GRANDMA
DUNCAN lived with her three grandchildren in a pleasant village nestled among
the green hills of New Hampshire. Grandmother had a habit of taking the
children, Bertha, Max, and Henri, out for a walk over the hills, on pleasant
days, and much the children enjoyed these rambles.
"There
is nothing," grandmother used to say, "that I so desire as to see
the children of my dear daughter (who left them to my care,) grow up to be
good and virtuous."
Grandmother's
hair was white as snow, but her eyes were as bright and blue as the skies, her
voice was soft and tender, and the children of the whole neighborhood loved to
listen to her quaint stories of the time when she was a child ; while to
Bertha, Max, and Henri, grandmother was very dear.
One
afternoon, when the May flowers were showing their pretty, fresh faces on
the hills and meadows, and the sun was shining brightly, they all went for
their accustomed walk. The children soon filled their baskets with trailing
arbutus, jonquils, and soft mosses, and just as the sun was setting,
grandma and little Bertha strolled leisurely homeward, while Max and Henri
hurried on before.
"You
shall be Queen of the May, grandma, dear," laughed Bertha, "See, I
shall crown you with these pretty jonquils as soon as we are home."
Just
then Max and Henri came running back panting and quite out of breath, both
eager to tell what they had just seen over the hill. "O grandma!"
began Henri, "there is a poor man lying asleep by the bridge, all covered
with mud-"
“Yes,"
added Max, "yes, and his face is red and specked, and-O
Henri, did you notice that his old battered hat was floating around in that
pool of muddy water by his side?"
"I'm
afraid it is poor Joe Brandon," sighed grandma. "Let us hasten;
perhaps we maybe able to help him. He may be really ill, -though
much I fear he has stayed too long at the Red Lion," as the one saloon in
the village was named.
By
this time poor Joe had awakened from his drunken stupor, and was staggering on
toward his wretched home as fast as his unsteady legs would carry him. His
filth-covered coat was reeking with slime and mud, which constantly dripped
over his ragged trousers, while his wet and battered hat, which the poor
fellow had contrived to rescue from the pool, was slouched far over his face.
His gray hair and beard were long and matted, and his eyes were bleared and
bloodshot.
The
children shrank as far away from him as possible, as he reeled past them, and
all the laughter and pleasant mirth had gone out of their voices, while little
Bertha's face had grown quite white.
"I
cannot blame you, my dears, for shunning the wretched man, and yet he was not
always so," sighed grandma.
"Why
grandma," protested Henri, who thought himself quite a man, "he has
been a poor drunkard ever since I can remember,-
and that is ever and ever so many years,-why
just think ; I am almost twelve years old."
"Yes,
but you know, my dear, I can remember very many more years than that,-and
I knew poor old Joe when he was no more than five years old. And a sweet,
charming child he used to be."
"O
grandma! please tell us about it," cried the children excitedly,
"please do !"
So
as soon as they were home and well rested, they gathered around grandma's
great rocking chair. Henri had kindled a fire in the grate, for it was rather
cool, and now they waited to hear the story she had promised to tell them.
"Well,
my children," she began, "it is quite true that I knew poor old Joe
when he was a sweet, innocent child,-I was a child myself, then,"-and
grandmother gazed dreamily at the red flames as they chased each other up the
chimney.
"Yes,
he was a sweet, innocent child," she repeated ; "Nobody called him
'Old Joe,' then. He was the only son of my father's dear friend, and I was his
playmate while we were children."
"O
grandmother !" said little Bertha. "How could he ever grow to be
such a bad man?"
"It
was not all at once, my child, but little by little.
You
remember the tiny seed you planted in the pot last year and how we watched it
day by day as it grew slowly. Don't you remember how it put out first one
little green leaf after another until it became a tall, strong plant?"
"Yes,
grandma, it was so small I thought it would not grow at first, but I watered
it and kept it in the sunny window, and now it's quite a big tree."
"Well,
my child, it is just so with bad habits. They grow just as fast as weeds.”
"
I will try to tell you all about it, my children, though it is a long story. I
hope you will listen thoughtfully, for poor old Joe's life story is almost the
same as that of many thousands of poor drunkards in this rum-cursed
land."
"0
grandma! are there thousands of people as miserable and wretched as this poor
man?" questioned Henri, opening his brown eyes wide ; "It doesn't
seem at all possible. I'm so sorry for them," he continued, for Henri had
a very tender heart and was full of sympathy for every one in trouble.
'"
I hope you will be sorry for them," replied grandma, "so sorry that
you will do all in your power, as long as you live, to help them to lead
better lives and to shun the very first step toward a life of intemperance and
shame; for you must not forget, my boy, that no man becomes a worthless sot in
a day or a month or even a year. In this, as in everything else, the little
things are those which count. Indeed, life is made up of little things,-
little duties neglected, little deeds undone, little burdens unborne,-
these all help to make a careless, selfish, unlovely character.
"I
remember that poor Joe was very selfish as a lad, and this most undesirable
trait grew upon him as the years went by, until finally he would not scruple
to do anything mean, or rude, or anything dishonest, if thereby he might
gratify his appetite."
"What
do you think the poor old man would have said," questioned Max,
"when he was a young boy, to have seen a picture of himself as he looked
to-day, wallowing in the mud, just like the big pig in Mr. Brown's meadow !
" and Max shuddered.
"He
would have been greatly shocked, I dare say, but I almost question whether,
then, he would have been willing to quit his selfish and gluttonous habits;
for poor Joe was a great glutton, even when a small boy," explained
grandma, "though, as I have said, he was a bright and lovable little
fellow."
"A
great glutton !" repeated Max wonderingly. "I supposed a glutton was
a person who ate too much food. I didn't think that the kind or amount of food
a person ate had anything to do with his becoming a drunkard. Does it
grandma?" And Max awaited the reply of his grandma with some anxiety, for
he was very fond of sweets and rich pastry.
"Yes,
yes, my child ; the kind and quantity of food we eat has very much to do with
the making or spoiling of our lives."
"Joe's
father and mother were good people, who tried to bring their little boy up to
control his appetite; for they were wise and prudent, and well knew the evil
effects of gluttony upon both body and soul. But they died when Joe was very
young, and left him to the care of his aunt.
"Aunt
Maggie was a good woman, but she made a great mistake in allowing Joe to eat
anything and everything he wanted, and at any time he pleased. She seemed to
forget that the stomach needs rest as well as the other parts of the body,
when we are tired."
"Isn't
that queer?" laughed Bertha. "I never thought of it in that way
before."
"Many
people either forget or do not know that this is true," continued
grandma, "and overload their poor, tired stomachs, and force them to work
when they are weary and need rest, until they become weak and wretched and
full of disease.
"Joe
was very fond of sweetmeats," continued grandma, looking hard at Max,
"but at first, he contented himself with coaxing his aunt for them. But
when he grew larger, he did not always wait to ask for candies and preserves
and rich cake. Aunt Maggie, as we called her, kept a large supply of rich and
highly seasoned food constantly on hand, and when Joe was ashamed to ask for
any more, he would manage to steal as much as he wanted from the cupboard.
This he did quite often, and it troubled me not a little," and grandma
sighed.
“Why
didn't you tell your mother or Aunt Maggie of the young rascal?"
interrupted Henri, who scorned anything like falsehood or theft.
"I
feared that he would not play with me if I did; but I have regretted my
childish thoughtlessness many times ; for perhaps if I had been more
faithful in doing what I could for him, poor Joe might not now be the
miserable wreck he is."
"Just
think of our grandmother ever wanting to play with that horrible old creature!
" exclaimed Bertha, " though of course he was not always so ; but I
can't see, yet, grandma, what all this has to do with making poor Joe a
drunkard. Will you tell us?"
"If you will be patient, my
child. It is quite a long story, and I want you to be fully impressed with its
truthfulness, and to understand me.
"One
day I went over to play with Joey, as we children used to call him. I was only
about five years old, and Joey was six. My parents thought him a good child,
and since he was the son of my father's best-loved friend, they allowed me to
play with him very often.
"Aunt
Maggie had a jar of choice preserves, and another jar of highly seasoned and
spiced pickles. These she kept in the cupboard on a high shelf, out of reach
of naughty, mischievous fingers. That day after we had become tired of our
blocks and marbles, Joey asked Aunt Maggie for a dish of preserves. She very
kindly gave us each a dish, with some bread and butter, and shortly afterward,
put on her bonnet to go down the street. She did not forget to caution us not
to get into any mischief.
"But
as soon as she was out of sight, Master Joey decided to have as many cookies
and plates of preserves as he wanted. At once he climbed into a high chair and
helped himself. I was never allowed such freedom as this at home, and in my
childish way, tried to explain to my play- fellow that it was wrong. But he
paid small heed to my words and ate until he became quite sick.
"By
this time Aunt Maggie had returned, and though poor Joey tried hard to deceive
her as to the cause of his illness, the greedy boy had quite forgotten to
wash his face, which, in his haste, had become smeared with preserves.
"Aunt
Maggie made him drink a cupful of bitter herbs, and I ran home to my
mother."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Next
day I went to see poor Joe, but he was too sick to play with me."
"I
think he must have learned a lesson by this time, ventured Bertha."
"O
no, my child, you see he has not even yet learned to control his appetite, and
it has nearly proved his ruin, and surely must unless he repents very soon,
and turns from his evil ways. Instead of learning a useful lesson from that
day's folly, his craving for sweets and rich foods seemed to grow stronger
from that time. He always called for the most highly seasoned food whenever he
would come to spend the day with me,-the
greasiest meat, the strongest pickles, the richest puddings.
"One
day at our table my mother helped him to some food. At once Joey called for
the pepper. `It is not good for you, child,' said my mother, mildly. But Joey
insisted until she allowed him to cover his food with pepper till it was quite
black. He was very indignant indeed when mother told him that she never
allowed me such highly seasoned food, and the young gentleman declared once
that if he could not have what he wanted to eat, he would go home where he
could get as much as he pleased, and that he would , a never come to play with
me again.
"O
my children! I hope you will never forget that appetite is like fire;"
and
grandma sighed ; "it is a good servant, but a bad master. You see
that in poor Joe's case it has proved master, to be a strong giant, from whose
dreadful chains he has no power to release himself."
"I
suppose," ventured Bertha, "that
he began drinking rum when he was just a little boy."
"O
no; the taste for liquor is not formed in a moment. All this time he was an
intelligent, bright, and active lad, and I liked to play with him very much.
Until he was about eight years old, be drank nothing but water or milk. But by
this time, the rich foods and spices, the pepper and the strong, fiery
pickles, with which he had so often filled his stomach, created a longing for
something stronger than milk and water to drink.
"’Come,
Aunt Maggie,' he pleaded, one day, `come ; please let me have a little taste
of your tea-just a little."'
"Of
course, he got it," said Bertha. "0 yes, and before long, he ran
slily into the pantry, and drank still another large cup. When I threatened to
tell Aunt Maggie, he only smiled and replied : ' I love it, I tell you ; it's
good! if it doesn't hurt Aunt Maggie, it won't hurt me. If it's good for
women, it's good for boys, and I shall have what I like--there now!'
"I
was a timid little girl," continued grandma, smiling gravely, "and
Joe's logic as well as his bravado rather appealed to me, and so I said
nothing. When it came time for me to go home that day, he went a little piece
with me, as was his custom:
"'I
wonder if Aunt Maggie thinks that was my first cup of tea,' reflected Joe,
turning confidentially to me, "cause if she does, she's mistaken, that's
all ; and what's more, I've got so I just hanker after it-and
good, strong coffee, too. Aunt Maggie thinks it's expensive, I guess ; but I
don't believe she thinks it hurts anybody, or she would not drink it herself.
I tell you, Jennie Brown’ -Joey
used to call me by my full name whenever he was excited,-'when
I get to be a man,-a
big man, -I'll
have what I want to eat,-I
tell you,-and
-and
-what
I want to drink, too, or I'll know the reason why,’ he added, pompously
bringing one little fist down into the palm of the other hand.
"
0 Joey, Joey!' I cried; 'you don't mean to be a horrid old drunkard !' Joe
flashed a look of defiance back at me :
"'Don't
you suppose, Jennie Brown, that I mean to be a gentleman-a
gentleman, like my father used to be?-Well,
I do, but I guess a little tea and coffee'll not hurt me any,-and
look here, sissy, I'11 tell you something if you'll never tell,' he continued,
putting his small fingers across my lips ; ' look here ; I've noticed that a
great many gentlemen smoke and chew tobacco, and just a soon as I get a
little bigger,-you
just wait !' and Joey assumed a swaggering gait, and puckering his red lips,
puffed a cloud of imaginary smoke from an imaginary pipe. Then he turned on
his heel, and called a cheery good-by to me.
"But
into my young heart had crept a vague fear that between my little playmate and
myself there would be, some day, ' a great gulf fixed ! "'
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
IT
doesn't seem a bit possible! " exclaimed Bertha, "that this awful
looking old man could have been a nice little boy,-nice
enough to ever have been my grandma's playmate!"
No,"
reflected Max, "I didn't dream that just tea and coffee ever helped to
make drunkards -very
many people surely use them both, -nice
people, too, grandma."
"But
it does not always have this effect, my dear, and we may be thankful, but it
is certainly one of the stepping tones to intemperance."
"But
I don't understand why," said Max, who always wanted to know the reason
for everything. 'Can't you tell us, grandma, why tea and coffee Lre so bad?
'Cause if they are, I'll never drink another cup of either again, as long as I
live,-for
don't want to run any risk at all of being a drunkard,-isn't
that what you say, too, Henri?'
"Indeed,
it is,-
no drunkard for me, I tell you! But may be grandma will tell us a little more
about it," and Henri put his boyish cheek close to grandpa's and gave
her two or three hearty kisses. Please tell us, grandma."
"Well,
my children, both tea and coffee contain a very deadly poison, but in so small
a quantity that we do not at once feel the evil effects."
"No,
grandma; I have often heard Mrs. Wilson, the grocer's wife, say that she could
not work until she had had her cup of tea."
"That
is because it stimulates the system," said grandma. "I will make it
plain to you. Do you remember in our walk this afternoon, we saw a cruel
driver whipping his poor horse to make him pull his heavy load up the
hill?"
"Yes,
yes ; and I felt like snatching the whip away from the wicked man," said
Henri.
"It
would have been wiser and better for him to take off a part of the load
instead of whipping his poor, patient horse. Still, you remember how much
quicker the poor beast drew his burden to the top.
"Now,
my children, tea and coffee act on the body just as the driver's whip did upon
the horse. Perhaps we can do more work at the time by drinking it, but, like
the horse, when we have done the work, we are completely exhausted, and feel
the need of more and more of the poison."
"I
just knew grandma could make it plain to you boys," smiled Bertha,-"
but I believe I understood it quite well all the time. But please go on with
the story about Joe, grandma, I want to see how it all comes out."
"Why,
my child, you saw how it came out,-saw
it all too plainly, this afternoon, when you saw poor old Joe as he reeled by
us," and grandma sighed, while a tear stole down her cheeks. "Yes,
you saw how my story must end; but I will tell you the steps which poor Joe
next took:
"When
he was about ten years old, I went over again one day to play with him. As I
have said, he was a pleasant and lively playfellow, generally good natured,
and always ready to build me playhouses and never laughed at my dolls.
"After
we had played for some time, Joey began to act uneasy. 'What's the matter,
Joey?' I asked. 'See, you are spoiling my playhouse, and it just suited me.
You act as if you didn't want to play at all; I'll go right home unless,-"`0,
don't be a silly sissy!' exclaimed Joey, 'I didn't mean to spoil your
playhouse; but, look here, Jennie Brown, I'm getting dreadful thirsty !
“Well,
then, go and get a drink of water. See, Aunt Maggie has just pumped a nice
fresh pail.
"'
See here' said Joey, ' you needn't think I'm such a sissy and ninny as to
drink water when I can get something else that's a whole lot better!'
He
winked at me very slily, and turning on his heel, he beckoned me to follow. I
was so curious to know what he was going to do, that I dropped my dolls and
scampered after him. As we passed the kitchen window, he peeped in cautiously,
to assure him self that Aunt Maggie was so busy that she would not be apt to
see him, and then he again beckoned me to follow him down the back cellar
stairs.
"'
What are you going to do, Joey?' I whispered, almost frightened at his strange
actions.
"'
Sh-sh speak lower. See ! I'm going to have a good drink of Aunt Maggie's
cider. She's been saving it for weeks and weeks to make vinegar of, -but
it's good enough to suit me, now,' he chuckled, as he produced a long straw,
and, inserting it in the hole of the barrel, took a long, deep draft, and
offered the straw to me :
"'I
tell you, it's good. Come, help yourself. It makes a fellow feel nice all
over. When I take a little bit too much, it gives me a headache, and Aunt
Maggie makes me a good, strong cup of tea,' he chuckled, 'so I don't care very
much after all.' "
"But
did you drink, grandma?" gasped Bertha.
"I
tasted it, but it was so bitter I couldn't drink it, nor did I want to do so.
Then we tip-toed back into the kitchen. Aunt Maggie gave Joe a keen glance,
but she said nothing, and we hurried out again to our play.
"’You
oughtn't to do that, Joey,' I said, looking fearlessly into his bright brown
eyes, ' I just know you ought not; what would Aunt Maggie say?'
"'It
doesn't harm her any,' he returned ; 'the old lady will have a little less
vinegar, that's all,-I
prefer my vinegar this way. I've had all I've wanted to drink for a month, and
it gets better and better, -and,
besides, I can drink a whole lot more than I could at first, and it's lots
stronger, too. After a little I guess I can drink as much as a big man and
never feel it! ' and poor Joey stretched himself to his greatest height, and
strutted about the playhouse in an exceedingly silly manner."
"Why
didn't you tell Aunt Maggie?" asked Bertha. "I would have told my
mother, at least."
"Perhaps
you would, but I was a thoughtless child, and Joey was almost the only
playmate I had, and as I was very fond of play, I suppose I kept quiet from a
selfish fear that I might be forbidden his company entirely."
WHAT'S
NEW? 