OLD JOE, THE DRUNKARD PART TWO
IT
doesn't seem possible,-I
declare it doesn't!" exclaimed Henri, "that anybody could ever have
cared to be near that horrid old man,-least
of all, our nice, sweet grandma. "But
you must not forget that he was not always horrid. He was as fair and bright
then, as you are, Max. “And
I tell you, my children, if you are ever led to follow in his steps, and form
the appetite for strong drink which he did, you would not be one whit better in
appearance or condition in a few years than old Joe is to-day. It may well make
you shudder, my boy, but I tell you the truth, and I only hope you will keep the
object lesson which you have learned to-day always before you. "I
did not dream, at this time, any more than poor Joe, what this would lead to. "A
few days after this," continued grandma, "his aunt sent him to our
house to do an errand for her, and told him he might stay half an hour. After a
little, while we were quietly playing, I noticed that Joey began acting
strangely. When he tried to talk, his tongue seemed thick, and his eyes were red
and dull. "`What's
the matter, Joey?' I asked, in real alarm, for I had never seen any one act so
before. ""Nothin'
smatter. Little too much Aunt Magsh spider. Bezzer go home now,' and poor Joe
walked unsteadily down the lane to the road. But even then it did not occur to
me that my little playmate was actually a trifle drunk. I only thought he was
trying to plague me, or was possibly a little sick, so I didn't mention it.
But the very next week I was sent to Aunt Maggie's to borrow a pattern. When I
asked for Joey, she said she guessed be was around somewhere, she didn't know
where, she hadn't seen him all the morning. "Of
course, I scampered off to find him, for I wanted to spend the precious hour
that mother had allotted me in which to play with Joey, in repairing our latest
playhouse. "'Joey
I Joey 1' I called. ' Come quick ! For I can't stay very long. Come and let's
mend the playhouse !' "But
there was no answer. I called again and again. It took me a long time to find
him, but at last, just as I was getting a little frightened, I turned around a
corner of the old barn, and there, leaning against the corncrib, with his round
face quite white, was Master Joey, sucking away bravely on an old clay pipe
which we had often used to blow soap bubbles with. "The
smell of the tobacco smoke was quite strong, so I knew at once what my poor
young friend was attempting to do. I had heard my father say that smoking was a
very bad habit, and the smell of the nasty suff made me feel sick, myself, for I
was not accustomed to it. "When
Joe saw that be was fairly caught, he tried to put on an air of great
importance, and began stuffing more of the vile tobacco into his pipe; but I
could see that his hand trembled so that he could hardly hold the pipe. "'
Why, Joe Brandon !' I exclaimed, now fairly aroused. 'I'll tell Aunt Maggie,
there now,--I declare, I will! ' and I started toward the house. "'Comeback,
I tell you ! I wouldn't be a little telltale!’ shouted Joey, though his voice
sounded weak and strange. 'You just march back here, Miss Tattler, or I'll never
build you another playhouse as long as I live, or play with you another
minute. Every single time a fellow wants to have a little fun, then you begin to
threaten to tell Aunt Maggie ! As much as I've done for you,-and
as many playhouses as I've made for you ! Never you mind, Miss Tattler, it's the
last-the
very last! ' "My
children, I am ashamed to say I hung my head and slowly sauntered back ; but I
felt guilty. "Joe
tried to laugh boisterously, as he saw me coming back, and though he was really
a kindhearted boy, he began to mock me, and threatened to tell my mother that
I had stolen the tobacco from the grocery for him. "`But
you know that isn't true, Joe Brandon! ' I protested with trembling voice, for
it was the first quarrel we had ever had. "'
I'm no sissy boy, I'll have you understand, Miss Jennie Brown ! Lots of the best
and richest men in town smoke. Even the new minister smokes cigars, for I saw
him, and I'm going to smoke, too. It's no worse for me than it is for them. So
there ! I guess you'll hold your tongue now, Miss Jennie Brown!"' "Why,
grandma!" exclaimed Henri ; "he was surely very impolite, for a boy
who was trying so hard to be a man. He deserved a good flogging ; if I'd been
there, I never would have allowed him to speak like that to my grandma." "Surely
Joe must have been a bad boy. Did he ever talk to you like that before?"
asked Bertha, whose face had grown very red. "O
no, Bertha; but you see one cannot expect much from a glutton or an intemperate
person. And poor Joe had been a glutton so long and had taxed his weak stomach
so many years with rich food, and stimulating tea and coffee, pepper and spices,
that all this began to be felt in his nervous system, and led to all sorts of
evil ; until, when he was only ten years old, he had such a craving for
something strong and exciting that he began learning the tabacco habit. The
Bible says truly that none can bring a clean thing out of an unclean. So, how
could sweet and gentle words come from lips through which passed so much
calculated to destroy and break down the body and ruin the nervous system?" "Did
Aunt Maggie find it out at last?" questioned Max. "O
yes; I will tell you about it; finally after Joe had smoked his pipe out, I said
to him, ' come, now; my hour is almost up, and I've been waiting for you all
this time. I hope you are ready to come with me now and fix our new playhouse.'
Then I turned to look at Joe. I tell you, children, I was frightened this time
and no mistake. The poor lad's eyes were turned up and rolling wildly in their
sockets. His cheeks were as white. as marble and his lips were purple
and drawn ; his hands were clenched, and he rolled down like a log by the side
of the straw stack. Still he groaned, 'don't you tell Aunt Maggie-no, no!'
“'I
must! I must! I guess you are going to die, Joey, I must call her! I can't let
you die here, all alone! ' But
all poor Joe could do was just to curl up in a heap, and snarl, ' Tattle,
tattle!’ between groans. "
I was just deciding to run home and leave him to his fate, for surely I thought
him dying, when I looked up, and there stood Aunt Maggie. She took in the
situation at a glance. She had begun to worry about Joe's being gone so long,
and had started out to find us. "There,
by the side of the sick and spueing lad, lay the old pipe, the cause of all the
mischief. The good lady was terribly disgusted, besides being considerably
frightened. For a moment she did not speak, though her lips trembled ; I was the
first to scream : "'
O Aunt Maggie! he'll die, won't he?' "'
Die?-No
; but may be it would be better in the end if he should, before he breaks all
our hearts.' "Aunt
Maggie was large and strong, and I had always thought her too stouthearted to
cry, but something very much like a sob broke from her trembling lips, as she
said, not unkindly, kneeling by the side of the sick boy, and putting his damp
head in her motherly arms: "'Joe,
lad, I've been thinking all wasn't right with you of late. I've been missing the
hard cider in the cellar, and I've thought you acted strange. No wonder. Now,
Joe, if this doesn't kill you, you must stop it at once. Where did you get the
stuff?' "'I'll
not tell you ! I'll die first! ' groaned Joe. "That's
all I heard," continued grandma, "for I turned on my heel, and ran
just as fast as my little feet could fly, nor stopped until I reached home, a
very frightened and a very breathless little girl." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ BUT
Aunt Maggie insisted upon knowing where Joe got the tobacco," said grandma,
"and how he obtained the the money for buying it ; for she found some of
the nasty stuff hidden away in his room that same day. So,
at supper, she again asked him to tell her the truth, and begged him to hide
nothing from her. Aunt Maggie told my mother all about it afterward. She said
that Joey had been doing errands for the grocer, Mr. Green, for some time, and
that he had never brought home any money, and that now Joey declared that he had
taken his pay in tobacco, because Mr. Green refused to pay him in any other
way." "That
wasn't true, I dare say," reflected Max. "Was it, grandmother?" "No,
indeed. When Mr. Green found out about it, he said that he had paid the boy the
money for all that he had done, and that he had not only not given him any
tobacco, but that he did not keep it for sale at all in his shop. He said that
as he knew it to be harmful, he had decided not to sell the stuff. So poor Aunt
Maggie saw at once that Joey had added to his other sins, those of falsehood and
deceit." "Why,
grandma," ventured Bertha, "I should think you would not have wanted
to play with him any more, when you saw what a bad, deceitful boy he was." "No,
I did not play with him any more. My father at once forebade that, and in a few
weeks Aunt Maggie moved away. Of course, I missed my old playfellow, but I did
not see him again in a long time," continued grandma. "My mother saw
Aunt Maggie after they had been gone about a year, and mother said that she
never saw such a sad change in any one before. The poor old lady's hair had
grown quite white, and her face was pale and careworn." "I
dare say that bad, ungrateful boy vexed her so that she had no peace,"
continued Bertha. "Yes,
yes," sighed grandma, "my mother said there were tears in Aunt
Maggie's eyes as she told her that poor Joe was going to ruin as fast as he
could, and that already she found it quite impossible to control him. "Finally,
one day about three or four years after this, my father had occasion to pass
through the town where Joey lived, and I went with him. I rather hoped we would
not see Joe, for I knew that the meeting would be only painful ; for you will
remember that by this time I bad grown to be a large girl,-quite a young lady,
in fact, and Joe was a year older." "Did
Joe know you were coming?" asked Henri. "O, no, or surely I do not
think I should have found him in the place where he was." "Maybe
he wouldn't have cared after all," ventured Max. "O,
yes, he would, I am sure; for he was naturally a very proud lad, fond of show,
and always anxious to make a good impression upon his friends. But you see, he
didn't know we were coming, and so as father and I were passing the door of one
of the many saloons which cursed the little town, there stood my old playfellow,
among a crowd of young toughs, just in the act of lighting his pipe, and taking
dreadful lessons in beer dinking and profanity. O you can't think how badly I
felt." "What
did he say then, grandma? Wasn't he very much ashamed?" asked Bertha. "Perhaps
so. He stood close outside, by the door, and I called to him just as he was
stepping inside. At first he pretended not to hear me, but it seemed to me that
I could not let him enter that awful place ; and so I ventured to call his name
once more, louder than before. He could hardly refuse, then, to come back and
speak to me. Just as he did so, an old man came out, staggering and spueing as
he came. The man was quite well dressed, for this was one of the better saloons
; but the poor man's face was red and bloated and looked much like old Joe's
to-day. "I
could see that my young friend was considerably ashamed, but he tried by
falsehood and deceit, and by putting on a bold front, to excuse the fact of his
being in such a place. "'Fact
is, Mr. Brown,' he said, addressing my father, ' I was in there just doing an
errand for Aunt Maggie. She wanted some alcohol for her camphor, and of course,
she wouldn't go, so she coaxed me. I don't like these rough fellows, myself,
Jennie,' he continued blandly. 'You know I never did. Didn't we have some jolly
times in the old days though?' and I fancied," continued grandma,
"that I could see a shade of real regret in his expressive brown eyes. O I
felt so sorry for him! "'
Poor Joe!' I said, ' Aunt Maggie might a great deal better have gone without her
camphor, than to send you into a saloon among those awful spueing men. Really,
Joey,' I questioned in an undertone, 'did Aunt Maggie actually and truly send
you?' "'
O you're just like you used to be, Jennie,' said he, laughing lightly, but I
could see that my question made him wince. 'Of course she sent me, I have to
mind Aunt Maggie, don't you see? ' "Finally,
before I left him, I had made him promise solemnly that he would keep away from
the saloons and never touch another glass of beer as long as he lived." "Then
he owned up, did he?" questioned Max. "Yes,
for he must have known on second thought, that his wretched falsehood about Aunt
Maggie's sending him into a saloon was too foolish to be believed." "Well,
anyway," sighed Bertha, "the poor boy didn't keep his promise to you,
grandma, or we would not have seen him in the gutter to-day." “Oh
no, my dear ; but it was all I could do, and perhaps it did affect him for good
for a little while; for though he was weak and foolish and had, by this time,
acquired a great love for the fatal cup, yet he had great respect for my father,
and also entertained a strong feeling of freindship for me. Still, it took me
some time to get him to make the promise. "You're
asking a great deal of me, Jennie,' he said, `seems to me you're pretty hard on
a fellow, but I'll
promise, of course. Though you ought to know me well enough to be
perfectly assured that I would have too much sense to drink enough to do me any
harm. Just a social glass now and again, that's all,-couldn't
possibly do me a bit of harm. I flatter myself I'm too much of a gentleman not
to know enough to quit when I've had plenty. Of course some people can't do it,
but I am my father's son, Miss Jennie, and they say that he was a gentleman! '
and the poor, misguided lad straightened himself very proudly and glanced at my
father as though hoping he would approve his logic." "What
did your father say, grandma," queried Henri. "He
only smiled sadly at the self-conceited
young lad and said: "’I used to know and love your father, Joe, he was
a true gentleman, and one of my dearest friends,-indeed,
he was too much of a gentleman to allow anything that could intoxicate to pass
his lips. I only wish you would follow in his steps.' "This
sort of thing was not to Joe's liking one bit" continued grandma, "and
he soon made an excuse to part company from us. He turned down another street,
and it was nearly five years before I saw him again. Meanwhile, his heartbroken
aunt, who had been to him both father and mother, was doing all in her power to
save him. “’I
can't imagine whom the boy takes after,' she often said to my mother. 'None of
his people ever drank, and his father was a gentleman.' But the poor woman did
not realize that he had formed the love for strong drink right at home in her
own pantry and cellar. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “AS
I said, it was almost five years before I saw Joe Brandon again. He was then a
young man of very fascinating manners, handsome, and attractive. But he was
already becoming so idle and vicious that no one dared trust him, and although
his face was handsome, his follies and intemperate habits had stamped themselves
upon it, until they had given him a certain reckless air that was far from
agreeable,-still-" "O
grandma 1" interrupted Bertha, with an expression of incredulity,
"it can't be possible that old Joe ever had a grain of good looks. Why I
his face is actually hideous and disgusting, and so bloated that I could
scarcely see his eyes; and, grandma, it was horrible, horrible! his long, yellow
beard was covered with vomit, and-O
grandma ! how could he ever have been attractive?" and Bertha shuddered. "I
tell you, my dear," explained grandma, "there is nothing on earth that
is so brutalizing and degrading in its effect upon the human system as strong
drink. It is the devil's own weapon, and with it, he succeeds too often in
bringing his poor, duped victims far below the level of the brutes. "About
this time Joe became acquainted with a beautiful young girl, the daughter of a
merchant who lived in the city, where Joe now had his home. "Meanwhile,
good Aunt Maggie had died, leaving Joe the little remnant of property which she
had. This was soon spent, of course, in folly and dissipation by the poor
prodigal. "But
tell me about the pretty young girl," persuaded Bertha. "Her
name was Martha Grey," replied grandma, "and all too soon the reckless
and dissipated young man succeeded in winning her heart, for, as I told you, he
was handsome and kind-hearted ; although he possessed a high opinion of his own
good looks and capabilities. "He
had attended school a good deal, and was no mean student, and after a time he
began the study of law. He might have succeeded well in this, his chosen
profession, had he been diligent and persevering; but his old enemy, appetite,
was constantly upon his track, and it was not long before he lost his
practice, because nobody wanted to employ a drunken lawyer. After he had been
seen reeling down the street a few times, he soon found himself without
clients." "But,
grandma," protested Bertha, "I don't see how he could have kept all
this hidden from poor Martha Grey." "Ah,
he could not,-though
he tried hard enough to do so, for Mr. Grey, Martha's father, was very much
opposed to strong drink. But one day Joe so far forgot himself as to enter Mr.
Grey's store quite intoxicated. Of course, the merchant was very much displeased
and disgusted and forbade the young man ever to visit his daughter again. Still,
I am sorry to say, Martha insisted upon meeting Joe, and still accepted his
company." "Why
didn't you go and talk with her, grandma?" suggested Henri, "maybe you
could have persuaded her, even if her father could not; she must have been a
silly young lady, I'm sure." “OH
my dear boy! "exclaimed grandma. "If you had known Martha Grey, you
could not have said that. No; she was a beautiful girl, but a most mistaken
one," and grandma sighed. "I went to visit her, myself, many times,
and most earnestly did I try to persuade her to quit the company of this
reckless and dissipated young man. Poor Martha's face would turn very pale as
I talked with her, but her voice was low and decided as she replied: "'I
know you think him very bad, dear friend, but poor Joseph is not altogether so,
and he has promised me to quit his cups entirely, and I am sure he will. I think
it is my mission to make a good man of Joe,-to
reform him, in fact, and I believe I can do it, at least, I mean to try.' So in
spite of all that I could do, and in spite of the efforts of her father, and
many interested friends, she ran away from home and married the poor
drunkard." "Didn't
Joe behave himself any better then?" asked Henri. "Better?-no,
no ; and from that moment, the fate of the poor, mistaken girl was sealed. To be
sure, her wretched husband would have periods of repenting, and spend days and
nights of misery and remorse, but the demon which he had entertained and fed so
many long years was not to be easily banished." "Did
Mr. Grey ever forgive his daughter and take her home again?" queried
Bertha, her blue eyes full of tears, "O, I hope so, grandma." "Mr.
Grey was a kind father, and he loved his daughter very tenderly. So, after a
while he went to see Joe, and invited him to take a position as clerk in his
store. The poor fellow was only too glad to accept the kind offer, and promised
most faithfully to reform. Of course, his devoted wife was much encouraged, and
for a time all went well. "But,
my children," continued grandma, "there is nothing but the power of
Christ, which can lay hold of the victim of rum, and stand him upon his feet and
keep him from falling. But for this wonderful power, poor Joe had never asked. "Still
he struggled in his own strength,struggled most pitifully, to break the strong
bands which bound him,-struggled
vainly as poor Samson did when he was shorn of his strength. But it was only a
few weeks before poor Joe had fallen again. Some of his old companions, jealous
of his success and altered circumstances, determined to compass his ruin. "Come
in, Joe, man, come in and take a glass with your old friends,' they called one
day as he was passing a saloon where he had so lately been a drunken idler. Joe
had not the courage to refuse, for there was nothing so dreaded by him as to
have it said that he was tied to a woman's apron string." "O,
I'm so sorry!" exclaimed Bertha, for she was a very sympathetic little
girl. "Of course, the foolish man went into the saloon." “Indeed,
he did, and when he came out again, his drunken legs would scarcely carry him
home." "Did
his father-in-law send him away now? I'm very sure I should," reflected Max
stoutly. "I would not have a drunken man about." "I
am glad to know that you hate strong drink, my lad," replied grandma,
placing her hand kindly upon his head, "but we must none of us forget that
Christ died for all, even the poor drunkard, and we should pity, and do all we
can for him. Yes, Mr. Grey forgave him and took him back, not only this time,
but many times afterward, until finally after a few years, his poor wife,
beautiful Martha Grey, died heartbroken and wretched. "Then
Joe went away, and after a time he went to sea. Finally, after many years, he
became the wretched, drunken outcast whom you saw to-day. "Now
children, I have told you the story of poor old Joe, and I want you to learn
this verse, which is one of the proverbs of Solomon, the wise man: "'For
the drunkard and the glutton shall come to poverty ; and drowsiness shall clothe
a man with rags."' |
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