happiness it will bring to your poor families. I know your feelings, my friends; you are afraid of Doty and Jenks, and you are afraid. you won't hold out; but fear not, make up your minds you will be free, and cast off the government of drink for ever. I beg of you, think of your poor wives, your innocent children. Oh, think of the world of misery you have brought upon them by the course you have taken." This touching appeal from one who had for many years experienced the evils of intemperance again broke up the fountain of their tears, and caused them to flow freely. After a short pause, father Quimby, whose white locks and bending posture, as he leaned upon his staff, gave him a patriarchal appearance, arose. This," said he, "is the happiest hour of my life. While I have been listening to these friends, my soul has been full and running over with joy. And if I could only see all in this room and all in this town sign the pledge, I could say, as did good old Simeon, 'Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace, according to Thy word; for mine eyes have seen Thy salvation."" After father Quimby sat down, Joseph Peterson stood up. This created no small stir, for he was one of the lowest grade of drunkards. Whatever hopes Scribner and Donaldson had of the reformation of other inebriates, of Joseph Peterson they had none. He had been for many years an intimate associate of Henry Howland. He had naturally good abilities, which would have burned brightly in some exalted station in life had it not been for the drinking usages of society and its legalised traffic. Alas! how many brilliant lights this ruinous system has extinguished for ever! Peterson spoke as follows: 66 My friends, this is a queer place for me, anyhow. I don't know as I've any business here; but I'm here, and I'm jist a goin' to tell you my feelin's about this here drinkin'. I'm one of the old soldiers in this here kind o' business, and I'll bet a new hat I've drinked more whisky, slept out of doors more nights, fit more battles, whipped my wife more times, and been put in gaol oftener than any other man in this town. And I guess I have paid old Doty more money for whisky than I ever paid for bread or clothes for my family. I've been thinkin' this business over for two or three days, and I've come to the conclusion that this here whole matter or't to come to a sudden endin'. And I jist want to tell you what started me to thinkin' in this here direction. But before I begin on that, I want to tell you that I had jist one of the best women that ever wore a bonnet, and as goodlookin' as any of your wives in Harwood; but trouble has wrinkled her face, and took the fire out of her eyes. She used to sing like a bird, and play on her guitar, when we were first married, which made my house attractive and pleasant. After I got into this here drinkin' business she didn't sing any more, and she sold her guitar for things she needed in the family. One night I went home feelin' funny, and says I, 'Peggy, why don't you sing, as you used to?' And says she, I can't sing, Joseph; my heart is broke because you are a drunkard.' I said nothin' to it, for I knew it was true, and got up and left her; I couldn't bear to stay and see her cry. "But I want to tell you what set me thinkin' about this here business. The other night I went to bed well, and jist after I got to sleep I was feelin' mighty unpleasant about somethin', and looked up, and all at once there stood by the bed a queerlookin' thing in the shape of a man, and yet it wasn't. He was covered with long hair, and had on horns, and a long tail draggin' on the floor. And says I, 'Who's there?' Says he, 'I'm here.' Then says I, 'What do you want?' 'I want you,' says he. 'I ain't ready to go,' says I. 'You must go,' says he. And says I, I can't, nohow; I'm owin' Doty; I want to pay him my liquor-bill. When I leave the world, I want to leave it honour ably.' And says he, 'I'll see that Doty's paid, if that's all you owe; liquor-dealers 'll get their pay.' Jist as he said that, he took me by the hair and lifted me up, and carried me up, up, up to a wonderful height; and then he let go of me, and I went down like lead-down, down into a dark, dismal place, where I kept sinkin' and sinkin' deeper and deeper, I didn't know where. Jist then I see a light, and I felt somethin' creepin' and twistin' about my hands and neck; and I looked, and I was all kivered over with snakes and adders, puttin' out their tongues, and a-hissin' with all their might. And I looked down to my feet, and the ground was all kivered with toads and lizards, and all kinds of slimy critters, hoppin' and jumpin' about as if anxious to devour me at one meal. Around on the rocks I see the awfullest shaped things that ever was; they seemed to be mighty tickled on account of my comin', and made all sorts o' faces at me. Once in a while one would come to me and pinch me; then they would make the place shake with laughter. Says I, 'O God, is this hell?' My voice waked me up. This is what set me thinkin'. Says I, 'Peggy, I shan't drink no more as long as I live; and I won't." This decision of Peterson's was received with evident marks of pleasure and satisfaction. Thaddeus Kendall then arose, and said, "My friends, I came here with the intention of disturbing the meeting, and to break it up if I could. The remarks made by Mr. Quimby are true. The passage he read is a perfect description of drinksellers. Jenks hired me, and treated me to come here and disturb you. And what do you think he gave me to disturb you? You can easily guess, for he only deals in one kind of change. Here it is," he said, as he pulled out of his side pocket a bottle of brandy and held it up: "this is the price he put upon my reputation. I have had all kinds of feelings to-night. Some of the time I thought I would carry out my promise, and some of the time I said to myself I wouldn't. I finally made up my mind I wouldn't, and thought all I should lose by it wouldn't be much. I may lose old Jenks's friendship and a few drinks of liquor: they will be a glorious loss; I heartily wish I had lost them before. It is a custom sometimes to confirm a thing by throwing the bottle. I have been raising a resolution in my mind, and I am now going to confirm it by throwing this bottle." As he uttered these words, he threw it with violence against the chimney-back. Its contents ran into the fire, from which sprang up a bright blue flame. "In the light of that fire," he continued, "kindled by the body of the greatest enemy of man, I now solemnly pledge myself never to touch, taste, or handle intoxicating drinks as long ́as I live. I now bid an everlasting farewell to all liquor-shops and all drinking usages and customs." He sat down amidst shouts of "Good!" "Good!" "Amen!" Kendall was a man of iron will, who seldom yielded after he had once made up his mind. They all knew this, and felt sure he would keep his pledge. Kendall's novel speech and proceedings induced many others to follow his example. As soon as he sat down, Gilbert Williams, Joseph Peterson, and Franklin Wood arose, went to the table, and put down their names. They had long been intimate associates of Kendall's, and had been led by him into vice and immorality; and it was impossible for them now not to be influenced by his example, and sign the pledge with him." To describe the joy of the wives of these men when they heard their husbands had signed the pledge is impossible. None can fully appreciate the feelings of the drunkard's wife on such an occasion, except those who are familiarly acquainted with their trials and sorrows. The bright and happy change which passed over them was very soon apparent to all. It was seen in their smiling faces, and in their new and clean apparel. But while the change was a matter of rejoicing in Harwood, there were two who could not rejoice. Jenks and Doty had long been the unjust receivers of their earnings, and felt a sort of claim upon them and their purses. They saw clearly, if the cause progressed, the time was not far distant when their income would be entirely cut off. In view of this, they did everything in their power to retard and check it, by abusing temperance men, and treating liberally and freely all who came to their houses. They were especially polite to boys and young men, and gave them liquor, evidently to raise up a new set of customers. Jenks was heard to say that " one drink of liquor given away, was better than money lent at ten per cent." Money and man a mutual falsehood show; Men make false money-money makes men so." "O mischief, thou art swift To enter in the thoughts of desperate men." “THEY had a great time at old Quimby's last night," said Moses Whipple to his comrades at Jenks's tavern, who had assembled there for their morning dram. "What was that you was saying about Quimby ?" asked Jenks. 66 They had a snivelling time there last night, and worked upon the feelings of some of them till they got them to sign the pledge." "How many of them signed ?" |