Books: The Lights and Shadows of Real Life

T >> T.S. Arthur >> The Lights and Shadows of Real Life

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"So you see--when I got up this morning, I felt half-determined to
sign the pledge, at all hazards. Still I didn't want to give up my
liberty, and was arguing the points over again, when Sally took me
right aback so strongly that I gave up, wrote a pledge, signed it,
and nailed it up over the mantelpiece, where it has got to stay."

"I am most heartily glad to hear of your good resolution," Mr. Jones
said, grasping warmly the hand of Braddock--"and heartily ashamed of
myself for having tempted you, yesterday. Hereafter, I am resolved
not to offer liquor to any man who works for me. If my money is not
enough for him, he must go somewhere else. Well," he continued--"you
have signed away your liberty, as you called it. Do you feel any
more a slave than you did yesterday?"

"A slave? No, indeed! I'm a free man now! Yesterday I was such a
slave to a debased appetite, that all my good resolutions were like
cobwebs. Now I can act like an honest, rational man. I am in a state
of freedom. You ask me to drink. I say 'no'--yesterday I could not
say no, because I was not a free man. But now I am free to choose
what is right, and to reject what is wrong. I don't care for all the
grog-shops and whiskey-bottles from here to sun-down! I'm not afraid
to go past Harry Arnold's--nor even to go in there and make a
temperance speech, if necessary. Hurrah for freedom!"

It cannot be supposed that Jim's wife, after her many sad
disappointments, could feel altogether assured that he would stand
by his pledge, although she had more confidence in its power over
him than in anything else, and believed that it was the only thing
that would save him, if he could be saved at all. She was far more
cheerful, however, for her hope was stronger than it had ever been;
and went about her house with a far lighter step than usual.

Towards evening, as the time began to approach for his return, she
proceeded, as she had done on the day before, to make arrangements
for his comfortable reception. The little scene of preparation for
supper, and dressing up the children, was all acted over again, and
with a feeling of stronger confidence. Still, her heart would beat
at times oppressively, as a doubt would steal over her mind.

At last, the sun was just sinking behind a distant hill. It was the
hour to expect him. The children were gathered around her in the
door, and her eyes were afar off, eagerly watching to descry his
well-known form in the distance. As minute after minute passed away,
and the sun at length went down below the horizon, her heart began
to tremble. Still, though she strained her eyes, she could see
nothing of him,--and now the twilight began to fall, dimly around,
throwing upon her oppressed heart a deeper shadow than that which
mantled, like a thin veil, the distant hills and valleys. With a
heavy sigh, she was about returning into the house, when a slight
noise within caused her to turn quickly, and with a start.

"Back again, safe and sound, old girl!" greeted her glad ear, as the
form of her husband caught her eye, coming in at the back door.

"O, Jim!" she exclaimed, her heart bounding with a wild, happy
pulsation. "How glad I am to see you!"

And she flung herself into his arms, giving way, as she did so, to a
gush of joyful tears.

"And I'm glad enough to see you, too, Sally! I've thought about you
and the children all day, and of how much I have wronged you. But
it's all over now. That pledge has done it!" pointing up as he spoke
to his pledge nailed over the mantelpiece. "Since I signed that,
I've not had the first wish to touch the accursed thing that has
ruined me. I'm free, now, Sally! Free to do as I please. And that's
what I havn't been for a long time. As I told Mr. Jones, I don't
care now for all the grog-shops, whiskey-bottles, and Harry Arnolds,
from here to sun-down."

"I told you it was all nonsense, Jim, about signing away your
liberty!" Sally said, smiling through her tears of joy.

"Of course it was. I never was free before. But now I feel as free
as air. I can go in and come out and care no more for the sight of a
grog-shop, than for a hay-stack. I can take care of my wife and
children, and be just as kind to them as I please. And that's what I
couldn't do before. Huzza for the pledge, say I!

"Blister my feathers if ever I drink another drop of Alcohol, or
anything that will make drunk come, sick or well, dead or alive!"

That evening Jim Braddock sat down to a good supper with a smiling
wife, and three children, all cleanly dressed, and looking as happy
as they could be. The husband and father had not felt so light a
heart bounding in his bosom for years. He was free,--and felt that
he was free to act as reason dictated,--to work for and care for his
household treasures.

Nearly a year has passed, and Mr. James Braddock has built himself a
neat little frame house, which is comfortably furnished, and has
attached to it a well-cultivated garden. In his parlour, there
hangs, over the mantelpiece, his original pledge, handsomely framed.
Recently in writing to a friend, he says--

"You will ask, where did I get them?" (his new house, furniture,
&c.) "I'll tell you, boy. These are part payment for my _liberty_,
that I signed away. Didn't I sell it at a bargain? But this is not
all. I've got my shop back again, with a good run of custom--am ten
years younger than I was a year ago--have got the happiest wife and
the smartest boy in all creation--and don't care a snap for anybody!
So now, S. come down here; bring your wife, and all the
_responsibilities_, and I'll tell you the whole story--but I can't
write. _Hurrah for slavery!_ Good bye!

JIM BRADDOCK."

THE FAIR TEMPTER

OR, WINE ON THE WEDDING-NIGHT.

"WHAT will you take, Haley?"

"A glass of water."

"Nonsense! Say, what will you take?"

"A glass of water. I don't drink anything stronger."

"Not a teetotaller? Ha! ha! ha!" rejoined the young man's companion,
laughing in mingled mirth and ridicule.

"Yes, a teetotaller, if you please," replied the one called
Haley.--"Or anything else you choose to denominate me."

"You're a member of a temperance society, then? ha! ha!"

"No, I am not."

"Don't belong to the cold-water men?"

"No."

"Then come along and drink with me! Here, what will you take?"

"Nothing at all, unless it be a glass of water. As I have just said,
I drink nothing stronger."

"What's the reason?"

"I feel as well--indeed, a great deal better without it."

"That's all nonsense! Come, take a julep, or a brandy-punch with
me."

"No, Loring, I cannot."

"I shall take it as an offence, if you do not."

"I mean no offence, and shall be sorry, if you construe into one an
act not so intended. Drink if you wish to drink, but leave me in
freedom to decline tasting liquor if I choose."

"Well, you are a strange kind of a genius, Haley--, but I believe I
like you too well to get mad with you, although I generally take a
refusal to drink with one as an insult, unless I know the person to
have joined a temperance society,--and then I should deem the insult
on my part, were I to urge him to violate his pledge. But I wonder
you have never joined yourself to some of these ultra
reformers--these teetotallers, as they call themselves."

"I have never done so,--and never intend doing so. It is sufficient
for me to decline drinking, because I do not believe that
stimulating beverages are good for the body or mind. I act from
principle in this matter, and, therefore, want no external
restraints."

"Then you are determined not to drink with me?"

"O, yes, I will drink with you."

"Cold-water?"

"Of course."

"One julep, and a glass of Adam's-ale," said Loring, turning to the
bar-keeper.

They were soon presented, glasses touched, heads bobbed, and the
contents of the two tumblers poured down their respective gullets.

"It makes a chill go over me to see you drinking that stuff," Loring
said, with an expression of disgust on his face.

"Every one to his taste, you know," was Haley's half-indifferent
response.

"You'll be over to-night, I suppose?" said a young man, stepping up
to him, as the two emerged from the "Coffee"-house--precious little
coffee was ever seen there.

"O, yes,--of course."

"You'd better not come."

"Why?"

"Clara's got a bottle of champaign that she says she's going to make
you taste this very night."

A slight shade flitted quickly over the face of Haley, as the young
man said this. But it was as quickly gone, and he replied with a
smile,

"Tell Clara it's no use. I'm an incorrigible cold-water man."

"She'll be too much for you."

"I'm not afraid."

"You'd be, if you were as well acquainted with her as I am. I never
knew that girl to set her head about anything in my life that she
didn't accomplish it. And she says that she will make you drink a
glass of wine with her, in spite of all your opposition."

"She'll find herself foiled once in her life," was the laughing
reply; "and so you may as well tell her that all her efforts will be
in vain, and thus save further trouble."

"No, I won't, though. I'll tell her to go on, while I stand off and
look at the fun. I'll bet on her, into the bargain, for I know
she'll beat."

"So will I, two to one!" broke in Loring--

"Don't be so certain of that."

"We'll see," was the laughing response, and then the young men
separated.

Manley, the individual who had met Loring and Haley at the
coffee-house door, was the brother of Clara, and Haley was her
accepted lover. The latter had removed to the city in which all the
parties resided, some two years before, from the east, and had
commenced business for himself. Nothing was known of his previous
life, or connections. But the pure gold of his character soon became
apparent, and guarantied him a reception into good society. All who
came into association with him, were impressed in his favour.
Steadily, however, during that time, had he persisted in not tasting
any kind of stimulating drinks. All kinds of stimulating condiments
at table, were likewise avoided. The circle of acquaintances which
had gradually formed around him, or into which, rather, he had been
introduced, was a wine and brandy-drinking set of young men, and he
was frequently urged to partake with them; but neither persuasion,
ridicule, nor pretended anger, could, in the least, move him from
his fixed resolution. Such scenes as that just presented, were of
frequent occurrence, particularly with recent acquaintances, as was
the case with Loring.

Within a year he had been paying attention to Clara Manley, a
happy-hearted young creature, over whose head scarce eighteen bright
summers had yet passed. Esteem and admiration of her mind and
person, had gradually changed into a pure and permanent affection,
which was tenderly and truly reciprocated.

Wine, in the house of Mr. Manley, was used almost as freely as
water. It was, with brandy, an invariable accompaniment of the
dinner-table, and no evening passed without its being served around.
Haley's refusal to touch it, was at first thought singular by Clara;
but she soon ceased to observe the omission, and the servant soon
learned in no case to present him the decanter. George Manley,
however, could not tolerate Haley's temperate habits, because he
thought his abstinence a mere whim, and bantered him upon it
whenever occasion offered. At last, he aroused Clara's mind into
opposition, and incited her to make an effort to induce her lover to
drink.

"What's the use of my doing it, brother?" she asked, when he first
alluded to it. "His not drinking does no harm to any one."

"If it don't, it makes him appear very singular. No matter who is
here--no matter on what occasion, he must adhere to his foolish
resolution. People will begin to think, after awhile, that he's some
reformed drunkard, and is afraid to taste a drop of any kind of
liquor."

"How can you talk so, George?" Clara said, with a half-offended air.

"So it will appear, Clara; and you can't help it, unless you laugh
him out of his folly."

"I don't wish to say anything to him about it."

"You're afraid."

"No, I am not, George."

"Yes, you are."

"What am I afraid of?"

"Why, you're afraid that you won't succeed."

"Indeed, then, and I am not. A mere notion like that I could easily
prevail on him to give up. I should be sorry, indeed, if I had not
that much influence over him."

"You'll find it a pretty hard notion to beat out of him, I can tell
you. I've seen half a dozen young men try for an hour by all kinds
of means to induce him to taste wine; but it was no use. He was
immovable."

"I don't care;--he couldn't refuse me, if I set myself about it."

"He could, and he would, Clara."

"I don't believe a word of it."

"Try him, then."

"I don't see any use in it. Let him enjoy his total-abstinence! if
he wishes to."

"I knew you were afraid."

"Indeed, I am not, then."

"Yes, you are."

"It's no such thing."

"Try him, then."

"I will, then, since it's come to that."

"He'll be too much for you."

"Don't flatter yourself. I'll manage him."

"How?"

"Why, I'll insist on his taking a glass of that delightful champaign
with me, which you sent home yesterday."

"Suppose he declines?"

"I won't take his refusal. He shall take a glass with me."

"We'll see, little sis'. I'll bet on Haley."--And so saying, the
young man turned away laughing at the success of his scheme.

That evening, towards nine o'clock, as Haley sat conversing with
Clara, a servant entered the room as usual with bottles and glasses.
George Manley was promptly on his feet, to cut the cork and "pop"
the champaign, which he did, while the servant stood just before
Clara and her lover.

"You must take a glass of this fine champaign with me, Mr. Haley,"
the young tempter said, turning upon him a most winning smile.

"Indeed, Clara--"

"Not a word now. I shall take no refusal."

"I must be--"

"Pour him out a glass, George."

And George filled two glasses, one of which Clara lifted, with the
sparkling liquor at the height of its effervescence.

"There's the other; take it quick, before it dies," she said,
holding her own glass near her lips.

"You must excuse me, Clara. I do not drink wine," Mr. Haley said, as
soon as he was permitted to speak, in a tone and with a manner that
settled the question at once.

"Indeed, it is too bad, Mr. Haley!" Clara responded, with a
half-offended air, putting her untasted glass of wine back upon the
waiter,--"to deny me so trifling a request. I must say, that your
refusal is very ungallant. Whoever heard of a gentleman declining to
take wine with a lady?"

"There certainly is an exception to the rule to-night, Clara," the
young man said. "Still, I can assure you, that nothing ungallant was
meant. But that you know to be out of the question. I could not be
rude to any lady, much less to you."

"O, as to that, it's easy to make fine speeches--but acts, you know,
speak louder than words"--Clara said, half-laughing--half-serious.

The servant had, by this time, passed on with the untasted wine;
and, of course, no further effort could be made towards driving the
young man from his position. His positive refusal to drink, however,
under the circumstances, very naturally disappointed Clara. He
observed the sudden revulsion of feeling that took place in her
mind, and it pained him very much.

As for her, she felt herself positively offended. She had set her
heart upon proving to her brother her power over Haley, but had
signally failed in the effort. He had proved to her immovable in his
singular position.

From that time, for many weeks, there was a coldness between him and
Clara. She did not receive him with her accustomed cordiality; but
seemed both hurt and offended. To take a simple glass of champaign
with her was so small a request, involving, as she reasoned, no
violation of principle, that for him to refuse to do so, under all
the circumstances, was almost unpardonable.

Affection, however, at last triumphed over wounded pride, but not
until he had begun, seriously, to debate the question of proposing
to her a dissolution of the contract existing between them.

Everything again went on smoothly enough, for there was no further
effort on the part of Clara to drive her lover from his resolution.
But she still entertained the idea of doing so--and still resolved
that she would conquer him.

At last the wedding-day was set, and both looked forward to its
approach with feelings of pure delight. Their friends, without an
exception, approved the match; and well they might, for he was a man
of known integrity, fine intellect, and cultivated tastes; and she a
young woman in every way fitted to unite with him in marriage bonds.

Finally came the long anticipated evening. Never before was there
assembled in the old mansion of Mr. Manley a happier company than
that which had gathered to witness the marriage of his daughter,
whose young heart trembled in the fulness of its delight, as she
uttered the sealing words of her union with one who possessed all
her heart.

"May kind heaven bless you, my child!" murmured the mother, as she
pressed her lips to those of her happy child.

"And make your life glide on as peacefully as a quiet stream," added
the father, kissing her in turn, scarcely refraining, as he did so,
from taking her in his arms and folding her to his bosom.

Then came crowding upon her the sincere congratulations of friends.
O, how happy she felt Joy seemed to have reached a climax. The cup
was so full, that a drop more would have overflowed the brim.

A few minutes sufficed to restore again the order that had reigned
through the rooms, and the servants appeared with the bride's cake.
All eyes were upon the happy couple.

"You won't refuse me _now_, James?" the bride said, in a low tone;
but with an appealing look, as she reached out her hand and lifted a
glass of wine.

There was a hesitation in the manner of Haley, and Clara saw it. She
knew that all eyes were upon them, and she knew that all had
observed her challenge. Her pride was roused, and she could not bear
the thought of being refused her first request after marriage.

"Take it, James, for my sake, even if you only place it to your lips
without tasting it," she said, in a low, hurried whisper.

The young husband could not stand this. He took the glass, while the
heart of Clara bounded with an exulting throb. Of course, having
gone thus far, he had to go through the form of drinking with her.
In doing so, he sipped but a few drops. These thrilled on the nerve
of taste with a sensation of exquisite pleasure. Involuntarily he
placed the glass to his lips again, and took a slight draught.

Then a sudden chill passed through his frame as consciousness
returned, and he would fain have dashed the glass from him as a
poisoning serpent that was preparing to sting him, but for the
company that crowded the rooms. From this state he was aroused by
the sweet voice of his young wife, saying, in happy tones--

"So it has not poisoned you, James."

He smiled an answer, but did not speak. The peculiar expression of
that smile, Clara remembered for many years afterwards.

"Come! you must empty your glass with me," she said, in a moment
after. "See! you have scarcely tasted it yet. Now--"

And she raised her glass, and he did the same. When he withdrew his
own from his lips, it was empty.

"Bravo!"--exclaimed Clara, in a low, triumphant tone.

"Now, isn't that delightful wine?"

"Yes, very."

"Did you ever taste wine before, James?" the bride laughingly said--

"O, yes, many a time. But none so exquisitely flavoured as this."

"Long abstinence has sweetened it to your taste."

"No doubt."

"Clara has been too much for you to-night, Haley," George Manley
said, coming up at this moment, and laughing in great glee.

"He couldn't refuse me on such an occasion"--the bride gaily
responded. "I set my heart on making him drink wine with me on our
wedding-night, and I have succeeded."

"Are you sure he hasn't poured it slyly upon the floor?"

"O, yes! I saw him take every drop. And what is more; he smacked his
lips, and said it was exquisitely flavoured."

"Here comes the servant again," George said, at this moment. "Come,
James! let me fill your glass again. You must drink with me
to-night. You've never given me that pleasure yet. Come!--As well be
hung for a sheep as a lamb." Thus importuned, Haley held up his
glass which George Manley filled to the brim.

"Health and happiness!" the young man said, bowing.

Haley bowed in return, placed the glass to his lips, and took its
contents at a draught.

"Bravely done! Why, it seems to go down quite naturally. You were
not always a total-abstinence man?"

"No, I was not."--While a slight shadow flitted over his face.

"Welcome back again, then, to a truly social, and convivial spirit!
After this, don't let me ever see you refuse a generous glass."

"What! An empty wine-glass in the hand of young Mr. Incorrigible!
Upon my word!" ejaculated old Mr. Manley, coming up at this moment.

"O, yes, pa! I've conquered him to-night! He couldn't refuse to take
a glass of wine with me on this occasion!" the daughter said, in
great glee.

"He must take one with me, too, then."

"You must excuse me, indeed, sir," Haley replied--rallying himself,
and bracing up into firmness his broken and still wavering
resolutions.

"Indeed, then, and I won't."

"O, no. Don't excuse him at all, pa! He drank with me, and then with
brother, and now to refuse to drink with you would be a downright
shame."

"He has taken a glass with George, too, has he? And now wants to be
excused when I ask him. Upon my word! Here, George, tell the servant
to come over this way."

The servant came, of course, in a moment or two, with the wine.

"Fill up his glass, George," the father said.

Haley's glass was, of course, filled again.

"Now, my boy!--Here's a health to my children! May this night's
happiness be but as a drop to the ocean of delight in reserve for
them." Drinking.

"And here's to our father! May his children never love him less than
they do now." Drinking in turn.

"Thank you, my boy!"

"And thank you in return, for your kind wishes."

"That wine didn't seem to taste unpleasantly, James?"

"O, no, sir. It is rich and generous."

"How long is it since you tasted wine?"

"About three years."

"Are you not fond of it?"

"O, yes. I like a good glass of wine."

"Then what in the world has made you act so singularly about it?"

"A mere whim of mine, I suppose you will call it. And perhaps it
was. I thought I was just as well without it."

"Nonsense! Don't let me ever again hear of this foolishness."

And then the old man mingled with the happy company.

"Come, James, you must drink with me, too," the mother said, a
little while afterward.

Haley did not seem unwilling, but turned off a glass of wine with an
air of real pleasure.

"You must drink with me, too," went through the room. Every little
while some one, with whom the young man had on former occasions
refused to drink, finding out that he had been driven from his
cold-water resolutions, insisted upon taking a glass with him. Such
being the case, it is not to be wondered at that a remark like this
should be made before the passage of an hour.

"See! As I live, Haley's getting lively!"

"I think that 'rich and generous wine' is beginning to brighten you
up a little," Mr. Manley said, about this time, slapping his
son-in-law familiarly upon the shoulder?

"I feel very happy, sir," was Haley's reply.

"That's right. This is a happy occasion."

"I never was so happy in my life! I hardly know what to do with
myself. Come! Won't you take some wine with me. I drank with you a
little while ago."

"Certainly! Certainly! My boy! Or, perhaps you would try a little
brandy."

"No objection," said the young man. And then the two went to the
side-board, and each took a stiff glass of brandy.

"That's capital! It makes me feel good!" ejaculated Haley, as he set
his empty glass down.

Cotillions were now formed, and the bride and groom took the floor
in the first set. Clara felt very proud of her husband as she leaned
upon his arm, waiting for the music to begin, and glanced around
upon her maiden companions with a look of triumph. But she soon had
cause to abate her exultation, for when the music struck up, and the
dancers commenced their intricate movements, she found that her
husband blundered so as to throw all into confusion. The reason of
this instantly flashed upon her mind, for she knew him to be a
correct and graceful dancer. _He was too much intoxicated to dance!
_ Her woman's pride caused her to make the effort to guide him
through the figures. But it was of no use. The second attempt failed
signally by his breaking the figures, and reeling with a loud,
drunken laugh, through and through, and round and round the
astonished group of dancers, thrown thus suddenly into confusion.

Poor Clara, overwhelmed with mortification, retired to a seat, while
her husband continued his antics, ending them finally with an Indian
whoop, such as may often be heard late at night in the streets, from
a company of drunken revellers,--when he sought her out, and came
and took a seat by her side.

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