Town and Country; Or, Life at Home and Abroad Part 16

I CHANGE but in dying,--I am faithful till death!

I will guard thee with care from pollution's foul breath; I promise that ne'er in neglect thou shalt pine; I change but in dying,--say, wilt thou be mine?

I come not with riches; good fortune ne'er blest me; Yet one of less worth hath often carest me; The light of true love o'er thy pathway shall shine; I change but in dying,--say, wilt thou be mine?

I change but in dying,--no holier vow From lips mortal e'er came than I breathe to thee now; It comes from a heart with love for thee sighing; Believe me, 't is true,--I change but in dying!

HE IS THY BROTHER.

GO, break the chains that bind the slave; Go, set the captive free; For Slavery's banners ne'er should wave, And slaves should never be.

Yet not in anger. Hasty words Should not to thee belong, They will not loose a single link, But bind them yet more strong.

O, while ye think to him in chains A brother's rights are due, Remember him who binds those chains!

He is thy brother, too!

THE WINE-DEALER'S CLERK.

CHAPTER I.

"WILL you sign the pledge?" asked one young man of another.

"No!" was the ready response; and, after a moment's pause, "You are wrong, and I am right. You wish to deprive me of a social gla.s.s, free companionship with those I love, life's best enjoyments, and to live bound down to the contracted limits of a temperance-pledge.-Me sign! No! Go ask leave of the soaring eagle to clip his wings; of the oriole to tarnish his bright plumage; of the bounding deer to fetter his free limbs,--but do not ask me to sign a pledge!"

The young men parted. Each went his way; one to his counting-room, the other to his home.

The proprietors of the store with which the former was connected had been for a number of years busily engaged in the importation, adulteration and sale of wines and brandies. From the cellar to the attic of their large warehouse, pipes, puncheons, and barrels of the slow poison were deposited, with innumerable bottles of wine, reputed to be old as a century, if not older. A box or two of Flemish pipes relieved the sameness of the scene,--barrels on barrels.

From the counting-room of the establishment a large number of young men had gone forth to become either wholesale or retail dealers in the death-drugged merchandise. The ill-success which attended these, and the lamentable end to which they arrived, would have been singular and mysterious, had it followed in the wake of any other business. But, as it was, effect followed cause, and such is the law of nature.

One, a young man of promise in days gone-by, recently became the inmate of an alms-house in a distant city; another, urged to madness by frequent potations, died as the fool dieth; and a third, who had been the centre light of a social circle, as he felt the chill of death come upon him, called all his friends near, and said to them, "Deal not, deal not in the arrows of death, lest those arrows pierce thine own heart at last!"

All these facts were known to the public; yet they countenanced the traffic in which Messrs. Laneville & Co. were engaged. They were merchants, they were wealthy; for these reasons, it would seem, the many-headed public looked up to them with a feeling bordering on reverence, somewhat awed by their presence, as though wealth had made them worthy, while many a less rich but ten-fold more honest man walked in the shadow of the mighty Magog, unseen,--uncared for, if seen. Messrs. Laneville & Co. knew that the law was against their business; they knew, also, that public opinion, if not actually in favor of it, willingly countenanced it.

Perchance the cry of some unfortunate widow might at times reach their ears; but it was speedily hushed by the charmed music of the falling dollar, as it was exchanged for their foul poison.

Forgetting they were men, they acted as demons, and continued to deal forth their liquid death, and to supply the thousand streams of the city with the cause of the crime it was obliged to punish, and the pauperism it was obliged to support.

The "Vincennes" had just arrived at the wharf as James entered the store. It had been the custom of the owners, on the annual arrival of this vessel, to have a party on board. On this occasion, they made the usual arrangements for the festivity. Cards of invitation were speedily written, and distributed among members of the city government, editors, clergymen, and other influential persons. James was free to invite such of his friends as he chose, and in doing so the question arose whether he should ask George Alverton to be present. It was known to him that George was a teetotaller, and had that morning invited him to sign the pledge. He knew that at the entertainment wine would circulate. He knew that some would indulge rather freely, and that the maintenance of a perfect equilibrium by such would be very difficult. Suppose he, himself,--that is, James,--should be among these last mentioned, and that, too, before his friend George; would it not demolish his favorite argument, which he had a thousand times advanced, that he knew right from wrong,--when to drink and when to stop drinking? yet, thought he, I may not indulge too freely. Yes; I will maintain my position, and show by practice what I teach by preaching. Besides, it would be very impolite, as well as uncourteous, in me, not to invite one whose character I value so highly as his,--one whose friendship I so much esteem. I will invite him. He shall be present, and shall see that I can keep sober without being pledged to do so.

CHAPTER II.

George Alverton was the son of a n.o.bleman. Start not, republican reader, for we mean not a stiff-starched branch of English n.o.bility, but one of America's n.o.blemen,--and hers are nature's! He was a hard-working mechanic; one of G.o.d's n.o.blest works,--an honest man!

Americans know not, as yet, the t.i.tled honors of the Old World; and none, save a few, whose birth-place nature must have mistook, would introduce into a republican country the pa.s.swords of a monarchical one.

"An invite for you," said the laughing Josephine, as George entered at dusk. "And ten to one it's from that black-eyed Kate, who is bewitching all the young men within a twenty-mile circuit with her loving glances-eh? A match, ten to one!"

"Always gay," said George, as he turned half aside to avoid the mischievous look of his sister; "but, by the way, Jos, to be serious, an invite did you say? How do you know that?"

"O, by the way 'tis folded; we girls have a way of knowing a love-letter from bills of exchange, and an invitation from bills of lading. Just look at it; see how pretty 'tis enveloped, how handsomely directed,--George Alverton, Esq., Present. It's no use, George; you needn't look so serious. You are a captured one, and when a bird's in a net he may as well lie still as flutter!"

Josephine handed the note to her brother, slyly winking as she did so, as much as to say, "The marriage-bells are ringing, love."

George, observing the superscription, was convinced that it was from James Clifton, and remarked,

"Don't be too hasty; it is from James; the direction must be wrong; it was doubtless intended for you. Look out, Jos; you may be the captured one, after all!"

Josephine was not to be thus thrown from her ground; so, turning to her brother with a laugh, she said,

"For me! Well, if so 't is so; but I judge from what I see.

Notwithstanding your insinuation that James writes to no one but myself, I'll venture a bright gold dollar that this is for yourself, even though it be from James. Open the budget, and prove the truth of what I say."

George untied the white ribbon that bound it, and, opening the envelope, found an invitation to a gentleman's party to be held that evening on board the "Vincennes." Josephine laughed merrily over what she deemed her brother's defeat, and George as heartily over what he deemed his victory. He was advised to go; not, however, without an accompanying hint of its being a dry affair, as ladies were to be excluded. Josephine was puzzled to know the reason of their exclusiveness, and what festivity was to be engaged in of which they could not partake.

"I scarcely know what to do," said George, "as wines will be circulated, and I shall be asked, a dozen times or more, to drink of them."

"Go, by all means," said his sister; "stand your own ground, be firm, be resolute, refuse if asked to partake; but do so in a manner that, while it shows a determination to resist temptation, will not offend, but rather induce him you respect to think whether it will not he best for him also to refuse."

"I will. I am aware of the situation in which James is placed. He has a generous, a n.o.ble heart, that needs but to know the right to do it. I will go; and if by example, persuasion or otherwise, I can prevail upon him to sign the pledge, I will do so, and thank G.o.d for it. I will speak to him kindly, and in reason. Others will drink, if he does not; others will fall, if he escapes; and such examples are the most convincing arguments that can be used to prove that an unpledged man, in these days of temptation, is unsafe, and unmindful of his best and dearest interests."

CHAPTER III.