The Lights and Shadows of Real Life Part 61

"'O, that is a barrel of whiskey that I have laid in also.'

"'A barrel of whiskey!' I said, in surprise.

"'Yes. I did some work for Harry Arnold, and the best I could do was to take this barrel of good old 'rye' in payment. But it is just as well. It will be a saving in the end.'

"'How so?' I asked.

"'Why, because there are more than twice as many drams in this barrel of whiskey, as I could get for what I paid for it. Of course, I save more than half.'

"'But have you taken into your calculation the fact, that, in consequence of having a barrel of whiskey so handy, you will drink about two gla.s.ses to one that you would want if you had to go down to Harry Arnold's for it every time!'

"'O yes, I have,' Bradly replied. 'But still I calculate on it being a saving, from the fact that I shall not lose so much time as I otherwise would do. A great deal of time, you know, is wasted in these dram-shops.'

"'All true. But have you never considered the danger arising from the habitual free use of liquor--such a free use as the constant sight of a whole barrel of whiskey may induce you to make?'

"'Danger!' e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mr. Bradly in surprise.

"'Yes, danger,' I repeated.

"'Of what?' he asked.

"'Of becoming too fond of liquor,' I replied.

"'I hope you do not wish to insult me in my own house, Mr. Malcom,'

the carpenter said, rather sternly.

"'O no,' I replied. 'Of course I do not. I only took the liberty that a friend feels ent.i.tled to use, to hint at what seemed to me a danger that you might be running into blindly.'

"Mrs. Bradly, who had gone through the house with us, enjoying my admiration of all their comfortable arrangements, seemed to dwell with particular interest on what I said in reference to the whiskey-barrel. She was now leaning affectionately upon her husband's arm--her own drawn through his, and her hands clasped together--looking up into his face with a tender and confiding regard. I could not help noticing her manner, and the expression of her countenance. And yet it seemed to me that something of concern was on her face, but so indistinct as to be scarcely visible. Of this I was satisfied, when she said,

"'I don't think there is much use in drinking liquor, do you, Mr.

Malcom?'

"'I cannot see that there is,' I replied, of course.

"'Nor can I. Of one thing I think I am certain, and that is, that James would be just as comfortable and happy without it as with it.'

"'You don't know what you are talking about, Sally,' her husband replied good-humouredly, for he was a man of excellent temper, and a little given to jesting. 'But I suppose you thought it good for you last christmas, when you got boozy on egg-nog.'

"'O James, how can you talk so!' his wife exclaimed, her face reddening. 'You know that you served me a shameful trick then.'

"'What do you think he did, Mr. Malcom?' she added, turning to me, while her husband laughed heartily at what she said. 'He begged me to let him make me a little wine egg-nog, seeing that I wouldn't touch that which had brandy in it, because liquor always flies to my head. To please him, I consented, though I didn't want it. And then, the rogue fixed me a gla.s.s as strong again with brandy as that which I had refused to take. I thought while I was drinking it, that it did not taste like wine, and told him so. But he declared that it was wine, and that it was so sweet that I could not clearly perceive its flavour. Of course I had to go to bed, and didn't get fairly over it for two or three days. Now, wasn't that too bad, Mr.

Malcom!'

"'Indeed it was, Mrs. Bradly,' I said in reply.

"'It was a capital joke, though, wasn't it?' rejoined her husband, laughing immoderately.

"'I'll tell you a good way to retort on him,' I said, jestingly.

"'How is that, Mr. Malcom?'

"Pull the tap out of his whiskey-barrel.'

"'I would, if I dared.'

"'She'd better not try that, I can tell her.'

"'What would you do, if I did?' she asked.

"'Buy two more in its place, and make you drink one of them.'

"'O dear! I must beg to be excused from that. But, indeed, James, I wish you would let it run. I'm really ashamed to have it said, that my husband keeps a barrel of whiskey in the house.'

"'Nonsense, Sally! you don't know what you are talking about.'

"'Well, perhaps I don't,' the wife said, and remained silent, for there was a half-concealed rebuke in her husband's tone of voice.

"I saw that I could say no more about the whiskey-barrel, and so I dropped the subject, and, in a short time, after having finished my business with Mr. Bradly, went away.

"'Well, how comes on the whiskey-barrel?' I said to him, about a month after, as we met on the road.

"'First-rate,' was his reply. 'It contains a prime article of good old 'rye,' I can tell you. The best I have ever tasted. Come, won't you go home with me and try some?'

"'No, I believe not.'"

"'Do now--come along,' and he took me by the b.u.t.ton, and pulled me gently. 'You don't know how fine it is. I am sure there is not another barrel like it in the town.'

"'You must really excuse me, Bradly,' I replied, for I found that he was in earnest, and what was more, had a watery look about the eyes, that argued badly for him, I thought.

"'Well, if you won't, you won't,' he said. 'But you always were an unsocial kind of a fellow.'

"And so we parted. Six months had not pa.s.sed before it was rumoured through the neighbourhood, that Bradly had begun to neglect his business; and that he spent too much of his time at Harry Arnold's.

I met his wife one day, about this time, and, really, her distressed look gave me the heart ache. Something is wrong, certainly, I said to myself. It was only a week after, that I met poor Bradly intoxicated.

"'Ah, Malcom--good day--How are you?' he said, reeling up to me and offering his hand.--'You havn't tried that good old rye of mine yet.

Come along now, it's most gone.'

"'You must excuse me today, Mr. Bradly,' I replied, trying to pa.s.s on.

"But he said I should not get off this time--that home with him I must go, and take a dram from his whiskey-barrel. Of course, I did not go. If there had been no other reason, I had no desire, I can a.s.sure you, to meet his wife while her husband was in so sad a condition. After awhile I got rid of him, and right glad was I to do so."

"Come, that'll do for one day!" broke in Harry Arnold, the grog-shop-keeper, at this point, not relishing too well the allusions to himself, nor, indeed, the drift of the narrative, which he very well understood.

"No--no--go on! go on!" urged two or three of the group. But Jim Braddock said nothing, though he looked very thoughtful.

"I'll soon get through," replied the Washingtonian, showing no inclination to abandon his text. "You see, I did not, of course, go home with poor Bradly, and he left me with a drunken, half-angry malediction. That night he went down into his cellar, late, to draw some whiskey, and forgot his candle, which had been so carelessly set down, that it set fire to a shelf, and before it was discovered the fire had burned through the floor above.

"Nearly all their furniture was saved, whiskey-barrel and all, but the house was burned to the ground. Since that time, Bradly will tell you that luck has been against him. He has been going down, down, down, every year, and now does scarcely anything but lounge about Harry Arnold's grog-shop and drink, while his poor wife and children are in want and suffering, and have a most wretched look, as you may see by this picture on the pledge. As for the whiskey-barrel, that was rolled down here about a month ago, and sold for half a dollar's worth of liquor, and here I now stand upon it, and make it the foundation of a temperance speech.