BENTINGK SCHOOL, b; S S 1 o x i H o 7 - & Awarded to A. bn IJM-I,, 1 in.". ia, KUuarDOCC. THE REY. DR. WILLOUGHBY, HIS WINE. MARY SPRING WALKER, AUTHOR 0*' "TUB FAMILY DOCTOR; OR, MRS. BARRY AND HER BOURBON. BTO. GLASGOW: SCOTTISH TEMPERANCE LEAGUE. LONDON: HOULSTON &. SONS; AND NATIONAL TEMPERANCE LEAGUE. EDINBURGH: JOHN MENZIES & CO. 1895. [ELEVENTH THOUSAND.] NOTE. "Da. WILLOUGHBY " is a reprint of one of the most recent publications of the American National Temper- ance Society. It presents the question in an aspect somewhat novel, and has enjoyed a wide popularity on the other side of the Atlantic. It has been deemed worthy of republication by the Directors of the Scottish Temperance League; and they indulge the hope that it may prove not less suitable to the circumstances of British society at the present time, nor less acceptable in this country, than it has been in America. SCOTTISH TEMPERANCE LEAGUE, 108 HOPE STREET, GLASGOW, 1st March, 1870. 2138790 CONTENTS. CHAFTEB PAGK L PARSON WILLOUOHBT is IN HIS SXUDT, . . 9 II. GOOD FATHER PAUL, 24 III. THE CITY MINISTER'S WIFE, .... 30 IV.-DAN TAYLOB, 42 V. TEMPEEANCE versus ABSTINENCE, ... 54 VI. CEAZY JOE, 75 VII. THE WILMOT STEEET CHURCH, ... 89 VIII. A LITTLE FOE MEDICINE, .... 100 IX. A FIGHT WITH THE RDM-SELLERS, . . .111 X. THE DEUNKAED'S CDESE, 120 XLWHO'S TO BLAME? 13C XII. PREACHING WITHOUT NOTES, .... 145 XIII. WILL HE COME, MOTHER? . . . .157 XIV. THAT STUMBLING BROTHER, .... 1G8 XV. THE BIBLE WINE QUESTION, . . . .177 XVI. GOD BLESS OUH MINISTER, .... 187 XVIL SODL TOETUEE, 197 XVIIL THE RELENTLESS JUDGE, 209 XIX. A WOMAN'S STBATAGEM, 220 XX. LOOK CP, BROTHER! 227 XXL THE DELIVERER, 238 XXII. GRACE WILLOUGHBY SPEAKS HEE MIND, . . 252 XXIIL DAVID AND JONATHAN, 270 XXIV. DESEETED, 282 XXV. THAT SCANDALOUS STOBT 288 XXVI. THE OUTCAST 298 XXVIL Too LATE, 305 XXVIIL FATHEB AND DAUGHTER, 311 XXIX. DAN TAYLOR'S BROKEN PROMISE, . . . 318 XXX. WAITING . 325, BEY. DE, WILLOIJGHBY, II IS W -I N E. CHAPTER I. PARSON WILLOUGHBY IS IN HIS STUDY. "There are foolish shepherds (Zech. xi. 15). There are shepherds that feed themselves and not their Hocks (Ezek. xxxiv. 2). There are hard-hearted and pitiless shepherds (Zech. xi. 3). There are shepherds that, instead of healing, smite, push, and wound the diseased (Ezek. xxxiv. 4, 21). There are shepherds that cause their flocks to go astray (Jer. i. G). And there are shepherds that feed their flocks (Acts xx. 28). : ' JOHX BITXYAN. j]HE fact is, brethren," said Dr. Willoughby, " I have for the most part stood aloof from all these works of moral reform. I have no taste for them. In my view, they interfere with th<; simple preaching of the Gospel. I have made it Hiy business to preach ' Christ and Him crucified ;' ami 10 THE REV. DR. WILLOUGIIBY, I believe that in showing men the sinfulness of their own hearts, and their need of a Saviour, the whole ground is covered. Cleanse the fountain, and the stream will be pure. Let a man's soul be renewed, and his outward life will take care of itself. I believe all works of moral reform are superseded by the preaching of the Gospel." The speaker was a man past middle life, of a digni- fied presence, with a lofty, impending forehead, and a keen, black eye under shaggy brows. He spoke in a clear voice, with great deliberation, and as one having authority. Grouped about him, in the arm-chairs and comfortable lounging-places with which the room was abundantly furnished, sat a dozen clergymen, in the easy attitude of men whose day's work was done, and whom a good dinner had left comfortable in body and mind. " You express my views exactly, Doctor," said an elderly man with a double chin, and an immense white neck-tie. " In my judgment, the mistake modern reformists make just lies here : to accomplish any special work, they substitute a human instrumentality for the Gospel. Yes, sir; the force of man's weak resolution is put in place of the power of divine grace. I have no patience with the mistaken zeal of these fellows, in the ministry or out, who go bellowing through the world, ' Reform ! Reform ! ' throwing open the door of fanaticism ; and, with a lighted fagot in one band, and a drawn sword in the other, cut and slash HIS WINE. 11 in the name of philanthropy and chanty. We ought, as ministers of Jesus Christ, to oppose fanaticism in every form; and for my part, I glory in the name of a Conservative, taking the ground of Conservatism enlightened by the Gospel." " I believe it to be the only safe course to pursue," said Dr. Willoughby; "and in regard to this temper- ance movement, to which some allusion has been made, it has so remote a bearing upon the great object for which the ministry was instituted is so delicate and impracticable and, in the hands of wire-pulling dema- gogues, has become so mixed up, and befogged, and interwoven with politics that I have no disposition to meddle with it." A young man sitting on the outside of the circle manifested great uneasiness during this conversation ; and now, bending forward, seemed about to speak, but was prevented by a brisk, little, black-eyed man, a professor in the neighbouring theological seminary, who eagerly responded to Dr. VTilloughby's remarks. " You are right, Brother Willoughby, quite right," he said. " We must let these outsiders alone. In all our works of philanthropy and charity, we are, in my opinion, safe just so long as we keep to God's appointed way. The church is that way. All these out- side workings this joining hands in a work of moral reform, as a ' hail fellow, well met,' with the world- lings and the sinners are a daubing ourselves with untempered mortar. Brethren, it 's like forsaking the 12 THE REV. DK. WILLOUGHEY, fellowship of God's chosen people leaving the road that carried the patriarchs and prophets to the celestial city, with the Holy Spirit to fire our engine, and the Lord Jesus for our conductor, and jumping aboard a fast train on another track, with strange fire iu the engine, and the ru ft- scuff of the streets, the ring- streaked and the speckled, in the cars. My Bible gives me no direction to join a teetotal society. Let us keep within the pale of the church, Brother Wil- loughby, and we shall, in all our endeavours to benefit our fellow-men, have the Master's approval, and what measure of success He sees fit to give us." " Father," said a pale young man at Dr. Willoughby's right hand, "have you trained your people so well, that they suffer you to hold this position in peace?" The tones of his voice were peculiarly soft and musical, and Dr. Willoughby's face assumed its most benignant expression as he turned to reply. " Why, as to that, Louis," he said, " there are uneasy spirits in every community men who have their pet schemes, and whose zeal for the time being is narrowed down to a single issue; who ride their hobby and dwell on their one idea, till they come to think their way is the only right way. I have such in my church good Christian men, whose hearts are better than their heads. I have a high respect for them. I believe they are actuated by the best of motives. They come to me every now and then, clamouring for some new measure. They want the AND HIS WINE. 13 pledge circulated, or a popular temperance, lecturer procured, or some new organization started, and I treat them with great courtesy, and gratify them when I can. I do this conscientiously, for I agree with them in the main. I acknowledge the force of all they say concerning the great and growing evil of intemperance in our midst. I lament it as they do ; and we only differ as to the ways and means of eradi- cating it. As Brother Nash has very justly remarked, they put too much confidence in human instrumen- tality." " They try to improve on the Gospel, sir," said the gentleman alluded to. " They propose to do for the poor victim of sin what only the almighty grace of God can do. And they are tools, sir, in the hands of wire-palling politicians miserable demagogues, who, under the specious name of temperance, have raised themselves to power by pandering to the passions of zealots and fanatics. They break up the peace of churches, sir; they sow dissension, and set brethren at variance. They march in the ranks of political strife, and light the fires of fanaticism on our very hearth- stones, and in our Christian assemblies." The young man who had before manifested a dis- position to speak, now addressed Dr. Willoughby. He was of manly proportions, with a fair, open, and rather florid face, a clear gray eye, and a profusion of light-brown curly hair. He was a stranger to most present, having been lately installed as pastor of the 14 THE UKV. DR. WILLOUGHBY, Congregational Church in Grantley, a manufacturing village some thirty miles distant. " Dr. Willonghby," he said, very respectfully, " will you tell me what you understand, sir, by a work of moral reform?" The Doctor gave the questioner a searching look from under his shaggy brows. " A work of moral reform, Brother Richmond," he said, " I understand to be a united action, by a body of men, to correct some wrong-doing in the community the endeavour to suppress personal or public vice." " Yes ; and if successful, that which is decidedly immoral and vicious is suppressed, and the community becomes conformed externally, at least, to the known commands and will of God. Am I right there, Dr. Willoughby ? " " Undoubtedly." " Then, does not moral reform tend directly to man's salvation ? It is not, of course, a work of salvation itself; but, by removing the greatest obstacles to the success of the Gospel, does it not ' prepare the way of the Lord?' If this is not a minister's business, whose is it? If we can justify ourselves in standing aloof from works of moral reform under the plea that our business is to preach the Gospel, who will do this work ? If Christianity, which has the promise of the life that now is, as well as that which is to come, does not take the lead in every enterprise of philanthropy, where is suffering humanity to look for aid? The Gospel! what AND HIS WINE. 15 is it? ' The grace of God bringeth salvation, teaching us that, denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and godly, in this present world.' My dear brethren, we cannot separate moral reform from religion. The two go hand in hand. And most strikingly is this true of the temperance work. . To succeed, we must have the weight and authority of God's law, and all the energizing love of the Gospel. If the church stand back, if ministers keep silent, the temperance reform will in a great measure fail ; it will be a mere dietetic or sanitary movement, evanescent, and without binding force. It is God's battle, and we must fight it." He spoke rapidly, his handsome face flushing with excitement and enthusiasm. " The cross once seen is death to every vice," said the Professor. " Brother Richmond, it has occurred to me many times, that if you ultra-temperance men would spend a quarter of the time in earnest conver- sation with men, about the salvation of their souls, that you devote to urging them to sign the total abstinence pledge, you would accomplish more for the glory of God." " Did you ever attempt," he replied, " to persuade a man, thoroughly under the influence of this vice, to become a Christian ? Is there any such opponent to the conviction and conversion of sinners as intemper- ance? 'The sin of intemperance,' said good old Dr. JTettleton, in 1829, ' has caused more trouble, and 10 THE REV. Bit. WILLGUGI1BY, done more dishonour to the cause of Christ, than any other vice that can be named.' ' I dread,' said the martyr Williams, a little before his death, ' I dread to see the American flag come into the Pacific. She may bring missionaries in her cabin, bnt in her hold are the tire-waters of damnation.' And Archdeacon Jeffreys, after a residence of nineteen years in Bombay, declared that, 'without the introduction of the total abstinence principle, Christianity would be a curse to India rather than a blessing; for the Hindoo, on renouncing caste, by which he is forbidden to drink, would rush at once to the bottle, and the Christian church become the most drunken part in India.' ' Plead with men to come to Christ 1 ?' So I will, and I will tell the poor inebriate that the first step to be taken is to forsake his cups, for 'no drunkard can inherit the kingdom of God.' Brethren, God helping me, I will say to my people wherever I labour, ' I take you to record this day, that I am pure from the blcod of all men.' " " My young brother," said Dr. Willonghby, with great dignity, " I deplore with you the evils of intem- perance. I, too, would plead with the inebriate to forsake his cups, because his only chance of safety lies in abstinence. I have no disposition to meddle with your belief. Be a teetotaler if you like, and persuade others to join you. This is a part of your Christian liberty; and though I hold that there is a better way, that temperance is a higher virtue than abstinence, AND HIS WINE. 17 that my liberty consists iu using the world, I shall not quarrel with you if you take the extreme ground struck by the prevalence of intemperance in our midst that to partake of the wine-cup ever so soberly is a luxury you arc called upon to relinquish. But when you talk about bringing the weight and authority of God's law to bear on your side, and maintain that the battle for teetotal isrn is God's battle, you make a great and fundamental mistake. A divine permission, my dear brother, is not a divine requirement ; and you will allow me to say that the attempt you ultra-temperance men are making, to force the Bible to inculcate teetotalism, must necessarily fail, and the failure damages the cause. Let me ask you one question, Brother Richmond. Was the greatest reformist and philanthropist the world ever saw, He who, knowing the end from the beginning, must have foreseen all the evil that would grow out of the abuse of intoxicating drink, was the Loi-d Jesus Christ, ' God manifest in the flesh,' a total abstainer? Did He inculcate, either by example or precept, this belief of yours? Did He not come eating and drinking? Did He not make wine on a festive occasion, and use it at the institution of the Lord's supper, wine, too, that would make men drunk ? These facts have got to be met by temperance men. Be careful, Brother Richmond, lest you teach for doctrine the commandments of men. You cannot condemn God. thnt you yourself may be righteous," 18 THE KEV. Oil. WILLOIG11UY, At this moment there was a confused noise in the hall, the door of the study was thrown wide open, and the Irish girl who had waited upon the minister at dinner appeared. " And, shure, Dr. Willoughby," she said, half-crying, and making strange backward gestures with her arms, " I uiver opened a crack o' the door to him, till he thrittened to take the life o' me the next time I wint to mass, and his old shanty is between here an' St. Patrick's church. Holy Mother, protect me ! In wid ye thin, ye ill-mannered baste, disturbin' their river- ences wid yer nonsense ! " " Clear the track, Katie," said a bold ringing voice behind her, " and I'll make it all right with the parson;" and Katie withdrawing her substantial per- son from the doorway, there appeared in her stead a short, gray-headed man, who stood holding his hat iu both hands, and bowing all round to the company. Whether he was old or young, it was impossible from his appearance to decide. The short hair that curled tight to his head was gray, but his large blue eyes, though wandering and troubled in their expression, were as clear as an infant's. His forehead was un- wrinkled, and, where protected from the weather, remarkably white. His features were regular, and he would have been good-looking but for a scar, which, extending the whole length of one cheek, and across the mouth, dreadfully disfigured that side of his face, and entirely changed its expression. AND HIS WINE. 19 " What do you want, Martin?" said Dr. Willoughby, impatiently, as the visitor, with strange grimaces and contortions, continued his bows to the company, He advanced toward Dr. Willoughby's chair, and, with a face full of earnestness and solemnity, began to speak. "I sought for one," said he, "and, behold, there are ten gathered together in the name of the Lord. Wel- come, heralds of salvation! Hail, ye watchmen on the heights of Zion ! ye candlesticks of the Lord ! ye lights of the world ! ye cities set upon a hill ! ye captains of salvation, arrayed in the panoply of Jehovah, and ready to do battle valiantly against the strongholds of Satan ! ' How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings !' ' How blessed are oxir eyes, That see this heavenly sight! ' " Then, looking earnestly in Dr. Willoughby's face, " Parson," he said, " I bear a message to you. You are wanted in the front ranks. The soldiers have arrayed themselves for the battle, and they are but waiting for their leader to advance to victory. The serried hosts of the destroyer are encamped ." " Come, come, Joe, that will do," said Dr. Wil- loughby ; " leave your message till another time. I am busy, as you see, with these gentlemen. We are discussing very important matters, and cannot be interrupted." Then, as the visitor raised his arm 20 THI-: UEV Dr. WILLOUGHBY, with a preparatory gesture, the minister added sternly, " Xot a word. Joe, not another word. You must go this moment.'' He dropped his head instantly, both face and attitude expressing disappointment and dejection. "And what shall I tell them, parson?" he said, very sadly. " Tell whom ?" "Them that sent me with my message." "Tell them," said Dr. Willoughby, "that I am in my study, and cannot be disturbed." " Parson Willoughby is in his study," said Joe Mar- tin, with his eyes fastened on the floor. Then, look- ing round upon the company, he repeated in a louder voice, " Parson Willoughby is in his study. Ruin and destruction are in our midst. Iniquity runs down our streets like a river. Foul cesspools of corruption arc in every corner. The soul-destroying minions of Satan, from their antechambers of hell, are revelling in wealth wrung from widows' tears, and hoarding up gold coined from orphans' groans; and the anguished cry for help comes up from wretched victims, writhing victims, writhing in the grasp of that fell destroyer, whose touch is pollution, and whose sting is death. But Parson Willoughby is in his study. "And our young men are falling, and ' the mourners go about the streets,' and the gray hairs of the father arc brought down in sorrow to the grave, and lovely woman mourns her blighted hopes, and wives are AND HIS WINE. 21 widows, and fathers are fiends, and parents are paupers, and homes are hells, and the incendiary lights his lurid torch, and the midnight assassin sharpens his parricidal axe, and still the honour-destroying, sense- consuming, contagion-breathing, woe-creating, soul- damning work goes on, and the groans, and prayers, and shrieks of the victims, ascending to high heaven, might bring tears of pity from the haggard eyes of a demon damned, but Parson Willoughby is in his study ! " At the conclusion of this strange speech, which, he delivered with great rapidity, and accompanied with the most extravagant gestures, Joe Martin bowed gravely to the company, and left the room. The ministers looked doubtfully in each other's faces, and then, their host setting the example, they indulged in a hearty laugh. " Cracked, decidedly," said the elderly man with the neck-tie ; " and what a curious face he has ! " " You have seen him before, Brother Nash," Dr. Willoughby said. " Impossible! 1 ' " Yes, in this very room frequently, though it was many years ago. Don't you remember a curly-headed, handsome boy you used to meet here sometimes, when you were settled over in Barton, who came to my study to recite Latin. Poor fellow! I heard him twice a week for over two years. You remember that boy, Nash ? Why, you have seen him time and time again." 22 THE REV. DR. WlLLOUGtiBY, " And do you mean to tell me, Brother Willoughby, that this crazy, gray-headed man, who has given us such a flaming temperance address, is that boy?" " The very same. Remind me to tell you his .story some time that is, what I know of it for there is a great mystery hanging over part of his life." The discussion interrupted by Joe's visit was nob renewed, the meeting breaking up directly. Mr. Rich- mond was the first to take his departure; but after walking a few steps, he remembered that he had left his gloves on Dr. Willoughby's study table, and accord- ingly retraced his steps. When he opened the door, AND HIS WINE. 23 the ministers were standing in groups of twos and threes, talking familiarly together. There was a pause when he made his appearance. Then the pale young mail, who had called Dr. Willoughby father, said : " Well, brethren, 7 drink wine, and by the grace of God I mean to." " Amen ! thank God for that," said Dr. Willoughby; "and, brethren, I take great credit to myself for his conversion. He was a radical teetotaler when I first knew him." An expression of pain ci'ossed Mr. Richmond's face, as he silently took his gloves from the table. " Wait a moment, Richmond," said the young man, who was Dr. Willoughby's son-in-law. " I am going your way, and will walk to the depot with you." 24 TUB REV. DR. WILLOUCI1BY, CHAPTER II. GOOD FATHER PAUT* "If wine had been among the number of things forbidden, Paul would uot have permitted it, nor would have said it was to be used. This passage is against the simple ones of our brethren, who, when they see any persons disgracing them- selves by drunkenness, instead of reproving such, blame the fniit given them by God, and say, 'Let there be no wine.' We would say, in answer to such, ' Let there be no drunken- ness, for wine is the work of God, but drunkenness is the work of the devil. Wiue maketh not drunkenness, but in- temperance produceth it. Do not accuse that which is the workmanship of God, but accuse the madness of a fellow- mortal.' " ST. CHRYSOSTOM'S Homilies. | HE young men walked arm in arm clown the street of the country town, leading from Dr. Willougliby's residence to the depot. Mr. Tluiyer was the first to speak. "I am ready for my lecture, Allan," he said. "I saw the pent-up fire in your face, and came out with you that you might give it vent. Come, fancy \\e are in 'No. 37, corner room, three flights front,' in old Union, and you playing Mentor again." He turned gaily to his companion as he spoke, but there was no answering smile on Allan Richmond's luce. AND HIS AVIKE. 25 "Why, what ails you, man?" said Louis Thayer ; "you look as sour as a November day. Come, in the words of the hymn we used to sing together, I adjure you to ' Speak, anil let the worst be known ; Speaking may relieve you.'" "I know not what to say," lie replied. "Louis, I was never so grieved and surprised in my life. I can- not understand it. Was it Louis Thayer, the staunch total abstinence man I knew in the seminary, who sat in complaisant silence while Christian philanthropists were denounced as enthusiasts and fanatics, and then boasted that he touched the unclean thing, and claimed the aid and countenance of God's grace in doing it ? Louis, what has changed you so? 'Truly Ephraim hath mixed himself with the people.'" " One would think I had forsaken the faith of the fathers, and gone clean over to idolatry," he rejoined, laughing. " Why, man alive, did you expect to find me unchanged after all these years'? Age brings wis- dom, you know. Have you sloughed off none of the crude notions of your college and seminary life 1 ?" Then speaking more seriously, "The fact is, Allan, I found very soon after you and I came out of our cell, talking with men older and wiser than myself, and coming to see the other side of the matter, that the ground we took on the temperance question was ex- treme, and could not be sustained. After my 26 THE REV. DR. \VlLLOUGHBY, marriage, and while I was looking about for a settle- ment, I spent a couple of months in my father-in-law's family, and I found a Christian minister, with large experience, and eminently successful in his profession, drinking wine moderately on festive occasions, and in his family, and defending its use from the Bible. I must say I felt a little shocked at first. I could not quite undei-stand it. I held my position against him as a teetotaler for awhile, till he made it clear to me that the Scripture doctrine is not total abstinence from intoxicating drinks ; that as a rule of duty it is utterly unknown in the word of God, and, in fact, condemned by Christian ethics. He presented the subject to rne in such a different light, that my views were greatly modified and enlarged ; but I was never quite converted till I became a Timothy to a good Father Paul, who, by timely counsel and skilful medical advice, dissipated my over-nice scruples, and cured my bodily ailments. " My first year in the ministry was a pull. I wrote two sermons a week, and prepared a lecture besides. There was no end to visiting, and funerals, and calls for extra duty. You know how it is, for you have had the same experience, only you are stronger physi- cally than I am. Well, in the midst of a very precious revival, my old enemy, neuralgia, seized me. Night after night I did not close my eyes to sleep. The doctor did me no good, for you see my mental anxiety kept up the nervous excitement. Father Willoughby AND HIS WINE. 27 catne out to see me in the midst of it. ' You want stimulants,' said he ; and he sent home for a dozen bottles of old port, and some Cognac brandy. He told me to drink all I could bear. O Allan, the blessed relief from pain it brought me ! In three days I was a well man, and ready for work. I know not what Paul's prescription did for Timothy, but I know my father in the gospel cured me. It is but common justice to speak well of a bridge that has carried you safely over, and wine has been a 'good creature of God ' to me. I come home weary after the labours of the Sabbath, and my sense of fatigue is met most pleasantly by a little alcoholic stimulant." " But you are not looking well, Louis," his friend said, gravely. They had reached the depot, and were pacing the plat- form, waiting for the train. There was good reason for the remark. The young minister's cheek was pale, and his step, in contrast to the quick, elastic tread of his companion, betokened languor or fatigue, and there was at times a tremulous motion to his mouth that expressed great nervous sensibility, if not weakness. " I am perfectly well," he said, hastily, " only tired and overworked. The fatigue of moving and settling my books and furniture has been very great, arid the excitement of preaching to a new congregation, coin- posed of a very different class of people from my other parish, and the necessity of making new acquaintances, and accommodating myself to my position here, have 28 THE REV. DH. \VlLJ.OUCIlliY, worn upon me a little. When I get things arranged to my mind, and the machinery of my church in good running order, I shall be all right again. And how goes the world with you, Allan ? Are you settled to your mind? Are you going to like Grantley? Have you a pleasant boarding- place? you poor, lonely, old bachelor. Ey the way, you saw our little sister Grace at dinner. Does she look like the girl you used to talk so much about that last year in the semi- nary'?" Allan Richmond blushed like a schoolboy. " She is very lovely," he said, and stopped. AND HIS WINE. 2'J "You mention it as though it were a subject for mouining and lamentation," said his companion. "So it may be to me," he said, "for it removes mo and my hopes at an infinite distance from her. Louis, how could I ever dream of winning her?" " You are too modest, Allan. Why should you not win her as well as another? She will spend the holidays with us. Shall we see you in the city then?" These were parting words, Mr. Richmond springing on the cars, and exchanging a hurried good-bye with his friend after the train was in motion. 30 THi: KEY. DK. WIM.OUGHBY, CHAPTER III. THE CITY MINISTER'S WIFE. " Wanted, a perfect lady, Delicate, gentle, refined, With every beauty of person. And every endowment of mind; Fitted by early culture To move in fashionable life, To shine a gem in the parlour, Wanted, a minister's wife ! " j|ND now, mother, that this important dinner is cooked and eaten, and the responsibility of superintending and presiding is off your mind, I suppose we may claim a share of your atten- tion," said Frances Thayer, Dr. Willoughby's eldest daughter, the afternoon of the ministers' meeting described in a preceding chapter. " It passed off very well," said Mrs. Willoughby, with a sigh of i-elief. " Of course it did, mother. Your company dinners all pass off well. It is unaccountable to me how so old a housekeeper as you are can allow yourself to become nervous over a dinner. Why, I entertained six delegates the other day when the Sunday-school Convention met in the city, and it was very little trouble," AND HIS WINK. 31 " Frances, you know nothing about it. With your well-trained city servants, a market just round the corner, and a confectioner in the next block, you haven't the least idea what it is to get up a dinner in the country for a dozen hungry ministers, with only a green Irish girl to help you. And, then, you have the faculty of taking things easily. I believe you are not as nervous as most women." Mrs. Willoughby looked with pardonable pride as she spoke, upon the tall, handsome young woman, who, richly dressed, sat in a negligent attitude, with one elbow resting upon her mother's work-table. Her figure was full and rounded, there was a healthy bloom upon her cheek and lip, her eyes, like her father's, were black and piercing, and her abundant hair was brushed fearlessly back from a forehead that in breadth and outline was his own. Her sister a young girl with a slender figure, fair complexion, and blue eyes though less striking in appearance, was not wanting in personal attractions, and the smile that dimpled her cheeks and lit up her dove-like eyes made her at times very pretty. "But I don't suppose," continued Mi's. Willoughby, a little fretfully, " that Louis invites half the company your father does. The Doctor knows all the ministers in the county, and I often tell him he is too hospitable. I am sure our house is a perfect hotel ; and I have done little for the last twenty years but wait upon min- isters," 32 THE REV. DR. WILLOUGHBY, Mrs. Thayer laughed merrily. " Well, mother, it is good business," she said, " and it does not appear to have worn upon you. How well I remember the. travelling agents who used to ' put up' with us, as they called it, though, I am sure, we ' put up' with them, in entertaining them so long. There was good old Father Scran ton, you know, who always came out in the morning to put on his boots by the kitchen fire, and watch Brother Willoughby's 'stirrin' gals,' as he called Grace and me, 'get breakfast ;' and Mr. Nash, who was sure to drop in when we had a picked-up dinner, especially hash, as we children said, because it rhymed with his name ; and the minister with the gruff voice, who ' ahemed ' the door open ; and the old bachelor minister with the hooked nose, by which, we used to iy, he could hang to the cherry- tree and pick with both hands, and who served you such a mean trick, mother, when he undertook to mark his shirts, and spilled indelible ink on your best chamber carpet, and then dragged the hearth-rug over it, instead of covering the spot with a twenty-dollar bill, as he should have done. And, oh! Grace, once when you were a little bit of a thing, you ran to meet me, exclaiming, ' Fanny, Fanny, we have ministers for dinner !'" She laughed heartily at her reminiscences, her mother and sister joining in her merriment. " Fanny, it does me good to see you again," Mrs. Willoughby said.. " You are aa lively as ever. AXD HIS WINE. 33 Marrying a minister, and fooling the responsibility of your position, have not sobered you in the least. Grace and I are too quiet. We sit here all day like a couple of old ladies. But tell me about your parish, dear. I have riot seen you long enough to have a good talk since the installation. Do you like the Wilmot Street people as* well as you expected ? Is Louis happy ?" " We are on the wave, mother, you know," she returned. " The people quite worship their new min- ister. I am afraid sometimes they will spoil him, they praise him so openly; and yet, perhaps, it is just the encouragement Louis needs, for he is really morbid in his self-depreciation. People tell me all ministers are low-spirited at times, but I never remember to have seen father so discouraged and disheartened as Louis frequently is." " Your father has enjoyed perfect health all his life, my dear, and is very calm and equable in his tempera- ment, while Louis is excitable and nervous, and not physically strong." " I know it. mother; and just now he is dreadfully overworked. He says it will be easier by and by, when he is over this hard spot; and I hope it will, for he is labouring quite beyond his strength. He studies very hard. I beg him to use his old sermons; but when he looks them over he throws one after another aside in disgust, and says he has outgrown them. It IS a fact, tliey were written for a very different class of 34 THE REV. DR. WILLOUGHBY, people. Mother, we have the most fashionable congre- gation in the city. People from the other churches flock to Wilmot Street. Last Sabbath evening, we had Judge Harding, and ex-Governor Binks, and the Honourable Mr. Wilder, and I don't know how many more of the first men in the city. Not an easy congregation to preach to, was it? But my husband was equal to the occasion, and he did himself credit; but was so nervous and excited after the effort, that he did not close his eyes to sleep till near morning ; and the next day came the reaction." " Well, I suppose it cannot be helped ; but you musfc try to have him spare himself all he can." " It is quite impossible, mother, at present. The people are continually making demands upon his time that he cannot resist. There is a great deal of social life in the Wilmot Street church; and just now we are having a round of parties. I enjoy them exceed- ingly, but Louis complains that they absorb too much of his time ; and the heat and glare of the crowded rooms, and the small talk in which he must join, unfit him for his work in the study. And the early part of the week he is too languid and weary to write ; and it often happens that his sermon is not commenced till Thursday or Friday, and then he must drive night and day to finish it." " You must do the best you can for him, Frances. See that he has plenty of nourishing food, and takes exercise regularly. If my father were living, he would AND HIS WINE. 35 say, 'String him up with plenty of good port wine, and give him three hours a day on the back of a quiet pony.' Father was one of the old-fashioned doctors." " He has no time for horseback riding, mother. Three hours a day, indeed ! He scarcely has half-an- hour he can call his own. Why, you will hardly believe it, but he declared that he could not spend time to attend this meeting at his father's house; but I insisted upon his coming. He is drinking the wine father was so kind as to send him, and it is doing him good." That evening, when Dr. Willoughby and Mr. Tliayer joined the family group, the Doctor said, " This college friend of yours, Louis, this Richards ." " Richmond, father," said his youngest daughter. " Yes, Richmond, so it is, dear. I am getting to be an old man in my memory of names." " Grace seems to have no difficulty in recalling the name," said her brother, a little mischievously. " I have heard it too often from your lips," she replied. "What were you about to say, father?" said Louis Tliayer. " That he appears to belong to the intense school. He is very ultra in his views, is he not, my sou?" " On the temperance question, yes. Richmond is a capital fellow frank, outspoken, whole-souled, and generous to a fault. He was the best scholar in his class, and would have been very popular but for these 36 THE KEY. DU. WILLOUG1IDV, peculiar notions that he thrusts into notice on all occasions. " How very disagreeable !" said Frances Tluyer. " I detest a man of one idea; and it seems worse in a minister than in any one else. The young man who supplied the Wilmot Street before you preached fot them, Louis, did you know he was such a person? Mrs. Barstow told me that he openly insulted a friend of hers in her own parlour, by refusing a glass of wine she offered him at a social gathering, doing it in such a solemn, disagreeable way, as to draw the attention of the whole company, and cause her to feel almost as though she had committed a sin in providing wine for her guests." " I hope your friend will not be so indiscreet as to carry his ultra views into his new pulpit," said Dr. Willoughby. " He will work mischief if he does. I know all about that Grantley church. There are two or three influential men there, engaged in the liquor trade, and the subject will not bear touching. It is the last place for a man with radical views on the temperance question." " You may depend upon it, father, that Richmond will preach, and talk, and pray temperance, wherever he is," said Louis Thayer. " Then he will find himself in hot water very soon," said the old gentleman, " and he will create a division of feeling that will greatly injure that church. It is a pity; far they are not strong enough to endure u, AND HIS WIXE. 37 stovra. I was in hopes, after all their candidating, they had secured a good minister." " And so they have, father," said Mr. Thayer, warmly. " Allan Richmond was my dearest friend in college, and my classmate in the seminary. He is a good preacher, and will make a faithful, hard-work- ing pastor. Come, Fanny, it is after nine o'clock, and we have three miles to ride." She rose reluctantly. " Why not remain and drive over in the morning'?" the mother asked. " I cannot leave my babies, mother," Mrs. Thayer said. " And I cannot leave my sermon," said her husband. When the carriage was at the door, and the young minister was shaking hands with his father-in-law, Mrs. Willonghby said : " Doctor, you have not forgotten the wine, I hope!" " All right, my dear; it 's packed away in a basket under the seat. Only half-a-dozen bottles of old sherry," he replied to the young man's faint remon- strance. "I Hatter myself it's a better article than you know how to find in the city; and my wife says you need it. A little ' for the stomach's sake,' you know, my son, ha, ha!" " Good Father Paul," said Louis Thayer to his wife, as they drove from the door; "he means I shall not lack for Timothy's medicine." " Father is very thoughtful and generous," she 38 THE REV. DR. VVILLOUGHBY, replied. " But, Louis, I have such a piece of news to tell you. Who do you think is paying attention to Grace?" " The new school-teacher, perhaps, or Deacon Riley's eldest son. He walked home from church with her the Sabbath I e changed with your father." " Nonsense ! you know Grace would not think of either of them. Louis, it is Mr. Landon, the lawyer." " What ! Hoi-ace Landon, who has an office in Broad Street, Fanny ? You don't mean it." " Yes. I knew you would be surprised. He is one of the first lawyers in the city, and very wealthy, you know, for he has inherited all his father's money." " But he is too old for Grace." " Oh, no! Mother says he is not much over forty, and I am sure he is quite young-looking. And, Louis, think of the position it will give Grace. How delightful to have her near us, living in such style! Mother is very much pleased." " You speak as if it were a settled thing." " Well, so it is?, or at least very nearly so. He has asked father's permission to pay his addresses; and mother says Grace evidently likes him." " Is it possible Father Willoughby approves of this 1 " " Certainly, % Louis, why not 1 Is it not in every respect a desirable match?" " I cannot say what Horace Landon is now," he replied, gi-avely; "but when I knew him in college he was an infidel. He was much older than myself. AttD HIS WINE. 39 I was not acquainted with him personally. I did not care to know him. He had the name of being a brilliant, witty fellow, fascinating in appearance and manners, flush with money, and drew around him a circle of young men who gained no good by the com- panionship. He gave wine-parties, and his room was full of iutidel books, which he circulated. He was considered one of the most dangerous men in college. You surprise me very much, Fanny!" " You knew him years ago, Louis," she said. " Men change their views, you know. Depend upon it, it is all right, or father would not have given his consent." " Poor Richmond ! " said Mr. Thayer. "And why poor Richmond ?" she asked in surprise. " What has he to do with it ?" " He saw Grace for the first time one commence- ment day, years ago, and was gi-eatly pleased with her; indeed, I may call it love at first sight; but he was poor, and in debt, and she was very young. He confided his hopes of one day winning her, to me, and I am sure he has never abandoned them; for he dis- played a great deal of feeling when I spoke of her to-day. It is awkward too; for, of course, I knew nothing of this, and rallied him about her, and 1 suppose gave him some encouragement." "A poor country minister !" said Frances Thayer, rather disdainfully. " Grace can do better than that." " My dear, her sister married a poor country minister," he said, mimicking her tone. 40 THE IlEV. DR. WILLOUGHBY, " Yes; and he would be just that to-day," she rejoined, " were it not for a wife who was ambitious to see him in a position he is in every respect qualified to fill." " Indeed ! That word position is a great favourite of yours, Fanny." " And you do not give it sufficient importance," she replied. " I i-eally believe, Louis, that you sometimes regret leaving that small parish among the hills for a fashionable church in a growing city." He made her no 1'eply : but touching his horse smartly with the whip, the spirited animal carried them over the ground at such a pace as to give no further opportunity for conversation. " You will not go to your study to-night," she said, when they stopped at their own door in the city. "It is late, and you are tired." " There is no escape, Fanny. The sermon must be written." He drove his horse to the livery stable, and, returning, was going upstairs to his study, when his wife called him from the nursery door. " At least you must stop long enough to say good- night to the baby," she said, when he obeyed her summons. " See, the little fellow is wide awake. Here, take your boy," for the child was making frantic efforts to escape from her arms, " and look at Everett in his crib, and tell me if there are two as noble children to be found in the city to-night." AND HIS WINE. 41 He took the infant, and. i-esting his pale cheek ngainst its little rosy face, enjoyed for a moment tlie quiet of this domestic scene; then he went away wearily to his study. THE KEY. DR. WILLOUGHBV, CHAPTER IV. DAN TAYLOR. " A ' down-east ' Yankee, lank and long, ' Cute ' of hand, and ' glib ' of tongue. " jjOCTOR," said Mrs. Willoughby one day, " you must have another talk with Dan. He is getting into bad habits again. He leaves his work every foi-enoon to go down to Briggs' saloon for a dram. You really must attend to it, Doctor, immediately. Your last talk kept him steady for a long time." Dan Taylor was Dr. Willoughby's hired man. Besides a large gai'den, which was his particular pride and delight, the minister owned a few acres of culti- vated land, and a wood-lot a mile out of the village. Through the spring and summer months Dan was busy ou the farm, and in winter there was wood to be drawn and prepared for family use, the horse, and cow, and pigs to be cared for, and various odd jobs to be done about the house. It was also one of his duties to drive the Doctor whose eyesight was beginning to fail him in the night to his evening meetings in the oute\' districts of the town ; and as he had lived in the family several years, proving himself to be honest, faithful, and obliging, he had AKD HIS WJNE. 43 gradually become qxiite an important personage in the establishment. . But Dan had one serious fault : he loved whisky, and he would drink it. Not to excess, for his Yankee prudence and Dr. Willoughby's counsels and repri- mands kept him within bounds; but his stone bottle was snugly stowed away in the hay-mow, or under the corn-crib ; and about eleven o'clock in the forenoon, Dan was sui'e to come to the well for a drink of water. His stay at the well was short, his visit to the barn or the corn-crib longer, and he generally returned to his work with a beaming face. But lattei-ly a small restaurant and drinking-saloon at the corner of the street, a few roods from Dr. Willoughby's door, where before the middle of the day half-a-dozen loafers were sure to be lounging, offered stronger attractions to Dan than his place of secret indulgence; hence Mrs. Willoughby's request. "You really must attend to it immediately," she repeated. " People are beginning to talk, and wonder you allow it to go on." " Send Dan to the study when he has had his dinner," said the ministei*. Now, when Mrs. Willoughby delivered the message, Dan understood pei-fectly what was coming, for it was by no means the first time he had been summoned to the Doctor's presence to receive a lecture upon temperance, but he answered with great alacrity : " Wants to see me, does he, for sotnethin' peti- 44: THE REV. DR. WILLOUGHBY, culuv? Wai, I'll slick up a leetle, and go right up there." He went to the kitchen glass, pulled up his shirt- collar, tied his cotton handkerchief, and brushed his long side-locks' till they were plastered tight to his lank cheeks, then with a bold step ushered himself into his master's presence. The minister pushed back his chair from his desk, and deliberately laid aside his glasses. "Sit down, Daniel," said he; "I want a little con- versation with you." Dan dropped his hat on the floor, and deposited himself carefully on the edge of a chair. "Yes, sir" said he. "Miss Willoughby, she jest told me, and sez I to Katie, ' I'll bet my old jack-knife,' sez I, ' the Doctor wants to consult with me 'bout that ceow he 's so farce to buy over to fcnvansey's.' Wai, yesterday, you know, I was a- haulin' wood, when you kin spare five minutes, Doctor, jest step out an' look at that are stick o' hickory. It's good timber and no mistake, wall, I found I had an hour o' daylight to spar, an' I left my team in White's shed, an' footed it over to Swansey's, for, sez I, ' I may as well have a look at that crittur myself, or as like as not the Doctor'll git shaved,' sez I; folks lew like to cheat ministers, an' they know a sight fljore 'bout sermons than they do 'bout ceows. No offence, Doctor. Every man to his trade, you know. Don't you remember how you an' I worked over that AND HIS WINE. 45 stove-pipe in Miss Willoughby's best channbcr, and couldn't make the jints fit noheow, an 1 you blistered yer hands, an' got sut in yer eyes, an' I rammed my head agin the chimbly, trying to find the pesky hole, an' arter a spell both on us gin eout, an' I vent deown ter the tin shop, an' up comes a smart little Irish feller. Crackey ! if them jints didn't slip inter each other as slick as grease, an' jest as limp an' limber as an injur rubber stove-pipe! 'How did yer dew't?' sez I. He squinted at me kinder droll-like, an' sez he, ' Dan Taylor for workin' a farm, Pat Merritt for puttin' up stove-pipes, and the Riverend Dr. Wil- loughby for prachin' the Gospel.' " But I was a-going tcr tell yer 'bout that ceow. Don't you buy her, Doctor. ' What,' sez I to Swansey, ' yer haint got the face,' sez I, ' tew ask a hundred an* fifteen dollars for that are heifer calf?' sez I. 'Heifer calf!' sez he, bilin' mad, ' she's a three-year-old ceow, pure Alderney breed, and gives thirteen quarts o' milk a day.' ' I don't ker nothin' about yer Alderney breed,' sez I; 'I ken tell a good ceow when I see her, an' this ere stinted, half- starved beast aint wuth her keepin'. Thirteen quarts o' milk a day!' sez I; ' she aint got milk enough in her bag this mi nit to make gruel for a sick grasshopper. I warn't raised on a dairy farm up in Vermount for nothin',' sez I. Wai, that 's the 'pinion I come to 'bout Swansey's Alderney ceow. I shant . charge you nothin' for't, Doctor." iG THE UEV. DR. WILLOUGHBY, " I did not send for you about the cow, Dan, though I am glad you looked at her, but ." art of him." " Miss Grace," returned Dan, " yen 's a still one, AND HIS WINE. 57 but yer deep. That are's a suggestion I'm a-goin' to follow." " Yes, try it, Dan," said Mrs. Willoughby. " No. Katie," to the officious damsel, " we want none of your help. That poor child's head is black and blue, I dare say, with the bumps you have given him." " Xeovv, Mrs. Willoughby," said Dan, " if yeou'll stand inside and catch him when he comes, I'll heave ahead;" and a moment after, a little limp body ad- vanced slowly into the room, and was received with open arms by Mrs. Willoughby, who was anxiously awaiting the arrival. Set upon his feet in the middle of the room, the cause of all this commotion proved to be a small boy, perhaps eight years old, ragged and dirty, his whole appearance indicating poverty and neglect. He rubbed his eyes with his dirty knuckles, looked ruefully round, and stood motionless. "What is your name, little boy, and whom do you want to see?" said Grace, kindly. " My name is Bub Davis, and I want to see the minister," said the child. "And why didn't ye knock at the door like a Christian ? " said Dan. "'Cause," said the boy, looking timidly up in his deliverer's face, "'cause I wanted to smell the slap- jacks." " Mother, the child is hungry," said Grace. " Quick, Katie, bake some warm cakes. You poor littlo fellow, you shall smell them, and taste them too." E 58 THE KEV. DR. WILLOUGHBY, While the cakes were baking, Mrs. Willoughby examined the boy's head phrenologically. " I really don't find any bumps," she said. " Yes, here is quite a large one on this side. Keep still, child, I am not going to hurt you. Grace, run to the medicine closet, and get the bottle of Bay rum, and some thick brown paper." " I ain't a-goin' to take it," said Bub Davis. The lady looked at him in astonishment. " Dear me, child," she said, " nobody wants you to take it. I am going to rub a little on the outside of your head, to take down the swelling, and make it 'feel cool and good." " I ain't a-goin' to take it," repeated the boy. " I promised ma I wouldn't. It's nasty stuff. It makes pa sick and crota. I ain't a-goin' to take it." After this repeated expression of his determined purpose, the young teetotaler put his feet close to- gether like an obstinate mule, and looked defiantly in his tempter's face. " What a singular child ! " said Mrs. Willoughby. "Doctor, do you hear that?" But the Doctor had -disappeared. " Well, never mind about it now, dear. Eat your breakfast, and if your head swells very bad we'll put cold water on it." He needed no second bidding, and Katie's sub- stantial buckwheat cakes disappeared as fast as she could cook them. "Is it 'lasses?" he inquired eagerly, peeping into the syrup-cup. AND HIS WINE. 59 " Yes," said Grace ; and she poured a bountiful supply upon his plate. " Oh, my ! " and his greedy eyes told the rest of the story. When he had eaten till he could eat no more, Grace pursued her inquiries. "Why do you want to see the minister?" she asked. " Pa sends his respects, and he's sick, and wants the minister should come and see him." "I will tell him," said Grace; and the visitor de- parted in a more legitimate way than he entered, Dan giving it as his private opinion that his head was no longer the biggest part of him, and that a yoke- of oxen couldn't pull him through that hole in his present condition. " They must be miserably poor, father," Grace said, when she reported the child's errand. " The boy ate like one famished, and his clothes were thin and old." "Yes; and that family might be in as comfortable circumstances as any mechanic's in town," he replied. " Davis is a good workman, and can earn his twenty dollars a week when he is sober; but I understand he has not done a day's work for a month." " He has been sick, the boy said." "Yes, dear; from the effects of hard drinking. He is wearing out an iron constitution by this evil habit. I am glad he has sent for me. He has given me aii 60 TIIR REV. DR. WILLOUCIIfiY, opportunity to deal faithfully 'with him, which I shall not be slow to improve." " Don't be too hard on him, Doctor," said Mrs. Willoughby. "I am sure he must be miserable enough, lying there so sick and poor, without being lectured. Poor fellow ! perhaps he is tempted beyond his strength, and can't help drinking." "There speaks the sickly sentimentalism of the day," said Dr. Willuughby. " Why not call things by their right names, my dear? You do not speak of the profligate or the murderer as a 'poor fellow.' He is a sinner, acknowledged to be such, and everywhere in the Bible the drunkard is classed with these. From the time when under the law of Moses he was to be 'stoned with stones till he die,' to the day when Christ declared that from within, out of the heart of man, proceed many vile habits which defile the man, drunkenness is distinctly declared to be a sin, and I have no patience with the mistaken pity that speaks of the drunkard as ' unfortunate,' as more sinned against than sinning. He is a sinner. a great sinner in the sight of God, and his only remedy is in the grace and power of the Gospel" " Dear me, Doctor, I am sure I didn't mean to say he wasn't a sinner, only I felt sorry for him." An hour later, Dr. Willoughby took his pold- headed cane, and walked down the street to John Davis's home. A miserable home it was, and a poor wreck of manhood who, from his bed, lifted n haggard, unshaven AND HIS WINE. 01 face, and stretched out a gaunt, shaking hand to welcome the minister. " It's kind of you to come, sir, and I wouldn't have troubled you if I could have crawled to your door." " I came cheerfully, Davis," said the Doctor, " but I am sorry to h'nd you so feeble. You have been very sick." " I came as near goin'," he replied, in his weak, hollow voice, "as ever a man did. The doctor says I'll neve- 1 pull through such another spell." " God is good to you, Davis, in giving you one more opportunity to repent," said the minister. " You feel this, I hope. These repeated warnings cannot be in vain. You have made resolutions, I trust, on this sick-bed, which came so near being your bed of death, that you will never dare to break." lie twisted the bed-clothes with his bony fingers. " It makes a man feel solemn-like," he said, " to stand as I've done for a week past, lookin' death right in the eye. And I calculate to do different, Doctor, when I get round again ; and you see that 's why I wanted to talk with you, for I've been think ill', and my wife's been beggin' of me to sign the pledge, and quit drinkin', and I told her this niornin', says I, ' Jennie, I'll talk it over with the minister, and get his mind on the subject.' I'm free to own, Doctor, that I haven't done as I ought to of late years. I haven't been to church with my wife, though I pro- mised my old mother on her death-bed that I would; G2 THE REV. D;:. WILLOUGHBY, but I have a groat respect for you, sir, and I wanted to consult with you about takin' this important step, and so I made bold to seud my boy round for you." " You did perfectly right, Davis. Let me know how I can help you." "Well, you see, sir, I ain't quite clear in my mind about the total abstinence pledge. There has one and another been to me along back, askin' me to join ; but I always bluffed 'em off, for, says I, 'I ain't a-goin' to sign away my liberty. If I want to stop drinkin', I can do it without puttin' my name on a paper. I guess I know when I've had enough,' says I, 'and you needn't come to me with your pledge.' That 's the way I talked it, sir. Well, a week ago last Thursday, I remember the day, for toward night I began to have the horrors the worst way; in fact, I see snakes in my boots that mornin', there was a few of us settin' round in Briggs' saloon, and this very subject came up. There'd been a temperance lecture over to Barton, and Crazy Joe was there, of course, and he came in to Briggs' to give us a lecture, and while he was talkin', in came young Eiley, the deacon's son, with a total abstinence pledge. And Briggs, he cursed up hill and down, for Crazy Joe had just been sayin' some sharp things; and though he dursn't touch Joe, you know, lie- was well riled up. He hates the deacon, for he's interfered with his business more than once. Says Briggs, ' I'm opposed to totalities, to total depravity, and to total abstinence, and to all your other totals,' AXD HIS WINE. 63 Well, that brought \\\) the whole subject. We had it hot for awhile. Riley talked strong, and Joe backed him with his queer, crazy talk. By and by says Briggs, ' The minister is on our side.' ' No, he ain't,' says Joe, as quick as lightnin'. ' I tell you he is,' says Briggs. ' If he ain't, why don't you have his name at the head of your paper 1 You can't get him to sign that pledge. The minister's a lamed man,' says Briggs, ' arid he's looked into the subject scientifically, and he 's found out that the Bible goes square against teetotal- ism.' " Well, young Riley, he never said a word, and I thought he looked rather down in the mouth, but Crazy Joe took up for you, sir, and said they was a-slanderiu' you; that you was a kind man, and a good man, and tryin' to save souls from destruction, and was it likely you'd be iu favour of what turned "em into hell by thousands 1 " Well, I sat and listened awhile, and then says I, more for the sake of seein' what would come of it than, anything else, ' I'll tell you what I'll do, Riley,' says I; 'if you'll get Dr. Willoughby's name at the head of that paper, you shall have mine next.' ' Do you mean it 1 ?' says he. 'Yes, I do,' says I; 'I declare I do, and I ain't the man to go back on my word neither.' ' You are safe enough,' says Briggs, kind of sneerin' like. ' The minister won't sign ; he 's been tried before now.' By this time, Crazy Joe was all in a twitter. ' I'll go to him/ says he ; ' I'll tell him he 'a 64 THE REV. DR. WILLOUGHBY, wanted in the front ranks; I'll ask liim to reach out his hand, and save a soul from goin' down to deatli ; and so on. You know how Joe talks, and off lie wont. Well, we waited a spell, and by and by he came back, walkin' in slow, with his eyes on the ground. ' What did he say, Joe V says Briggs. ' Par- son Willoughby is in his study,' says Joe. ' Well, wont he step out to save a soul from goin' down to hell?' says Briggs, quotin" Joe's own words. ' Parson Willoughby 's in his study,' says Joe, and not another word would he say. " I'm makin' a long story of it," said the sick man, pausing to rest a moment, "but I'm most through, sir. I gave that promise to young Riley without thinkin' much about it; but, Doctor, it's been on my mind ever since. She says I talked about it when I was the craziest. As I said before, I ain't a man to go back on my word. Dr. Willoughby, if you'll sign the total abstinence pledge, I will, and, the Lord helpiu' me, I'll keep it to the day of my death." More than once during this narrative, slight rust- ling was heard, and the half-closed door creaked .suspiciously. Now it was thrown wide open, and John Davis's wife, her face flushed, and tears running down her cheeks, burst into the room. "God bless you, John! God bless you for those words!" she cried, running to the bedside. "We'll IK- happy yet. Oh, Dr. Willoughby, he is saved at last \ My husband is saved at last!" AND HIS WINE. C>5 Her warm tears rained down upon the sick man ! s liands, which she held fast in hers. " She's just wild over it, Doctor," said John Davis. " Shs thinks if she once gets my name on that paper, it will all be right." lie spoke in a tone of apology, but his hollow eyes gathered moisture as he witnessed his wife's emotion. " It will. Oh, it will," she said, eagerly. " This good man will support you, and my God will give you strength, John, to keep it." " I am afraid you are both putting too much trust in a mere human instrumentality," said the minister. " The pledge is very good in its way, and a useful auxiliary. It is a help to many, no doubt will be to you; but you must be caieful not to give it undue prominence. It is not in societies, or pledges, or in any external machinery, that the hope of your cure lies, John Davis. You must go back of all these. If intemperance were merely a bad social usage, or a custom of ill manners, or anything not directly con- nected with duty to God, these voluntary human agencies might be sufficient for its control, and perhaps its extirpation; but it is a sin. My dear friend, your only sufficient remedy is that divine one which alone can conquer the sin of your evil nature. I pray God to make you a Christian, and then you will be safe indeed." " Oh, Doctor "\Villoughby." .said the wife eagerly, " he'd have got religion long ago if it hadn't been for 06 THE REV. DR. WILLOUGHBY, drink. In the last revival, when so many were brought in, he was wonderfully solemnized. I knew the Spirit was striving with him, though he fought hard against it. I tried to get him to some of he meetings. One spell I thought I should, but he took to drinkin' harder than ever, and drowned all his convictions. Oh, sir, if he'd signed the pledge he'd have been a Christian long ago. His folks was all pro- fessors, and if there ever was a godly woman his mother was one. Yonder 's her Bible." The sick man's eyes followed the direction of her hand. " It 's mighty queer, Doctor," said he, " the fancies sick folks get into their heads, My old mother's body 's been in the grave these ten years, and her soul in heaven, I know, for, as wife says, she was a godly woman, but I could swear she sat there by my bed one whole night since I've been sick, and sang to me just as she used to when I was a baby. Jennie, it was that night they said I'd die if I didn't go to sleep ; and how was I goin' to sleep with ten thousand devils in the room all spirtin' fire at me, and droppin' live coals on my head ? Well, all of a sudden, and right in the midst of it, who should I see but my old mother in the white cap, with a broad black ribbon over it, she always wore after father died, sitting in her straight-backed rocking-chair, with her knittin'-work in her hands. And, Doctor, she was eingiu' ' ? T ar,' It made me think of a Sunday morniu' AND HIS WINE. 67 in summer time, and the old meetm'-house 011 the hill, and the bell tollin', and I, a little shaver in my clean white jacket, walkin' by mother's side. And 1 soothed right down. All the dreadful noises, that pestered me so, stopped, and I went right to sleep like a baby. And once when I roused up iu the night all of a tremble, because I thought those critturs were back again, there mother sat rockin' away, knittin' her stockin', and singin' ' Mear.' She sung it all night ; and the devil himself couldn't stand that tune, and he left me in peace. Poor old mother ! she 's laid awake many a night and cried, when I was down to the tavern drinkin' and carousin'." " John, John ! " said the wife, " she 's looking down from heaven this minute, waiting to see what you'll do; and she'll sing louder than she ever sang before, and get all the angels to help her, when you put your name to that paper." " Well, well, mebbe she will," he said. " Doctor,, shall I do it?" " By all means," said the minister; " and may your mother's God help you to keep the vow! You must go to Him, my friend. You will find your own strength perfect weakness in the hour of trial. Cast youi'self upon the heart of love that will pity and save you." " And you'll go with me, Doctor? It 's going to be a hard pull. They'll all twit me with giviu' up my principles, and signin' away my liberty, and all that; and I ain't the man I was to stand against it. Driak 08 THE REV. DIJ. WILLOUGIIBY, lias taken all tlie grit out of me. I haven't any more heart than a baby. But, Dr. Willoughby, you arc a good man and a strong. Nobody can make head against you. What you say is respectable is respect- able; and what you do everybody else may do. Now just go with me, Doctor. Let me say when they run me, ' There's the minister, he used to have his objec- tions against the pledge, but he 's signed it now. H is name 's right alongside of mine. Where I stand he stands.' I'll be proud to say that, Doctor. I'll be sure I am right, and I'll go ahead." " Davis, you need no such support. Make up your mind what is the right thing to do, and, with God's help, irrespective of my course, or any other man's, go forward and do it. Your duty in this matter is not mine, neither is mine yours. What is right for you may be inexpedient and even wrong for me." " I don't see it, Doctor. If it 's a good thing for me, why isn't it for you? And if you'll excuse me, sir, for speak hi' plainly, it don't seem to be just right to advise a man to do what you don't practise yourself." ' The cases are totally different, Davis. You have made a wrong use of one of the gifts of God, and to- day you are suffering the consequences of your sin. You realize your danger, and you feel so little con- fidence in your power to resist temptation, that you believe you are only secure by totally abstaining from all indulgence in those drinks that have caused your fall. Your safety lies in total abstinence, and you AND HIS WINE. C9 wish to solemnize this obligation by a written pledge. Very well, do it. Next to the higher duty of em- bracing the Gospel, and thus being saved from this and every other sin, it is the thing for you to do. But, because this is your duty, it does not follow that it is miite. Because total abstinence is necessary for you, who have injured yourself by hurtful excess, must I, who know how to use it with other good gifts of God, in moderation, deprive myself of an innocent gratifica- tion ? This very gift is given me to use, not abuse. ' All tilings are yours,' says the apostle, ' the world is yours.' I must practise self-denial, of course. I must keep this appetite in perfect subjection, saying, 'Thus far sli alt thou come, and no further,' making it my slave, and not suffering it to become my master. But I must not be a coward. Because you, and others like you, have been defeated, wounded, taken captive in the fight, must I turn and run from the enemy? " I am not blaming you, my friend. You are weak, and your foe is strong. He has vanquished better men than you. The Saviour respects and tolerates your weakness; but He says to those who are stronger, ' Take unto you the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having dene all, to stand.' To stand is better than to fly, but to fly is better than to fall. Do you understand me, Davis?" " I should be a fool if I didn't," he replied. " You mean to say that you are strong and I am weak. You 70 THE UEV. DR. WILLOUGHBY, can be trusted to go free, and I must have my hands tied to keep me out of mischief. You may walk in a pleasant path with your head up, and I must go grovellin' down in a ditch. Well, I won't dispute it The Lord knows I'm all you say, and more. I am weak, and poor, and miserable, and wicked enough, and despised by all : and you are rich, and happy, and good, with your praise in everybody's mouth. And you say, because there 's all this difference between us, and you are- up there and I down here, that my duty isn't yours, and how can I expect you to come down to my level 1 ? Well, you'll say it's presumptuous in me, but it's just what I did expect. I thought, seein' as I couldn't come up to your road, mebbe you'd come down to mine. And if you look at it one way, sir, as high as you are, and as low as I am, we are in some sort on the same track ; for I didn't get to be a drunkard all at once, Dr. Willoughby, What you do now I used to do oiice. I took a tumbler of whisky on election day, as you take wine at a weddin', or a hot sling when I was goin' out to work in the cold, as you take a little brandy and water on a stormy night when you go out to Brighton district to hold a meetin'. That's the way I began. I don't suppose you'll ever get a-goin' on the down track as I have; but I'll tell you this, Dr. Willoughby, if there wasn't any moderate drinkers there wouldn't be any drunkards. And now see what a hard spot you put us in. You say only drunkards need to sign the pledge, and you'd AND HIS WINE. 71 have us put our names tlown, and proclaim ourselves by that hard name to all the world. You say, ' Here, you poor, miserable sinners, sign the pledge and be saved;' arid you won't so much as touch us with the tips of your fingers. Do you call that Christian ? Dr. Willoughby, I ask you to do what you ask me to do. Put your name 'longside of mine on that paper. You give up your wine, and I'll give up my whisky. I know I'm a lost man, body and soul, if I keep on drinkin'. I've heard you say a deal, when I used to go to meetin', about the ' value 'of an immortal soul.' Ain't my soul worth makin' that little sacrifice for? or didn't it cost as much as some others?" A group of little ragged children were playing in the next room, and in the pause that succeeded John Davis's appeal, a sweet, childish voice sang these words : " Jesus died for you, Jesus died for rne ; Yes, Jesus died for all mankind, Thank God, salvation 's free ! " Dr. Willoughby rose and walked to the window; then he came and stood by the sick man's side. " Davis," said he, " I will do anything in my power to help you I mean, anything that does not involve the giving up of a principle. I will assist you to obtain steady work. I shall be glad to giye you any pecuniary aid you may need. These children, must have warm clothing. You shall not be left to struggle 72 THE I'.EV. DR. \YiLJ.OrGIinY, on alone, my poor fellow. Friends will gather round you, when they see you pursuing a different course. I hope to see you yet happy and prosperous, with the smiling faces of your wife and children gathered about yon; and to hear you i-aise a prayer of thanksgiving to Him whose grace has set you free." He paused, but John Davis did not speak. " With regard to the request yon so earnestly make, that I would take this pledge with you, I can only say that 'it is my carefully-studied and firmly-retained religious conviction, that wine, and other stimulating drinks, belong to the meats which God hath created, and which are not to be refused, but received with thanks- giving ; and I value even more than meats the liberty wherewith Christ hath made me free.'"" Therefore I reject the abstinence yoke. Anything in reason I will do for you, Davis, but this is a part of my religion, and I cannot in conscience give it up." The sick man fixed his eyes steadily upon Dr. Willoughby's face while he was speaking. " Do you hear that, wife ? " said he. " It 's a part of the minister's religion to drink wine ! Shall I be wiser than my betters, or holier than the prophets ? Hurrah! Send Tim to fill up the black jug. If it's his religion to drink wine, it's mim; to drink whisky, and I will drink it till I die !" Jennie Davis had stood all this time by her husband's bedside. Her glad look when she first entered the * Thomason. AND HIS WINE. 74 THE REV. DR. WlLLOUGIIBY, room changed to one of breathless anxiety, as she listened to the conversation, turning her eager face from one to the other of the speakers. When she heard these last dreadful words, she turned as pale as death, and, covering her face with her apron, burst into an agony of weeping. " Davis," said Dr. Willoughby, sternly, " you forget yourself. My poor woman, don't cry so. Your hus- band will think better of this. He does not mean what he says." " I do mean it," he said, " and I've got you to back me. Moderation ! Liberty and whisky ! that 's the talk ! The parson's principles are good enough for me. If I stumble, I'll stumble over him, and, if I go to hell, I'll tell them all the minister sent me there. Hurrah ! Jennie, we'll fill up the black jug ! " " Davis," said Dr. Willoughby, " I will not listen to such language. I will talk further with you on this subject when you are in a proper frame of mind." " Any time, Doctor ; and we'll fetch out the jug, and have a drink together." He said this with a laugh that made his face fiendish. The weeping wife followed her minister to the door. " We will pray for him," he said. " God alone can save him. I will see him again." She answered him as well as she could for her tears. " I thank you, sir, but I am afraid it will do no good." ANi> HIS WINE. 75 CHAPTER VI. CRAZY JOE "Some strange commotion Is in his brain : he bites his lip, and starts ; Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground, Then lays his finger on his temple, straight Springs out into fast gait ; then stops again, Strikes his breast hard ; and anon he casts His eye against the moon ; in most strange postures We have seen him set himself." SHAKESPEARE. ORACE WILLOUGHBY'S sewing machine was out of order one clay, and, throwing a shawl over her head, she ran out to the buck yard where Joe Martin, or Crazy Joe, as he was universally called in the village, was helping Dan to split up the great hickory log he had drawn from the woods a few days previous. Dr. Willoughby frequently employed this man when there was a press of work ; and as he was skilful with tools, Grace hoped he might be able to assist her. It was a bright day in early winter. The first snow of the season had fallen the night before, and lay upon the ground white and unsullied. The air below was quite still, but the upper branches of the trees that surrounded her father's house swayed to and fro, and from the tops of the pines came the 76 THE r.EV. Dr.. WILLGUGHBY, pensive music of the winter wind. Joe stood, axe in hand, a rapt expression on his upturned face, talking softly to himself; and Dan, who had also suspended work, Avas watching him with a half-curious, half-con- temptuous expression on his hard, Yankee visage. Neither of the men noticed the young girl's approach, and she stood quietly observing them, before discover- ing herself. "There's a sound of going in the tops of the mul- berry-trees," said Crazy Joe, " and it's like an army preparing for battle." " Them ain't mulberry-trees," said Dan Taylor, following the direction of Joe's eyes; "them's young maples. What are yer talkin' 'bout, Martin? There ain't a mulberry-tree round here as I know on, nor hain't been since the morns multlcaulus specelation. 'Nuff on 'em, then, inore's the pity, an' some that owned 'em left with heads as cracked as yourn." (This last in a low voice.) "Don't ye know the differ- once between a soft maple and a mulberry, Jos ? " Joe did not answer him, or appear to notice the in- terruption, but went on talking; and his voice, always musical, though unpleasantly loud in his excited moods, was now very tender and soft in tone. " The four angels stand in the four corners, holding the four winds of heaven," said he; "for my Lord commanded that they should not hurt any green thing, neither any tree, but only those men who have not the seal of God in their foreheads." He put his hand to AND 1113 WIXE. 77 his head with a troubled look. " The garden of the Lord is full of goodly trees, the puhn and the olive tree, the pine tree and the box together, but in the midst of it, and on the bank of the river, is the tree of life." lie began to sing : " ' Oh, my brother, arc you sitting on the tree of li."o, To hear when Jordan rolls?' " " I can't say as I be, brother," said Dan. " I ain't clim' a tree these ten years. Use to go tip \va' nut- trees like a chipmonk; and as for hearin' Jordan roll, I don't know as I ker about that kind o' music yet awhile. It's a hard road to travel, hey, Joe?" Joe answered him with great solemnity : " If thou hast run with the footmen, and they have wearied thce, how canst thou contend with horses? And if in the land of peace they wearied thee, then how wilt thou do in the swelling of Jordan?" Then he continued his song: " ' Oh, my sister, are you sitting on the tree of life, To hear when Jordan rolls ? Roll, Jordan, roll ! '" " Yonder she stands," said Dan, pointing to Grace, whom he had just discovered. Joe turned. " Ah, yes, Miss Grace," said he, with a smile, " you are on the tree of life. Jordan will roll for you. There's no llaming sword to keep you away. His mark is plain enough in your white forehead." Again he put his hand to his brow, 78 . THE REV. DR. W1LLOUGHBY, " Is your head very bad to-day?" she said, kindly. " There is no change, Miss Grace. You know there was power given to torment night and day for a season; but it's the time that frets me. I think I could bear it better if I could reckon the time. You know it says, ' It was permitted him^to continue forty and two months, and a time, and times, and the dividing of a time.' Now, Miss Grace, shall we count from when the angel with the key of the bottomless pit and the great chain loosed the old dragon that was bound for a thousand years ; or from when the beast whose deadly wound was healed, rose out of the sea and put his mark, or the number of his name, in men's foreheads 1 Miss Grace, do you think it was then, and why did he put my mark in a different place?" He pointed to the scar upon his cheek as he spoke, doubt, anxiety, and patient suffering mirrored in Lis face. "What's the good of bctherin' yer head 'bout it?" said Dan. " Plague take the time, and times, and dividin' of times. An' I'll tell you what 'tis, Joe Martin, if yer don't talk less an' work more, this ere hickory log won't git chopped up 'fore next April. Then there'll be a < time: " " ' Let him that hath understanding,' " said Joe, with great solemnity, " ' count the number of the beast; for it is the number of a man, and his number is six hundred threescore and six.' Miss Grace, when AND HIS WINE. 79 you say your prayers to-night, would you mind asking that question about the time?" "I will ask it," she said, "and 1 will ask the dear Saviour to take away all this trouble and confusion from your mind, and do for you, in His own good time, what He did when He was here on earth for a poor man as much worse than you are as you can think." "With the mark on him, Miss Grace?" " With the mark on him, Joe, so plain and so dreadful, that every one was afraid of him; and he never could live with his fellow-men, but went wander- ing night and day in the mountains, and among the tombs, crying, and cutting himself with stones, and when Jesus met him, all wounded and bleeding, He made him well." " Made him well," repeated Crazy Joe, his hand seeking his forehead again. " It must have been down in the ' lonesome valley' that He met him, for you know the hymn says: ' Down in the lonesome valley, My Jesus met me there.' Oh, I've been there, Miss Grace, many and many a time; but I never met any Jesus. Yes, you may ask Him to do that for me, when the time, and times, and dividing of times is accomplished. Oh, if I could only count up that time !" She hastened to divert his mind from this perplexing question by preferring her request, and was gratified 80 THE REV. DR. WILLOUGIIBY, to see how instantly the wandering look left his face, and was succeeded by one of grave attention, as she explained what she needed, lie smiled when she had finished, made her two or three of the little fantastic bows peculiar to him, then drawing from a recess in the wood pile a bundle tied in a silk handkerchief, he produced the tools he needed, and set himself busily to work. Grace noticed, as he untied this bundle, the neatness and order that characterized the man's per- sonal habits. His knife, chisel, screw-driver, and other simple tools, were in a box by themselves; his articles for the toilet in another; while a clean white hand- kerchief, a gay neck-tie, a bosom pin, and a bottle of perfumery, explained how lie had gained among the boys of the village the name of " Dandy Joe." While she stood watching his nimble h'ngers as he shaped the little wedge she needed, Katie called from the kitchen door, <: Miss Grace, your glntleman has come," and her mother met her in the hall. "It's Mr. Landon, dear," she said; "if you want to change your dress, I will entertain him till you are ready." "Oh, no, mother, my dress is good enough," she said; and with a quick, light step entered the room where her lover awaited her. Mr. Horace Landon rose deliberately from the arm- chair in which he was seated, wl en the young girl, her hand extended, and a smile of welcome on her face that brought every dimple in play, came forward to AXD HIS WINE. 81 meet liiin. lie was a tall man, with glossy black hair and beard, a high, straight forehead, eyes as black as coal, set deep in his head, and the other features of his face clear-cut, and in good proportion. But he was not handsome, and Frances Thayer flattered him when she called him young-looking. There were lines on his forehead, and about his eyes, that only time can make; the top of his head was quite bare, and the lower part of his face, when in repose, dropped like that of an old man. Standing side by side with Grace Willoughby, in her slender, girlish beauty, her fair skin, light hair, and dimples making her look younger than she really was; with his wrinkles, his baldness, and a certain weary, careworn expression that pervaded his whole face, he seemed old indeed. "I called to give you the first sleigh-ride of the season," he said, when their greetings were over. " I am going to Barton to summon a witness. Will you ride with me 1 " She joyfully assented, and a few moments later he handed her to her seat in the cutter, and with abun- dant care adjusted the robes to protect her from the cold. Mrs. Willoughby watched them from the par- lour window. "Grace has decided like a sensible girl," she said to her husband. " It is a comfort to think that matter is settled. What a position she will occupy! I declare I believe I smell burnt bread. If that Katie has spoiled another batch ." 82 THE IlEV. DR. WiLLOUGHBY. Mr. Landon had taken his seat in the sleigh, and \vas gathering up the lines preparatory to starting, when his companion spoke. "Wait a moment, please," she said. "Joe wishes to speak with me." Mr. Landon turned, and saw coming toward them, through the yard, a man with curly gray hair, and an ugly scar on one side of his face. "It is Joe Martin," she explained; "a poor, half- crazy fellow father employs for the sake of helping him. He has been doing some work for me this after- noon, and I suppose wants to show it to me. Well, Joe. Why, what is the matter with him 1 " The man, who was by this time very near them, and with his axe upon his shoulder, and with one hand extended, had been making his curious little bows as he approached, stopped suddenly, the childish expres- sion of pleasure on his face changing instantly to one of extreme terror and distress ; then, dropping his axe, he rushed through the open gate, and extending both arms, appeared about to snatch the girl from her seat in the sleigh. "Come away!" he screamed. "O Miss Grace, come away!" "Stand back, sir," said Laudon, sternly; "you alarm the lady. Grace, what does this mean?" The sound of his voice seemed to increase Martin's agitation to ungovernable fury. He trembled all over. He clenched his tists, and stamped on the AND HIS WINE. 83 ground. The veins on his forehead swelled almost to bursting, and the scar on his cheek turning a livid purple, added greatly to the frightfuhiess of his appearance. " Let her go," he screamed. " You villain ! you murderer ! Let her go ! " Then, as Laudon started the horse, lie sprang forward, and with almost incred- ible quickness, seized the animal by the head, holding him with an iron grasp. "Come," said Hoi-ace Landon, angrily; "we have had enough of this. Let go my horse's head, you vagabond, or you arid my whip will become better acquainted." He raised the whip, but Grace caught his arm. " Stop, Mr. Landon," she said. " Don't strike him. Joe, for shame! What do you mean? This gentle- man is my friend." He turned his face full of furious anger at the sound of her voice. " Friend ! " said he. " Is the wolf a friend when he crushes the lamb in his hungry jaws? Is the vulture a friend when he tears the little tender dove with his talons? Miss Grace ! Miss Grace! he's got the mark of the beast on his forehead, and in the palms of his hands. Oh, come away !" He loosened his hold on the rein, to stretch a hand imploringly toward her; and Mr. Landon, seizing the opportunity, touched his horse with the whip. The frightened creature sprang forward, throwing Martin with some violence back upon the snow. 84 THE KEY. DR. WILLOUGIIBV, " What are the authorities of your town about," suit! Mr. Lancloii, " that they suffer such a madman to run loose in the streets'?" Grace was looking back, and did not heed the question. "Please drive slower," she said; "I am afraid he is injured." He checked the speed of his horse, and turned to look. ' Xo, he is not hurt," he said. " See, he is getting up. It would have served him right, if my horse's heels had knocked the crazy brains out of his head. An ugly fellow, who ought to be put behind bolts and bars before he is an hour older." " Mr. Landon," she answered, " you would not say so, if you knew poor Joe. He is as simple-hearted and innocent a creature as ever lived. West Union people would laugh at you if you should tell them he is a dangerous citizen. He was never known to hurt a dumb animal, much less a human being. Why, the little children of the village all love him, and it is no uncommon sight to see a group of them about him, climbing his shoulders, and searching his pockets for candy. He is singularly mild and patient, hopelessly deranged, poor fellow, on religious subjects, but as harmless as possible. I cannot imagine what has occasioned this outbreak. I have never seen anything like it before." She turned her head again.. Crazy Joe had risen AXD HIS WINE. 85 and was standing motionless in the middle of the road. His gray head was bare, and both arms were extended towards the rapidly retreating sleigh. "Who is he, and where did he come from?" in- quired Mr. Landon. " He was born and brought up in West Union," she replied. " His mother was an excellent Christian woman, a member of father's church. His father died when he was very young. Joe was her only child, a bright, handsome boy, and fond of his books; and she was very anxious to give him a liberal education. She interested father about it, and he helped to prepare Joe for college. I was very young, but I can remem- ber a rosy-cheeked, handsome boy, who came to recite Latin two or throe times a week. Well, she found a place in a store in the city for him, till she could earn money to send him to Newhaven. She was a very industrious, smart woman, a tailoress by trade; and father says she worked night and day in fact, killed herself for her boy. On her death-bed she begged father to look after him, and he faithfully pro- mised that he would. And now comes the strange part of my story. A few months after his mother's death, the boy disappeared strangely, unaccountably, leaving no clue to his whereabouts. Father was greatly disturbed about it, because of his promise to the poor mother. He set the police to work, and he advertised, but with no success. And, Mr. Landon, we heard nothing of him from that day, until three or 86 THE REV. DR. WILLOITGHBY, four years ago, when the poor, gray-headed creature, who has j ust acted so strangely, came to our door one winter's night. Father did not recognize him at first, he was so dreadfully changed, but soon ascertained that it was poor Joe Martin He could give no account of himself, where he had been, or what he had suffered; and we soon ceased to . trouble him with questions. Father got him into the asylum for the insane as a State patient, thinking he might be cored J but the physician soon pronounced it a hopeless case; and poor Joe, who had probably led a wandering life, was so very unhappy in his confinement, that it was thought best to release him. He lives in a little house by himself on the edge of the village, and earns a living by sawing wood, and clearing paths in winter, and by gardening in the summer. Every one pities him and treats him kindly. Even the boys of the village, though they have their jokes with him, are seldom rude. I believe he is truly a Christian. He knows his Bible almost by heart. He is never absent from church on the Sabbath, and walks his mile-and- u-half the coldest winter nights to attend the weekly prayer-meeting. He sings strange hymns and songs, that no one about here ever heard before. He attends all the funerals, and there can hardly be a town-meet- ing without him. He can pi-each and pray, to the great edification of the boys; but his forte is temper- ance. You should hear him talk temperance. He is a staunch teetotaler, and gives time, talent, and every AND HIS WINE. 87 cent of money he can spare, poor fellow, to help the cause." " What did you call him, Grace 1 ?" "Joe Martin. Have you heard the name before, Mr. Landori?" " That, or one similar. A mere coincidence nothing more." Then he turned to her, smiling. " Grace, when do you mean to drop the 'Mr.' from my name? Can I not teach you to call me Horace 1 " Mr. Landon was a good talker. His mind was stored with knowledge, which his fluent tongue was capable of uttering with flowing grace and eloquence. He had the faculty of introducing old ideas in new shapes, clothing them in choice diction, and serving them up in brilliant style; and for the next two hours he exerted his conversational talents to the utmost to entertain the young girl at his side. Perhaps he wished to drive from her mind all recollection of the unpleasant incident at the commencement of their ride. If so, he was very successful. She laughed at his sallies of wit, till the dimples flashed in and out of her cheeks; blushed with innocent pleasure at his delicate flattery; or listened in rapt attention, her blue eyes moist with feeling, to his well-timed quotations from her favourite poet. Smiles and tears came to her at liis bidding, smiles that lit up her face with an ever-changing beauty, and tears that softened her eyes, and added tenderness to her flexible mouth. " Mother," she said, standing by Mrs. VVilloughby's chair that night " mother, I am very happy." 88 THE REV. DR. W1LLOUGI1BY, " Yes, dear, and well you may be. Mr Landon is one of a thousand, so brilliant, so accomplished, and able to give you every luxury that money can purchase. You will have a good husband, Grace, and," she added, as her daughter left the room, " and such a position!" ANt) HIS WINE. 89 CHAPTER VII. THE WILMOT STREET CHURCH. " Some go there to listen, Some to sing and pray ; And not a few go there to view The fashions of the day." HE Sabbath evening service of the Wilmot Street Church had just closed, and the well- dressed congregation thronged the aisles of the spacious edifice. Old Mrs. Barstow, wedging her capacious person through the crowd, stopped a moment to greet the minister's wife. "My dear Mrs. Thayer, how do you do? Well, I am sure, with that charming colour in your face. My dear, what a sermon we have heard so fervent, so eloquent, and so delightfully delivered. Really, such preaching lifts one quite above the things of earth, and gives a foretaste of heaven. Did you notice the Blairs of the Broad Street? I was charmed to have them hear it. I was thinking all the time ' You don't get such preaching as that at home.' Old Dr. Fiske may roll his r's, and pound his pulpit cushion to the end of time, but he'll never preach like that. And that reminds me of something Matilda said at dinner to-day. ' Mother,' says she, 'how splendidly Mr. Thayer 90 THE REV. DR. WlLLOUGHB?, reads the Scriptures. There's such a melodious fall to his voice. Why, he puts more religion into the word Jeroboam,' says Matilda, 'than Dr. Fiske gets out of a whole chapter.' My husband says I make an idol of my minister; but, dear me, I am so constituted I can't help it. That blessed man came down from the pulpit last Sabbath, and walked out of church behind me, and touched me on the shoulder to attract my attention; and now, Mrs. Thayer, don't smile, but I really have felt a pai'ticular regard for that shoulder ever since." Miss Irene Simpson, first soprano in the choir, escorted home by Mr. Lawrence, first bass, thus ex- pressed herself: "What a lovely sermon! and how distingue and spirltuelle Mr. Thayer looked, with his white forehead, and his great, brown, melancholy eyes ! And his teeth ! Did you ever see such beautiful teeth 1 Oh, I think he is perfectly charming !" Mr. Peter J. Coleman, a prominent dry goods' mer- chant on Broad Street, gave his views to his brother from the West, who was spending the Sabbath with him, after this fashion : " Yes, we did a good thing for the Wilmot Street Church when we settled that young man. They never would have got him but for me. In fact, I have run the machine for the last two years. When they put me in chairman of committee of supply, ' Gentlemen,' said I, ' I am a better judge of muslins than of AND HIS WINE. 91 ministers, though I believe I can tell an A No. 1 article in 'most any line.' Well, there was something about Thayer that struck my fancy the first time I heard him preach. You see he didn't come as a candi- date. He was over at West Union last August, spend- ing his vacation at his father-in-law's, he married one of Dr. Willoughby's daughters, a smart woman, with a snapping black eye, and our supply failed us one Sabbath, and he came and preached. I said to Bai-stow and Smith after church, ' If you want to draw from the Broad Street Church,' says I, 'there's your man.' Well, they went to see him, and they said he couldn't be got. ' Yes, he can,' says I; ' they all talk off.' So I rode over myself, but I found, sure enough, he didn't care to come. He was pleasantly situated, he said, with all the work he had strength to do, and wasn't inclined to make a change. I was about giving it np when his wife came in. I found she was on our side, and I took courage. Well, the up- shot of it all was, we got him, and it's been a grand good thing for the Wilmot Street Church. Why, he carries all before him. They flock from the other churches to hear him, and Dr. Fiske preaches Sabbath evenings to a baker's dozen. We shall run up the sale of slips twenty per cent, the coming year." Miss Bethiah Emmersly a maiden lady, who paid for her seat under the east gallery, from her earnings in the paper-mill climbed to her room in the third story of a brick tenement house on River Street. She 92 THE BEV. DR. WILLOUGHBY, lighted her lamp, carefully put away till next Sunday her black velvet bonnet and faded broche shawl, and sat down to write with much labour and care these words in her diary : " Sabbath Evening, Dec. 15. My soul greatly refreshed and quickened this day through the preaching of the Word ; feel to renewedly render thanks to God that He has sent His young servant to us, endowed with power from on high, to go in and out before us, breaking unto us the bread of eternal life. May the truth dispensed this day by him prove quick and powerful, and sharper than a two-edged sword. May his life and health be pi-ecious in thy sight ! Mem. In view of his paleness of countenance, to make it a special subject of prayer that his bodily health may be strengthened and renewed." When Mrs. Thayer softly opened the door of her husband's study, half an hour after service that Sabbath evening, she found him with his head bowed upon the open sermon, on his table. At her light touch he lifted a very pale face, and looked at her with what Miss Irene Simpson had described as his " great, melancholy, brown eyes." His face was worn and troubled, hers very bright and sparkling. " I felt very proud of my husband to-night," she said, her white hand still resting on his shoulder. " It was a grand sermon, Louis; everybody says so; but how tired you look! I am glad your day's work is over." AND HIS WINK. 93 "If it were God's will," he said passionately, "I would it were my last." , "Louis!" " Fanny, I am uttei-ly discouraged. I wish I had never preached. I wish I never needed to go into a pulpit again. What have I accomplished these three months'?" Mrs. Thayer was too well accustomed to these dark moods of her husband to be greatly disturbed. "You are exhausted," she said; "and no wonder, after such an effort; and you are not as strong as usual, for your cold has pulled you down." She crossed the room to a small closet; and taking a cut-glass decanter and goblet, and a curious old- fashioned sugar-bowl of solid silver from one of the shelves, she proceeded, with a skill and despatch that proved it an accustomed service, to prepare a glass of the rich amber-coloured fluid that tilled the decanter. "It must be father's 'old cognac' to-night," she said. " ' Strong drink to them that are ready to perish.' " He stayed her hand as she was diluting the contents of the glass from the pitcher of water on his study- table. " No more water, Fanny," he said. " Give it to me strong to-night." He- took the glass eagerly from her hand, and drained it at a draught. Then she came and took a low sca.t by his side, 94 THE REV. DR. WILLOUGHBY, "And now, my husband, that I have made you comfortable in body," she said, " I think I have earned the right to chide you a little. Louis, why will you allow yourself to feel, or talk, as you did just now? God has given you an extended field of usefulness. Crowds flock to- hear you preach. You will not allow me to tell you half the good things I hear said about you, ' the well-meant though injudicious commenda- tions,' as you call them, or I could convince you that you have accomplished something in these three months. Is it accomplishing nothing to satisfy a great congregation of intelligent people? to send them away every Sabbath full of your praises?" "I don't want their praises, Fanny; I want their piety. I don't seek their satisfaction, I seek the salvation of their souls. Yes ; they come, as you say, in crowds to hear me preach, for the power of novelty is great, and ' I am to them as a very lovely song, of one that hath a pleasant voice, and can play well on an instrument, for they hear the words, but they do them not.' They go away not a whit better than they came. My wife, I am sick of it all. I preach Sabbath after Sabbath, on the danger of riches, to men surrounded by the luxuries of life, whose engrossing business from Monday morning till Saturday night is to make money, and whose souls are well-nigh eaten up with the love of this world; and they settle themselves on their soft cushions, and listen with such self-satisfied smiles, and never dream but that they have AND HIS WINE. 05 resisted and overcome all these temptations, and are ripe for heaven. And to gaiety-seeking, card-playing, ball-going Christians, I speak of the guilt of those who are lovers of pleasure more than lovers of God ; and they listen well pleased, and count on their fingers how many balls and parties they are engaged to attend the coining week." " Louis, you remind me of a poem translated from the German that father often quotes. It is called ' St. Anthony's Fish Sermon.' It seems the holy father ' Went down to the river, A discourse to deliver,' and the carps, and the pikes, and the crabs, and the eels all came, ' Their mouths widely reaching, To swallow the preaching.' They thought it the best sermon that ever was preached ; but ' When the sermon was ended, To his business each wended, The pikes to their thieving, The eels to good living ; The crab he walked crooked, The carps were still stupid ; The sermon found favour, They remained just as ever,' 96 THE REV. DR. WILLOUGHBY, " So, my dear husband, your experience was St. Anthony's, and many a good, faithful minister's before you. Take that for your comfort." " It is a hopeless field," he said. " I should preach, with more expectation of success, to a congregation of Hottentots, or South Sea cannibals, than to a rich city church dead in self-righteous worldliness. And the popularity you speak of for my encouragement is proving a curse to me, and I feel it. It affords me no pleasure, yet it is becoming a necessity of my life. It feeds nothing but pride, and it is dearly purchased, how dearly, you can never know. Fanny, you said the other evening you sometimes thought I wished myself back in our New Hampshire parish. I do, indeed. I believe it was an evil day for me when I left that quiet village among the hills. Dear old Gloverton! I had no such trials there." She looked at him with scorn in her black eyes. " No," she said, " for your people were not discrim- inating enough either to praise or blame. Louis, I admire your taste. I think I see you in that old pulpit nearly up to the ceiling, and your choir of singers opposite, led off by a cracked melodeon, and the row of ear-trumpets levelled at you from the front slip, and your congregation of greasy operatives, and sleepy- headed farmers, and wizened old women, and boorish boys, and apple-faced country girls. Oh, that was infinitely superior to the Wilmot Street Church, with its velvet-carpeted platform^ and its five-thousand dollar AND HIS WINE. 97 organ, and quartette choir, and the elite of the city for your listeners ! You never had any trials up there, had you? Old Deacon Lai-kins never wore out your patience with his long-winded exhortations to his ' poor, dyiri' feller-critturs,' and Sister Blinn never wanted to ' speak in meetin',' or Brother Carter to have an anti-slavery gathering once a fortnight ? The singers never quarrelled did they ? tillyou threatened to leave if they didn't behave ? You never came home on Thursday night discouraged, because your brethren all stayed away from prayer-meeting in haying-time ? They didn't go to sleep under your best sermons did they? or take a month to make up their minds about a new measure? And when Brother Miller refused to come to communion, till Brother Gates was turned out of the church ." " Fanny, stop!" he spoke reprovingly, but half laughing. " Of course, they were not faultless, and every minister must have his troubles ; b\it they were a simple-minded,- grateful, and affectionate people. You know how they clung to me to the last. 1 loved them, Fanny ; I loved them." "I know it, dear," she said, more gently, "and I only wished to remind you that there was human nature up in Gloverton as well as here. Every one to their taste ; but to my mind, thei-e is a pleasanter phase of ft in the Wilmot Street Church than in that little one-horse town among the New Hampshire hills." "It was my first parish," he said, " and I carried 98 THE REV. DR. W1LLOUGHBY, another ' first love ' there, a dark-eyed girl, whom I called wife. Do you wonder that I love Gloverton?" The allusion touched her, and she sat silently for a few moments with her hand in his. " You are feeling better," she said, when she rose to leave him. " Yes ; but wretchedly tired still," he answered. "Nevertheless," thought Frances Thayer, "I have AND HIS WINE. 99 laughed you out of your clumps for this time, and now I may go to my babies." There was no shadow of a coming sorrow on her handsome face. Pride, and gratified ambition, and untiring energy to tread an upward path, were all written there, but not a trace of impending disgrace and shame. When she left him, her husband rose and filled his glass from the decanter. He drank hastily, and, re- turning to his seat, buried his face in his hands. 100 THE REV. DR. WltLOUGIIBT, CHAPTER VIII. A LITTLE FOR MEDICINE. " Fill high the bowl with fusil oil! With tannin let your cups be crowned ; If strychnine gives relief to toil, Let strychnine's generous juice abound! Let oil of vitriol cool your brains, Or animated atoms brew, And till your arteries, hearts, and vcius, With glee and infusorial glue!" |R. BA.RSTOW called to see his minister the next day. He was a round, portly gentle- man, with whom the world had gone well for sixty years; a merchant, and one of the moneyed men of the Wilinot Street Church. In the course of the conversation, he said : " I have laid aside for you, Mr. Thayer, a couple of dozen bottles of my choice wine, which, with your permission, I will send my man round with in the morning. My wife has a good deal to say about your looking pale lately, and I have noticed it myself. So I said to her, ' When Brown's package comes to hand,' it was shipped the 9th, and I knew it couldn't fail to be here the last of the week, ' I will send our minister some wine that is wine.' " " You import it, then ? " Mr. Thayer said. AND HIS WINE. 101 " For my family use, yes, sir. I must have an article that I can depend upon, and I have no confi- dence in the wine sold by the dealers in this country. The greater part, sir, is a vile compound lead, and cocculus, and everything else that is bad. I want port, and claret, and sherry good, honest, official wine, to promote digestion, stir up the heart and arteries, raise the bodily heat, and exhilarate the animal spirits, not cognac oils, sugar colourings, gypsum, arsenite of copper, sugar of lead,