance to his strongest effort. But he was not a man to stand upon trifles, while the tortured child was shrieking in agony. Fastening upon Ricks' throat, he retained his grasp until the bloated cheek became black, and his hold on the boy's arm relaxed. Moving the boy to the corner, he hastily went out to his cutter for his saddle-bags, thinking, in his excite- ment, to set the arm before it should be worse swol- len. The horse was restless from standing in the cold, t.\id as he stepped into the cutter, the horse started up"m a gallop, the reins about his heels, and kept it unbroken until he turned up under the shed of the " Home." In a moment Howard had the reins, and was urging his way again up the hill at full speed. He hastily entered the house, when hell itself could not have presented a view more devilish. The drunk- ard was standing in the middle of the floor, his red eyes glaring with a demoniac expression, and his teeth clenched like a madman's. " They'll never worry me again about bread, G d d n 'em. I '11 learn the cussed brat to break jugs," and more language of the same nature poured from the maniac. " They " would beg for bread no more ! They were beyond the "reach of worldly wants or worldly sor- A WLNTKK SCENE. 141 rows. In the brief absence of the Doctor, the drunk- en man had caught his boy, and as it appeared, had, by repeated blows, dashed his head against the fire- place jams until his skull was crushed into a mass of blood and brains, and flung him across the corpse of the mother. The frame of the child was quivering yet, and the one hand even clutched convulsively at empty air, as he straightened out with a tremulous movement and lay still upon his mother's breast. The news of the tragedy at Ricks', was speedily spread through the community, embellished with many a horror, until the public feeling ran high against Ricks. The landlord of the " Home " was Bure that hanging was too good for him. "While people were talking about the affair, a kind hand had been at its work of love in the house of blood. Mrs. Ricks was found, on again visiting the house, neatly arrayed upon her bed, and her child be- side her, her wounds washed and dressed, and the crushed skull of the child hidden in his shroud. It needed iron nerves to look upon such work, and yet a gentle hand had removed the more revolting evi- dences of the murder, and restored order to the deso- late looking room. The hand and foot of the babe had been placed by the mother's side, and the visitor gone. When the citizens came through the blinding storm, they looked with surprise upon the calm fea- tures of Mrs. Ricks, pale, but without stain of blood, and the floor and room exhibiting no signs of the tragedy so recently enacted. 142 MINNIE HERMON. Sweet Minnie Hermon ! In that chamber of death she kneeled, and with the cold browed and bloody dead her company, prayed that the blood of the innocent might not rest too darkly on a father's hand. The bitter storm was unheeded as it swept against her feverish cheek, on her re- turn, for her young heart was full of sorrow. As vivid as the language of fire it burned before her, that to the influence and liquor of the " Home " could be traced the ruin and destruction of the Ricks family. The funeral of the Ricks family was one of more than usual solemnity. From the grey-haired grand- sire to the innocent babe, rum had swept them away at a blow. A large crowd had gathered, for the triple murder had thrilled through the community far and near. The dead were buried in one grave, its wide and frozen walls silently awaiting to enclose this fresh and fearfully generous tribute to the remorseless scourge let loose in the valley. The snow was falling fast from the thick gloomy clouds, and the bottom of the wide pit was already shrouded with white, all combining to render the scene solemn and cheerless. There was but one relative of the family living, and that was the loved and broken-hearted father. He had been brought from the jail in the custody of offi- cers, and now stood, his head "bared to the storms, and his hands in irons. The scalding tears bitterly rained down his ghastly cheeks and upon his fettered ham Is, and his broad chest heaved with convulsive A WINTER SCENK. 143 efforts, which shook him as the blast would shake the reed. lie wrung his clenched hands until the blood started from the swollen fingers, and moaned as he stood, a blasted thing in his manhood's prime, '!ie fetter links clanking, but in his soul the iron had gone the deepest. Those who had heari the story of his crime and heaped bitter denunciations upon his head, now looked upon the wretch in his agony, and wept for him. There were mourners at the wintry grave. Minnie was there, crushed with grief; for, in a hun- dred visits to the drunkard's home on the nill, on er- rands of mercy, she had learned to love the lovely woman who had suffered so much, and a sister could not have wept more bitterly at a sister's grave. How- ard, too, stood a child by her side, and with his hand- kerchief at his mouth, looked through swimming eyes upon the scene. As the coffins were placed upon the timbers over the grave, Ricks raised his arms high over his head, and dropped upon his knees, bringing his manacled hands heavily down upon the coffin of his wife, the dead sound from within, and the clash of his irons, mingling dismally with a shriek which chilled with, its fierce energy of woe. " Mary ! O, Mary 1 My children I How I loved ye! Destroyed by my own hand! Merciful God! here let me die, and be buried with them ! " The grave was filled by a score of hard hands, and many were the warm tear, that wet them as they toiled. 144 MINNIE HERMON. Elder Snyder stepped forward and returned thanka to the people for their kindness, and prayed that God Wv>uld sanctify to the people this most " afflicting dis- pensation of Providence" *' A providence O/'KUM, inflicted by human devils /'' Turning to see from whence those strange tones, the unknown in the tarpaulin was recognized, lean- ing upon a head-stone, his red eye fixed upon the speaker. The latter turned quickly away and passed out with the crowd. Howard lingered a moment, and alone sobbed as he watched the old sexton place the rough boards at the head. His thoughts were busy. He remembered the night of his wedding the jeweled hand which crowded the wine upon him, and the lovely features which then were the admiration of all. The beauti- ful and rarely accomplished Miss Anson was under the clods before him ! Sick at heart, he, too, turned away, with new thoughts busy in his mind. CHAPTER XII. THREE MEETINGS, AND WHAT WAS SAID A PEAYEH ANSWERED. THE events of the last few days famished fruitful themes fur conversation for many a day. The public mind was intensely aroused to the enormity of the triple murder, and nearly all united in unmeasured condemnation of the wickedness of Ricks. Custom in the bar-room of the " Homo " was better than usual, for there was a morbid desire to hear and talk ovei the matter, and the particulars of the affair were de- tailed for the hundredth time. Men stood with their glasses in trembling hands, and argued wisely upon this or that phase of the transaction. The faults of Ricks were now as plain as midday ! Men who had feasted upon his too generous nature, turned to give him a stab. He was always ugly, es- pecially when in liqii/yr was passionate and quarrel- some. It was a wonder that he had not come to some bad end before. Howard had been sitting along time silent with his face buried in his hand, and his feet braced against the fire-place. The remarks of the last speaker aroused him, and turning quickly upon the latter, he broke in : 146 . MINNIE HERMON. " When was James Ricks an ugly or passionate man ? "When did he ever wrong any man or woman until carried away by his accursed appetite for liquor 3 When was he otherwise than high-minded, noble and kind ? Never, unless intoxicated, 1 knew him have known him for years. A truer or kinder friend, a more affectionate or amiable husband, or indulgent father before he took to drink, never lived in thia community. You know it. You know, too, -,vbom he married, and what they both were in this com- munity. You know, too, that he had wealth. Men who have fed upon his bounty should not be eager to add to the weight which crushes the stricken crimi- nal. He is guilty of crime, yet as God is my judge, James Ricks, in his right mind, would no more have done what he has, than I would, and but for rum, would now be as guiltless. Young Brayton was right, Our tavern will prove a curse instead of a, blessing" Hermon was stung, and retorted from his bar with a sneer, with his hand upon a customer's glass : " You had better start one of these Temperance Societies, as they call them. Another drink would make you eloquent ! " "Hermon ! " thundered the Doctor as he strode towards the former and struck his clenched fist upon the bar, with an unusual light in his inflamed eyes, " I shall never take another drink frrrn your hand! I've seen enough. But for your liquor, James Ricks would be now at his old home, in the bosom of his family, an honored and respected citizen." THERE MEETINGS. 147" " So you mean to charge me with the death of his family? " fiercely demanded Hermon. " I charge it upon the liquor that he obtained at your bar." " That was his own business, and not mine." " But, sir, you know that he was beggaring hia family, and abusing them shamefully." " Permit me to say to you, Mr. Howard, that that was no business of mine. It's my business to sell liquor. No body is obliged to buy or drink it unless they choose." " Very true. But you know he had no control over himself when in liquor." " I tell you again", that is no affair of mine. I am. no man's guardian. Men have a right to drink if they see fit, and I've a right to sell." "And I've a right to say what I think of the matter. You took a ring from little Henry Ricks, which you knew was the wedding ring of his mother, and let him have whisky when you knew that Ricko had driven his wife out of doors, and to the neighbors for protection. Was that as you would wish other men to do by your family ? " " I ain't a drunkard, sir," retorted Hermon, with excitement. " I'm not bound to oversee my neigh- bors' affairs. People had better mind their own busi ness" he continued, with meaning emphasis. "I understand your threat, sir ; I've seen enough of your tavern : it has prospered too well for this vil- lage. I have seen more suffering and wretchedness 1 .18 MINNIE HERMON. and sorrow since you opened this house, than I ever saw before in my life. Ricks' was not the only fam- ily to whom I have carried bread and given my practice to save from hunger and death. Light breaks in upon me. I see where it all comes from, and I shall attend sufficiently to my " own business" Mr. Hermon, hereafter, to let your liquor alone, or else my property will go where Ricks' has gone, and my family be left to suffer, as I and yourself \ sir, know that his has suffered. As God is my judge, I'll drink no more forever ! Good morning, sir ! " Had a thunderbolt fallen upon that bar-room floor, the astonishment could not have been greater. The befuddled intellects were too misty to see the plain truths hinted at by Dr. Howard, but they could easily see that he was a very hasty -spoken man, and had acted like a fool. Drink nothing ! It was one of the wildest ideas ever thought of, and a temperance man of this day would wonder at the remarks made by those in the bar-room, after Howard left. All conclu- ded that he acted like a madman, and had abused Mr. Hermon most shamefully. There was not the least harm in the world in drinking ardent spirits it was necessary. Because a man now and then made a fool of himself, so harmless a beverage should not be talked so about. The Doctor was generally a man of intelligence, and it was a wonder what had got into him to make him act so ; he ought to know better. Guess when he got cooled off he would come round right. So Hermon thought, although the TliUKi: MfJi'UNGS. 149 words of the Doctor chafed him more t.;an he was willing to acknowledge even to himself. Yet he cer- tainly could not be held responsible for what others did ; each one must look out for himself. If old Ricks had not made a fool of himself, he would not have been where he was. He had never taken any thing from Ricks without he had paid a full price for it. It wasn't his business to dictate how men should spend their property. Such men were his best customers, and if he should refuse to sell them liquor, his business would not be worth anything. He must get a living. He did not want people to make beasts of themselves. If they did, it was their own lookout and not his. He kept a tavern for the public accommodation. To keep a public house and lot sell liquor, would be a curious idea ! He wan't the fool that Howard took him to be, and that gen- tleman would find it out so. With such reasoning, Hermon stifled the little con science left, and after a few days things assumed their usual course, with slight exceptions. All had miscal- culated upon the Doctor. He had at once seen thb danger, and in the midst of the horrible effects of the liquor from the " Home," had solemnly sworn to drink no more. His manhood, yet unobliterated by bis rapidly increasing appetite for liquor, rebelled against the thought of dying a drunkard. Ricks, his schoolmate, and earliest and best friend, had wasted a fortune, and was now in irons as a murderer. How- ard shuddered as he looked over the past few yeara. 150 MINNIE HERMON. and as he swore before God in the bar-room of the " Home," so he would do at all hazards. No influ- ences should drive him from his position. "With bitter words yet upon his tongue and anger in his heart, Hermon passed from the bar-room into the hall. He met Minnie in cloak and hood, with a basket on her arm, just starting to go out among the poor of the neighborhood. In his then ill humor, it was enough to call upon the daughter's head some of the harsh language that swelled in his troubled heart against Howard. "What new subject of your whimpering kindness now calls you out in the cold ? Haven't I told you be- fore to stop this eternal running with provisions after lazy vagabonds ? I cannot, will not submit to it long- er ! " You must stop it ! " "Father! I cannot stop it. You must not say that. I am not feeding lazy vagabonds, but the poor and needy, such as the Saviour enjoins upon us to aid. Do not say I shall not, Father ! " " Saviour be " O mercy ! Speak it not," and she sprung forward and placed her hand quickly upon his burning lips to shut back the dreadful blasphemy. She instantly removed her hand, and bursting into tears fell upon her knees and craved his pardon with burning kisses upon his reluctant hand. The demon was again en- throned in the bosom of Hermon as of old. Madden- ed with rum and exasperated by his clash with How- ard, even the tears of his meek and devoted daughter THREE MEETINGS. 151 were like oil upon the fires that raged fiercely within him. " Min. ! no more of this d d nonsense ! I've seen blubbering enough. Your mother was always whimpering around like a simpleton, and I am tired of it. Go into the kitchen and behave yourself. I'll see, Miss, if I can't rule my own house," and with a cruel grasp he seized Minnie by the shoulder and hurled her towards the inner door. Minnie sprang from his clutch as if stung, but it was not the cruel fingers which reached the quick. Rising erect in all the queenly beauty of her injured feelings, her thin nostrils distended, and her eyea kindling with indignation, she stood before the un natural parent. " Father of mine ! you may heap reproaches upon me may even, as you have now done for the first time in your life, lay a harsh hand upon me, but in the fear of God, never dare again to revile the holy name of one who loved so well and suffered so deeply. Heaven forgive you for assailing the mem ory of one whom you wronged so cruelly while living, Have you forgotten that she died with the mark of a blow upon her cheek, and a prayer upon her lip for him who gave it ? Have you forgotten the promise you gave her then that you would not touch the cup again? By all the memories of the past, of the pa- tient, long-suffering wife of your own hopes of Heaven, my once noble father, away with this dark demon, and we will be happy again. Else the judg- 152 MINNIE HEKMON. ments of God will as surely come upon us as he lives above." Drunk as he was, Hermon felt humbled some- what, and in a milder tone muttered about giving away so much out of the house ; it would " beggar them." "' And would beggary be any worse for us, Father, than others ?" mildly asked the daughter. " Others is nothing to us. It's our business to take care of ourselves." " But it's our duty to help the needy." " But we can be reasonable about it ; 'taint duty to support all the poor there is." " Father, I must be plain. There were few poor and needy ten years ago. I shudder when I think of the undoubted cause of their poverty. Would to God that that cause had produced no worse ill than poverty." ""What do you allude to, girl? what cause?'' fiercely demanded Hermon. " The Traveler's Home ! Its liquor has produced Buffering and death in every direction." " Who told you this, you impudent hussy ? " " Have I not seen it in all its forms from the very commencement ? " " And I s'pose you will say next, as Howard did, Lat I destroyed the Kicks family ? " " Your liquor did, most assuredly." " But how is that any business of mine ? I didn't kill the wife and children." THREE MEETINGS. 153 c< But the father did, while in liquor, and the liquor c&me from your hand." " My hand ! " and Hermon involuntarily looked at his hand, as if expecting to see blood there, and then fiercely moved towards Minnie. But she stirred not, and the madman quailed before the daughter, foi she had his own spirit, and it was thoroughly aroused. " Yes, father, it came from your hand." " But I have a right to sell, and no one is obliged to buy the liquor." " I know that the law gives you a right to sell, but God says, ' Woe unto him who putteth the bottle to nis neighbor's lips, and maketh hini drunken.' " " You needn't preach to me any more, Miss, nor carry any more stuff out of the house," snarled Iler- mon, as he turned to, go out. You carried provis- ions enough to Ricks' family to have half support- ed 'em." "And were they not entitled to even more than a half-support from us ? " " What do you mean ? Am I to support all who are fools enough to fool away their property ? " " I mean, father, that the bread I carried to that family was theirs every morsel, justly theirs ta- ken piece-meal from them in their poverty." " But they had their pay for it in liquor," thundei cd the enraged father. ' c ID liquor ! and you dare to call that pay for all that has been taken from them. Did you not know that every drop which went there was a curse ? Could 154 MINNIE HERMON. Mrs. Kicks, or her children, eat it when hungry, or wear it in the cold ? Didn't it make a fiend of Kicks, and cause him to commit the crime for which he is now in prison? Don't you know this, father? " " Go to ! I don't know any such thing. IV got nothirg but my own." " Who has the deed of their farm f Dare you say you gave him an equivalent? Is that instrument not the death-warrant of the whole family? No," con- tinued Minnie, as the landlord of the " Home " cow- ered from her, " that bread was not ours, not a mor- sel of it. It came unjustly. You may revile you may turn me from your door, father ; but, before God, I will restore, as far as in me lies, to those who have been crushed by this house. You will live to bless me for this, and to curse the day you trans formed our then happy home into a tavern. I shall now go on my errand to the Widow Gilford's. Ilei substance and the life of her only child have been destroyed hy rum. She needs our aid. It is her due, and she shall have it." "Hell and furies !" growled Hermon, as he slam- med the door behind him. " She, too, has got How- ard's stuff by heart, and all the devils this side the pit can't stop her clack/' The landlord of the " Home " felt himself a mai- tyr, and sought to drown his troubles in a stiff horn of fourth-proof, and a vigorous kicking of the fore- stick in the fire-place. Dr. Howard rode home, with new and strange THKEE MEETINGS. 155 thoughts crowding thickly upon each other. Dimly at first, but increasing as he proceeded, the light of higher views of his duties and responsibilities in the matter of using intoxicating drinks, broke in around him. As light came, so did a knowledge of his own danger, and the nearness of the precipice he had es- caped. So intense became his thoughts as he dwelt upon the subject, the abyss opened before him, and he involuntarily drew up his rein so violently that his horse reared, and came near throwing him from the saddle. " I might have fallen worse far worse," he mut- tered, as the fearful vision was dispelled, and he looked out upon the eddying snow and up to the gloomy clouds overhead. It now seemed strange that he had so long forgotten his mother, and the scene in the city garret. A blush crept over his cheek as he rec- ognized the cause of his forgetfulness, and with a ho- lier and more solemn meaning, his recent resolution entered down into his better heart. That cold hand and glaring eye were before him, and the blast assumed a milder wail, as upon that fatal night ; and he shut his eyes and spurred on. The light, like a cheering beacon, streamed out from his own window, and he dismounted at the cottage, a free and a happier man. Fearfully plain he now saw the cause of the wasting cheek of the wife, and lingered upon the step to dash a tear from his eye. Not even an angry look or a smothered retort had ever answered his harsh words, or greeted him as he had returned from the revel 156 MINNIE HERMON. The intense and holy love of a bette-i 3ay kindled up with more than its early heat, and he hurried to his wife's chamber. Howard entered softly, but the chamber was do- Borted. The fire glowed in the chimney, and the ta- ble awaited his coming. As he turned to look, a low murmur came from the half-opened bedroom door, and he recognized the voice of his wife. The current of air from the hall door, which he had opened, swung the other noiselessly upon its hinges, and the whole was revealed. The child had been placed in the bed, and was slumbering sweetly. The mother was kneeling before the bed, the hand of the little sleeper clasped in hers, and her head bowed upon the pillow- Her hair had fallen from its fastenings, and hung in dark masses over the shoulder. Howard had never before found his wife at prayer, and he stood spell-bound, not knowing whether to advance or re- treat. Clear and distinct her words came, and like hot brands burned upon his cheek and into his proud soul. And she, too, had seen his danger ; and now, with the holy earnestness of a faith which leaned firmly upon God, and a heart swelling with the sor- row which the public eye never beholds, she was praying for her husbacd, and wrestling with Him who influences the hearts of men, to save the father of her child from a drunkard's grave. Howard started as though an adder had hissed at his feet. And still the long-suffering, never-complaining and devoted wife plead that their home might be spared THREE MEETINGS. 157" from the destroyer of those around it. She raised her head again, and prayed more earnestly that HE who loved children would guard her own from harm. Tears flooded the channel of words, and she ceased to speak, but a more touching eloquence wep her prayers in silence. "Ellen?" Ere the startled wife could turn, a trembling arm was wound about her, and her hand clasped convul- sively in that of her husband, his strong frame heaving with emotion, and the warm tears of stouter man- hood's giving away, raining upon the locked hands. The silence was broken only by the sobbing of a man who seldom wept " Ellen, how long have you prayed thus ? " " Oh, many, many times, Henry. I hope you are not offended," and she turned to look in his face. " My deeply injured wife, no ! ten thousand times, no ! But you will weep no more ; your prayers havo been answered. I have this night sworn to drink no more forever that which will intoxicate." Men who know not how much a woman can suffer in the daily crumbling away of her heart's dearest hopes, can dream how unutterable happiness like the sunshine of perfect bliss came back from Heaven on the pathway of her prayers, as she wound her arms around the neck of her husband, and with her head bowed upon his bosom, wept again. Her tears were now for joy. Each one gave back the light of hope and promise, and a sweet and holy oalm pervaded her J5S MINNIE HERMON. soul in that night of storm. In that hour, too, How ard had determined to lean upon her God, and the tempter was forever driven from their earthly Eden. As he stooped down over his child, it awoke, and a smile answered the kiss. It was like an angel- wel- come welcome back to a better and holier life. The evening meal was never sc enjoyed. The fire looked brighter, and the tea-kettle sung a livelier air, and its steam curled up from the spout like an in- cense. The storm was unheeded; and even aftei the family had retired, the coals glowed and flashed, and the cricket chirruped his happy song under the hearth. Dreams visited the Sleeping husband and wife. The fearful specter which had seated itself at their hearth was driven away, and the Angel of Hope came ?uid smiled where it had been. CHAPTEE XIII. MABEL DUNHAM. AMONG the earliest victims of the rum traffic in Oakvale, was Harry Dunham, an impetuous, gener- ous-hearted and high-souled young man of thirty years of age. In the pleasures of the cup, the bond- age of the tempter was woven so speedily and strong ly around him, that his prospects darkened at midday, and the sun of his promise went down like a meteor. His was a nature to yield at once and madly to the fatal embrace of his enemy, and in a few years the gifted young man had fallen to the lowest degrada- tion, and in soiled and tattered garments spent the most of his time in the bar-room of the tavern. The manly form \vas bloated, the hair bushy and un- combed, and the full, dark eye of a fiery red. It was pitiable to see the once proud young man, holding horses, cleaning stables, sweeping the bar-rooms performing the most menial service for the pittance of a glass. As a sixper/ce dropped into his hand, he would turn eagerly away to the bar and spend it for rnm. The course of Dunham had desolated as happy a home as a young man ever had. But the young wife, who had given him the priceless wealth of her young 7 MINNIE HEKMON. heart, was stricken down like a tender flower, and, without a word of complaining, died. Mabel, the fair child of the brief union, inherited all her mother's loveliness, and every home in Oak- vale was gladly tendered the worse than orphan. She had no more a homo, for her father deserted her entirely, and plunged more deeply into dissipation. She no more, however, was compelled to visit the " Home," with the tin pail, and in tremulous tones ask liquor for a drunken father at home. John Gault, a bold, impulsive boy, a few years older than Mabel, was often seen in her company, and at such times himself went into the bar-room and got the liquor for her. John's father, though a cler- gyman, was a cold, stone-hearted man, and was angry at the intimacy between his son and " drunken Dun- ham's " Mabel ; but the wilful boy would go to school) and over the fields, and by the river, with the sad- hearted child. The old school-house stood over the river, perched picturesquely at the " four corners " among the rocks and scraggy pines. The walls upon the lower side were covered with moss, tufts of grass growing in the crevices, and a thistle, with a pale red blossom, reach- ing out its prickly stem. The house is old and woather-beaten, and the chimney crumbling away ; but clustering with a thousand hallowed associations. The jack-knife had been busy upon the clapboards and berches, where rude skill had carved ruder ima- ges an } names, many of the letters turned the wrong MABEL DUNHAM. 161 way, and fantastically uncouth. The old door-sill was broken and deeply worn, and the rank grass was growing greenly upon either side of the hard path. There was an old rock by the tuft of elders, sloping back to the hill from its perpendicular front, and smoothly worn by many a summer's treading of bare-" footed groups. It was warm the rock in the summer's sun. and there were glorious tumbles from the overhanging top. The rock is there yet, but many of the bare feet, have long since trodden the journey of life. Across the road was a wide-spreading old thorn, with scraggy trunk and lance-like weapons hidden in its leaves ; but it bore a gorgeous wealth of white blossoms, and the bees mingled melody with the wel- come fragrance. On the knoll beneath, was 'the mimic carriage-way, with its bridge of bark and em- bankments of fresh earth. No architects of ancient grandeur were prouder of their achievements than the boy builders Below the hill was the old mill, witb its deep, dark flume, and the pond covered with float- ing timbers. The mysterious old wheel was covered with moss, and as its dripping arms swung round, a M'ealth of gems fell glittering in the sunbeams. There was the still water wlion the old wheel ceased to go round, and the green-lookiijg stones upon the bottom, where the " dace " lay so lazily in the sun, and seem- ed so wondrous large. It were worth a world to sport again in that cool stream, with the light of childhood in the heart, and its vigor in the limb. 162 MINNIE HERMON. The sun crept stilly into the open door of the school- house, and away across the warped boards, nicely swept, and worn smooth by childish feet. Warm and rich was that sunlight as it came in at the window upon the well-worn seat, and leaped off upon the floor across the room. Sweetly it laughed upon the sleep- ing boy's face and upon his golden hair. The little sleeper was just at school, and the mistress had kindly laid him down, his feet hanging over the end of the bench, and his arm hanging down to the floor. The sun moved away and so will move away the child-dreams of his school days. There is a low murmur of voices in the room, and the hum of the fly, as he wings about in the stillness, or crawls on the warm window-pane, or trims his shi- ning wings in the sunshine- save this, all is hushed and dreamy. The sun beats hotly without, where the mowers are busy, the scraping of their rifles, as they sharpen their scythes, ringing clearly across the field. With the shadow of the drifting cloud goes by the breeze, after entering the windows like a spirit of health, with its fragrance of new-mown hay. The wide old hearth is neatly swept, and the fire- place looks cool with its profusion of boughs. The school mistress moves quietly about the room with ferule in hand, and prompting with a musical voice as the children recite. There is the beautiful and sad face of the lone boy, as, with his crutch beside him, he sits in the door and watches sports he cannot enjoy. His cheeks are MABEL DUNHAM. 163 pale, but his eye of deepest blue has that resigned and patient look which wins the heart, and his sweet andgentle manner endeared him to all. The best apple is his, and he has a favored seat at all cui plays ; and when we lift him over the fence, where he can mingle with us under the wide-crowned thorn, his look is grateful, and lingers like a sacred thought in the memory. The pilgrimage of the lame boy is ended. He left his crutch at the grave, and in it that shattered, form. In the corner of the crooked fence, and under the thorn, was the play-house, built of fragments of boards, and walled in with cobble-stones. The bro- ken china was nicely arranged, and the turf floor cleanly swept. But lessons were not always well learned within that little retreat. The plump arm was punished with a pin, when the mischievous owner put dock-burs in her brother's hair. Mabel Dunham was a favorite, for the children had not yet learned to shun the drunkard's child. Her eyes were sweetly calm and blue, her hair long and lying like waves of gold upon her white neck, or glan- cing in the sun as her hand tossed the heavy braids from her cheek. A gentle and touching sadness had settled upon her features since her mother's death, and sorrow more than years had written its language upon her thoughtful brow. John G-ault, was the boy-lover of Mabel. He carefully lifted her over the mossy stones in the streams, over the fence, or down from the wide rock 164 MINNIE HERMON. by the spring. The yellowest daisy and iho freshest wild-rose were hunted out from the meadow and the hedge, and the largest pond-lily was wrenched from its moorings far out in the water. The smoothest and prettiest pebbles were selected from the brooklet's bed for the little house he had built for Mabel, and the greenest moss pulled to carpet the floor. The red maple was climbed for boughs to shut out the sun those blue eyes ever turned anxiously up that he should not fall. Mornings, John would steal away and watch her coming down the winding path around the hill, and carry her basket to the school. The im- petuous boy loved more than boys usually love. He saw her everywhere in night and day dreams. The flame-like foliage of the maple was like the dress she wore. The robin in the beech overhead sang of Ma- bel. The golden dandelion and the daisy smiled as she smiled ; and the blue sky down in the still water, was as dreamy and still as her eyes were calm. He heard her footfall behind him as he hurried through the dusky wood-path. The stars had eyes like hers ; and in the moonlight, the dew-drop glittered as he had seen .the tear glitter upon her cheek. In the strength and purity of his child-love, John had promised, that, when a man, in spite of his father and everybody else, he would make Mabel his wife, and they would have a home of their own, and be happy. Boy dreams ! Mabel Dunham lost ! M.VBEL DUNHAM. 165 The news spread quickly through the village for all loved the unfortunate child. The father, deeply intoxicated, had been seen the evening before iii her company across the river. Below the dam was a foot walk, high above the watev, for the accommodation of the villagers. Across this wab the most direct way to the falls a place where John and Mabel had spent many hours in childish communion. John was the first to reach the walk, just as the sunshine fell in a broad beam across the pool. There upon the bottom was Dunham and Mabel, one hand clenched upon her arm, and the other upon the handle of his broken jug ! The sands glittered in the golden braids of her hair as they lay out upon the clear current ; and, as if smiling to the sky, h<;r eye was turned upward. A wild rose was crushed in her stiffened fingers. The father with hk jug, and the child with the flower! both at rest. There was no little astonishment when it was known that Elder Snyder would not preach at the funeral of Dunham and his child. Few dared, however, to reason the matter with him. His creed was cast-iron in its mould dark, puritanic and forbidding. He felt that no drunkard could enter Heaven, and be- lieved that the sins of the father were visited upon the children. Dunham was an ungodly man, and Mabel had never been baptized, and it would be blasphemy to pray for those who were already doomed to perdition. Gault indignantly rebuked the bigot because he would not preach for Mabel ; 166 MINNIE HKRMON. but he was severely chastised for his wickedness and impertinence. On a bright Sunday afternoon they carried Mabel across the stream, and lowered her gently to her rest. John Gault dare not speak, but his heart went down with the coiSn, and he loved the old sexton be- cause he dropped the dirt so softly down, and placed the sods so carefully with his hands, with a tear in his own eye. The old man loved Mabel, too. Thus early in life ended the love-dream of John Gault CHAPTER XIT. GOING FKOM HOME. " No, I '11 not forgive him. He 's a wilful boy, and has disobeyed me thrice in this matter. He has shown himself a child of the devil, and he must go out. He is no son of mine, and this is his home no longer ! " " Nay, William," pleaded the tearful wife, "he is oui only child. Do not turn him away, but forgive him. He is wayward, but not vicious. Years and kindness will cool his fiery nature, and he will be a blessing in our old age. God will not leave him we must not. The act may be his ruin, and plant sorrow in our old hearts for life. ' Our Saviour was forgiving, William," and the earnest woman laid her hand gen- tly on the arm of the stern man before her, " and should we not bear longer with the only one now left us?" "Tempt me not, woman! Your mother's heart clings wickedly to an unworthy idol. The boy has wandered from the fold and our heartheide and sought intercourse with the ungodly. He is lost, but God's will be done. I must not shrink, for we read that if the eye offend, we must pluck it out. Alfred is de- termined to inflict disgrace upon us and the church. 168 MINNIE His mouth is filled with cursings, and his heart with disobedience, and I can harbor him no more." " But if the prodigal should return," continued the now weeping mother, "you surely would welcome him to our home?" " Enough of this, Mary ; it is wrong to repine. It is ordered that our child should be cast out from among the righteous, and it is ours to submit." The angel-hearted mother would have still plead for her wayward boy, but she looked in the face of the stern, tearless father, and with a quivering lip turned away to weep as only a mother weeps, and left that frowning man to walk his study with a firm tread and a compressed lip. Elder Snyder was a Christian of iron mould. No penance-doing monk was ever more exact and rigid in the performance of his religious duties, and more unforgiving towards the wayward and ungodly. He looked upon the least sin with' no degree of allowance, and felt it a solemn duty to heap the fiercest condem- nation upon all who did not square by his standard of faith. His was a cast-iron creed, unyielding and unforgiving. He was once a persecutor of the saints, but now a minister of the gospel, who dealt only in the fierce red imagery of hell and its torments, in his Sabbath ministrations. He never spoke of the love of the child-like Saviour nor wept as that Saviour wept never forgave as that Saviour forgave. He never smiled ; but cold, passionless and stern, stood like an angel with a flaming sword to drive out the GOING FROM HOME. 169 erring forever ; never, like the meek Redeemer, to forgive and pardon on the cross, and welcome to Heaven the praying and penitent thief. He was evei dark and forbidding, and his sermons were ever woven with the sombre texture of eternal wrath. The mild, winning light of our blessed religion never warmed or irradiated his dark nature. He esteemed joy and laughter a sin, and passed among his people with a countenance as rigid and unbending as though no heart throbbed beneath that stolid surface. Such was the father of Alfred Snyder, for whom the mother plead in the beginning of this chapter. The young looked upon him with awe, but not with love and veneration. There was nothing in his man- ner or conversation to win the affection of the youth, or to attract them toward him. From the ball-play or the ring he turned away with a frown and a sigh. His prayers were ever of a chilling solemnity, and breathed only denunciations against the impenitent. And in the chamber of the dying, he never wore that smile of hope and faith, which burns like a beacon above the silent wastes of a shoreless ocean. Child- hood shrunk away in whispers from that cloudy brow, and hushed the laughter of its joys. We need not detail the history of an education at such a hearth and by such a teacher. His treatment of his familv chilled every warm impulse of his chil- dren, and taught them that all earthly joy was a sin. All but one of his children had passed away, but the 170 MINNIE HEKMON. iron man never wept it would have been sinful to have wept over the providence of God ! And so the mother wept alone in her heart and chamber over the wasting of her idols. Thus Alfred Snyder grew up to early manhood, looking upon his home as a prison-house, and his father as a stern, hard keeper, and upon the world as a bright realm which lured him to pleasures he could not enjoy. Even the most innocent amusements of childhood were denied him. The tide of young life's buoyancy was frowned back to its fountain, where its pent-up strength struggled against the unnatural and unreasonable restraint. The Bible and the catechism were the only books ; the rod, the devil, and perdi- tion, the only motives in life. The result of such a system of training upon a fiery nature, need not be told. Alfred inherited all his father's firmness, with the buoyant, sunny nature of the mother. His heart was full of the sunshine of life, and of the nobility of manhood. He turned kindly to every one, and eagerly sought the pleasant associations of youth. He was frank, impulsive, and generous, and from a cold and uncongenial home, turned involuntarily to catch the sunshine he found not at his own hearth- side. Thus, step by step, without dreaming of wrong, he crossed the first circles of youthful pleasure. In- stead of striving to make home pleasant, and to blend instruction with amusement, the father was harshly Btern and unforgiving. Alfred, now twenty yeara GOING FKOM HOME. 171 old, came home from a dance ; the father did not ex- postulate or entreat, but, with a lowering brow, took the rod and chastised his boy. Alfred's cheek flushed a deep crimson, and his eye flashed, but he stood erect and looked his parent in the face. But the strokes burned, and his proud nature writhed under the disgraceful infliction. The punishment came to the ears of his comrades, and, maddened by the fact, Alfred attended another dance, and was again flog- ged. And still a third time. The gulf had now widely yawned between the parent and child, and the latter sought his chamber with a pale, compressed lip. A new purpose was formed. The father knelt and put up his evening prayer, his voice as coldly calm and unshaken as though no shadow had ever fallen between him and his first- born. The mother stole away to the chamber of her boy, to drop the balm of kindly words and tears upon hia smarting wounds and into the lacerated heart. Al- fred had thrown himself upon his bed without un- dressing, and had already fallen asleep. There were tears lingering upon the lids and cheek, and the holy ones of the mother mingled with them, as she kneeled and w T ept over the wayward, but brave and noble- hearted boy. His cheeks were flushed, and, upon one of them, was a long line of fiery red, where the lash had reached from the shoulder. The father prayed not for his child, but the mother did. Alfred awoke to hear her asking the blessing 172 MINNIE HEEMON. of God upon liis head, and he wove his arm around her tv^ck, and wept as a grieved child would weep, "Mother, I must leave home it is no place for me. Harsh words I can bear, but not blows. I arn disgraced, for the boys all understand the matter." " No, no, Alfred," answered the mother sadly ; "you must not leave. Your father is severe, but he feels that you have disobeyed him. Your mother will plead with him you are our only child, and you must not go away from us." "Mother, I must. It's of no use father never smiles or speaks a kind word to me. Had he done so, I am sure I should not have disobeyed him. I love you, mother, but I cannot love him. Every blow he strikes me smarts to the soul, and, with bit- ter words, he told me to leave the home I had dis graced. Did he speak to me as you speak, I could get down on my knees to him and beg his forgiveness, but never, with the lash burning on my back. I will go." Alfred had arisen and stood with erect frame ana dilated nostrils, his eye flashing and the whip mark reddening on his cheek. The mother watched him with feelings of pride as he stood, and yet wept at his determination. The mother's tears were yet warm upon the cheek of her boy, to be borne out into the world, and remembered when all else virtuous and holy died out. " It is of no use," he firmly answered to her earn GOING FROM HOME. 173 esl appeals, " I must go. I never shall return until he ashs me to, though I will write to you often. And now, mother, I am wild and thoughtless, but you will pray for me when away. I shall be a better man. It is hard to leave to be turned out, but," and he stood proudly up, " I can wrestle alone in the world, and find none more unkind than him you have told me to love. Don't weep you unman me. In an hour I shall be on my way." Alas ! how many stronger wrestlers have been thrown in life's encounters. The mother spent that swift hour on her knees, and, as the clock struck ten, she hearkened, even then hoping that Alfred would not go. She opened the hall door, passed softly to his chamber, and found the door ajar. She feared he had gone, but she found him bowed and his face wet with tears, and her min- iature in his hands. Like the low rustling of an an- gel's wing, the mother kneeled down, and locked arm in arm in silence, they wept again together, for the mother loved her child. Alfred stood on the threshold, his heart swelling in his throat, and locked to the heaving bosom of the sorrowing mother. Even then, had that stern father spoken one kind word to the proud boy, the cloud would have passed away from the hearth. 'T was like wrenching hearts asunder the agony of that parting. She clung to him with hooks of steel. He had been her idol, and she yielded him as one of the brightest hopes of earth: Clouds had darkened 174 MINNIE HEKMON. the sky over their heads, but darker ones were it their hearts. "I must go, mother may God be with you, for there are none to love you as I love you. Tell fa- ther to be more kind to others than he has been to me, and that when old age creeps upon him, one kindly word will bring me back to our home from the ends of the earth. Don't weep, mother, but pray for your wayward boy. Goodrbye ! " Like a part of her own life, Alfred withdrew from her trembling arms, and turned down the road. She listened to every footstep, the sounds falling like barbs into her desolate heart, and, faint and dizzy, she pas- Bed into the dark and lonely chamber, where every- thing reminded her sadly of him who had gone from her sight forever. It stormed during the night, and she saw in each flash the form of her boy, heavy- hearted and weary, toiling alone through life, without mother or home. The morning was cloudless, and the sun smiled upon the dripping landscape. The father put up his morn- ing prayer with a steady voice, never once alluding to him who was launched out upon a world-wide and treacherous ocean. The mould will long gather upon the gra ?e of that mother, ere the wanderer returns. CHAPTEK XT, UNMOORED FROM THE HEARTH. ON the fourth day from home, Alfred Snj'd^r found himself in the streets of the Empire City, alone and friendless. The thronging thousands, the rumbling of wheels, and the confusion of tongues, wore the air of novelty for a time. But he soon wearied of all this, and felt himself in a vast solitude, even in the midst of the great Babel. So true it is, that in the very midst of the tramping thousands, the strangei feels like one in a vast solitude, and turns within his own bosom, where there are thoughts of home and friends w r ho are ever joined in one common circle. It is not our purpose, at this time, to trace the ca- reer of Alfred in. detail. The chances are against him in the great battle before him. Brave and true men have fallen. There is no true heroism like that which meets arid beats back the temptations which, like ten thousand whirlpools, circle and seethe every- where in the ocean of life. Alfred was alone, and the principles of virtue and truth not too well fixed. The very manner in which he hud been educated at home had robbed such principles cf their real attractions. He remem- 176 MINNTE HERMON. bered sucli teachings as associated with the harsh word and the stinging blow. As he turned to the gay world, its gayeties and pleasures had beauties which have too often proved fatal to those of sterner mould. He was impulsive, generous and brave ; and under the influences of a right education at home, he would have been one of nature's noblemen. Alfred remembered his mother, and felt that he should always respect her parting advice. Poor boy ! How soon he learned his weakness. By degrees, yet rapidly, he was drawn into the mesh. His was a na- ture to welcome all that wore the guise of friendship, and the result was that he found himself a dupe and a victim of designing knaves, his good resolutions vanished, and himself floating away resistlessly upon the tide of ruin. Often he thought of his mother, but temptation came again and again, and still closer her bonds were tightened around the boy. He beat the current with feebler stroke, and turned to go down to his fate. Six months had passed since Mrs. Snyder bid " good bye " to her boy at the old farm gate. Not a waking hour of that time had passed in which she had not thought of him, and lifted her prayer to God to watch over him, and guide his footsteps. As she sat at the morning and evening meal, the eye would flood as it turned to a spot at the board no longer filled. In his chamber she thought and dreamed, and with longings which only a mother can know, looked for his coming at-some future day. CNMOOEED FROM THE HEAKTH. 177 The mother may dream, but she shall puss from the earth and see him not. And happy for her that she cannot see him now, as he mingles with the abandoned in the dens of vice. The fair cheek is already red and swollen, and the eye inflamed. How swiftly ruin has written its Ian guage on that handsome face and manly frame, and upon his manner and apparel. The hallowed face of his mother mingles in the dreams of his drunken slumbers, like faint sunbursts struggling into the dank and dark dungeon-house of death. Dim, and still more dim, appeared that form as it receded in the distance, leaving the nightmares of ruin to riot undisturbed in the heart of the victim. At times, as the fumes of a debauch passed off', his better nature would struggle bravely for a moment, and the yet proud spirit chafe against the fetters which bound him. How eagerly the sick and bruised boy then turned his thoughts homeward, and to his mother, who stood at the old farm gate, as on the night they parted, with outstretched arms to welcome him back ! A thousand times, the first impulse had been, to go ; but instantly a stern and relentless shadow passed in before him, and with fierce words and thongs, drove him back the shadow of his father ! He could not, would not go back as he was, and he had not strength to burst away and win an honored name among men. There was an enemy in his bosom stronger than he a sneering devil, who smiled upon the impotent strug- gles of the enslaved one. 178 MINNIE HERMON. Late one night Alfred Snyder was found in the street near the wharf, drunk and asleep. When he awoke in the morning, he was bewildered and lost. He pressed his hand upon his brow, where sharp pains shot fiercely through every vein. He experienced strange emotions the bed seeming to rise and fall as if tossed on an ocean swell. He at- tributed the sensation to his debauch, but he heard the creak of cordage above him, and a sound like the dashing of waves near his head. A dim light strug- gled in through a small window above his bed, and he arose and attempted to stand upon his feet. The room rocked, and he believed himself yet drunk, though he could remember distinctly the scenes of the previous evening. He groped around to find a door, but reeled and stumbled against his bed. That sound of dashing waves still continued, and he shut his eyes to determine whether he was not still dreaming. At last he managed to climb up to the window by stand- ing on the bed, and look out. It could not be a dream I yet, there met his bewildered gaze one wide expanse of blue water, the long, unbroken swells plunging sullenly towards a faint blue cloud in the distant hor- izon. He was on board a vessel, and the wide waters rolling between him and the shore ! Drunk and insensible, Alfred had been borne to the ship which was outward bound for a three-years cruise. As the sun went down that day, he leaned over the bulwarks of the vessel and looked out on the bright pathway of gold, which mockingly smiled UNMOORED FROM THE HEARTH. 179 away towards the distant home. Again he thought of that Eden and its mother, and a hot tear leaped from his feverish cheek, and was borne shoreward by the receding wave. We shall make too much of a digression if we trace all the wanderings of Alfred Snyder. He was wrecked on the Barbary coast, and for three years was a slave to the Moor. He escaped from his bondage but to be wrecked again on the west- ern shore of Africa, and struggle for weeks with fe- ver and deprivation. He was at last taken up by a elaver, and afterwards taken by pirates, and entered as one of their number in their bloody trade. CHAPTEE XVI. THE STEANGEK IN THE TARPAULIN. IT was one of the days of late autumn. The morn- ing was cold and cloudy, and the ocean swells came plunging darkly to the shore. A chill wind blew out in gusts, sweeping the water from rising billows, and bearing it along in drifting clouds of spray. The streets were damp from the night before, and all things wore a dismal and cheerless aspect. Towards noon the heavy fogs rolled out from the shore, and the sun struggled feebly through the bro- ken clouds. Far out, with all sails set, a vessel was beating towards the harbor. But not until late in the afternoon did she drop her anchor at the wharf and furl her damp sails. With a glass, one might have stood on the wharf and noticed a person on the deck of that ship, as mo- tionless as a block, leaning over the bulwarks, his chin resting on his hand. The sailors were busy aboard, but he moved not, until the anchor dropped and the vessel rocked like a weary and panting monster at the wharf. He then started like a man from a deep slum- ber, and paced the deck with a quick and impatient tread. A week or ten days from the time above alluded THE STRANGER IN THE TARPAULIN. 181 to, a man might have been seen toiling up the long hill which led to the village of Oakvale, with a slow and weary step. His sailor garb was hard-worn and dv.sty. His feet were blistered from travel, and he carried his shoes in his hand, stopping frequently (o rest by the way-side. His face bronzed and weather- beaten, and marked with scars, and grossly red, his eye red and fierce, and his hair long and matted. The frame was a noble one in its proportions, but the step had none of the vigor of mature manhood. Slowly and silently he pursued his way, nor noticed the pass- er-by who turned to look again at the dust-covered and uncouth-looking stranger. As he reached the top of the hill overlooking the village, he turned from the beaten path, and seated himself upon the stones which had tumbled from the old wall, and with his arms resting upon his knees, gazed long and earnestly towards the village. The sun was setting without a cloud, and its beams rested in all their autumnal loveliness upon the landscape. Peacefully it went down behind the western hills, and still the traveler gazed, until the mingled hum of the evening sounds came up the valley. The moon was already in the sky, and the soft twilight ; and clear and distinct the church bell pealed out and swelled up, and then rolled away like waves upon the trem- bling air. That iron voice startled the traveler, and a thousand thoughts might have been seen creeping over his swollen features. Again he listened, and as the last notes died out in a murmur, he bowed his 182 MINNIE HERMON. head and wept. Like the showering rain, the pent up drops glanced from the feverish cheek. The prodigal stood again in the outskirts of his na- tive village : the scarred and weather-beaten sailor was Alfred Snyder. He had returned, and there he stood on the bridge and looked down upon the shim- mering waters of the stream. He lived again in the past, and stood there as when a boy. But what a shadow had passed over the years of his. manhood. Alfred entered the village. Many of the buildings remained as when he left, and he walked up the fa- miliar street like one in a dream. How strangely the memories of other years stole back in their early freshness, until it seemed but a day that he left it all and the dwellings and the stream, the bridge over- grown with grass, and the mellow moonlight, the clump of hemlocks below, and the weather-beaten school-house across the pond, were the same as then. It was a happy, an ecstatic dream ; and as he thought of how much he would give were it in his power to buy back the past, and blot out his manhood's years and their dark history, he wept again. Here was the old church, the grass green around its old steps, and the tin dome glimmering in the moonbeams. Alfred passed round to the window by the shed, and climbing upon the old bench, peered in through the window. "What thrilling thoughts throb- bed in his bosom as he attempted to scan familiar places in the dim light. The moonbeams fell upon the old desk where his father had preached from his THE STRANGER IK THE TARPAULIN. 183 infancy, and across into the family pew. Did he preach there now, and his mother sit in that old pew ? The outlines of the organ were shadowy. Where was she who once sat at the keys ? The prodigal turned away from the holy silence which reigned within the church, and passed into the' heart of the village. The same tavern sign swung between the posts, and the same " stoop " was there. He passed quickly on, for it seemed sacrilege to invade the better thoughts which now possessed him with the bitter memories of the tavern house. A few steps, and he stood where he parted from his mother. He trod softly, for it was holy ground to him, and invol- untarily looked to see his mother, as she then stood at the gate and wept her good-bye. Steadily the tear drops ran down his cheeks, and he leaned over the gate, yielding himself to the thoughts which bore him away like a flood. There stood the old parson- age the home of his youth ; and he lingered, and looked through streaming eyes, like a returning wan- derer into a holy Eden. The old cherry was there still, its yellow leaves now rustling in the path and upon the green by the roadside. The little porch had not changed, and the wild vines clung to the eaves as of yore. His own chamber window was there, and tlio low root beneath it. Ho longed to go in and look into the garden, but dared not touch the brass knocker upon the front door. He felt that he would have given worlds to have known if his mother was there, yet dreaded to know. He listened foi her 184 MINNIE HEEMON. footstep as he once used to hear it, when she watched late for his return, but it was the rustling of the leaves which had fallen in the walk. Was the mother there, or had she passed away, and strangers taken her place? The moon came brightly out of the clouds, and he passed up to look upon the old lion-faced knocker. As his foot fell upon the sill, the dark shadow of a cloud passed over the sky, and he shrunk timidly back to the gate. But he felt that he must know, and he again stood within the little porch and peered into the face of the bronzed lion for the familiar name His heart sank within him, for another name was there, and the stern image seemed to frown upon him, and he turned away, as weak as a child. Without a thought, he had turned up the street; and stood in front of the old church-yard, its sable gate standing dark and sombre at the entrance. Guilty as Alfred was, and his hand red with crime, the flowing tears, and the sacred memories which brought them, made him forget his own degradation, and he sought the grave-yard as a place of rest. He had not yet thought that his mother might be there until he stood among the sodded mounds ; and when the thought came upon him, he gasped for breath, and leaned heavily against the fence. That mother had been a beacon which had guided him in his wan- derings towards home, and he felt that if it had gone down in the grave, there was no hope for him. The bruised prodigal felt that she could save him, and THE STRANGER IN THE TARPAULIN. 185 he shuddered as he cast his eye upon the white mar- ble that stood in the moonlight. Alfred knew where his brothers and sisters were buried, and, as if dreading some fearful revelation, bo passed on among the graves. How loud the sear leaves in the hollows rustled in the stillness of the night. Weak, trembling, and dizzy, he reached the iron paling, and for a moment shut his eyes in dread. The cold drops stood out upon his brow, and yet his cheek burned hotly. He lifted his tarpaulin from his head, and as the cool night wind stirred his shaggy locks, he felt strengthened. And there, in that en closure, stood a large marble slab. With the weak ness of a child, he reached out and clung convulsive- ly to the monument, and read, as he dropped his hat upon the grave, " Sacred to the memory of MAR? SNYDER, who died May 10th, 18 , aged 56." His mother was dead, and the grass of four sum- mers had been green on her grave. That beacon to which he clung for salvation, had gone down in the night of death, and he was alone ! Her arms were not spread to receive him. or her tears of welcome to fa 1 ! upon his neck. Hope died away in the prodigal's heart the graves swam around him, and he fell heav- ily upon the leaf-covered mound, his scalding drops pouring out the love of years, and mingling with the dew which trembled like gems upon the rank blades. The fallen one would have been happy could he have lain his head by the side of his mother's upon its pillow of earth, and vi ith her been at rest. CHAPTER XYII. THE TRIAL. As the time approached for the trial of Ricks, the circumstances of his crime were again brought to the public attention with an interest equal to their first development. His conviction and execution were looked upon as a matter of course. Time had laid a heavy hand upon the murderer during his imprisonment, and the days had been dark and dreary. There were none of kin to befriend him in this great trouble, and there were few in the commu- nity who ever gave a thought to the prisoner in his cell. Elder Snyder had never yet seen Ricks since his confinement, but had contented himself with thundering wrath upon his head from the pulpit. But there was one who visited him often. The penitent and humble criminal had learned to listen to her footfall as that of an angel oi peace. To her he was indebted for many a comfort, and many a word of kindness and consolation. Hers was the only countenance which had smiled upon him in his soli- tude. Her woman's heart had sympathized with his, and her tears had mingled with his tears, while, with the calm and cheering faith of the Christian, she pointed him to ono who could save to the uttermost. THE TRIAL. 187 There was a sublimity in the scene the red-handed murderer bowing and weeping like a child, as the gentle friend plead in her sweet low voice for one so deeply guilty. When those who had shared the pris- oner's too generous bounty left him to his fate with- out a word of commiseration, the daughter of the man who had brought the ruin upon him clung to him like a sister. As Ricks thought of all she had done for him, he forgot much of his bitterness against the father. So strong was the current against Ricks, that none of the lawyers would defend him. The ruined man had no money or wealthy friends with which to com- mand aid. On the day before the trial, the one at first retained avowed his determination to abandon the case. " You are a sensible man," responded Hermon from his bar, " his case is hopeless. A man would gain no credit or money in such a case. He must swing.'' " And he ought to, if ever a man did," continued several in the bar-room. " There, are those who deserve the rope more ! " hissed the man in the tarpaulin. " That may be," retorted Hermon, looking mean- ingly into the face of the speaker. " And will hang yet ! " deliberately added the stranger, rising to confront Hermon, that wild eye kindling with unwonted glitter, as it gazed into that of the shrinking landlord. The latter turned away as from, a reptile's spring, for there was something 188 MINNIE UERMON. about the sailoi which always repelled too much license. " And why, may I ask," said Doctor Howard, who had listened to the conversation. " should not Ricks be defended '? " " He owns up, and what 's the use ? " answered Hermon, glad to get rid of the sailor. " But the worst men are entitled to counsel Our laws guarantee it." "But he has nothing to pay. Can't expect people to defend a gone case for nothing." ' Perhaps," coolly remarked the Doctor, " some of his friends will aid him with means, eh ? " " What do you mean, sir, by ' ' friends f ' " angrily de- manded Hermou. " Those who have his money in their pockets" re- plied Howard, looking the landlord calmly in the eye. " What do you mean by that ? that I have got any of his money ? " " 1 meant what I said," continued the Doctor, with coolness, in spite of the angry advance and menace of Hermon. " Ricks once had enough to employ able and honorable counsel, and command the respect of those who like cowards heap their venom upon his name." The shot told, and there was a brief silence fin the room. Coloring deeply, the lawyer turned from the bar where he had just swallowed a dram, and inquired of Howard if he meant to " insinuate anything by the word honorable." THE TRIAL. 189 " Yes, sir ; and to make the matter understood, I now say that no honorable man would desert a client because his cause is bad and his purse empty. I trust there is no insinuation about that ! " " Do you mean to say, sir, " Just what I did, Mr. Skillott," broke in the Doe tor, as he saw the former move towards him with clenched fists. " Men who win money so easy, should not desert a client with an empty purse ! " " But," said Skillott, in a more softened tone, " the man is a bad man. He acknowledges himself guilty of a brutal murder, and declares his determination to plead guilty. What is the use of a defence ? " " Every man, sir, is entitled to a defence. Ricks, at heart, is no more a murderer than you or I." " How can you make that out ? " " The process is simple. He was maddened with liquor. When sober, he loved his family and was kind." " Nobody was to blame for his drinking but him self, I am sure. It was his own business." "The man who sold to him was more to blame. He knew the appetite of Ricks, and how he treated his family when in liquor, and in rigid justice is as much guilty of the crime as Ricks." " You 're a rascal ! " belched Herrnon, spring- ing for the poker, and brandishing it over Howard's head. There was a crimson flush upon the cheek of the latter, but it passed away, and he eyed his infuri- nted enemy with a steady nerve. 190 MINNIE HERMOX. " Keep cool, Mr. Hermon ; jou '11 find it a more troublesome matter to attack a sober man than to put a drunken one into the street." " You deserve to be kicked into the street. A murderer, indeed ! " muttered the landlord of the " Home," as he trembled with rage. " Mr. Hermon, there are ways of committing mur- der without coming within reach of human laws. But God's laws are plain. You could not sell arsenic to a man who you knew would use it for self-destruc- tion. You cannot dig a pit that a neighbor may fall therein, or let an unruly ox run at large." " But, sir, how did /ever touch Ricks' family ? " " Touched them with the most cruel torture. You knew that every sixpence Ricks brought you was needed by his family, and yet you took it to the last one, and sent there that which you knew was destroy- ing them by inches. You laid the train to their door, liable at any moment to produce just such results as we have witnessed. But for this tavern, Ricks would now be an innocent, a wealthy and an honorable man. If, as in olden time, the blood of the murdered should be traced to the nearest threshold, your own would be crimsoned with the blood of the Ricks family." "False as h 11 ! " thundered Hermon. " I have a license to sell, you abusive scoundrel, and am not ac- countable for other men's doings. I tend to my own business, and I wish others would mind theirs." " Be sure you take your license to your grave and THE TKIAL. 191 to God ; and may you find that and your own hand guiltless of others' Kood ! Good morning, Mr. Her- mon," bowed Howard, slowly turning upon his heel and going out. u Please remember, gentlemen, what that man said. I '11 sweeten him for slander, or my name ain't Iler- mon," hissed the exasperated landlord, as he turned into his bar. " We (hie) we will, and more too," stuttered a poor sot, reeling on the " bunk " in the corner. " Yes, for the murderers are not all hung yet," added the sailor, as he sat with his chin in his palms. " Take that, you devil ! " shouted the gored land- lord, bringing the poker, still in his hand, down fiercely over the speaker. With the spring of a cat, the latter writhed from the blow, and fastened upon the throat of his assailant. " Playing poker, eh ? Think to train Tarpaulin be cause he 's crazy, eh ? Not so easy killing sober men I Stick to your bottles, and let iron alone, and murdei in safety ha, ha, ha!" That half-maniac laugh fairly burned upon Hermon's cheek, so near was the face of the sailor, as he glanced with a fiendish glee upon him. That iron grip would have proved fatal in a moment more, for his eyes rolled back in his head, and his tongue, black and swollen, protruded from his mouth. " Stick to your bottles, Mr. Hermon ; there is more blood to shed, and men to hang ! " hissed the sailor, as he released Hermon, and again emitted that pecu- 192 MINNIE HKBMON. liar chuckle. When Hermon recovered his voice, the sailor had gone. Walter Bray ton had just completed the study of the law, and returned to Oakvale on the evening pre- ceding the trial of Ricks. His generous and noble nature was indignant, when he learned that his coun- sel had deserted him just on the eve of his trial. Walter's resolution was taken, and he immediately took his way to the jail, though late in the evening, for the purpose of offering his services in the case. It was with the utmost difficulty that Walter ob- tained admittance to the prison. Had not the jailer been a personal friend, the doors would have been closed against him ; for the sheriff, Landlord Hermon, had that day strictly forbidden such privileges to the prisoner. "I have already violated the injunction," said the kind-hearted man, as he put the key in the lock. As they entered the passage leading to the cell a female figure, deeply muffled, stood at the grated door awaiting the coming of the jailer. As the pon- derous engine swung grating back, the figure, drawing the hood still more closely over her features, passed lightly and swiftly out. "That,' said the jailer, "is the only person, Law- yei Skillott excepted, who has ever visited Ricks aince his confinement." " I was not aware," said Brayton, " that the unfor- tunate man had any kindred left. Who can she be ? " he continued, in a tone of surprise. THE TRIAL. 193 " I am not at liberty to tell her name, even to you ; but she is one of the angels of earth, and never fails, in any weather, to visit the prisoner. A thousand comforts, sir, and what is more, kind and forgiving words, have come from her. I have been blamed for it all, but she comes and goes in the night, and I could not help it. Her voice would open the doors them- selves, it seems to me, it is so soft and kind, and her face is so sad. Poor girl, she is seeing sorrow," and the kind-hearted man brushed away a tear with his sleeve. Brayton found Ricks bowed over his Bible and in tears, but the latter welcomed his young visitor with a smile. To Walter's proposition, however, he main- tained a determined opposition for a long time. " But," said Walter, earnestly, laying his hand upon the prisoner's arm, " you are not entirely indifferent to the opinion of the world. You are looked upon as one of the most cold-blooded of " Murderers, you would say," broke in Ricks, with a shudder, as Walter hesitated. " But," continued the latter, "you are not. You were maddened with rum. You loved your wife and children as well as any man. By these memories, and for your own name, it is your duty as well as a privilege to make a defence. To be sure, the case is a dark one, but we can hope for the best." " Hope ! " echoed Ricks, in a hollow voice, " I hope for nothing but the rest of the grave ; I dare not hope for Heaven. And yet, Walter, as I am a dying MINNIE HEKMON. man, I am not a cold-blooded murderer," and the cheek blushed redly at his own words. " I did love Mary and my children. God! what a horrible dream," he muttered, as he bowed his face in the open book before him, \mtil the pages were wet with hot tears. "But I have not a farthing in the world,'' said Ricks, looking up. " Don't speak of money," quickly replied Brayton. " I am young, and have no experience, but it will afford me a happiness you will not deny me, I am sure, to allow me to aid you what I can." " Well, let it be as you wish, but it will be of no use. Yet I shall owe you much for your kindness, for the friends who have remembered me in my mis- fortune are few. But one friend, besides yourself and the jailer, sir, has ever been within these walls. May God bless her for what she has done for me. Her father, though he has ruined me, has even or- dered that a friend should not see me." " Her father ! And she whom we met was " Minnie Hermon" added Ricks. " Her kindness alone has made life bearable. Would that I had her faith in the Redeemer ! " Walter went out with a holier love for the rum- seller's daughter. The streets of Oakvale were thronged early on the day of the trial. By the time the court opened, the THE TRIAL. 195 court room \vas packed by the people of the village and the surrounding country, the dense mass swaying in excitement as the prisoner was brought in and placed at the bar. He vengeful feelings gave way in many a heart to the nobler one of sympathy and pity, as those who had known Ricks once, looked upon him now. He had come forth from his cell with his hair of a snowy white, and the form and bearing of an old man. In the darkness of his imprisonment the bronze had faded from his cheek and brow, anc they were now of an ashy paleness. There was a slight flush on his features, as he looked round upon the mul- titude. As he seated himself, his eye fell upon a pitcher of flowers standing before him, made up of the choicest of the season, and tastefully arranged. The prisoner well knew what hand placed them there^ and the thought of her, with the perfume of the flow- ers, stole like a cooling shadow upon his burning cheek. "Who is your counsel?" asked the judge of the prisoner, as it was well known that Skillott had re- fused to have anything more to do with the defence. Ricks looked around, and a shadow passed across his features, as he felt that young Brayton, too, had been overawed by the strong sentiment against him. At that moment the stalwart form of "Walter Brayton was seen crowding up the opening in front of the bar. Slightly pale, but apparently calm, the boy advocate took his seat by the prisoner, and to the usual ques tion firmly answered "not guiliy /" 190 MINNIE HKRMOF The outside interest increased at the prospect of a struggle, but the cause of the defence seemed so utter- ly hopeless, that the better portion of the audience turned with pity from the prisoner and his counsel, and all wondered at Brayton's temerity in underta- king the case against such odds. Skillott, now en- gaged on the prosecution, smiled with ill-concealed contempt, not unmingled with delight, as he counted upon an easy triumph. Walter's eye fell upon the bouquet before him. To his better-informed mind, it read a language which nerved every purpose within him : " Hope, faith, courage, deliverance ! " Wal- ter at once knew that the messenger spoke to the prisoner, and felt a thrill as he recognized the hand of the author. But what could it mean? As he raised his eyes he saw the sailor gazing upon him with a meaning but mysterious look. We need not follow the trial of Ricks through in detail. The proof was conclusive, and left not a loop- hole for the prisoner to hang a hope upon. All eyes were turned upon the prisoner's counsel as he arose to address the jury, and Bray ton himself felt a crushing weight upon him. There was a tre- mor in his voice, and the brief shook slightly in his hand. An insulting sneer rested upon the face of Skillott, as he leaned back in his chair, and with his thumbs in his vest looked Brayton full in the face. Brayton was evidently embarrassed, and blundered in his opening. Tu a remark that he was inexperi- enced, Skillott retorted in a whispered insult, but THE TRIAL. 197 distinctly heard by Brayton and the bar. The half- suppressed titter stung the young man, but he waa calm fearfully cool and calm. The crowd were taken by surprise at the matter and manner of the young advocate. To a voice of unusual depth and power, and a mien noble and commanding, he added a rich imagination, a mind well stored with reading, and a logic relentlessly close and convincing. Turn- ing his kindling eye upon Skillott, he deliberately stated the cause of his treachery to the prisoner, with comments so withering, that the smile passed quickly from the face of that veteran advocate, and he looked more like a guilty one than the prisoner. The bold and successful castigation of one so dreaded in the courts, produced a sensation in the room, and people essayed more eagerly to catch the tones of the speak- er. But as he warmed and forgot himself, they swelled and rolled until distinctly heard by the vast throng assembled without. The oldest in che profes- sion were taken by surprise. Brayton's argument ex- hibited so perfect a knowledge of all the intricacies of the law ; so wide and thorough an acquaintance with authorities ; so complete a mastery of every av- enue to the human heart, skill in attacking and de- fending, and exhaustless power of illustration, that old counselors were spell-bound as he proceeded. After going through with the testimony, he con- cluded : " Gentlemen, I know not what the result of your ver- dict may be. But be ware how human prejudices in- 198 MINNIE HERMON. fluence your decision this day. The unfortunate man whose life is at stake, may be guilty of wrong ; but it is not the part of men of Christians, to pursue an erring brother vindictively into the very presence of a final Judge. I have been pained at the unfeeling and unforgiving character of the public mind in rela- tion to the alleged crime of the prisoner at the bar. He was in prison and you visited him not. The meek and holy Master, who wept over sin and spoke kindly to the guilty, has found no representative in your midst, save one, to extend the most common human sympathy to the lone one in his cell. " Gentlemen, you are all the creatures of circum stances of education. The ordeal that tries men, brings out their true character. Who among us shall dare to say that no temptation could shake him from his position? Man does not know himself. The strongest of to-day, tried by adversity to-morrow, may fail the best may err. " Look at Kicks, gentlemen 1 Until his ruin by a vice now too lamentably prevalent, and the acts now alleged against him, was he not the peer of the proudest in this community ? Who of you ever heard ought against him or his? His honor was untarnish- ed by an unworthy word or deed, his generosity al- most a fault, and his worth, as a man and a citizen, equal to any. What wrought bis ruin ? The foul and festering hell of corruption, whose fumes even now come up into the precincts of the very temple of justice. Your tavern ruined him. But for that, a THE TKIAL. 199 good citizen would stand blameles among you to- day, and a husband and father dwell in peace in the busom of a happy wife and children. And are there none to blame for all this ruin ? Before God, I be- lieve the people of this community as guilty of tho destruction of the Ricks family, as the prisoner at the bar. To be sure, they did not strike the blow. But their agents, the members of the excise board, signed their death warrant ; and while at their homes and their prayers, the devilish work was carried out. The victim was first bound in the chains of an appe- tite, which has ruined the strongest intellects evei created, his substance taken from him, and his brain maddened with poison. Under the direct influence of liquor, then and now sold by law in this communi- ty, he committed the deed charged upon him. Who placed that temptation in his way? Are none but him guilty of the fatal results? The rum which caused the deed, went from your tavern. As I once dared to say, it has proved a curse indeed. You have, Prometheus like, chained down the victim, and then let loose vultures to tear him. There are acces- sories to this triple murder, who are not punished by law. The people and their agents are particeps crim- inis. They have aided and abetted the sweeping tragedy. There is broad trail of blood from the ruined altar of the Ricks family to your own, and the thresh- old of your tavern. The unoffending wife and inno- cent children died legally died by authority of the people of Oakvale died a revolting and cruel death, 200 MINNIE liERMON. under a warrant, with your names, through your del- egated instruments, attached in full to the parchment of blood ! "Gentlemen, this prisoner is not the only one who is to enter this room in custody. Pauperism and crime are being manufactured in our midst at a fear- ful pace. A fearful change has come over our once peaceful and happy village. Our families have been ruined, and our fields turned to waste. Pauperism stalks your streets in its rags. Blood ! innocent blood, smokes hotly from the licensed butchery of the rum demon. There is a note of sorrow, and a maniac wail upon the ear. Mabel Dunham and her imbru- ted father Hinson in your jail, with the flesh bitten from his arms, and his body drenched in blood an esteemed citizen frozen within sight of his own door the Watt family at this hour weeping around the corpse of a broken-hearted mother Ricks the elder, of revolutionary memory, with the snows of winter in his thin locks, and the frost in his eye a once happy family, at rest in a bloody grave families once wealthy and respectable r now living as town paupers scores now doomed to the same fate, and desola- tion and wo scattering broadcast among all classes, all point to your liquor business as the source of all ! Blood cries from the ground, and fresh tragedies will startle, when too late, a guilty community from its deathly slumbers 4i But I will not detain you longer. I leave the fate of the prisoner with you and with God. There THE TRIAL. 201 are few to weep in the event of a conviction, for he has no kindred on earth. The last of a noble family is before you, charged with a capital crime. Those whom he loved, as you love those dear to you, are in their graves. Whatever may be the result, may this community bear in mind the period when the prisoner at the bar was all that a parent, husband, and citizen should be, and as you go to your homes this night, ask yourselves the question what caused the fall of one so high in your estimation ? " There were few dry eyes in the audience during portions of the plea for the prisoner. The judge's lip even quivered with emotion. In the minds of some, new light had dawned in relation to the liquor business, while others ground their teeth, and watched the bold advocate with lowering brows. Skillott's plea was labored and bitter : aimed more at Brayton and his " dastardly slanders " upon a re- spectable community and profession. He evidently writhed under the reflection that he had met with an antagonist more than his match. The charge was feeling but plain, and after a brief deliberation, the jury returned a verdict of "guilty." On being asked if he had anything to say, Ricks arose and said : " I have but a word to say. I wish to look you, gentlemen, in the face, and every neighbor in this room, and before God, declare that I am not a delib- erate, willful murderer. I loved my wife and chil- dren when I let rum alone. To that alone I owe my 202 MINNIE HEKMON. ruin and my crime. I do not fear to die, there is no tie which binds roe to earth. If my poor life would restore my wife and her children my own good name, and our unblighted home, I should die happy May all beware of the cause of my fall." CHAPTER XVIII THE GALLOWS CHEATED OF A PREY THE PEOPLE OF A SIGHT. LATE in the night previous to the day appointed for the execution of Ricks, Minnie Hermon was pass- ing from the jail to the " Home." For the last time she had stolen to the cell of Ricks, to administer a kind word, and to ask forgiveness for her father. As she passed out into the yard, and between the jail and the court-house, she was confronted by a tall form standing immovably in her path. She was startled, but did not cry out, as many would have done, at so abrupt a meeting in the dark. The intru- der manifested no disposition to stir from the passage, and remained silent. Minnie mustered firmness to demand the cause of the interruption, and who it was who thus intruded himself upon a defenceless woman. "A friend. You know 'Crazy Alf.' You gave him bread, and treated him kindly." " If you are a friend, let me pass, and you shall never want when you ask bread again. Do not de- tain me here." " Miss Hermon is a friend of the prisoner ?" whis- pered All, not stirring from his tracks. ** I am, and hope you are," replied Minnie, now 204 MINNIE HERMON. thoroughly alarmed, fearing that her movements had been watched for no good purpose. " I am, must not be hung horrible ! " " What can you mean ? " " Hist 1 Speak lower, llicks not a bad man never do wrong again must not hang ! " " I do not understand you. He is to be hung to- morrow," and Minnie shuddered at the word. '''Must not hang, I tell you. Murderers not all hung yet give him wings ! " "How? what? 1 ' " You do not want him hung do no good bring no dead back. Must let him go ! " "How can that be? Would it be right? "asked the eager girl. "Right to cheat the gallows? to cheat rum? to let a penitent go to do better ? " No more a mur derer than I am! " Minnie startled at the firm energy of that " I am." It was ground between the teeth with a shudder. " What can be done ? " she timidly asked. " Take this to the prisoner you can do it," and he drew something from his sleeve and held it towards Minnie. She involuntarily reached out and clasped some hard substance wrapped in a paper. " God forbid ! You would not have him commit "No, no. But he has iron to gnaw before he can fly." Minnie was easily convinced that the ends of jus- tice would be just as well answered in the escape of THE GALLOWS CHEATED. 205 Kicks, as in his execution ; for her woman's heart shrank from the latter alternative, and she turned back toward the jail. The bar-room was full on the evening preceding the day of execution, and the event of the morrow was earnestly discussed. Hermon was mellow, and spoke with brutal levity of his duties as sheriff at the scaf- fold. Rum flowed freely, and the probable bearing of the condemned was canvassed over jingling glasses. Unnoticed by the intoxicated group, " Crazy Alf " had stolen into the room, and seated himself in the corner, behind the stove, his eye wearing an unusual glitter as he watched their movements. In reaching for wood, Hermon stumbled over the strange creature, and recoiled at the touch. " Many a worse fall, yet, Sheriff Hermon ! ha I ha ! " hissed Alf, rising to his full height. " Corne, come, Alf, none of your vinegar. Let's be friends, and take something." " Guess I will we must know each other better, eh ? " and Alf followed Hermon to the bar. None saw the former turn his brandy down the outside of his throat, into his bosom, but rather made themselves merry over the apparent effects of the liquor upon the half-crazed sailor. Alf craved more, and drank again and again with Hermon, the latter glad to thus win the good will of a troublesome customer. The sailor was forward to display his money, and all drank at his expense. Hermon was soon reeling, and in passing out of the 206 MINNIE HEKMON. bar to assist a traveler, he lost his balance, and fell headlong. " "Worse falls than that, yet," came from Alf in that peculiar, hitter tone, as Hermon arose to his feet by the aid of a chair and the arm of the traveler. When the landlord of the Home again looked for the sailor, that personage had gone, and none had witnessed his stealthy exit. "All drunk and Alf sober. Now for it, while rum and darkness lasts," said he as he swiftly glided down the street. Creeping under a long tier of sheds, after listening a moment in the court-house grounds, he drew forth a long, light ladder, and carried it across the garden, and to the rear of the jail. All was dark and still, the rain now steadily falling, and the wind beating in gusts as Alf proceeded to carefully raise his ladder and rest the top against the top of the grated window of the cell where Ricks was confined. At this juncture, the jealous dog noticed the move- ment, and came growling from the woodshed. Alf was a familiar character about the premises, and he called the dog to him. " Hate to do it, but men worth more than dogs," he muttered, throttling the unsuspecting mastiff, and cutting his throat from ear to ear. When the dog be- came still in his hands, he dropped him and cautiously ascended the ladder. Portions of the iron window had been cut and left to be easily removed, by Aif, some days before, and it was but ii moment's work to lift out the bars and THE GALLOWS CHEATED. 207 silently tie them to the ladder so as to avoid noise Lifting the window by hair's breadths, he leaned in and listened for a long time. He had feared that the officers would watch with the prisoner during the night; but Hermon was drunk, and the jailer absent by a cunning ruse. Alf could hear but one persoif breathing in the cell, and he ventured to whisper tho name of the prisoner. " Who calls ? " slowly answered the latter, doubting the evidence of his hearing, and rousing from his cot. "A friend." " And why here ? " "To save. Do no good to hang ! " Ricks shuddered. The word entered his soul like the chill of death, and crept through every vein, as the scaffold and the crowd loomed distinctly out in the darkness of his cell. To hang ! He closed his eyes to shut out the horrible phantom, but it was still there his neighbors staring at the solemn spectacle, and the victim, wearing his own features, ghastly and swollen, looking down from the scaffold in his shroud of white. ' James Ricks ! are you ready ? " impatiently de manded Alf, leaning still farther into the cell. " Heady for what ? " muttered the former, confused and hardly knowing whether he was awake or asleep, " Ready to leave. Do no good to hang, tell ye. Go off and be a better man." " I begin to understand you. But why flee ? " asked the prisoner sadly and proudly. " I deserve y 208 MnsrsriE HERMON. my fate, and will meet it like a man. How could T escape if I would! " Ricks continued, as a thought of life and liberty shot like lightning to his heart, and made it beat wildly in his bosom. " The brand is upon me, and justice would dog me wherever I went. Do not excite within me hopes which cannot be re- alized." " Excite no false hopes. Do no good to hang, tell ye ! nobody thank ye for 't. Go off do good, and die natral." Liberty is ever sweet. It lives and throbs in every heart. In spite of crime, of sorrow, of bolts and chains, its flame lingers in the human heart, and kin- dles up at the sound of deliverance. The slave dreams of it while at his task, and in his weary slumbers. The captive watches the sunlight, and the prison walls cannot hide from his vision the distant home and hills. Tyranny cannot crush it ; iron cannot bind it, or steel kill it. 'Mid ruin it smoulders. Like the captive ea- gle, it beats its fetters as it listens to the wild scream in the distance. Ricks had thought to meet his fate with resigna- tion, convinced of its justice and necessity. But the love of liberty and life is sweet and never-dying. At the word of hope, that love grew wildly strong, and an ignominious death upon the scaffold was dreadful. He quickly rose upon his feet, but to sink again, as the sound of the clanking fetters fell like lead to his heart. "Devils/" hissed Alf. "Chains on yet? Why THE GALLOWS CHEATED. 209 didn't you cut 'em nobody bring a file here, eh ? " and the sailor swung like a cat in upon the dungeon floor. "A friend did bring something, but I supposed it a knife, and would not undo it," and here light flashed into the mind of Ricks. " No knife file should 'a used it." But Alf was not to be foiled. Feeling from the staple in the wall to the ancle of the prisoner, he found a link through which he could put the ends of two of the window gratings, and prying in opposite directions, the link was broken with ease. The same process wrenched the padlock from the fetter, and the limbs of the prisoner were free. None can tell the strange, wild emotions that stirred the heart, for he had given himself up to the hope of freedom, and escape from an ignominious death. Tears fell upon the hands of Alf as the latter removed the iron from the calloused ancle. Swiftly and cautiously the two descended the lad- der, and crossed the fields to the river. A skiff wafe hidden in the underbrush which lined the bank, into which the two sprang, and with a noisele'ss stroke, Alf struck out for the opposite shore. An hour's walk after landing, took them several miles up the ra- vine, by a foot-path which led over the mountains and across the wilderness to Pennsylvania. At a de- serted sugar cabin, a horse was found saddled and fastened in a dense undergrowth. , "Mount!" whispered Alf, with emphasis, as he 210 MINNIE H~ERMON. unhitclied the spirited animal and led him before Ricks. " But the horse is not mine," said the latter, yet proud and honorable as in his better days. "Devil. I know that ; mine, though. Time lost, tell ye. Away ! Better ride than hang ! " and Alf seized the emaciated form of Ricks in his powerful grasp and swung him into the saddle as though lie had been a child. " There ! " putting the reins into his hands, "money and bread in bags. Shun daylight and rum. Re- member Crazy Alf and Minnie Hermon ply the gad ! " and ere the excited Ricks could thank his de- liverer, the latter had disappeared with rapid strides down the dark gorge. Alf muttered that peculiar chuckle as he listened to the quick ringing of hoofs up the mountain, and strode muttering back to the place where he had left his boat. It was brief work to replace the bars in the jail window, to wrench his ladder in pieces and cast it into the river, and steal away to the deserted hut where he sometimes found a shelter. There was intense excitement in Oakvale on tie morning of the day appointed for the execution of Ricks. On visiting the cell at day-break, but the irons which were upon the prisoner remained, and. no farther signs which revealed the manner of his escape. By the appointed hour, more than five thou- sand people had assembled. To the disgrace of our common humanity, we are compelled to say that a THE GALLOWS CHEATED. 211 largo class of both sexes manifested much ill temper in their disappointment. The immense throng at the scaffold finally gathered in the rear of the jail, as it became known that the prisoner made his escape from the window, and until a late hour discussed the mat- ter, and gazed at the gloomy window as though they hoped to see the prey of the scaffold still within reach. Hermon, intoxicated with excitement and rum, stormed imprecations upon those who procured the escape ; for it was evident from the tracks to the window, that two persons had left the jail. Consta- bles and parties returned late in the afternoon, finding no indication unusual, save the tracks of a horse un- der full gallop, but headed towards the river. Alf had himself shod the horse with the shoes re- versed, and with a lurking sneer he walked up to where Hermon stood in the crowd, and looked him steadily in the eye. " Bird flown, eh ? Didn't catch him, s'pose. Mur- derers not all hung yet ! ha ! ha ! " Hermon turned away from that dreaded eye and entered the house. Drunkenness, rioting and horse- racing ended the day's history. CHAPTEK XIX. THE WATT FAMILY. IN Rhode Island, many years ago, there lived a wealthy family by the name of How their worth and standing equal to their worldly means. With a morning sky unclouded, and light with hope, the accomplished and favorite daughter of Major How married an estimable young man by the name of Watt, a gentleman of high integrity, honor, and irreproachable private character. His future was full of promise, and he took his young bride to a home of happiness and affluence. The customs of the day stealthily fastened a love of wine in the system of young Watt, gathering strength while the victim dreamed not of danger. Indeed he would have laughed at the idea of danger to a man of his mind and position. The current swept beneath with a swifter tide, while he beat the waves with feebler stroke. It was long before Ber- tha Watt realized the fall of her heart's idol. Day by day brought the fearful truth to her mind, until the heart-crushing conviction fell like a stunning blow upon her happiness and hopes. She was not the wo- man to complain. Proud of the world's opinion, but meek and gentle, she suffered alone with her tears, BERTHA WATT THE WATT FAMILY. 215 "hiding the ragged iron in her soul. Bertha had none of that sterner stuff in her nature which rallies as the storm beats down hope after hope ; but alone with her babes, her shrinking and trusting spirit, as mild as the sky of summer, suffered on. The young cheek paled, and the light grew dim in the eye. She would not, for a world, have spoken to her high-minded and sensitive husband of the dark vice which already left a broad shadow of coming ill at their hearth-side. In their new home near Lake George, in York State, the almost-despairing wife and mother hoped that her husband would escape many of the baneful influences of the society he had been accustomed to move in. The hope was vain. The drinking usages of pioneer life, though less refined, were none the less general and fatal. And besides, step by step, Watt had lost much of his chivalric pride of charac- ter his manhood was degraded. The crater kin- dled within him, was burning out every sentiment of his better nature. He became familiar with coarse- ness and vice, gambled without hesitation, and was often in a state of shameful intoxication. His busi- ness was neglected and his temper soured ; he spent most of his evenings at the tavern, and when at home was sullen and harsh, or broadly abusive. Darkly the days dawned at the neglected hearth, and darker still their evenings. The unkind word and constant neglect, were wringing to agony the heart's every fibre, and unseen tears, scalding with sorrow, were wearing deep channels in the pale and 21 G MINNIE HERMON. wasting cheek. The pure smile and winning way of the babe, or the witching laughter and prattle of the older children, had no power to win a parent from the embrace of the tempter. Home, and its circle was deserted for the bar-room ; the wife and her treas- ures, for the cup and the boon companion. The trail of all his ruin was broadly slimed from the threshold to the hearth, and there Want and Despair sat amid the domestic wreck. No resource of the mother could long keep her loved ones from going forth in rags. The appeal for bread, made in the silvery voice of trusty childhood, was answered with a curse, and from the barren board, the recreant husband and pa- rent went forth to steep his soul in deeper potations. The child that once crawled upon the knee and threw her light arms over the shoulders, and with stainless lip kissed the bearded cheek, now shrunk away and hushed its half-sad mouth at the dreaded approach. And thus an idolized parent's returning tread was the herald of sorrow and tears, and his darkening form a shadow upon every joy which, like pale flow- ers, still sprung up on the wintry waste. From carelessness when drunk, the dwelling was fired, and the family driven from their beds into the snow of a winter's night, one of the older girls leap- ing from the chamber window just as the flaming roof fell in. After this fresh calamity, the family re- moved to Cherry Yalley, and still again to county. In the haggard and sottish drunkard, none would THE WAT! FAMILY. 217 have recognized James Watt. He was ill- tempered and abusive in the extreme ; quarrelsome, reckless and profane, and outraged nearly all the proprieties of life. At times, he would earn money fast but. to spend it in one prolonged debauch. Not a penny ever went for the support of his family. Mrs, Watt and her children existed from day to day, no one knew how. The children and herself were in rags. Silently and in secret, for tears provoked the harsh word or blow, she wept away her life. With a languid step and a vacant stare, she moved about, hoping for the long rest of death, yet dreading to leave those who now alone bound her to earth. Late at night she toiled, and the morning found her with- out rest. With a compressed lip, she bore the sharp gnawings of hunger, that her babes might not want for bread, and still the moan of the famished one would often pierce the lacerated heart like heated barbs. She was yoked to a living corpse, and as sho listened to the snoring of the drunkard in his slum- bers and smelled the stench of the consuming fires, she could look down into a once manly heart, now a seething crater, where all her earlier and brighter hopes lay smouldering in charred and blackened ruins. The lips it had been her pride to greet were flaming "with rum and the wanton's loathsome kiss. As she felt new life throbbing in her bosom, she locked her wasted fingers together and prayed to die. Ill-fated Bertha ! there was dark ending of life's summer day after so light a morning ! 218 MINNIE HEKMON. Summer was fading into autumn, and the leaves were already falling. Within a miserable tenement. Bertha Watt was fading away. Few ever entered the pauper dwelling, and with her children to watch her, she journeyed downward to the dark valley. A few were charitable, and the family were saved from actual starvation. Desolate and cheerless the room and the couch of the dying ; more desolate still the stricken heart, as she looked around upon a group of ten, who were doubly bound to her by the ties of years of common suffering. Yet, blessed God of the *poor ! Hope lit her torch at the waning flame of life, and pointed sweetly away, over the misty realm of sod and slab, to one of happiness and rest. As the sharp wail of her tears broke upon the night's stillness, Bertha Watt lay silent in death. The crushed and broken spirit of the meek and in- jured sufferer was free from its wasted temple, and far out upon a shoreless sea ! They said she died of consumption. Aye, con- sumption of the heart its hopes, like drops of blood dripping away, through the long night hours of ray- less years. Hidden away, and unseen by the public eye, are such triumphs of the scourge as these, and thickly written in the history of its progress, as are the leaves upon the forest in summer time. And there is a place where the weary and the heavy-laden shall find rest ! A wide world for the worse than orphans ! Rum .had not yet sufficiently ravaged their home. From THE WATf FAMli,*. 219 the grave of the wife and mother, James Watt went back to the bar-room, more abandoned and shameless than ever. Hum had burned out the image of her who stood with him at the altar, a trusting and a hap- py young bride. He never gave his family a thought. Penniless, fireless, and breadless, gathered the strick- en group where a home had been. While the earth was still fresh upon the mother's grave, the rumsell- ers came with their executions, and stripped, under a stringent law, the very bedding which that mother, in all their misfortunes, had retained, as the gift of her girlhood's home. But another blow came. The im- bruted father sold the cow, and with the proceeds, left the village with a boon companion, and squan- dered it in dissipation. Two older sisters fought hard to keep the family circle unbroken. The father returned to curse them. They whom he once loved, and who loved him with all the holy intensity of child-love in return, learned to hate him, and as he went from the dwelling, prayed in hearts fearfully old in grief, that he never might return. And in a land of Christians, James Watt had that dealt out to him for his money which de- monized his manhood, and made him desert and hate his own flesh and blood, and fostered hatred in re- turn ! Slowly the sacred ties which bound parent and child were withered and broken, under the scorching fires of the bowl. Money exhausted, the father returned. The elder daughters toiled iu a factory, its bell starting them 220 MINNIE HERMON. from feverish slumbers, and its walls a prison to their drooping frames. Every Saturday night, the father would demand the wages of heart and brain-aching toil, and spend the money for rum with his compan- ions on the Sabbath. And many a day did the chil- dren gather around the rickety table, with bran bread its only dainty, a jug of rum upon the shelf, and a drunken father snoring upon the floor. The children, who had committed no crime, went hungry and ragged, that the licensed robber might have his plenty ! Darker yet gloomed the sky over the Watt family. As per poor laws of that day, the younger children were struck off at auction, and put out to be kept by the lowest bidder ', while arrangements were made to seize the others, and from town to town drive them back to the county they came from. One child-sis- ter, of four years a sweet child in rags, whose tiny hands never wronged a being on earth, and who never knew why she was a pauper found cold-hearted keepers, and in the winter time, died in the entryway upon rags for bedding, and covered with vermin, no mother's hand leading her into the shadowy land, or sister's kiss warming upon the chilly lip. The blue eye, which had known little but tears, turned upward to a Christ kinder than men, and glittered with frost in the clear morning sun. The grave lies between the two worlds. The win- ter sod shut the infant victim beyond the reach of the scourge, and she wept for bread no more. CHAPTEE XX. " MORAL SUASION.' JJ MUCH has been said and written, in the course of the temperance reform, about the power of moral sua- sion. There is a power in its tear and its tone. With kind words it appeals to the better nature and essays to win back the fallen. With a gentle voice and look it knocks at the heart of the erring and points out a better way. It meets the prodigal with a tear and says, " go and sin no more." In a thousand forms it finds the human heart in its wanderings, and with a tear for its follies, poiots with a smile of hope and forgiveness back to honor and truth. The proud spirit which would fling back with scorn the hatred of a world, would melt and sway like a summer leal at the gentle whispering of words of kindness. Moral suasion has accomplished much in winning men from their cups more than the penal enact- ments which drag the drunkard from a legalized hell, to incarceration or fine. It has saved many from the fang which glitters in the bubbles on the breaker's brim. Even from the midst of deepest ruin, some word or kindly deed has brought back the erring to virtue and duty. It is doing much yet, and will never fail to do much while there are hearts to lovo the drunkard and weep over his ruiu. 222 MINNIE HEKMON. There are some of oni friends who avow their readi iiess to rely solely upon the power of moral suasion for the removal of intemperance. It seems to us a Btrange infatuation. Prayers, and tears, and appeal- ing words, against an evil impregnable in its citadels of legislation, and backed by the whole force of the government ! Would the same friends content them selves with appealing to the incendiary and the mur- derer to spare their homes and their lives, and the torch and the knife at the same time commissioned to do the infernal work, and the hand that wielded them protected by law ? What . would the cold-blooded butcher care for the pleading of innocence or weak- ness, when licensed, for a price, to drench the very hearth in warm blood ? And would the incendiary, empowered to burn, and sustained by the so called respectable, in the light of the kindling flame, re- nounce the desolating business which he had pur- chased of government the right to engage in ? God never designed that a wicked world should be governed by moral suasion. He himself has put on record penal enactments against sin against vice and crime. Until human nature is utterly changed, mor- al suasion, as a sole-restraining power, will be impo- tent. All the blessed influences of the Gospel, the influence of home, friends, virtuous teachings, and the hopes of happiness and Heaven, as a motive pow- er, will not restrain the vicious. All men are not susceptible of moral influences. If they were, the dust of oblivion might gather upon our statutes, and " MOKA.L SUASION." 223 not a crime should mar the harmony of the universal brotherhood of man. Those who deal in rum, are certainly the last class which should ever utter a word about moral suasion, and claim that the temperance reform should be car- ried forward upon that basis alone. We could smile at the coolness of the idea but for its insulting wick- edness. It comes with a bad grace in the teeth of facts, upon a record of more than twenty-five years' duration. Here as elsewhere, moral suasion has had its effect, and men, regardful of its influences, have yielded to the light of truth and abandoned a wicked- ness. And in the high noon of our reform, those who still persist, against reason, right and revelation, in the business, ask the people to follow their direction in the matter, and continue a course which up to this day they have utterly disregarded ! With legislation against it, it requires the whole power of the temperance reform to keep its giant an- tagonist at bay, while in security it revels upon all which comes within its clutch. Moral suasion knows not a phase which it has not assumed in this great work. From broken altars where every domestic tie lay shivered, prayers have gone up where there was no hope but of Heaven. Gather them from the an- gels' record, and a tempest of prayers would swell its uote of accusing thunder. An ocean of tears has dripped its bitter way over cheeks which bloom not again. Days and years have passed by, until ages of sorrow have accumulated in judgment. Wherevei 224 MINNIE HEKMON. the victims of the wrong have loved, and suffered, and died at home, in the alms-house, dungeon, or on the scaffold, the sob, the sorrow, and the wail, have appealed to the authors of all the woe, vice and crime. Mutely, but ah ! how eloquently, the cower- ing and ragged drunkard's child, and the pale-faced wife and mother, Jiave presented to the dealer his cruel wickedness and their bitter wrongs ! The rumseller . is not ignorant or deaf. He knows the sweep of the engine in his hands. He sees its effects, and while his own neighbors, and kindred even, are demonized and imbruted by the drug from his hands, he sends them home to wound the innocent and the helpless. Every coin he drops into his draw- er, is the price of the hunger, nakedness and degrada- tion of those who never wronged him or his. He knows the enslaved appetite cannot turn away, and he feeds it to the death. He deliberately manufac- tures a kind husband and father into a devil, and a happy home into a hell, where the victim can torment his own wife and children ! Entrenched with legis- lation and leagued with unscrupulous demagogues, they have continued this fearful work against all the efforts of the tongue and pen. Their victims have suffered, and wept, and died, in vain. Human and divine laws have alike been trampled upon ; arid to- day, while preaching moral suasion, they are band- ing to sustain the system of cruelty and wrong at every hazard. Moral suasion! Let the stricken mother go pray " MORAL SUASION." 225 upon the slippery deck of the pirate when blood leapg smoking from the scuppers, .and beg the life of her boy ! Send childhood with a tear on its cheek, into the den of the famished tigress, and with a silvery vxice beseech the life of a parent, writhing in her re- morseless fangs ! For the universe of God, its wealth and its hon- ors, we would not, in the light of this day, have the guilt of rumselling rest heavy on our soul. One more visit to the miserable tenement of Watt, All that the law spared has been carried off by Watt and pawned at the tavern. The Bible of the dead wife, her only legacy to her children, has been stolen from the place where young Bertha Watt hid it, as a priceless treasure, and sacred with the heart-drops which had fallen upon the worn pages, and sold for ruin. Little Bernard Watt lay sick unto death. With many a bitter curse, the father had turned from the door, as Bertha plead that her sick brother might have the doctor called, and left for the tavern. And all within was hushed and still every foot- fall as light as the falling leaf, for fear of disturb- ing the sick one. With hot tears upon her cheek, Bertha leaned upon the scanty couch, the tiny and feverish hand clasped convulsively within her own, as if to hold the boy-brother to earth. Though pale and fading, the features were classically beautiful ; but a clammy sweat had gathered upon the white brow, rich with the last kisses of a dying mother. 226 MINNIE HERMON. The chubby cheek had grown thin and touchingly pale ; the eye had lost its laughter, and looked lan- guidly upon the group around him. The white teeth appeared through the half-closed lips, and the ricn golden hair lay back upon the coarse blanket pillow. On the fourth day, as the sun was going down in the west, the child was passing away. Through the broken window, a broad beam of sun- shine, like a ray from bliss, entered and trembled for a moment upon the hair, and then burst like a flood upon the pale features of the child. He turned his face to the sun, and a smile, sweeter than the sunlight, came over the wasted and bloodless lips. Upon that golden pathway the little one was smiling back upon kindred angels in Heaven ! " Bertha, do they always have sunshine in Heaven ? and will my little flower grow there, and the birds eing ? and will the angels you told me about last night be good and love me ? " " Mother is there, she will love you," replied the choking Bertha. " How I want to die ! You say I won't hunger there, Bertha, and I'll have clothes so bright, and al- ways feel happy. I won't cry. there, Bertha, will I ? " Bertha could not answer from her swelling heart, but the tears wound their way down her cheeks, and fell like rain-drops upon the glistening locks of Ber- nard. '"Bertha!" and the boy looked wildly out into the room, and shut his sharp thin fingers tightly upon '* MORAL SUASION." 227 her arm, and in a whisper continued " Father won't be there to whip us 'cause we can't help crying, will he ? Oh, I hope Mr. Hermon won't go there, to sell any ruin. The good God don't sell rum, does he? Why can't you die, too, Bertha, and go when the an- gels corne after me ? " Sobs only answered the faint prattle of the innocent. " Bertha, give me some more of that toast. When I get to Heaven I '11 tell ma how good Minnie Hermon was to us." Bertha looked, and the toast was gone, and with it the loaf of bread and the wine which Minnie Hermon had brought that morning, as she learned of their sickness and destitution. The father had robbed the dying, and sold the loaf for two drams. There was not a morsel of food for the boy, and Ber- tha's heart almost broke as she thought how cruel that Bernard should die hungry. " Bertha I'm going to sleep kiss me. Good night ! Bright ! ma, Bernard com ing ! " The setting sunbeams lingered upon the palid face of the sinless sleeper, as the whispers fell with crush- ing; weight into the hearts of the little band. The O o pauper children loved each other. The night of death had gathered around the little brother. The pilgrim of four summers had turned aside from a cloudy pathway, and passed directly to Heaven. He who loved such, led the gentle spirit through the shadows of the dark valley. Even in that curtairiless, carpetless room, there were gentle footsteps in the depths of the night, MINNIE Hft&MDlf. where lay the un watched and un shrouded dead Convulsive sobbing, and many a flood of tears, and close and warm were the kisses which clustered upon the chill and unanswering lips of all that remained of Bernard Watt. Early one morning Hermon met Minnie upon the hall steps, with her work basket in hand and hood on. He had, by dissipation, become utterly insensible to shame, and at times ill-tempered towards all. As he became degraded by his own habits and avocation, and blackened with guilt, he was bitter and revenge- ful. The consuming wreck of his nobler nature kin- dled into intenser flame all that was mean and base. He 'had just received one of the stinging shots of Doctor Howard, in relation to his treatment of tho Watt family, and was much exasperated. " Who now have you taken to support ? " he angri- ly demanded of Minnie. " No one, father." " But where are you gong? " "To Watt's." '* D n the Watts! I Ye heard enough about the paupers," he retorted, snatching the basket from her hand, the contents falling upon the steps. " What now ! clothing, too, eh ? A fine pass, if I've got to clothe and feed all the paupers in the country." " Clothing for the dead, father ; this is a shroud foi little Bernard Watt, He 's dead ! " "MORAL SUASION." 229 "Pity they wan't all dead!" muttered the thor- oughly brutal dealer, as he turned away. Unseen by Minnie, Bertha Watt had entered the "Home" from the other street, and met Hermon as he left his daughter in the hall. Watt had taken a ham which Doctor Howard had sent to the children, and upon the pawn-money was deadly drunk in the bar-room. Boiled turnips and salt, without bread without anything else had constituted their break- fast. From the table, Bertha, with but a thin hand- kerchief upon her head, her heart running over with injuries inflicted, started for the " Home." As Hermon entered his bar-room, he started at the thread-bare and shivering apparition before him. Bertha caught him by the hand, and poured into his ear a tale which a damned one would dread to hear a tale of grief, hunger, cold, neglect and abuse. She knelt before the man and wet his hand, in spite of himself, with scalding tears, as she besought him for her mother's Bible, and that he would not sell her father rum. With an eloquence which is only wo- man's under similar circumstances, she told the his- tory of cruelty in a drunkard's home. " Don't come here te blubber, bold Miss. This is no place for woman. Better tend to your own business, and go to work instead of begging round the neighborhood. Your father can take care of himself. Better leave, I say," and Hermon put his hand rude- ly upon the shoulder of the girl, and crowded her towards the door 230 MINNIE HERMCN. "That's (hie) right, Miz-zer Hermon, turn the (hie) hussy out, by ! " hiccoughed the shame- less father, as he managed to rise from his chair, and tli rust his hands into his torn pockets. As Bertha stepped over the threshold upon the steps, slippery with frost, Hermon passionately slam- med the door together. Striking her feet as she lin- gered, they were knocked from under her, and she fell quickly and heavily at full length upon the stones, shivered as the limbs extended, and lay still, the blood running freely from the nose and open mouth upon the step. " God Almighty's curse upon ye, murderer of the innocent, and robber of men ! The gibbet would scorn such carrion, and hell vomit you from its bow- els, John Hermon ! " literally howled Crazy Alt' be- tween his fiercely set teeth, as he bounded over the prostrate body, and planted a crushing blow under the ear of the now sobered landlord, which would have felled a trio of such men. " Strike a woman, you cowardly savage ! " he hissed, and ground his heel into the face of the prostrate wretch. Alf had seen her fall, and supposing that Hermon had struck her, his half-maniac nature boiled at the act. " Murderers not all hung yet ! " he muttered, as ho glanced upon the landlord ; then taking Bertha in his arms, he carried her to Doctor Howard's. Minnie made another shroud, and another grave was dug in potter's field. Bertha was with little Ber- "MORAL SUASION." 231 nard at rest. The door of Heaven was not shut against them, or the prayer answered with a curse. The Watt family were scattered. Their graves are wide apart in this land to-day. Three years ago, in county, James Watt died a pauper by the roadside, and at the public expense was buried in potter's field. The Pilgrim blood of the Watt family, freighted with bitter memories, beats in living hearts, who with prayers of hope and faith await the day when a right- eous enactment shall crush the evil which scourged them, and avenge their wrongs. CHAPTER XXI. A BEACON ON THE WASTE. will not could not, detail the fearful history cf the ravages of rum in Oakvale. The serpent had slimed every threshold, and lay coiled upon nearly every hearth. Pauperism, Yice and Crime stalked hand in hand, and the alrnshouse and jail swarmed with human wrecks. Fortunes, rank and standing had drifted into these receptacles, yet the storm swept on, with not a star of hope in the sky all dark, cheer- less, desolating. The wildest dreams of fiction would prove tame in comparison. Tragedies more fearfully startling than Avon's bard ever traced, had often occurred. Scenes which would mock to scorn the artist's pencil, were of daily occurrence. The home where a heart deso- lated clings to and weeps over the wrecks of its youth- idol ; the child-group shivering in the cold, or cling- ing to a mother and asking for bread ; the orphan turned out into the world with no friend but God ; Youth wrecked and palsied with premature age ; Man- hood reeling amid the ruins of moral and intellectual beauty, where a thousand hopes are buried ; Genius crunibling in ruins and driveling in idiocy ; the vir- tuous and high-minded turning away from truth and honor, and plunging into every vjce ; the parent and A BEACON ON THE WASTE. 233 citizen wandering away from a home-heaven through a dark pilgrimage to a dishonored grave ; hearthside altars cast down, and the home transformed into a hell ; Childhood and Innocence thrust out from the love-light of a mother's eye, to wallow in all that's low and vile ; Poverty and Want looking with pinched and piteous gaze upon the scanty tribute of Charity, as Hunger drove them out in their rags ; foul and fes- tering Vice, with bloated and sickly features, leering and driveling in leprous bestiality ; Madness, with fiery eye and haggard mien, weeping, and wailing, and cursing in the rayless night of intellectual chaos ; Murder with its infernal ha ! ha ! as with dripping blade, and smoking in hot blood, stalked forth from butchery ; these and ten thousand other combina- tions of warp and woof with rum and skill, would weave a fibre of terrific intensity and power. The hovel, the dram'shop, the subterranean den, and the mansion of fashion and wealth, furnished their chap- ters of revolting history. The weird creations of history would be faint copies of what transpired in Oakvale. Religion mourned over the broad in- roads upon her heritage, for from the desk and the bosom of the church of Christ, souls were dragged 3 OO a pray. Patriotism turned aghast at the sweeping de- struction of the staunch citizen and the most gifted statesman. Humanity wept over the desolations. Still, men lay down and rotted while they died ; for no brazen serpent had been lifted. There was one dead in every house, and still tfcie Angel of the Plague 10 234 MINNIE EERMON commissioned by human power, continued to feast upon death in its aceldamas of blood. A few of the more striking events may be mention ed in passing. Leonard Bascomb, a young man of twenty, carried his jug into the woods. A brother, in going after wood at night, drove the sled against him, and rolled the dead body out of the snow which had covered it, the jug clenched firmly in the stiffened fingers. The corpse was carried to a deserted cabin, where the jury of inquest drinked from the dead man's jug before any testimony was taken ! Little Willie Warner went from Hermon's with his father's jug, and froze by the wayside. The next morning the remains of the Warner family were found amid the smoking timbers of the burned dwelling. By the headless and limbless trunk of the mother, the white bones of the babe glared in the blackened ruins. None but God knew whether butchery was not there hidden in the ruins, and its blood licked up by the flames. An old and once respectable citizen returned home late at night, and in his rage turned his wife and babe out into the storm, and after first burying the axe in the head of one of the sleeping boys, cast the body upon the fire. The older boy jumped from tho window, the axe severing his hand as he sprang to the ground. The mother was found dead, nearly naked, and the clothing wrapped around her child, her hair frozen to the cheek of the babe with tears and sleet. The West family, mother and three children, were A BEACON ON THE WASTE. 235 frozen in one of the severest stoims of the season The husband had been sent to purchase medicine, but drank, then gambled, and for three days lay at the house in bestial intoxication. The wife was found upon her knees, her hands tightly clasped, and a tear- drop frozen upon the icy cheek ; the babe before her on the floor, its fingers standing out from each other, and the two older children locked together in their crib, as if to keep each other warm. George West became sober, but to learn the extent of his wicked- ness, and to live on helplessly insane. For years he lin- gered in the asylum, and called piteously for his wife and children. But it is painful to linger over so extended and dark a record. About this time, the news came that temperance societies were forming in the eastern part of the State. It was received with a laugh of scorn by some, and astonishment by all. As the object became known and the pledge, the astonishment was greater still Pledged to abstain from even the moderate use of al- coholic drinks ! It was the very essence of fanati- cism ! So radical an inroad upon the good old cus- toms of the times, was truly startling 'twas outra- geous. What was the world coining to! What could people do without ardent spirits ? They could not withstand hard work, grief, heat, cold, or wet. Men must be crazy to think of such a thing. Temperance was a good thing, but this was going altogether toe far, and the people would not stand it. Some were 236 MTNNIE HEKMON. wiser than the c raimon bar-room rabble, and saw in the new movement only a scheme of priests for the union of church and state. Good citizens were im- peratively bound to frown upon the mad scheme of designing men. In due time a temperance meeting was announced for Oakvale. The churches were closed against the agent, and after much wrangling, the school-house was selected for the occasion. Such a commotion in Oakvale ! The rumsellers, old Hermon conspicuous among them, felt outraged indignant at so disgraceful a proceeding. They were as much friends of temperance as anybody, but this priest-craft, speculation, and union of church and state why, such men ought to be rode out of town. Groups discussed the momentous question every night until the meeting, and the tipplers hiccoughed amen. The afternoon came, nearly every drunkard's w:te, some of the middle class of women, a few of the bet- ter citizens, and the rumsellers and tipplers, were all that attended. Many of the wealthier class did not deem the matter of the least consequence, and paid no attention to it. None of the clergymen were pres- ent. The old soaks looked knowingly, and winked at one another with mock gravity. The dealers sneered upon the whole transaction, and felt sure of looking down the hot-headed affair. Crazy Alf sat with hia chin in his palms, as usual, and behind him, old Bar- ney Kits. The rumsellers were flanked by their A BEACON ON THE WASTE. 237 best customers, not omitting Counselor Skillot, of pu ritanic phiz. The speaker was a clergyman, of medium height, slightly gray, benevolent countenance, and great good humor. As calm as a summer's morning, he arose, and in a familiar and unassuming manner, introduced his subject. He told no anecdotes, made no start- ling appeals ; but in a plain, common-sense manner detailed what all knew to be facts. He dwelt upon intemperance, its desolations in the domestic circle, its annual destruction of drunkards, its direct agency in producing pauperism and crime, and in increasing taxation, and showed the necessity of doing something to arrest the growing evil. All classes would see the necessity of such a step, for nearly all had been in- jured by its ravages. The pledge was proposed as the instrument of the measure, concentrating and har- monizing action, and bringing the friends of the meas- ure upon a common platform, where their influence would be more efficient. It was a fraternal bond. It had been objected that men who took it would sign away their liberties. What liberties ? The liberty to use that which produced individual degradation and family ruin? Which destroyed industry and brought beggary in its train? To be sure, all who drink do not die drunkards. But from drinkers comes the vast array of drunkards who go down to premature graves. Here* is a safer path. None who go this way, are in danger. None who go the other, are safe. It was not expected that the drunk- 238 MINNIE I1ERMON. could be saved. They were bound by an appe- tite which could not be controlled. Those who were not yet slaves, ought to turn away from the tempta- tions of the cup. Those who Lad not yet formed an appetite, ought certainly to give their names and their influence to save the youth of the land from destruction. The pledge was merely an expression of sentiment in union as touching one object, com- mitting those who signed it against the prevalent evils of intemperance. Society was a pledge gov- ernment was a pledge the church was a pledge. But it was said that the signing of a pledge was an acknowledgment of weakness of danger from in- temperance. It was but an expression of opinion publicly made, a solemn giving of name and influ- ence to a certain object. It was said that men did not need a pledge. The pledge makes a resolution stronger, and brings those of similar views in closer union. The Declaration of Independence was a pledge. Those who staked life, fortune, and honor, in signing it, did not deem the act any impeachment of their patriotism or of their strength of attachment to the principles of liberty. It was the great anchor of freedom, thrown out in the storm, and held indis- solubly together, while giving them strength and in- fluence to contend with England. The speaker con- cluded by an earnest appeal to all good citizens to come forward in the work, and presented for the ac- tion of the meeting, the pledge, constitution, and form of organization. After a few moments' silence, Her- A BEACON ON THE WASTE. 239 jnon moved that Counselor Skillot be the president of the new temperance society. In good faith, the speaker put the question, and it was adopted amid the tittering of llermon's crew. Doctor Howard, from the first, had seen the truth and the necessity of the very measure proposed, and eagerly entered into the plan, determined to follow Hermon with some- thing more than child's play, and immediately nomi- nated AYalter Brayton as secretary. The motion was carried, putting a more serious aspect upon the affair. Treating the matter seriously riled Hermon, and, for the purpose of insulting Brayton, Howard, and the movement, he nominated Crazy Alf as a committee on resolutions. A few tittered, but the most of them anticipated trouble for the aggressor. Alf raised to his full height, and leveling his long finger at Hermon, and hissing between his clenched teeth, retorted : " And Crazy Alf moves, Mr. Speaker, that Mr. Hermou be a committee to look after drunkard's wives and children, and report number and condition to the next meeting ! " The thrust went to the red, and Hermon belched out : " Turn out the drunken vagabond. I did n't come here to be insulted." "I'm not in your bar-room, sir," continued Alt', walking towards Hermon ; " nor am I drunker than the man I bought my liquor of." Hermon drew his fist menacingly, but quailed as 240 MINNIE HERMON. he looked into the glittering eye and upon the hugo proportions of his antagonist. " Stop to measure when you strike men, eh ! " con- tinued Alf, as he surmised the thoughts of the land- lord. " 'T wan't so with ha, ha ! with Bertha Watt ! " The barb went to the feather, and was sped by the hand of a customer. Skillott wanted to know if gentlemen who came here were to be abused by drunken men, and Hermon, muttering curses, indig- nantly left the house. His friends finally left, one after another, and the remaining people proceeded with the organization. You can see, quietly remark- ed the speaker, that Satan's kingdom is divided against itself and must fall. Whereupon Deacon McGarr, with an air of holy horror, also left. Skillott sat uneasy, but wished to see the end of the meeting. He declined signing the pledge when it came round he was not exactly prepared to give an opinion upon the matter, and he stroked his chin, and looked uncommonly candid and wise. The pledge had pas- sed, when what was the surprise of those present to see Alf step boldly forward and append his name to the pledge " Crazy Alf." Skillott, at the close of the meeting, went immedi- ately to the tavern, where the tipplers and some of the neighboring magnates were busily discussing the temperance meeting. The would-be demagogue here appeared in his true colors, and in low and vulgar slang heaped abuse upon the movement. Hermou A BEACON ON THE WASTE. 243 declared it was all got up by Howard and Brayton to injure him, and as for Alf, he should never have any more liquor at his bar. " "Without the money," put in old Barney. " Shut up, you old devil ! " snapped Hermon, " or I '11 start your drunken carcass forthwith." Barney loved rum, and smothered the cutting reply that carno to his tongue's end. " Let 'em come here to get me to sign the pledge," sneered Hermon, as he resumed his conversation with Skillott. " But what '11 you do ? " " O ! let me alone for that. I '11 write 'em a letter declining the honor ha, ha ! and tell 'em a thing or two. I only wanted to see which way the cat jumped." That was a capital idea, and the company drank around, Hermon getting in better humor and treating old Barney. A committee had been appointed at the meeting to obtain signatures to the pledge. Doctor Howard was one of the committee and boldly offered the paper to all. Hermon and the brother grog-sellers were al- ready friends of temperance men, but these fanatics were making altogether too much fuss going too far. Better mind their own business. He had as good a right to sell liquor as the Doctor had tc sell medicine. It was his business to get an honest- living, and tend to his own concerns. If his neighbors want- ed to combine against him, they could work at it. He had done a good deal for the place, and did not 242 MINNIE HKKMON. expect to be abused because he was trying to accom- modate the public and support his family. " By robbing other families ! " put in Alf, who had come up unobserved. Hermon wanted no more en- counters with that personage, and turned into hia bar Drunkards would not sign the pledge it was signing away their liberties glorious privileges their fathers fought for, while the better class, so called, looked over the list of names with undisguised con- tempt. They would not be found in such company. It was well enough for drunkards and women, but too vulgar for their countenance. Even the sister of George West turned up her nose as Minnie Hermon asked her name. Let weak minds take the pledge, for her part she should be ashamed if she thought there was any need of her signing it. Others tittered as they saw the name of Alf, and of some poor women in the neighborhood. Howard was often discouraged, but believed himself right, and had the moral cour- age to stand by it. Many were the sharp and witty sayings about the " cold-water " scheme. There were merry times in the bar-rooms, but many looked thoughtful as some worthy citizens gave their names to the move. Alf stood by his pledge, and became a theme of remark, especially as he waged an incessant and bitter war upon the rummies, and drew oif some two or three of the hardest customers. Many a plan was laid to get the renegades to drink again. A BEACON ON TIIK WASTE. 243 Slowly and dimly the star of the reform went up. From the pulpit and the church it met with op- position. But in desolate homes, and with a rumsel- ler's daughter, it found hearts which watched its early dawning with earnest hope. CHAPTER XXII. BREAKING GROUND AGAIN. THE old pledge was the entering wedge of the tem- perance revolution. It was an untried experiment the commencement of a great work. More could not have been achieved at the time. It was the first dis- tant and rudely constructed parallel before the over- shadowing fortress of the monster iniquity. It was but the faint bugle blast upon the stillness of the slumbering dead, and few were the friends who aroused to the unequal strife. It but heralded in feeble foreshado wings the coming of a brighter day. It performed its work, but scarcely left a mark upon the enemy. The tenderly feathered missiles fell short of the mark, harmless and inefficient, in effecting the final object. Deacon McGarr found no trouble in adhering to the pledge. He drank with the drinkers, yet pre- served it inviolate. While the ragged bloat at his elbows swallowed his raw grog, the Deacon sipped his wine, and descanted eloquently upon the virtues and duties of temperance. He faithfully warned them of the danger of such habits the good temperance man ! Many were the nights he went home from the tavern heavy-laden with the beverage, and then ad- BREAKING GROUND AGAIN. 245 ded the usual mug of hard cider before retiring to his deep and peculiar slumbers. Early in the winter, McGarr and Barney Kita started for home one night, and as neighbors, became more than usually friendly as they assisted each other arm in arm. It would have puzzled an observer !o have determined which was the drunk one. Striking a drift in the path, McGarr stumbled, and breaking loose, the two parted, the Deacon falling on his face in one direction, and Barney backwards in another, into the drift to the arms, in a sitting position. McGarr was soon upon his hands and knees, grunting with his exertions to rise, and spitting the feathery snow from his mouth. He partially succeeded in rising, but stepping upon Barney's jug, it rolled from under him, and down he went, this time in a sitting posture, the snow gushing up like spray as he settled to the crust. It was in vain to try to raise square- ly up. " Barney, my f-friend ; why the d-dogs don't you Chic) help a where 1)6 you, J3-arney?" " Halloo, Deacon ! you th-there ? " " No ; I' m here." " So be B-arney, 1 An' that that f fast anchor'd hi - hile, And they do (hie) roll ' You you there yet, Deacon ? Where's my j-uyf " " No, I 'm here. Your your jug, Barney, hae has (hie) throwed me down." 246 MINNIE HEKMON. '' Me too, many a-a time." " Barney ! you o-ought not to (hie) drink so, yon had n't. Barney, help me up. This cus thig con-f ounded crick in my (hie) back, h-olds me down, B-arney." u The creek went d-own your throat, I guess," re- plied the ever witty Kits. " My friend, I I'm Deacon Mc-McGarr. You should speak properly you should." " And I 'm Barny Kits. I re-re I regret to see a deacon so-so spiritually inclined." " I am lame, Barney ; assist me if you p lease," and McGarr wallowed over within reach of Barney. " Lift, McGarr ! now heho-heave ! " Barney had crawled up to McGarr and caught awkwardly into the skirts of his coat, and was lifting as awkwardly, managing in the operation to pull the coat over McGarr's head and wrongside out. At the same time McGarr had fastened one hand into the seat of his pantaloons, and the other into Barney's shirt bosom, and was tugging and blowing industri- ously to raise himself upon his feet. At last they both managed to get upon their knees, and their arms around each other's neck, and leaning hard upon each other, trying to rise, McGarr lurched and both fell sideways into the snow. Here they were sprawling and clinging to each other as Doctor Howard drove nearly upon them with his horse and cutter. With considerable effort he lumbered them into the cutter and drove back to the tavern. As they were aided BREAKING GROUND AGAIN. 247 into die bar-room. Deacon HcGarr felt that he mu-t say something about Barney's drinking. The latter. as he came to the fire, hud lopped helplessly down upon the floor. "What a (hie) a sad sight to s-ee a man in such a sit-sit-sittyation, Doctor How-ard ! " So it was ! But Barney was no drunker than the Deacon, yet the latter had violated no pledge, and was a temperance man in good standing. Our readers will see the working of the old pledge. The appeal to the bloated customer of the dramshop fell with pointless effect from lips fuming with wine. The effects of wine and common whisky were the same. They both produced drunkenness. Day by day and step by step the wine drinker went down- ward, until he became a common drunkard and an outcast, yet violated no pledge until he commenced upon " ardent or distilled spirits ! " The history of those who attempted to reform under the old pledge, is a sad one. In a milder garb the enemy lurked in the wine cup, and the still bound vic- tim went back to ruin. The demon glittered in the first drop. The light of the wine bubble would kin- dle into intensity the fires deepest smouldering in the crater. The milder drink was the sure precursor of the flood in its fury, aiiJ there was no safety to the reformed on 3. The wine drinker might reel from the midnight revel, or drool in the saloon, and yet be all that the old pledge demanded. The sot caught sight of the first beacon flame which shone dimly into the 248 MINNIE HEKMON. surrounding darkness, and turned to greet its better promise. The power in the wine glass, the beer or cider, harassed his footsteps, and plunged him again into the abyss, where he beat the wave with a feeble hand. Few of the baser streams were dried np, for the fountain head flowed on as ever, from the side- board and the social and festive party. The blasted wrecks in the drunkery were but the legitimate re- sults of the very priviliges tolerated under the old pledge. It was but a cobweb around the uncrippled folds of the Hydra. Not a head had been successfully struck off. The wine drops were but the bloody seed of new monsters, for not a wound had been seared in the contest. At this point the Total Abstinence Pledge was brought out. It followed naturally in the footsteps of the other. The old had prepared the way for the new. It added a brighter glow to the first beacon light. From the truest friends of the cause it met with stern opposition. These men saw in it ruin to the great work. It was the extreme of ultraism. It was too radical. Its adoption would destroy what little good had been effected, and forever block the work BO auspiciously begun. The contest was fierce be- tween temperance men. A large class were honestly fearfru of the result from love of the cause, while others clung to their "harmless beverage." Many of the latter class occupy the same position to-day. They never have advanced. They broke off during BliEAKIXG GROUND AGAIN. 249 the struggle, and there they remain, such as have not gone down prematurely to their graves. But the cause remained firm during the ordeal, The poorer material came out without the dross, and the choicer spirits gathered in closer union on the ad- vanced ground. The result proved the wisdom of the movement. It gave the reform strength and power, and proportionately weakened the enemy. In the bar-rooms and shops the opposition to the new pledge was the fiercest. Rumsellers were indignant at this most fanatical crusade against their " living," and infatuated customers grew eloquent in descanting about the liberties fought for by their fathers of the revolution. The cry of fanaticism was rung upon all its charges, and some well meaning ones joined in the general crusade against the wild scheme of total absti- nence. Muddled wit poured its lowest wrath of slang phrases upon the fanatics. Nowhere were there so many tears shed over the mad movement as in the dram-shop circle. " What do you think of this new cold-water move ment ? " asked Counselor Skillott of Doctor Howard. " What movement ? the new pledge ? " " Yes, the total abstinence, as they caL it." "It meets my hearty approbation. Does it not ours ? " " I can't say it does." "Why not?" * " O, it 's fanatical in the extreme. It is an ill- judged move, and will most certainly ruin the tern- '350 MIXXTK HERMON. perance cause. It is the result of zeal without knowl- edge." " How will it ruin the cause ? Is n't temperance right?" " O, yes ; temperance is a good thing. I 'in a tern perance man ; but this is carrying things too far men. will not go it." "Will total abstinence injure a man? Do you know of a man who would be injured by taking and adhering to the abstinence pledge ? " "Ahem it would be well enough for drunkards, but men of mind arid moderation will not bind them- selves to, or countenance so unreasonable a scheme. A moderate glass will hurt no one. Because men abuse a necessary beverage, it is no reason why all should discard it entirely." " Should friends of temperance recommend for the drunkard that which they will not themselves put in practice ? Should men whose appetites do not con- trol them, and consequently can make no sacrifice, hesitate to countenance a measure which is the drunk- ard's only hope ? You speak of a ' moderate glass.' Is it the first glass which makes the drunkard ? Are they not all moderate drinkers on the start ? If there were no moderate drinkers, would there ever be any drunkards ? As to the abuse of it, Mr. Skillott, I take higher ground. From the light of science, I affirm that its moderate use is an abuse. It is an element of discord and derangement in the whole animal econ- omy, and an injury to every man in health." BREAKING GROUND AGAIN. 251 " But that it is good as a medicine, you will not deny.' " And so is arsenic. But, because men may take the one for a medicine, would it be expected that he should become a habitual user of it in health ? " " But is n't it needed in cold weather ? " " Never ! I could point you to those in this neigh- borhood, whose drinking habits were anything but beneficial in cold weather." " But men kill themselves with axes and knives." " Very true. But did you ever hear of their form- ing morbid appetites for the use of them, becoming murderers or suicfdes from whittling or chopping cord- wood ? " " But," continued Skillott, evasively, " sober men will not go the total abstinence pledge it would be an acknowledgment of their fear of becoming drunk- ards." " You petitioned for a permit to keep a dice table : was it because you wished to become a gambler? or for the benefit of others ? ; ' The thrust went home, and Skillott declared him- self abused, and entered his office. As Howard pas- sed the tavern, a number accosted him from the stoop about the new cold-water trick. Among others, Her- mon assailed him, and charged him with slandering him at the meeting the night before. " How, Mr. Hermon ? " " By saying that all the tavern-keepers were ene- mies of temperance. I am as much of a temperance man as you are." 252 MINNIE HERMON. " Ha, ha ! " answered Howard, looking Hermon steadily in the eye. " What are you laughing at, sir ? " asked the latter, evidently nettled. " At a temperance man's peddling rum to drunk- ards ! " " You lie, sir! I never sell to drunkards." " But sell until they are drunkards, and then turn 'em out for Shimer to finish ! " " I want you and the rest of your crew of fanatica to understand that I do not wish any man to become a drunkard." " But still engage in the only business that makes drunkards ! " " It 's false ! You are always slandering me." " Mr. Hermon, was there ever a drunkard in this community before your tavern was started ? " " Then you would say that I made 'ern all ! " " Who did?" " It was their own doings. I only sell as I have a license to do." " And if you had a license to teach theft, you would not be responsible for the thieves you made, would you ? " " But you can't make your total abstinence business go down in this community. People won't submit to it. It will ruin the temperance cause." " That 's a (hie) fact," stuttered a poor ragged ob- ject at Herrnon's elbow. " Will roo-o in tho t-(hic) the t'hemperance cause. v BREAKING GROUND AGAIN. 253 " Better ruin that than to ruin men" coolly answer- ed Howard, looking upon the reeling creature. " He (hie) he abuses us, don't he Miz-zer Her- Hermon ? " Howard was determined to cut deeper, and con tinned : "You complain because I stated that there was no safety in the old pledge to the drunkard that not a rumseller in town would refuse the reformed man a glass of beer if he knew it would send him back again to his old habits." " I do. You state that which is not so." " Did n't you let Miller have beer, knowing his ap- petite for liquor, and that it was a trap to make him break his pledge ? " " Who says that ? " "/say it!" "It's false, I tell you. What is a man good for if he can't stand a glass of beer ? He no need to have drinked it." " But you saw him teazed until he did drink it, knowing that the liquor once down, the man could not control himself; and then you let him have brandy, and boasted that you knew he wouldn't stick." " What business is that to you, if I did," growled Hermon, with ill-suppressed excitement. " It 's my business to denounce the act as most devilish. It shows your hypocritical love of the old pl&dye and Df temperance. An infernal imp might 254r MINXIE HERMON. blush to see a man plotting another's fall and then rejoice in the ruin." " It shows all the honesty there is to your temper- ance men. They can't keep from drinking." " Herrnon, you are a cool, brazen-faced scoundrel, and richly deserve hanging for the death of Miller. If his spirit don't haunt you, it 'will be because it will shun the den where the body was slaughtered." " Who says Miller is dead, you black-hearted fanatic ? " " I say so. I saw him die this morning, and his death dates from the trap you and Skillott set to heap ridicule upon the temperance cause." " And becau.se men will make fools of themselves, you would deprive me of an honest living ? " "Deprive of the power to plunder community, and destroy your own neighbors that 's all." " You 're an abusive knave ! I believe you would joy to see me a pauper. It 's all of a piece with your new schemes to ruin honest men." " You may as well be a pauper as to make paupers. A pretty temperance man, and prating too about the old pledge ! Not a drunkard has fallen who does not owe his ruin to you and your co-laborers in ruin. You smile while preaching temperance and offering our reformed men beer, knowing all the time that one glass is their ruin. It all convinces me that our new pledge is right ; for a reformed man should not only shun all that can intoxicate, but, the very plare where the accursed poison ic kept. There is no safety in the BREAKING GKOUND AGAIN. 2.5 5 associations of men who are so utterly base and heart- less as to work the ruin of one who would live and die a sober man. God deliver us from such fiends, and keep the reformed drunkard from their accursing influence. Hell knows no blacker depravity than that which would drag a fellow again to degradation, or a more rascally falsehood than their pretended temperance. Satan was as much a friend of human happiness when he slimed into Eden. The very threshold you stand upon, Hermon, is smoking with blood, and for the universe of God, I would not have on my hand the stain of such guilt as is on yours. You know what you are doing. You know that the old pledge is worthless, and that you rejoice in seeing it broken. I once petitioned for your license. If God will forgire me for that, I never will commit so great a sin again. So long as you sell rum do not brand yourself as an unblushing liar by continuing in the business of making drunkards." The words poured in a torrent from Howard's lips as he stood close to Her- mon and hurled them in his ear. His manner was so iierce and impetuous, and his words so scathing, that the landlord of the " Home " was apparently awed into silence, and strode sullenly back into the bar- room. "Some of these temperance fanatics will get so crazy that they will set everybody by the ears. If I should abuse a man as Howard has me, I should not blame him if he should burn -my barn ! " The crowd did not notice the look that passed be- 256 MINNIE HEEMON. tween Hermon and one of his customers. That night Howard's horse-barn was burned, horses, carriages, and all ; and in the morning the incendiary was tracked to Hermon's shed, where the wretched creature was frozen, having crawled about half-way under the shattered stable-door. Every rumseller in Oakvale stuck zealously for the old pledge. If the temperance people had abided by that, they could have gone with them ! The new pledge was intolerant and fanatical, and would most assuredly ruin the cause ! And these men, who op- posed the first movement as "going too far," were now its mourning friends. As for Counselor Skillott, fie knew the whole thing was originated by priestcraft and fanaticism, and so did n't join the society. Among others who frowned upon the new state of things, was Elder Snyder. Indeed, the first had met his stately and scornful displeasure. The wicked and the ungodly were admitted as members, and he could not associate with such. Atheists,and men who had been drunken, and those who made not long prayers nor wore sanctimonious faces, had been allowed to sign both pledges. Those who did not attend his church, nor pay their money to support his ministry, could not receive the least countenance from him. At a donation party given to the Elder by his friends, and held at his house, the subject of temper- ance was introduced and discussed. Walter Bray ton went so far as to ask the pastor to put his name to the pledge. Looking upon the young man with a solemn BREAKING GROUND AGAIN. 257 frown, ho drew himself up, and in his usnal sancti- monious drawl, gave his objections : "Young man! I awfully fear you do not know what you are doing. You and your temperance friends are going after strange gods. You seem to think yourself wiser than your teachers. You are most assuredly led away by the blindest fanaticism, and great evil has already come of it. Hatreds and jealousies, strifes and contentions, have entered into the hearts of my people. Satan has certainly to do with these strange and wicked doctrines. You ask me to sign a pledge not to drink any wines or spiritu- ous liquors at all ! The world, my friends, is coming to a strange pass, when we must totally abstain from the good gifts of (rod. Temperance is a moderate use of all his bounties. "We are required by the Bible to drink wine. The Saviour himself made and drank wine. It is designed as a blessing to man, and it is the will of our Lord that we enjoy it. We are not responsible for the abuse which ungodly men make of these things. Men are gluttons and shall we abstain from all food ? Men are hypocrites and shall we discard the religion of our Lord and Master ? There is no authority in the Bible for these societies. I camiot saction what has not a " thus saith the Lord " for it. Ungodly men are in this movement, and the pious Christian should set his face firmly against it. He who is within the ark of safety needs none of these foolish helps. If it is the dear Lord's will to have some of the souls he has created lost in the abuse of 11 258 MINNIE HEEMON. some of his good gifts, it were wrong for us to contra- vene his purposes. His holy will be done. Those he has chosen will he save. A moderate use of his bounties is good for all. Let us give thanks." And over the table glittering with decanters and glasses the false teacher craved a blessing, and the wine went round. The Elder seemed to pride him self upon watching those to whom it was presented. There were few who refused the cup, and the contents produced a marked flow of good feeling. Hermon was present, and at once became a pattern of piety, and donated to the Elder with extreme liberality, Brayton and Howard refused the wine, and there were half-smothered titterings about "cold water," "fools," and "fanaticism." Minnie welcomed the cup with an emphatic no, which drew the attention of the company around her ; but, save a slight flush, she was calm, and returned the reproving glance of the pastor with dignity and firmness, Back of her stood one who had not yet attracted notice. As the waiter came to him he fiercely put it away with his hand, and drew himself up, looking upon the ' wine with a strangely wild and glistening eye. His person was full six feet in height, his countenance sharp and pale, his hair long, and his eyes deeply sunken and intensely brilliant. He wore a long surtout coat, closely buttoned, had on a broad-brimmed hat, and in his hand a long staff. " No ! " he fairly howled through his clenched teeth. " Away with the sparkling devil ! It bubbles BREAKING GROUND AGAIN. 259 with damnation ! It is the red blood of butchery 1 It is the fiery beverage of hell ! The tempter is coil- ed at the bottom ! ' At last it stingeth like an adder and biteth like a serpent ! ' It shall sting to utter ruin the hand which hands it this night with the mockery of a blessing craved upon it ! I say, get thee gone, devil, or the arm of the Lord shall smite thee ! " The strange personage raised his long staff, and would have fiercely dashed the cup in fragments had it re- mained before him. " Who thus intrudes here so noisily ? " asked the Elder, pale with anger. " The chosen of the Lord the avenger of the slain I Blood cries from the ground, and the widow and or- phan beg for bread. Woe ! woe ! for the Mighty One is after ye ! Hypocrites, false teachers, gluttons, and wine bibbers, woe ! for the end cometh ! Men. are led astray by wicked ones in priestly garb, and the innocents are wailing for bread in the land. The wrath of God kindles against ye for the violence in the land, and shall consume ye as stubble! Woe! woe ! woe ! I say, ye workers of ruin ! It is written against ye in blood, and God shall avenge the fallen I Away ! I tell ye, with the beverage of the damned 1 Thus I will smite thee as the Lord smote the wicked of old, and will smite them again ! " Whirling his long staff with an almost supernatu- ral power an.d velocity, he stepped towards the side- board, and with an eye red and glaring, and a voice swelling into a howl, with one tremendous swoop, 260 MINNIE HEEMON. dashed every glass and decanter into a thousand frag- ments. Astonishment was upon every countenance, and there was not a whisper in the room until a wild, maniac-burst of laughter came back from the strange apparition as he emerged into the street. Paleness lingered upon the lip of Elder Snyder the paleness of anger not unmixed with that of awe. The stranger was a personage not to be forgotten, for his tones had a startling energy and power. The com- pany did not recover from the influence of the inci- dent, and soon dispersed. Among those who were present that night, was a reformed man by the name of Whitney. From the lowest depths of drunkenness he had come up, and by industry and unblemished good conduct had given promise of redeeming the position he had lost in soci- ety, and of living a life of future usefulness. His family were again comfortable, his children at school, and he prospering at his trade. He had united with the Methodist church, and by his exemplary deport- ment won the full confidence of its members. He had that night been for the first time within the reach of the fatal circle of the glass. The gurgle of the liquor and its foam, with the solemn sophistry and example of a Christian minister, combined to under- mine his integrity. Beautifully the incense rose up before him, and as Snyder himself presented the cup lie impulsively grasped it firmly and drained it off. A smouldering fire was kindled. A wild glow shot through every vein, and within his stomach the demon BREAKING GROUND AGAIN 261 was aroused in his strength. Whitney had but one thought more drink! That he must have. The desire burned within him. It crept to his lingers ends, and out in a burning flush upon his cheek. lie writhed helplessly, and the large drops stood thickly upon his brow. He felt as if already fallen a guilty wretch and shrunk cowering from the gaze of every eye. '' "What is the matter, Whitney ? " kindly asked Brayton, as he passed him in going out. Whitney started as if from a nightmare, and glared silently at vacancy. Snatching his hat, he rushed out with a half-sad, half-exultant yell, and sped down the street into Hermon's. " Drink ! drink ! for God's sake give me drink ! Quick ! " and the trembling wretch turned with a ghastly stare at the door, as if dreading the approach of some one, his hands fastened convulsively upon the slats before the bar. A devilish smile crept over the swollen visage of Hermon, as he saw who it was who begged so madly for drink. Hesitating a moment, as if enjoying the struggles of the victim, he sneeringly asked : "That yon, Whitney? I thought you was a tem- perance man ! What '11 the church say ? But I s'pose you will drink moderately" and he smiled more fiendishly than ever. " Drink ! I say ; give me drink. Money, soul, clothes, tools everything for one drink ! Give it to 262 MINNIE HEEMON. me, quick ! " and the poor maniac emptied liis pock- ets upon the counter, and pulled off his coat and hurled it into the bar. His eye gleamed and kindled as he glanced upon the shining bottles, and his voice was choked and husky, he constantly begging as though his whole system was on fire. Bray ton and Howard entered just as Hermon set the bottle on the counter. Whitney heard their foot- steps, and convulsively grasped the bottle and tum- bler and turned it full, and in his eagerness spilled as much more upon the counter. " Whitney ! in God's name, what are you doing? Hermon ! more of your devilish work ! " said How- ard, rushing up to the bar and arresting the arm of Whitney. But the latter was too quick for the move- ment. Grasping both hands fiercely araund the glass, he dropped his mouth to the rim, and turned the con- tents off at a breath, shutting his teeth with a spasm as he did so, breaking the top of the glass in pieces, and spitting them on the floor. With a long, deep breath he drew himself up to his full height, and dashed the bottom full in the face of Howard. The yell that followed the act was horrible. " You thought to keep me from drink, eh ? I '11 have it if I have t,o go to hell after it ! Who-o-oqp ! Won't Father Merrill roar when he finds old Whit- ney 's born again ! I 'hi your boy to say amen, Doc- tor!" and with drunken laughter he commenced a bacchanalian song, and danced wildly around the BREAKING GROUND AGAIN. 263 room. No words from Howard or Brayton could touch him ; and he fiercely repelled all efforts to lead him from the tavern. " Better have him sign the pledge again," sneered Hermon, from behind his counter. " Black-hearted, murderous villain ! " groaned How- ard from between his teeth, as he reached in vain for the landlord over the counter. " You deserve hang- ing most richly. None but a devil in human guise would thus exult in such work. I did not dream that earth had such monsters as you ! " The Doctor stood glaring upon the sneering landlord, who wisely kept out of his reach. " And he will hang yet, for the avenger will over take him in such an hour as he knoweth not. He is both a curse and accursed, and so shall hang clear of the earth." All within the room started at the sound of that voice, and beheld the strange man with the long surtout and staff, steadily gazing upon Hermon. The sneer upon the face of the latter faded away un- der the basilisk gaze, and a chill strangely crept over him the voice was familiar, and stirred unpleasant memories. That night the spirit of another fallen one went where rum is not. As the water was let upon the wheel of the grist-mill the next morning, it made a few revolutions, and then with a crushing sound ceased to tuin. No effort with poles and hooks could re- move the difficulty, and the water was let out of the dam. Crushed in among the broken buckets was a 264 MINNIE HEEMON. corpse, the head, shoulders and arms left unbroken. Erect as in life, the bloated features of Whitney glared out, and the dripping hair lay closely upon the bloodless brow. As the wife and children, too soon hearing of the affair, came wailing to the scene, and fell weeping over the wet and bloody remains, Hermon turned and slipped away. " The murderers are not all hung yet ! " was his- sed close to his ear. He started, but dared not turn to look, for he knew his tormentor. "With a heart full of keener anguish than even tho wife, Minnie Hermon attended the funeral of Whit- ney. The sermon was from these words, " Where is thy brother?" She felt that poor Whitney had died by her own father's hand, and every sob from the widow and the orphans added keener pangs to her own bitter anguish. CHAPTER XXIII. LIGHT EST A DARK PLACE. AMONG others who sold rum in Oakvale, was a man by the name of Jnd Lane, one of the most reck- less and unprincipled of his class. He kept what was called the u Lower Tavern," a low and disreputable den, by the river bridge. The building itself was a miserable structure, answering for a grog-shop and gambling den. The boards were oif the. shed, the floor of the stoop rotten, and falling away, and one end of the upright part settling down with age and decay. The sheeting was loose and clattering, the windows dirty and broken, and the door worn and begrimmed with dirt. The bar-room looked aa though it had never been cleaned. Dirt and tobacco spittle was thickly crusted upon the floor ; the wooden bars before the windows were greasy and cut up with the knife, and the old brick fire-place was crumbling away. A long seat reached from the old-fashioned oat-bin to the door, well worn by the groups which had for years there set and displayed their slavering wisdom. An old wash sink stood in the corner, slimed over again and again by dirty drippings, surmounted by a washbowl marked inside with a circle of the more plentiful ornamenting. Upon the roller was a 266 MINNIE HERMON. napkin to match. A huge boot-jack hung over the mantel, together with circus bills, sheriff's sales, and auction or patent medicine placards, " sold here." The bar was one of the old-fashioned kind, with a picket work and double door. Gringy kegs, decan- ters and a bottle of stoughton, with candy in a seven- by-nine glass case, completed the bar-room furniture of the " River Hotel." Jud Lane was a man worthy of a moment's atten- tion. He was a licensed agent of the government^ dealing liquors in that old shed by the authority of law. He was hardly of medium stature, but thick set ; his features harsh and repulsive, hair matted, and concealing a low and retreating brow, eyes of a muddy bronze color, nose flattened, neck thick, and lower jaw heavy, arms long, and legs crooked to de- formity. "With hands thrust deeply into his pockets and hat drawn down over his eyes, he moved back- wards and forwards across the floor. His whole as- pect was most villainous, indicating the inner man in palpable and revolting language. None of earth's unfortunates was ever too degraded to be turned away from his bar. The vilest of ruin's shattered wrecks crawled regularly into his den for the drain. The wife or the child would never have thought of en- tering his door to protest against his course with hus- band or p^ent. His mouth was an ever-active crater of the most vile and malignant cursing. His own sister's husband had drank, and died a horrible death in his bar-room. Still more abandoned and malig- LIGHT IN A DARK PLACE. 267 naut as the reform came into notice, Jud Lane pre- sented the perfect embodiment of a callous, cruel and revengeful rum-dealer. He would rather sell rum and slaughter his fellows, in the River Hotel, than live elsewhere honored and respected. His boys were like him, playing the most abusive tricks upon the poor wretches who lingered there for their drams. Election day had drawn to a close, but crowds still lingered to drink and carouse. Jud Lane's tavern secured a large number of votes, and the election had been held there. At night, the bar-room was densely crammed with people, swaying, singing, shouting, cursing, drinking, and now and then fight- ing, the dim light revealing an atmosphere loaded with the mingled odor of tobacco and rum, reeking like a poisonous stench from the lungs of the drunk- en mass. The jingle of glasses was incessant, and at the hour of midnight, tipplers and drunken men still lingered. The bunk and the space under the bench, the shed and the hay-loft, were stored with drunken men. Such is the material out of which partisan leaders manufacture the " popular will," and slime into public stations. Five hard-looking customers were still drinking at the bar, alternating with a song or a story, by one of the number. One of them was a middle-aged man, slightly gray, and not entirely unprepossessing in his appearance, save the bloated face and the dirty suit of rags. He was a leader among them, and dis- played talent in his drunken sallies. 268 MINNIE HEKMON. The subjects of temperance, and the meeting ap- pointed for the morrow evening, came up. " I'll treat the crowd, if you'll all go, boys, and carry your bottles and give 'em beans" said Lane cool and sober in the midst of the general drunken ness. " Done," said Barney Kits. " H ot wa-(hic)-ter agin cold. Set on the top-hetchel. Old Barney's on earth in spite of rum and lightning." " I'll treat again, if you'll egg that long-haired cuss who is round preaching on the corners of the streets, and find the tools," continued Lane, bitterly. " Catch him on my steps ! " and he ground his teeth as he crushed the sugar in the glass. "A shilling to the man who hits him ! " dis- tinctly muttered our strange friend in the long hair and surtout, as he emerged from the darkness of the street and stood in the middle of the room. The noise was at once hushed, and Lane scowled with an- gered surprise. " The long haired hypocrite will be there to-mor- row night. Bring your eggs, Jud Lane. A rotten cause and a rotten heart must need rotten arguments. Bring 'em along, and also those you prey upon. "Out of the house, you black-coated devil,'' growled Lane, but keeping safely behind the bar Halton, put him out poker him out." Hal ton, the man in rags, seized the stranger at the word, and was proceeding to put the command in ex- ecution, when the latter, with the ease with which he LIGHT IN A DARK PLACE. 269 would have taken a child, unhanded Halton's grasp, and looked him sternly in the eye. " Henry Halton, I knew yon when you were one of the most honored of men. There is yet manhood and pride in your heart. I know there is. This is not the place or the company for you. . You did not look thus when you stood with Mary Densmore at the altar. A spell is upon ye ! Come away, Henry Halton, from this vile place, and be saved. We will meet you half-way, and there shall be singing and re- joicing for the prodigal's return. Your sainted moth- er and wife are looking down from Heaven. Angela are weeping, Henry, and at home, [the stranger whispered as he breathed the words into Halton's ear] the only being who loves you on earth, weeps and prays for her father. Your friends are not hsre, Hen- ry Halton ! Go with us and be saved. Be saved Henry Halton, be saved'! " The lustrous and melting eyes worked a strange spell over the hardened drunkard. As a tear from the stranger's eye fell upon the open ^alm, Halton wept, and a sigh swelled up in his broad bosom. Still in the stranger's grasp, he looked imploringly in his eye, as if hope was springing up in his darkened heart. " Will you come, Henry. Halton come to honor and to God ? Say this night you will, and there shall be rejoicing in Heaven ! Come! " A strange scene in the dimly lighted bar-room of the River Hotel ! Drunkards were looking unstead- 270 MEmrE HEEMON. ily but silently upon it, and from behind the bar, where the last round of glasses stood untasted, glow- ered Lane with clenched fists and teeth upon the stranger. " Halton ! tarry not among the tombs. Come ! " lie continued. " Before God I will! " gasped Halton, as a deeper Bigh escaped his bosom, and he ventured to look around him. As his eye rested upon Lane, he quailed, so fearful is the influence of the dealer upon his vic- tim. The stranger saw it, and continued : " Who else is there here this night who will come with Henry Halton to home and manhood, and God? Come with him this night, and be enslaved ones no more. Turn from the past." And the stranger, in low bat strangely sweet and thrilling tones, com- menced and sang " Long, Long Ago." The drunk- ards wept, and as the question was again asked, " Who will come with Halton ? " four of them reeled up around him, joining hands to keep from falling. "And here you solemnly pledge yourselves never to drink anything which can intoxicate again. " We-(hi'c)-we do." "And may God help you ! ISTow," thundered the stranger, a wild and joyous light kindling in his eye, " come away, and tarry not, nor look back, or the ene- my is upon you ? Come ! " and the five customers of the "River Hotel " went out after the strange man in the long surtout. With a torrent of curses pouring from his mouth, UGHT IN A DAKK PLACE. Jud Lane turned the liquor in the glasses back into the decanter, and walked his bar-room like a mad- dened fiend, gnashing his teeth, and swearing ven- geance upon the temperance fanatics, and the five customers in particular. " They would'nt get no more liquor from his shop, if they choked to death ; " and yet the man's only consolation in his anger was, that they would all be back again before the week was out. Desolate was the foul den, with only the snoring drunkards left ; and Jud Lane went cursing to bed. The next morning, Jud Lane looked confidently for the coming of his five customers for their usual morn- ing drams. He knew no passion but those of avarice and hate, and he raved when he was cheated of a cus- tomer. Skillott came in while Lane was sullenly pacing his bar-room. Skillott had become an habit- ual tippler, and to disguise his habits he would range through the whole list of drinking places, and drink at them all. Lane rehearsed his grievances to a sympathetic listener. Both heaped abuse upon the temperance people. As to the five drunkards who had been led away by that long-coated hypocrite, both hoped they would choke tc death before they could find a drop, " But never mind ; you '11 have 'em, Lane, before the week 's out : nothing to trap 'em." "Get 'em here again and I'll sweat 'em. I'll learn 'em to leave an old friend for these cussed fa- natics. I'll sue every mother's son of 'em, or my name ain't Jud Lane." 272 MINNIE HEKMON. " Do they owe you ? " pleasantly asked Skillott, ta- king his lips from the glass he was emptying, and brightening up at the thought of a fee. " They do, every one of 'em ; and I '11 have my pay or jug 'em." " You 'vQJue pre- served. " From personal and petty piques, there are some- times found in parties, " restless spirits," who wish to carry their personal animosities into their political action. They wish to make the party an engine to carry out their own selfish aims. Great principles are nothing to such men. The integrity of the party must be periled to gratify their one ideaism. We have our eye upon some such who have enjoyed and now enjoy good offices from the party. They depend upon the party for their bread. Let them vote any- thing but a clean ticket if they dare. They are watched. They will be branded as renegades and traitors. They shall be held up to the execration of all true , and made such an example of as shall be a warning to all such deserters in the future. Our ticket is worthy of the hearty support of the undivi- ded party. Watch the bolters mark them. They will be dealt with hereafter as they deserve. A man who will scratch his ticket is unworthy the name of . When holding office, they should, as speed- ily as possible, be compelled to vacate for men ' who will stand by the party which feeds them.' " Thus were refractory party men whipped into the traces, and so despotic and potential was the strength STICKING TO PAETY. 347 and terror of party discipline, that there were few men who dared to face the storm. The foulest com- binations ever concocted in grog-shop conclave, went out to the people endorsed as the regular, clean ticket ; and the blood-hounds of party drill, fed on the drip- pings of party, and expecting more, were unleashed to worry and hunt the elector who supposed the right of suffrage his own. A principle more subversive of all political independence, was never made the shame- less bond of party union. A slavery more humilia- ting and repulsive, never was submitted to by an intelligent and free people. The masses little knew of all the means made use of to secure the election of the candidates. Dobbs was not a whit behind Skillott in a wholesale corrup- tion. Ex-convicts from the prison, and keepers of no torious establishments in Oakvale, were put upon the vigilance or challenging committees. Fr m the funds collected from the candidates with which to "pay for pi^inting" large sums were carried through out the county and thrown into every bar-room. In Oakvale, for a week before the election, the grogger- ies swarmed with drunkenness. Dobbs and Skillott had engaged them all in their interest, as had the other party, and rum was as free as water. What rum would not purchase, money was depended upon to do. Church influence was invoked. Skillott at- tended every Church in the place, and gave to the Missionary and Bible Society. To temperance men he talked blandly. He had never found time from 348 MINNIE HERMON. his onerous legal business to make much effort in so just a cause, but he was a sincere well-wisher, and if elected, he should feel it his duty to see that the laws were administered faithfully. He saw the poor and the countryman. Their wives and families were in- quired after, and they were invited to his office, or to his house for dinner. The Irish vote was courted. Petty office-seekers were all promised assistance in the future. Barrels of beer, and a supply of crackers and cheese, were placed in all the haunts for the thirsty and hungry democracy. Notorious bravadoes and ruffians were chartered to bark and brow-beat. The " Columbian " steamed night and day. It was a notorious "sweat-pit," where voters were made drunk- en by the score. Dobbs and Skillott were found there all night. From the communion at the church, the former went there on the Sabbath and stayed all night. More than thirty-two voters, in one den, were kept drunk over Sunday under lock and key, and during Monday and Monday night ; and Tuesday morning they reeled to the polls, and voted for Skillott and Dobbs. The same game was universal throughout the county. Sober and worthy citizens were brow-beat and clial lenged by pot-house ruffians, or deterred from the polls by open violence. With oaths and stenciling breaths, drunken men reeled and kissed the Bible as they swore in their votes. Dobbs looked innocently upon every one, for both parties did so, and all was fair in politics. At night the groggeries were jammed with a reeling, cursing, shouting, slavering mass of STICKING TO PARTY. 349 yeomanry ; and fightings and hideous yellings filled the streets until a late hour. The day had been one of wholesale drunkenness and riot. At the close, when the. result was learned, the successful candidates gathered in the Daily office and talked complacently of their personal popularity, and the corruptions en- tered into to defeat them. The Daily announced the victory in glaring capitals, and called it one of the most overwhelming triumphs of the campaign. The opposite party resorted to the basest means to secure their ends, but the people were incorruptible, and had pronounced against them ! An oyster supper, alias, a drunken jollification, came off at the " Alhambra ' in honor of the result. Judge Skillott was carried home drunk. Dobbs managed to attend the covenant meeting on the following day, Saturday, and gava liberally to the missionary cause, sighing with much sanctity as he leaned his head upon his hand. Ha was a popular man ! He had not mixed any religion or temperance with his politics ! As a member of the executive county committee, he with his col- leagues had secured a handsome suit of clothes, and fell more than ever in love with the principles of the great party. The regular ticket was elected. Professed temper- ance men and Christians had voted the " clean ticket,*. The temperance-professing, brandy-drinking hypo- crite was elected clerk, and the favorite of the grog- shop and brothel, judge. The "clean ticket" was elected ! The few who murmured at such tickets, 350 MINNIE HEKMON. were whistled down as one-idea hot-heads, who would ruin a good cause by dragging it into politics. Tem- perance was a " holy cause," but it was lost the mo- ment its misguided friends forced it into the political arena. And Judge Skillott did enforce the law ! The keepers of the lowest groggeries were fined fifty dol- lars each. A negro who had sold whisky in a mis- erable shanty, was severely lectured, fined twenty -five dollars, and " sent up " until paid. The keepers of the Alhambra, the Arland, the Home, etc., were fined three dollars each, and at night the judge got drunk on their liquor ! He was elected on the " clean ticket ! " by those who felt bound to stick to party, and keep the temperance cause out of politics ! They had helped the rum in- terest put one of its most unscrupulous friends upon the Bench. The rumsellers and friends had all thrown party aside in the contest and stood by their cause. The " clean ticket," consistent, 2)arty temperance men, had joined with them in carrying rum into pol- itics ! THE SIGNATURE OF THE DEAD. CIIAPTEK XXVII. IOI8ON IN THE CUP SIGNATURE OF THE DEAD A GUEST NOT INVITED. DEEPER and darker gathered the night around Minnie Ilermon ! The desertion and consequent cold treatment of Bray ton, had struck down every hope which had cheered her in her sorrows. Scarcely a ray lingered in the gloomy horizon. She did not re- proach Brayton. In her chamber, with the darkness and her own bitter thoughts, she remembered him with the strength of a love which their separation had not subdued. A gulf had opened between them, wi- dening every day. Hidden from him and the world, it burned more intensely upon the ruins of the fair fabric it had reared in the inmost heart. As it crurn* bled away, the pure shrine sent up a flame whose brightness would go out only with life. She saw "Walter crossing the first fatal circles of temptation. She would have warned him, but she felt that he cared not for her. Her thoughts turned often upon the change in him and his sentiments towards her, She had not changed in her love, she wondered at the change in him. Yet, through all the ill which was to come upon him, Minnie Hermon, with the 354: MINNIE HERMON. changeless fervor of a true woman's love, was to weep and pray for the object of her heart's first deep idolatry. Retribution had followed swift and close upon th steps of Hermon. The dread bondage he had helpei to weave around so many, had closed upon himself. He had lifted to his own lips the fatal chalice he had commended to his neighbors. Such, in a large ma- jority of cases, has been the punishment of those who deal in rum. The old man, his hair fast whitening with age and troubles, was a drunkard. One more wholly aban doned to his cups, had not gone from his tavern The farther he went, the deeper the depths of degra dation. He presented the complete and utter wreck of. a once intellectual and honorable man. All his manhood had been consumed, and he stalked about his premises, the embodiment of the leprous curse he had introduced and fostered in Oakvale. His per- sonal appearance did not belie his character and habits. His slouched, greasy looking hat and seedy garments the face bloated and burning with the consuming hectic of constant dissipation his eye- lids eaten away, and the balls a revolting red, togeth- er with his ill-temper and listless movements, pro* sented a revolting picture of ruin. The Home had changed, as well as its landlord. More fashionable taverns had taken the better cus- tom, and left it but the wrecks of its own making. The sign was weather-beaten, and the posts, rotten at POISON IN THE CUP. 355 the ground, were settling over. The boards were off the shed, the doors unhinged, and one end of the feeding-trough split and fallen upon the ground. The pump was useless, and grass began to grow thickly among the stones of the platform. The stoop waa rotting, and one end had settled as the wall beneath had crumbled away. Many of the windows were broken, and the whole appearance of the house ex- ternally, was ruinous and desolate. With this marked change of circumstances, came a corresponding loss of character and standing. The Home was but the haunt of the lowest grades of the drinking community. It was licensed, for its custo- mers were voters as well as those of the Arland or A-lhambra. In its dingy bar-room the sots of Oak- vale lingered to complete the work commenced in its better days. Minnie could not escape a portion of the odium which had fallen upon her father. Even among the drinking class, the Home was in bad repute. As its mistress, she suffered with its waning fortunes. De- serted by Brayton, and only known as the daughter of a drunken tavern keeper, the better class of so- ciety scarcely ever troubled themselves with a thought of the lonely girl. The disgrace of her father and the house was not without its effect upon her. She felt that she was neglected, perhaps despised, and consequently shunned society. Crimes worse than selling liquor even, had been whispered against Her- mon ; vices \rorse than drunkenness were said to hold 356 MINNIE HERMON. their revels at the Home. Shut mostly within its doors, it was not strange that scandal should fasten a share of the stigma upon Minnie. She had often been seen nights, threading the poorer streets of Oak- vale. Had her object been known, the community would have witnessed some of the holiest charities which ever fell unheralded at the hearthsides of the poor and needy. "With all this unjust opinion against her, she still clung to her wretched father. He had rewarded her devotion to him, with coarse abuse and Hows! And in that rendezvous of the wretched and vile, her pure spirit lingered like an angel in unbroken dark- ness. There were few of the drinking men of Oakvale who had descended more rapidly than "Walter Bray- ton's father. He had squandered all his property, and ,vas verging upon the confines of pauperism. He and Walter had quarreled at an early day about the Home, and his drinking habits, and since had had but little intercourse with each other. Still Walter had been careful that his parent did not suffer for any of the necessaries of life. Suddenly, good, or it may be, bad fortune, came unexpectedly to the old man. A bachelor brother in Rhode Island died and left him a handsome little fortune of ten thousand dol- lars, to go, at his death, to Walter. This was joyous news to old Brayton, as well as to his cronies and the dealers. They judged right as to the strength of his love of drink, and the hopelessness of his reformation. POISON m THE CUP. 357 Halton and his companions made desperate exertions to save the old gentleman, but in vain. Howard tried with no better success. Walter met with abuse, his father charging him with an itching to linger the money before his time. Deeper drank Bray ton and his companions. Wild- er and more devilish were their revels. Old Bray- ton's money was sown like chaff, for ten thousand dollars seemed to him exhaustless. Pipes were lighted with bank-bills, and scores were treated by the week Often dead drunk during these periods, hundreds of dollars were plundered from him by his companions and the more abandoned of the dealers, where the money was spent. Even the Arland and Alhambra were glad to sell liquor to a man worth ten thousand dollars ! Walter looked upon these things with sor- row and shame, and for a time all his old hatred of the traffic burned up as hotly as ever. He made con stant efforts to enlist the societies for the reclamation of the old man. Every effort failed, and in six weeks time nearly one half of the ten thousand dollars had been squandered or stolen by the harpies who hung around him. Skillott, through the confidence of Walter, had learned all the circumstances of the legacy, and his eyes glistened as schemes for its possession were planned in his mind. It was now wasticg, and, should any of it be left, Walter was the last man he would wish to have it. While pushing for the judgeship, he had held out the post of a representative to Con- 358 MINUIE HERMON. gress to "Walter. Skillott determined to push tor the post himself, and the possession of wealth by the vic- tim might foil all his plans. Skillott did not visit the Home save late in the eve nings. It was in bad repute, and the demagogue wished to retain the semblance of respectability. Every night, at a late hour, however, he was found at Hermon's. He did not always see Minnie ;but when- ever he could get an opportunity, he assumed unwon- ted grace and essayed to appear devoted in his atten- tions. She shunned him, and recoiled from his honeyed words as from the hiss of a viper, hardly concealing the deep and unconquerable dislike she felt towards the man. An utter stranger to the honorable of the sex, Skillott was a sneering skeptic about their being such among women, and he did not in the least aban- don his base designs against Minnie. He loved her not. Her sharp and scornful repulses to his sickening flatteries, had stung him until he was maddened. Vindictive and withering in his hate against man or woman, as well as fiery and ungovernable in his pas- sions, he seldom commenced his approaches, but what he accomplished the ruin of his victim. Could he grasp Minnie and Walter both in his net, the triumph would be a double one. " He would not be foiled by old Herinon's daughter," he muttered as he turned across the street on his way to the Home. As Skillott entered the hall he met Minnie going out. "Ah! Miss Hermon beg your pardon, but like POISON IN THE CUP. 359 the miller of a summer night, I am constantly drawn to the flame," spoke the lawyer, in his blandest tones, and with a touch of assumed tenderness. With a cold inclination of the head, Minnie stood back for him to pass in, and through the right door to the bar- room. Shutting the street door he still stood with his back against it, and looked close in her face. She recoiled, and asked to be permitted to pass. " Do not be thus cold to one who takes a deep in- terest in your welfare. I would be a friend to you, Miss Hermon," continued Skillott, in low tones. There was a strange and thrilling influence in them which sent a chill over his listener. She felt that that burning gaze, peculiar to the man, was fastened upon her, and turned to leave him. " No, no, Miss Hermon, you must not leave so. If I have offended, it has been from excess of regard. Snrely a lovely girl like yourself would not go into the street at this time of night without a protector." " I need none, sir," briefly replied Minnie, as she now stepped to go out of the door which Skillott had moved away from. " Nay, sweet girl, but you do. One like you should have one friend. I should be happy to be smiled up- on by one whom an unworthy friend has abandoned." " Let me pass, sir. Your language and manner are insulting." " Not so hasty, Miss. I think too much of you to insult you." Then bending closely to Minnie, he whispered wards which we will not repeat. 15 360 MINNIE HEKMON. "You're a villain! Hands off, sir! Coward help!" There was a glancing shadow in the dim light, and Skillott received a blow which felled him to the floor. As the revelers came out of the bar-room, he was found insensible. He was taken np, and after a time came to himself. No one had been seen in the hall, and Skillott, believing that it was Minnie who gave him the blow, stated that he fell as he entered, from catching his toe on the threshold. Minnie had scarcely heard the blow and the fall of Skillott, be- fore she was lifted like a child, and noiselessly borne up the stairs by a strong arm. Minnie felt keenly this gross insult in her own house. It was suggestive of many a bitter thought. With a vow of revenge for the blow and the in- sulting repulse, Skillott dismissed the matter from his mind as he noticed the progress of matters in the bar-room. The elder Brayton and some two or three others were present, and all drunk. At the sugges tion of Skillott^, the others were prevailed upon to leave, under pretense of closing the house. Brayton was too good a customer to be thus turned out, and was left snoring by the fire-place, his chin dropping upon his breast. For a long time Skillott and Hermon conversed in whispers across the counter, the latter drunk enough to be a blind tool of the cool-headed lawyer. " Brayton is making a complete fool of himself It is too bad." POISON IN THE CUP. 361 " Yes ; lie can't stand it long so." " How he wastes money ! " " Yes ; it goes like dirt. He will very soon rnn through it." "How much do you s'pose he has left of the legacy ? " " Half on't, like enough ; may be more don't know!" " Too bad to have him squander it so don't do anybody any good." " It's his own." " Just so," blandly answered Skillott. " But such men as Jud Lane and Mike Henry are getting more than their share of it." The bait took, and a slight smile crept coldly over Skillott's countenance, as he watched the effects of his words upon Hermon. " It would be a kindness, would some trusty friends take charge of his money and keep it for him." The lawyer still watched Hermon keenly, as he assumed a careless tone and air, drumming with his fingers on the counter. Hermon -made no response, and Skillott continued : " I'll warrant Jud Lane has taken a good share, and he never has done one-hundredth part as much for Brayton as you have" Hermon did not see the sneer that lingered around Skillott's lips as he spoke the last words, but began to be aroused by the crafty words of the Judge. Jud Lane was getting too much of old Brayton's ten thousand dollars! The judge noted the kindling of 362 MINNIE HEKMON. the landlord's avarice and continued, forcing a yawn, and still drumming carelessly upon the counter: " You would have done the old man a great kind- ness, as well as Walter, if you had always taken his money when he is in one of his drunken sprees, and kept it from those that plunder him." Still no re- sponse from Hermon. " Indeed, I have blamed you because you have not. It is not doing as you would be done by." "I I ahem ! I have occasionally taken care of money for him. I thought I'd better take it than to have him waste it. He don't take care of his money at all." " Right, Mr. Hermon," and Skillott's eye glittered. "Right. I had thought as judge, of ordering the same thing, but I feared "Walter would not like it. How much have you saved him ? Enough to do him some good when the rest is spent, I hope." " Why a about let me see : a quite a sum. It would have all been lost if I hadn't got it laid away for him." " Four or five hundred dollars, perhaps ? " and he whistled as he looked leisurely about the room and tapped the tips of his fingers together. " Yes about that, I s'pose," replied Hermon, com- pletely won by the careless manner of Skillott. The latter had not lost a single word or expression of the landlord's face. Assuming a confidential air, and drawing closer to Hermon, he continued : " Between you and me, Hermon this between POISON IN THE CUP. 363 ourselves, you know it has been talked over by a few of old Brayton's friends, and concluded that it ia best to devise some plan to save his property. As I am judge, and have his confidence, the whole matter has been entrusted to my arrangement. Knowing that you and he were intimate, we thought it best to ask your assistance. As it is, the ten thousand dol- lars will not last him a year. And then, if he dies, there is another trouble. I would not wish it noised about, for he is a friend of mine ; but it is a sad truth that Walt has got so he steams it, and if the money falls into his hands, it will go the same way that it ia now going. So we have concluded that you and I get the old man to put his money into our hands for safe keeping. It is the only way it can be saved ; foi otherwise Jud Lane will have it, as sure as fate. Now the plan we propose is this," continued Skillott, in whispers, laying the finger of his right hand carefully in the palm of the left. " We will get him to sign writings, (I've got them here in my pocket,) deeding to us all his property for safe keeping, carrying the impression that it is as security for moneys borrowed. We are then to give him small sums, or ourselves pay his expenses, and keep charge of the money. Thus you see we should have the use of the money as long as he should live, and he could not spend it around town. He could board here, and you could have the pay for his board and grog. I think this a good plan." " Most certainly I do. Jud Lane cannot then plun- der him," and Ilermon rubbed his hands at the 364 MINNIE EERMON. thought. That snaky smile again crept around the corners of Skillott's mouth. " Now it seems to me we shall not have a better time than to-night. It is necessary for his good that it be done soon the sooner the better. Have you a room where we shall not be interrupted ? " " The back chamber." " Just so ; that will do. We shall not be interrupt- ed there, probably ? " " Not at this time o'night." " We must not be ; because, you see, it is highly important that the thing be nicely managed. Better take pen and ink up there." As Ilermon came back. Skillott still stood drumming carelessly upon the counter, and old Brayton sat sno- ring by the hearth. The light burned dimly in the bar-room, and the noise of tramping feet had long since ceased in the street. The windows, only, were heard as they rattled in the fitful gusts which puffed around the Home. " Now," said Skillott, *' we must awake him, and arouse him with a glass of brandy, and then persuade him up stairs to bed. Pour out the brandy, and as you lift him up I will hand it to you." Hermon passed around and shook Brayton by the shoulder, awakening him from his drunken slumber with much difficulty. While he was doing so, Skil- lott emptied the contents of a vial into the brandy, and then handed it to Hermon, who had just got the dozy drunkard upon his feet. He made no objections POISON IN THE CUP. 365 to the brandy, and after much coaxing, was persua- ded to let them assist him up to bed. Skillott, before leaving the bar-room, took the precaution to lock the doors. On reaching the chamber, Skillott commenced, in blandest tones, to induce the drunken man to sign the paper presented to him. The man stared vacantly as the pen was put into his hand, with the statement that the paper was a receipt for money they had bor- rowed of him, which they now wished to pay him. Mechanically, Brayton put his hand where directed, but was evidently too drunk to understand what he was about, or to write his name alone. A gust of wind slammed the window blind furiously, startling both parties abruptly. Skillott moved to the window, but on Hermon assuring him that the window could not be reached save from the ground, he fastened the blinds and returned to the drunken man. As the hand was again placed upon the paper, Brayton ut- tered a cry of pain, and doubled convulsively in his chair. There was a slight paleness around Skillott's mouth, and Hermon looked on with astonishment. - ".What was in your brandy ? " asked the Judge, with his eye fastened keenly upon the landlord. " Nothing. Why do you ask ? " answered Hermon with a troubled countenance. " It is queer that he should have convulsions. Is ho subject to them? " " Not that I ever knew of." " Then I fear he is going to have the delinum-tre- mens. He will arouse the whole neighborhood, and 3fi6 MINNIE HERMON. probably die before the property is safe where Walt cannot spend it." " Come, Brayton, sign the receipt ; I must go home." Again the pen was put into the man's hand, but his agony was now evidently excruciating. He writhed in convulsions, doubling down on his stom- ach, and howling in agony. "This must not be ; he will injure himself," said Skillott. " We must hold him on the bed, and keep the paroxysms down until he is quiet. If he shrieks it will make him worse. Take hold of his feet quick." As the two tossed Brayton upon the bed, he strug gled and shrieked until Skillott's blood ran cold But it was too late to retreat. He threw himself Brayton, and told Hermon to put the pillow over his head and hold it down. " It would keep him from exhausting himself." Hermon did as ordered, but the united strength of the two could riot hold Brayton still. With a howl of pain, he hurled them upon the floor and sprang into the middle of the room, writhing and doubling, and the froth bubbling from the mouth. He stared wildly at Skillott and Hermon. " In God's name, what's the matter of me. Call a doctor quick, or I can't live. O dear merciful God ! there is fire in my bowels. Water ! quick ! for God's sake WATER ! " He shrieked again as the paroxysm took him. With desperate energy Skillott leaped upon him, and POISON IN THE CUP. 367 thrust his handkerchief into his mouth, and with al- most superhuman strength, again threw him on the bed. The pillow was again held down upon Brayton'a face ; Skillott pressed upon him with all his strength. Weaker grew the man, and less violent his convul- sions. Half-smothered shrieks, and prayers, and criea for breath and water, came from under the pillow, even with Hermon's weight upon it. A fierce, con- vulsive shiver ran over the trunk and limbs ; they slowly straightened out as Skillott relaxed his grasp ; the deep chest heaved fearfully for breath, and Bray- ton lay still. " Quick, now, before the paroxysm comes on again the pen and light." Hermon removed the pillow and handed them, as ordered. Skillott had raised Brayton to a sitting po- sition. " Here, Hermon, let him lean upon you ; he is weak after such fits. Come, Brayton, sign the papers, and then you can sleep. Ah ! I see ; your hand trembles. Let me aid you." Skillott placed his hand upon Bray ton's, and guided the fingers while they traced "Gerald Brayton" " There," said Skillott, " we will not trouble you more you can lie down," and the Judge laid Bray- ton carefully back upon the pillow. " Horrible distemper that delirium-tremens. He needs rest and quiet. Come out right in the morn- ing, I guess. Well enough to call in early, but would not disturb him during the night. ' 368 MINNIE HEKMON. Covering Brayton with the quilts, the two went down. The dead was alone ! Could the countenance of the corpse have bee*, seen as it sat on the bed, and by the aid of the living traced its signature ; the glassy eyes protruding with dying agony, and glaring upon va- cancy ; the distorted features, and the mouth foaming, with here and there flecks of blood ; the close-shut teeth, the throat and bosom bare as it had been stripped in the scuffle, and the hair clammy and mat- ted on the damp and ghastly the picture of all that is horrible in a death of keenest agony, would have been presented. As Hermon turned the key in the chamber door, the slamming of the blinds and the increasing wind alone disturbed the silence of the chamber. Swiftly Skillott sped along the deserted streets to his home. Two hours later, and the window in the chamber where the struggle had been, was carefully raised, and a dark shadow, undefined in the dim starlight, glided into the room and pulled a small, dark lantern from a loose robe which he wore around him. Slowly and silently he peered towards the bed, and then step- ped noiselessly to the head of it. He leaned down and looked closely into the face of the corpse. He lifted the lamp still nearer, and laid the back of his hand against the cheek. He recoiled at the touch ; but again and again, and still more searchingly looked down into the ghastly features, thrusting his hand into the bosom to feel the heart. He then lifted the pil- POISON IX THE CUP, 309 low and turned it over. It was wet with a slimy froth, and streaked with blood. He seemed to come to some satisfactory conclusion about the matter, and dropping the hand which he had lifted from the quilt, stood erect. There was a dark glitter in his eye, and a paleness around his sternly closed mouth. A new thought seemed to occupy his attention, and he glided to the door, but found it locked. With a key from his own pocket he unlocked it, and after listening, passed down and into the bar-room. In the excite- ment of the time, Hermon had set the glass from which Brayton drank back upon the counter, and forgotten to rinse and put it in the usual place. It now stood where he left it. The Hermit, for it was he, took it in his hand, and after smelling it closely, looked steadily into the bottom. As he stirred the strange-looking sediment with his fore-finger, he ex- claimed with low, yet bitter energy, " Oh ! ho ! dear friends. Poison in the cup, indeed ! And the mur- derers are not all hung yet ! " He stood a moment in thought, and then carefully securing the glass, recn- tered the hall and disappeared up the stairs. The key was turned in the door of the back chamber, and the Hermit was again alone with the dead. CHAPTEK XXVIII. TWO MOKNLNG CALLS A LIVE MAN FOE A DEAD ONE, DAYLIGHT had scarcely dawned, when there was a loud rap at Skillott's door. Again and again it was repeated, each successive time with increased energy. It was an unwelcome sound, and for a time he feigned slumber. Guilt is ever fearful, and trembles at the sound of every footfall. As the noise increased, Skillott threw on his morn- ing gown and opened the door, and somewhat bluntly demanded the cause of the interruption. He stared as he saw Hermon standing before him, but it was momentary. As blandly as usual, after affecting a yawn, he inquired what was wanting at so early an hour. Hermon was the picture of embarrassment. His flame-red face was haggard, his manner stealthy and uneasy, and his eye restless. Turning his eye up the street to assure himself that he was unobserved, he darted through the half-opened door, and closed it as he entered. Placing his back against it, he stood looking Skillott beseechingly in the face. " Why, man, what is the matter what is want- ing ? " again asked Skillott, with a well-assumed ah of fretfulness at so unceremonious an interruption. TWO MORNING CALLS. 371 "Brayton is dead! " whispered Hermon, in a husky voice, after looking around to see if no one but them- selves was in the hall. " Ah ! indeed ! Died last night, eh 3 " "Found him dead before daylight this morning. The body was cold," and a shudder crept over the hardened landlord. " That fit of tremens, then, must have finished the old man." "Are you sure are you sure, Skillott, that he died of the tremens ? " eagerly asked Hermon in an ap- pealing tone. " Why, how else could he have died ? A man of his age cannot drink as hard as he did, and stand it- long, Mr. Hermon." There yet remained something upon Hermon's mind, and he lingered. Skillott made a gesture of impatience, and suggested that, as the matter did no! concern him, he had better send for "Walter or the coroner. " But," continued Hermon, with an air of abstrac- tion, " s'posing they should attempt to show he didn't die of the tremens / what do you s'pose would como of it?" " Nonsense, man ; one would suppose your liquor killed him, and that you expected to be hung for it, from your manner." A slight shudder again crept over Hermon. and the sweat stood out in drops upon his forehead and upper lip. Skillott grew confident, as the drift of the 372 MINNIE HERMON. former's fears became apparent, and as quickly formed his plan with which to hold the landlord hereafter. " But liquor would not poison a man, you know, 5 ' placing a strange emphasis upon the word. " You know best whether there was any poison in the liquor ; I saw you give it to him." " But you told me to give him the brandy." " But I did not suppose it was poisoned. It cer- tainly was not ?" Hermon started at the question. " You know I have enemies, Skillott, and as he died in my house, they might say unpleasant things, you know ; and besides, his signing over his property to you and me wouldn't help the matter." " O, I'll see to that matter ; the property shall not injure you." There was a smile lurking around the mouth of the Judge as he gave the assurance. "As to that matter, it would injure you as well as me, both having an interest in it." " Between you and me, Hermon," replied Skiliott, "I feared the man was on his last legs, and knowing that you had many and bitter enemies who would make a handle of his death in your house, I thought it best, on the whole, to have the conveyance made out in my name. There are not many who have knowl- edge of the fact ; but the truth is, I have lent old Brayton a good deal of money within a few years past. It would be but right, you know, that I should make sure of what he had left." "You you don't mean to say that I am not to have a shai^e to have charge of the property ! " TWO MORNING- CALLS. 373 " Precisely." blandly answered the Judge. "That is best, you know, until the storm about his dying in your house blows over." " You didn't say anything last night about his owing you." " Nor did I give him that last drink" whispered Skillott, a slight sneer creeping across the upper lip. " But you told me to give it to him," replied the landlord, deprecatingly. "I did not tell you to put poison in the glass^ though ! " Hermon fairly jumped, a more ominous paleness spreading over his countenance. He stood a moment, and some of his old spirit came to his aid. " Neither did I, sir, as perhaps others can testify," he retorted with considerable energy and meaning, pulling a paper from his side pocket and thrusting it into Skillott's palm. He watched the Judge as the latter traced the contents. The usual sneer passed oft' his features as he read, and he drew his under lip thoughtfully between his teeth. Hermon was not so far broken down intellectually, as not to mark the change in Skillott's manner. The note ran thus : " I have drinked my last at the Home. There was jymson in the cup, and I died by violence ! The dead sign no papers? Old Brayton is dead, but the mur- derers we not hung yet I <( A GUEST NOT INVITED." 37-i MINMlv ''And you thought to frighten me by penning such BtutT as this," sneered the Judge as he finally lifted his eyes from the paper. " It's false I had no more to do with penning it than yon did," answered llermon with spirit. " Where did it come from, then ? I should like to know ! " " I found it in the dead man's fonyers ! " " The devil ! How could that be 2 " bluntly asked the Judge, without the usual sneer, again and more tightly drawing his under lip between his teeth, and resting his hand upon a chair, his gaze still fastened upon the paper. " You can tell as well as I," doggedly answered the landlord, regaining confidence, as he noticed the effect of the note upon Skillott. " The dead can't write," mused the Judge, looking long and closely still upon the paper. " But he might not have been dead when we left him. The pen and ink were left, you know." " It is strange, strange," continued Skillott, with marked uneasiness in his features. After leaving Bray ton, on the previous evening, Hermon had become disturbed in his mind about his appearance. It did not seem to him like the delirium- tremens. He was troubled with the thought of his death in his house, and before daylight, lighted his candle and entered the chamber. Brayton lay as they had left him, save one hand, which was aciosa the breast. The landlord listened to catch the sound TWO MORNING CALLS. 3Y5 ot his breathing ; but all was still. With a quicker pulse he then stepped to the bedside and let the light fall upon the face. It was ghastly, distorted, horri ble ! He placed his fingers upon Brayton's. A shud der crept from the dead over the living, and Herraon drew back. At that moment his eye rested upon the paper in the dead man's fingers which he carried to Skillott. Hermon left the room with a trembling step, and immediately sought the glass which he had left on the counter, but it was gone. At early light he had hurried to Skillott's for advice. " Humph ! This does look a little squally for yon, friend Hermon, it cannot be denied. This is not Brayton's hand-writing. You have enemies in the village, and some of them might have been eaves- dropping last night. " But the door was locked, and the key in my own pocket. How could any one have got into the chamber ? " With all his attempt to appear careless and only so- licitous for Hermon's case, Skillott was troubled. That paper in the dead man's hand the contents and the fact stated by Hermon that the glass was mis- sing, had an ugly look. It was for his interest to as- sist Hermon so far as was safe. If worst came to worst, he had already determined to turn the whole tide of circumstances against Hermon, and sacrifice him to save himself. It was clear to him that an un- seen enemy was around, and he felt that undefinable sense of dread which a person experiences when ex- 376 MINNIE HE HMOS'. pecting a blow in the dark. At last a thought fixed his attention, and he entered his library and com- menced hunting among some loose papers. He came to one^ and for some moments compared the writing upon it, with that on the note handed him by Her- mon. He had evidently found a clue. The paper hunted up by Skillott was a notice of a temper- ance meeting, written by the Hermit. There was something in this knowledge besides the mystery of the affair, to give Skillott serious thoughts. The Her- mit was dreaded by all the Judge's class. If that everywhere-present, and eagle-eyed individual had obtained any knowledge of the real state of things, he was an enemy to be dreaded. Skillott's counte- nance was pale, as he continued to compare papers ; but he shut his teeth harshly together, and a fiend- ish light gleamed in his dark eye. The stakes were increasing, and the play was becoming extremely haz- ardous. There was another early call in Oak vale. Doctor Howard was awakened from a deep slumber by a sin- gle rap upon his door. It was familiar, for no other was ever given in the same manner, and he was not surprised when he found the Hermit standing upon the piazza, closely muffled in his long robe. " Who is sick now, my friend," inquired the Doc- tor, yawning and rubbing his eyes. "IS T obody sick dead I n " Indeed ! who's dead, may I ask ? " "Gerald Brayton." TWO MORNING CALLS. 377 " The old man dead ? I feared his habits would destroy him." " Habits did not kill him. Poisoned ! " " What ! Brayton poisoned ! How do you know that ? " "See it done know it! " "Then he has committed suicide ! " " No. Others committed murder ! " "Impossible! Who would wish to poison Gerald Brayton? He was his own worst enemy." " Dont know who wished to ; know they did. That's enough." "And you saw this ! " " I did. But did not suppose there was poison in the cup until afterwards, or I could have saved him. Thought he had the tr emeus" " But this is a serious matter. What evidence have you that he was poisoned, more than your eyes be- held ? " The Hermit carefully drew a glass from his innei side-pocket, tightly bound over the top with buck- skin and strings. Untying the latter, he handed the glass to the Doctor. " There ! look at that. He drank out of that. A vial was emptied into it first." Howard's interest was now aroused, and with the Hermit he entered his office. "Poison ! sure enough," he exclaimed, after a care- ful examination, " and of the most deadly kind." " S posed so," was the brief response of the Hermit 378 MINNIE HERMON. " But, in God's name, my friend, who gave Bray ton from this cup to drink, and why ? " " Know who ; cant tell why. Guess, though." "This is horrible. What must be done? Who were the parties, and where was it done ? " "'Twas more horrible to see. They must ha/ng. Parties well known. Done at the Home. Ques- tions all answered." " What do you say ! at JJermon's f " " Just -said so." " But we must know who there are in our midst who would do such things." " Know soon enough. Give me the glass." Howard mechanically obeyed, being familiar with the ways of the eccentric individual before him. If he was scenting the footsteps of wrong, the Doctor knew that he would be as wary and untiring as a blood-hound. As the Hermit took the glass and again carefully tied the buckskin over the top, he turned to go. "When shall I see you again?" anxiously inquired Howard. " To-night. Look at the glasses in Hermoii } s bar ! " The Hermit turned on his heel, and strode down the walk with more energy even than was customary for him. Not until he was gone, did his last words come with their full meaning to the understanding of the Doctor. Circumstances proved most unexpectedly favorable to the plans of parties more directly interested in the TWO MORNIXG CALLS. 379 Brayton affair Skillott had managed the matter cun- ningly, and by ten o'clock, through the daily paper anc 1 on busy tongues, it was circulated that Brayton haa died the night before at the Home, after a pro- tracted debauch, of delirium-tremens. Such a result was not looked upon with surprise. "Walter Brayton was absent from Oakvale, and as a friend of him and his father, Skillott volunteered to take charge of the investigation, and of the burial of the corpse. The coroner's inquest was brief. A number of persons testified to the deep drunkenness of Brayton on the evening before his death, while Skillott and Hermon testified directly to the manner of his death. The former stated that he had been called in to assist during the paroxysms. The jury pronounced a verdict of "Death by visitation of Prov- idence ! " Howard had been called away to attend a sick pa- tient, soon after his interview with the Hermit. The patient died after a severe and protracted struggle, detaining the doctor until a late hour in the afternoon, As soon as possible he returned home, feeling confi- dent, however, that the Hermit would watch the pro- ceedings. Turning his horse loose into the yard, he entered the house to snatch a mouthful, and found the follow- ing characteristic note : " Doctor, the murderers have planned to put their poison under ground-. Brayton will be buried before 380 MINNIE IIERMON. night, and dug up afterwards, and hidden. Let him be buried. We will attend the night party. Speak not a word. HERMIT." In deep thought, Howard passed over to the Homo, where a large number were still assembled, many of them disgustingly drunk. Sure enough, the prepa- rations for the burial of the corpse were in an ad- vanced state. It was thought that the body had bet- ter not be kept long imburied 1 Howard asked to see the corpse. "With a look at Skillott, after some hesitation, Hermon led him to the chamber. Howard was immediately satisfied that Brayton did not die of the drunkard's madness. His experienced eye detected the unmistakable footprints of a more fatal agency, plainly written in the hue of the flesh. He noticed the marks of the scuffle upon the floor, and turned away. Hermon had been watch ing his eye, and grew agitated as it rested upon him. But for the testimony already revealed to him by the Hermit, Howard would have pronounced the death one of strangulation. While they were standing in the room, the sexton came for the corpse. Hermon was repulsively offi- cious, as rumsellers usually are when at the funeral of any of their victims. As they all emerged into the street, Howard balanced over the counter and snatche