The Lights and Shadows of Real Life Part 64

"O yes. But they've signed the pledge."

"Nonsense! I don't believe a man can keep sober any the better by signing the pledge, than by resolving never again to drink a drop."

"Facts are stubborn things, you know. But come, Jim, as you havn't signed the pledge, you might as well come in and take a gla.s.s now, for you'll do it before night, take my word for it."

It was a fact, that Braddock began really to debate the question with himself, whether he should or not go in and take a single gla.s.s, when he became suddenly conscious of his danger, turned away, and hurried on, followed by the loud, jeering laugh of his old boon companions.

"Up-hill work," he muttered to himself, as he strode onward.

An hour's brisk walking brought him to the residence of Mr. Jones, nearly four miles away from the little town in which he lived, where he entered upon his day's work, resolved that, henceforth, he would be a reformed man. At first he was nervous, from want of his accustomed stimulus, and handled his tools awkwardly. But after awhile, as the blood began to circulate more freely, the tone of his system came up to a healthier action.

About eleven o'clock Mr. Jones came out to the building upon which Braddock was at work, and after chatting a little, said--

"This is grog time, aint it, Jim?"

"Yes sir, I believe it is," was the reply.

"Well, knock off then for a little while, and come into the house and take a dram."

Now Mr. Jones was a very moderate drinker himself, scarcely touching liquor for weeks at a time, unless in company. But he always kept it in the house, and always gave it to his workmen, as a matter of course, at eleven o'clock. Had he been aware of Braddock's effort to reform himself, he would as soon have thought of offering him poison to drink as whiskey. But, knowing his habits, he concluded, naturally, that the grog was indispensable, and tendered it to him as he had always done before, on like occasions.

"I've signed the pledge," were the words that instantly formed themselves in the mind of Braddock--but were instantly set aside, as that reason for not drinking would not have been the true one. Could he have said that, all difficulty would have vanished in a moment.

"No objection, Mr. Jones," was then uttered, and off he started for the house, resolutely keeping down every reason that struggled in his mind to rise and be heard.

The image of Mr. Jones, standing before him, with a smiling invitation to come and take a gla.s.s, backed by his own instantly aroused inclinations, had been too strong an inducement. He felt, too, that it would have been rudeness to decline the proffered hospitality.

"That's not bad to take, Mr. Jones," he said, smacking his lips, after turning off a stiff gla.s.s.

"No, it is not, Jim. That's as fine an article of whiskey as I've ever seen," Mr. Jones replied, a little flattered at Braddock's approval of his liquor. "You're a good judge of such matters."

"I ought to be." And as Jim said this, he turned out another gla.s.s.

"That's right--help yourself," was Mr. Jones' encouraging remark, as he saw this.

"I never was backward at that, you know, Mr. Jones." After eating a cracker and a piece of cheese, and taking a third drink, Braddock went back and resumed his work, feeling quite happy.

After dinner Mr. Jones handed him the bottle again, and did the same when he knocked off in the evening. Of course, he was very far from being sober when he started for home. As he came into town, his way was past Harry Arnold's, whose shop he entered, and was received with a round of applause by his old a.s.sociates, who saw at a glance that Jim was "a little disguised." Their jokes were all received in good part, and parried by treating all around.

When her husband left in the morning, Mrs. Braddock's heart was lightened with a new hope, although a fear was blended with that hope, causing them both to tremble in alternate preponderance in her bosom. Still, hope would gain the ascendency, and affected her spirits with a degree of cheerfulness unfelt for many months. As the day began to decline towards evening, after putting everything about the house in order, she took her three children, washed them clean, and dressed them up as neatly as their worn and faded clothes would permit. This was in order to make home present the most agreeable appearance possible to her husband when he returned. Then she killed a chicken and dressed it, ready to broil for his supper--made up a nice short-cake, and set the table with a clean, white table-cloth.

About sundown, she commenced baking the cake, and cooking the chicken, and at dusk had them all ready to put on the table the moment he came in.

Your father is late," she remarked to one of the children, after sitting in a musing att.i.tude for about five minutes, after everything was done that she could do towards getting supper ready.

As she said this, she got up and went to the door and looked long and intently down the street in the direction that she expected him, calling each distant, dim figure, obscured by the deepening twilight, his, until a nearer approach dispelled the illusion. Each disappointment like this, caused her feelings to grow sadder and sadder, until at length, as evening subsided into night, with its veil of thick darkness, she turned into the house with a heavy oppressive sigh, and rejoined the children who were impatient for their supper.

"Wait a little while," was her reply to their importunities. "Father will soon be here now."

She was still anxious that their father should see their improved appearance.

"O no"--urged one. "We want our supper now."

"O yes. Give us our supper now. I'm so sleepy and hungry," whined another.

And to give force to these, the youngest began to fret and cry. Mrs.

Braddock could delay no longer, and so she set them up to the table and gave them as much as they could eat. Then she undressed each in turn, and in a little while, they were fast asleep.

When all was quiet, and the mother sat down to wait for her husband's return, a feeling of deep despondency came over her mind.

It had been dark for an hour, and yet he had not come home. She could imagine no reason for this, other than the one that had kept him out so often before--drinking and company. Thus she continued to sit, hour after hour, the supper untasted. Usually, her evenings were spent in some kind of work--in mending her children's clothes, or knitting them stockings. But now she had no heart to do anything.

The state of gloomy uncertainty that she was in, broke down her spirits, for the time being.

Bedtime came; and still Braddock was away. She waited an hour later than usual, and then retired, sinking back upon her pillow as she did so, in a state of hopeless exhaustion of mind and body.

In the meantime, her husband had spent a merry evening at Harry Arnold's, drinking with more than his accustomed freedom. He was the last to go home, the thought of meeting his deceived and injured wife, causing him to linger. When he did leave, it was past eleven o'clock. Though more than half-intoxicated on going from the grog-shop, the cool night air, and the thought of Sally, sobered him considerably before he got home. Arrived there, he paused with his hand on the door for some time, reluctant to enter. At last he opened the door, and went quietly in, in the hope of getting up to bed without his wife's discovering his condition. The third step into the room brought his foot in contact with a chair, and over he went, jarring the whole house with his fall. His wife heard this--indeed her quick ear had detected the opening of the door--and it caused her heart to sink like a heavy weight in her bosom.

Gathering himself up, Braddock moved forward again as steadily as he could, both hands extended before him. A smart blow upon the nose from an open door, that had insinuated itself between his hands, brought him up again, and caused him, involuntarily, to dash aside the door which shut with a heavy slam. Pausing now, to recall his bewildered senses, he resolved to move forward with more caution, and so succeeded in gaining the stairs, up which he went, his feet, softly as he tried to put them down, falling like heavy lumps of lead, and making the house echo again. He felt strongly inclined to grumble about all the lights being put out, as he came into the chamber--but a distinct consciousness that he had no right to grumble, kept him quiet, and so he undressed himself with as little noise as possible,--which was no very small portion, for at almost every moment he stept on something, or ran against something that seemed endowed for the time with sonorous power of double the ordinary capacity,--and crept softly into bed.

Mrs. Braddock said nothing, and he said nothing. But long before her eyelids closed in sleep, he was loudly snoring by her side. When he awoke in the morning, Sally had arisen and gone down. A burning thirst caused him to get up immediately and dress himself. There was no water in the room, and if there had been, he could not have touched it while there was to be had below a cool draught from the well. So he descended at once, feeling very badly, and resolving over again that he would never touch another drop of liquor as long as he lived. Having quenched his thirst with a large bowl of cool water drawn right from the bottom of the well, he went up to his wife where she was stooping at the fire, and said--

"Sally, look here--"

"Go 'way, Jim," was her angry response.

"No, but Sally, look here, I want to talk to you," persisted her husband.

"Go 'way, I say--I don't care if I never see you again!"

"So you've said a hundred times, but I never believed you, or I might have taken you at your word."

To this his wife made no reply.

"I was drunk last night, Sally," Jim said, after a moment's silence.

"You needn't take the trouble to tell me that."

"Of course not. But an open confession, you know, is good for the soul. I was drunk last night, then--drunk as a fool, after all I promised--but I'm not going to get drunk again, so--"

"Don't swear any more false oaths, Jim: you've sworn enough already."

"Yes, but Sally, I am going to quit now, and I want you to talk to me like a good wife, and advise with me."

"If you don't go away and let me alone now, I'll throw these tongs at you!" the wife rejoined, angrily, rising up and brandishing the article she had named. "You are trying me beyond all manner of patience!"

"There--there--keep cool, Sally. It'll all go into your lifetime, darlin'," Jim replied, good-humouredly, taking hold of her hand, and extricating the tongs from them, and then drawing his arm around her waist, and forcing her to sit down in a chair, while he took one just beside her.

"Now, Sally, I'm in dead earnest, if ever I was in my life," he began, "and if you'll tell me any way to break off from this wretched habit into which I have fallen, I'll do it."

"Go and sign the pledge, then;" his wife said promptly, and somewhat sternly.

"And give up my liberty?"