From Wealth to Poverty Part 10

"I know, Ruth, darling, you are suffering anxiety upon my account, and are fearing I shall not have strength to resist the temptation to which I shall be exposed; but you need not fear, little wife, I shall return as I leave you. I have made up my mind, G.o.d helping me, I will never drink again."

The tears started from Ruth's eyes as he spoke, and she threw her arms around his neck as she clung to him, sobbing as she did so.

She spoke no word in denial of what he had stated concerning her fears in his behalf, but simply murmured: "G.o.d bless you, my darling; I know I am a poor, weak, foolish little thing to grieve so at parting from you; but oh, Richard, I am afraid something will happen you, and we are so happy now!"

He endeavoured to calm her by loving caresses. He was not at all surprised that his wife should be troubled with anxious fear. He inwardly resolved he would so acquit himself this time that she should ever after, in this as in other respects, repose the most perfect confidence in him.

As we said, on the morning in question he and Eddie kissed their loved ones good-bye and took the seven o'clock train for the place in which they had spent so many happy years.

The wife and mother, with her two children who had accompanied them to the station, looked at the receding train with tearful eyes.

It was a beautiful morning: the first beams of the slowly-rising sun, stealing gently above the eastern hills, scattered the mist of the morning and bathed the river and bay in its golden light. A robin, which was perched upon a maple growing not far from where Ruth and her children were standing, was singing its lay to the morning, and the atmosphere was balmy with the breath of flowers.

It was a morning to charm the heart into joyousness, and yet the heart of Ruth Ashton was filled with unutterable woe. The thoughts which had borne so heavily upon her spirits for so long a period of time now came with redoubled force, and dark, dreadful forebodings and sorrowful memories a.s.sailed her soul and filled it with unspeakable anguish.

"Oh, my Father, help me to bear up!" she prayed. "Oh, why am I filled with dread, with this awful fear?"

Taking her children by the hand, she led them back to the house.

They uttered no word, even little Mamie seeming to understand that her mother's heart was too full for words.

CHAPTER XVII.

MR. HOWE GIVES HIS VIEWS IN REGARD TO CANADA.

Richard Ashton found many in Rochester who were glad to see him again and extend to him a most cordial welcome. He soon had completed his business with Mr. Howe, the gentleman who had purchased his property, and was ready to return to Canada.

"I suppose you are able to exist in that country, Ashton," said Mr. Howe. "The climate must be somewhat healthy, or you and your boy would not be so hearty. But, from what I hear, I would not like to put in much of the time that may be allotted to me on this terrestrial sphere in a land where the thermometer so a.s.siduously courts zero; and then the nature of the soil will keep it from ever amounting to much. The fact is, Ashton, the only hope for Canada is annexation to the United States."

When Mr. Howe made these remarks he threw himself back in his chair, elevated his feet on the back of another chair, took another chew of his honey dew, and, as he whittled a stick, consequentially shook his head, as much as to say, "I know what I am talking about."

"You are altogether mistaken, Mr. Howe, in almost everything about Canada, as most of your countrymen are."

"Well, I may be, but I would like to know in what particulars."

"Well, in the first place, in regard to the climate. I suppose you will be somewhat surprised when I inform you that it has not been so cold this winter where I reside as it has been in Rochester; for I have carefully noted what the thermometer registered in both places, and we had the advantage of you in this respect. As to the soil, there is no part of the world in which I have travelled, not even your much-lauded and far-famed Genesee, has better land than the country surrounding the town of Bayton, and I have been informed from the most reliable sources that the major portion of the land in Ontario is of a similar character."

"I want to know!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mr. Howe.

"And then we have the great North-West, that is just opening up, which they say has as fine land as the world possesses, and to an extent that is practically illimitable. This is settling rapidly, and will be in some future day the home of countless millions."

"I guess you are going to your imagination for your facts now, Ashton. Why, man, the thermometer often sinks to forty below zero.

They'd freeze out; no white population can stand that."

"But, my dear fellow, they have stood it, and 'facts are stubborn things;' and you are well aware that at this present time the northern nations are the ones that lead the world in skill, enterprise, and deeds of daring. And then the atmosphere is so clear and dry that those who have resided there for years say they do not suffer from cold to the same extent as they did in countries where it was not nearly so cold but where the atmosphere was more humid."

"Well, all I can say is, they may stay and shiver there for all me. I wouldn't live there all my life if they'd give me the whole concern. No, no, not for Joseph!"

"I wouldn't trust you, sir, if you had the offer."

"You might."

"Then there is something else I wish to mention, and that is, our Common School system is not surpa.s.sed in the world; and for intelligent, healthy lads and la.s.ses we will compare favorably with any country under the sun.

"The fact is, Mr. Howe, we like you as neighbors, but are too loyal to our Queen and mother land ever to want to be united by any closer ties."

"Well, then, if Canada is the Eden you paint it how is it the views of Canadian life and scenery are so wintry looking? Why, sir, in the show rooms of the artists in this city--and you will see the same in artists' rooms of England and even Europe--there are sketches of Canadian scenes, and almost invariably something wintry is suggested--men in great fur overcoats and caps, m.u.f.fled up to the eyes, and with capouches that seemed capacious enough to carry a week's stock of provisions, and yet have spare room; the men generally having on snow-shoes and accompanied with Indians to wait on them, and dogs to drag their toboggans, while all around them are heaps of snow piled up on huge rocks, and overtopping and bearing down short scrubby pines and firs. If you have a good country I calculate that such pictures as these, no matter what may be their artistic merits, are poor advertis.e.m.e.nts, and will not get you many immigrants."

"I am well aware of this. But I suppose you know these scenes have been got up, for effect, in the studios of enterprising photographer; and though they may be very fair representations of some parts of our Dominion in the depth of winter, they represent the country, generally, about as faithfully as winter views from the main lumber woods, or even from Alaska, would represent the United States."

At that moment Eddie, who had been enjoying himself with some of his old friends, came in. He asked his father if he might go and spend the afternoon and evening with his old and very particular friend, Jim Williams; as there was yet two days ere the time expired upon which he had decided to return home, he gave Eddie permission to go and extend his visit until the next day.

Eddie, during that afternoon, accompanied by his friend, visited some of the old familiar places; they were dear to him, because they were a.s.sociated in his mind with some of the happiest hours in his life; and he thought that, though in the land where it seemed to be his destiny to reside in the future there were many attractive spots which would, no doubt, in time be very dear to him, he would never forget his old home nor the scenes where he had played in childhood's happy hours.

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE BANQUET, AND WHAT FOLLOWED.

Richard Ashton had been invited by some of his friends to a supper at the Metropolitan Hotel, which had been specially got up for his benefit.

His first thought was that he would absolutely refuse to accept the invitation--he was afraid he might be tempted to drink; but as he concluded it would be considered ungracious on his part to refuse he decided to go, but only on the understanding if there was any toast-drinking he would be permitted to pledge them in pure cold water.

When the members of the committee who had been appointed to wait upon him heard his decision, they said they certainly could not object to his observing his own mind; that they had no desire to cause him to violate his principles; in fact, they gave it as their opinion that there would not be a person present who would not respect him the more for proving that he had the courage of his convictions.

Upon the night appointed he went to the banquet, and it pa.s.sed off as such affairs usually do. Many very gracious and pleasant things were said of the guest of the evening in the eulogistic strains which generally characterize speeches made on such occasions. How much of what was said was sincere, and how much mere complimentary phraseology of the dental kind, I will allow those who are in the habit of attending such parties to decide.

The meeting at last ended, as all meetings on earth do. But this differed in one respect from the great majority of such gatherings--that is, those who attended it at least left the banqueting room sober; though, as the sequel will show, one of them was not so fortunate as to reach his lodgings in that condition.

"I will accompany you home, Ashton," said one who had taken a very active part in the entertainment.

"I am sure, Chappell, I should like very much to have your company, but I could not think of allowing you to put yourself to such trouble on my account; of course you are aware that I am well acquainted with the city."

"Oh, I am well aware of that, but you seem to forget that until we cross the bridge my way home lies in the same direction as your own; and then I can, after seeing you up the avenue, cross by the way of Alexander or Jefferson Street to my own lodgings."

"It is exceedingly kind of you, Chappell, to make the offer, and I shall be thankful for your company as far as the bridge, but I shall insist upon our separating there, as I will soon reach Reid's after that."

Chappell, after what seemed at least to be a vigorous protest, finally yielded, and they started on their homeward journey.

The night was dark and cold--one of those chilly nights which we frequently experience in the first week of June--and they had to walk along briskly to keep themselves warm.

"Halloa, Chappell, is that you? Where are you going at this time of night? It seems to me rather peculiar that a man who sits in his pew every Sunday and listens to eloquent homilies on the evils that result from the keeping of late hours and indulging in baccha.n.a.lian revels should be wending his way home in the small hours of the morning. Come, sir, give an account of yourself!" and he slapped Chappell familiarly on the shoulder, and stood right in his way, hindering his further progress.

"Allow me, Lawrence," said Chappell, "before answering your question, to introduce you to Mr. Ashton."