Chapter 50
"Other matters calling me away, I staid only to see this delightful little scene, and then hurried back to the Harmony House, to see if the run was kept up. Customers came in a steady stream, and crowded the bar of our worthy friend, whose heart was as light as a feather.
I saw at least half a dozen come in and sip a gla.s.s of Sub-Treasury, who I knew had not tasted liquor for months. I marked them; and shall be about their path occasionally. But the best thing of all that I saw, was a reformer break his pledge. He was, years ago, a noted drunkard, but had been a reformed man for four years. In that time he had broken up several grog-shops, by reforming all their customers, and had got, I suppose, not less than five or six hundred persons to sign the pledge. I had, of course, a particular grudge against him. It was an exceedingly warm day, and he was uncommonly thirsty. He was reading the paper, and came across the 'Sub-Treasury' advertis.e.m.e.nt.
"'Ha! ha! What is this, I wonder?' he said, laughing; some new trick of the enemy, I suppose.'
"'Look here, what is this Sub-Treasury stuff, that Graves advertises this morning?' he said, to a young fellow, a protege of mine, who was more than a match for him.
"'A kind of temperance beverage.' I put it into the fellow's head to say.
"'Temperance beverage?'
"'Yes. It's made of lemonpeel, and one stuff or other, mixed up with pounded ice. He's got a tremendous run for it. I know half a dozen teetotallers who get it regularly. I saw three or four there to-day, at one time.'
"'Indeed!'
"'It's a fact. Come, won't you go down and try a gla.s.s? It's delightful.'
"'Are you in earnest about it?'
"'Certainly I am. It's one of the most delicious drinks that has been got up this season.'
"'I don't like to be seen going into such a place.'
"'O, as to that, there is a fine back entrance leading in from another street, that no one suspects, and a private bar into the bargain. We can go in and get a drink, and n.o.body will ever see us.'
"'Well, I don't care if I do,' said the temperance man, 'for I am very dry.'
"'You're a gone gozzling, my old chap,' I said, as I saw him moving off. 'I thought I'd get you before long.' Sure enough, the moment he took the first draught his doom was sealed. His former desire for liquor came back on him with irresistible power; and before nightfall, he was so drunk that he went staggering along the street, to the chagrin and consternation of the teetotallers; but to the infinite delight of your humble servant.
"And so saying, that malignant fiend, who, while he inhabited a material body, was called old Billy Adams, stepped down from the still. Then there arose three loud and long cheers, for Graves, and his 'Sub-Treasury,' that echoed and re-echoed wildly through that gloomy prison-house.
"You're much thought of down there, you see," continued Riley, with a cold grin of irony.--"Adams says, that if this temperance movement aint stopped soon, they will
As Riley said this, he threw himself forward, and clasped his thin, bony fingers around the neck of the rum-seller, with a strong grip.
"How would you like to go now, ha?" he screamed fiercely in his ear, clenching his hand tighter and still tighter, while his hot breath melted over the face of Graves in a suffocating vapour. The struggles of the rum-seller were vigorous and terrible--but the dying man held on with a superhuman strength. Soon everything around grew confused, and though still distinctly conscious, it was a consciousness in the mind of the tavern-keeper of the agonies of death. This became so terrible to him that he resolved on one last and more vigorous effort for life. It was made, and the hands of the dying man broke loose. Instantly starting to his feet, the wretched dealer in poison for both the bodies and souls of men, found himself standing in the centre of his own parlour, with the sweat rolling from his face in large drops.
"Merciful Heaven! And is it indeed a dream?" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, panting with terror and exhaustion.
"A dream--and yet not all a dream," he added, in a few moments, in a sad, low tone.--"In league with h.e.l.l against my fellow-men! Can it indeed be true? But away! away such thoughts!"
Such thoughts, however, could not be driven away. They crowded upon his mind at every avenue, and pressed inward to the exclusion of every other idea.
"But I am not in league with evil spirits to do harm to my fellow-men. I do not wish evil to any one," he argued.
"You _are_ in such evil consociation," whispered a voice within him.
"There are but two great parties in the world--the evil and the good. No middle ground exists. You are with one of these--working for the good of your fellow-men, or for their injury. One of these great parties acts in concert with heaven, the other with h.e.l.l. On the side of one stand arrayed good spirits--on the side of the other evil spirits. Can good spirits be on your side? Would they, for the sake of gain, take the food out of the mouths of starving children?
Would they put allurements in a brother's way to entice him to ruin?
No! Only in such deeds can evil spirits take delight."
"Then I am on the side of h.e.l.l?"
"There are but two parties. You cannot be on the side of heaven, and do evil to your neighbour."
"Dreadful thought! In league with infernal spirits to curse the human race! Can it be possible Am I really in my senses?"
For nearly half an hour did Graves pace the floor backwards and forwards, his mind in a wild fever of excitement. In vain did he try, over and over again, to argue the point against the clearest and strongest convictions of reason. Look at it as he would, it all resolved itself into that one bold and startling position, that he was in league with h.e.l.l against his fellow-men.
"And now, what shall I do?" was the question that arose in his mind.
"Give up my establishment?"
At that moment, Sandy, the bar-tender, opened the parlour door, and said with a broad smile--
"The Sub-Treasury is working wonders again! I'm overrun, and want help."
"I can't come down, just now, Sandy. I'm not very well. You will have to get along the best you can," Graves replied.
"I don't know what I shall do then, sir: I can't make 'em half as fast as they are called for."
"Let half of the people go away then," was the cold reply. "I can't help you any more to-day."
Sandy thought, as he withdrew, that the "old man" must have suddenly lost his senses. He was confirmed in this idea before the next morning.
It was past twelve o'clock when the run of custom was over, and Sandy closed up for the night. As soon as this was done, Mr. Graves came in for the first time since dinner.
"It's been a glorious day for business," Sandy said, rubbing his hands. "I've taken in more, than thirty dollars. Lucifer himself must have put the idea into your head."
"No doubt he did," was the grave reply.
Sandy stared at this.
"Didn't you tell me that Bill Riley had joined the temperance society?"
"Yes, I did," replied the bar-keeper.
"Are you sure?"
"I am sure, I was told so by one that knew."
"I only wish I was certain of it," was the reply, made half abstractedly. And then the dealer leaned down upon the bar and remained in deep thought for a very long time, to the still greater surprise of Sandy, who could not comprehend what had come over his employer.
"Aint you well, Mr. Graves," he at length asked, breaking in upon the rum-seller's painful reverie.
"Well!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, rousing up with a start. "No, I am not well."
"What is the matter, sir?"
"I'm sick," was the evasive response.