No one commences business without the prospect of success. Assure a
man he will not succeed, and he will be cautious of the steps he
takes, if, indeed, he takes any.
If he does not expect to gain a princely fortune; he expects to earn
a comfortable subsistence, and, at the same time, accumulate enough
to shelter him in a rainy day, and be enabled to walk life's busy
stage in comfort and respectability, and, as occasion may demand,
relieve the wants of his less fortunate brethren.
For this all hope, yet the experience of thousands shows that few,
very few, ever realize it. On the contrary, disappointment, in its
thousand malignant forms, starts up on every hand; yet they struggle
on, and in imagination see more prosperous days in the future. Thus
they hope against hope, till the green sod covers their bodies, and
they leave their places to others, whilst the tale is told in these
few words: "They lived and died."
The next Monday the citizens were notified, by the removal of his
old sign, that Mr. Lagrange had retired from business. During the
day, many of Mr. Lagrange's customers came in, that they might
become acquainted with the successors of their old friend. To these
Messrs. Dayton and Treves were introduced, and from them received
promise of support.
A colored man, who had been for a long time in the employ of Mr.
Lagrange, was retained in the employ of the store. Ralph Orton was
his name. He having been for a long time in the store, and during
that time having had free access to the wines, had formed an
appetite for them, in consequence of which he was often intoxicated.
His inebriation was periodical, and not of that kind whose subjects
are held in continual thraldom; yet, to use his own words, "when he
was drunk, he was drunk, and no mistake." He obeyed the old
injunction of "what is worth doing is worth doing well," and as long
as he got drunk he got well drunk.
He had ofttimes been reasoned with in his days of soberness, and had
often promised to reform; but so many around him drank that he could
not resist the temptation to drink also, and therefore broke his
promise. This habit had so fastened itself upon him, that, like one
in the coil of the serpent, the more he strove to escape the closer
it held him.
If there is any one habit to which if a man becomes attached he will
find more difficulty to escape from than another, it is that of
intemperance; yet all habits are so one with our nature that the
care taken to guard against the adoption of evil ones cannot be too
great.
Behold that man! He was tempted,--he yielded. He has surrendered a
noble estate, and squandered a large fortune. Once he had riches and
friends; his eye sparkled with the fire of ambition; hope and joy
beamed in each feature of his manly countenance, and all bespoke for
him a long life and happy death. Look at him now! without a penny in
his pocket, a wretched outcast, almost dead with starvation. Habit
worked the change-an evil habit.
Perchance some one in pity may bestow a small sum upon him. Utterly
regardless of the fact that his wife and children are at home
shivering over a few expiring embers that give no warmth, without a
crumb to appease their hunger, and although he himself a moment
before believed that if aid did not come speedily he must perish, he
hastens to the nearest groggery, and, laying down his money, calls
for that which has brought upon him and his such woe.
If there is any scene upon earth over which demons joy, it must be
when that rumseller takes that money.
This propensity of Ralph's was a serious objection to him as a
servant; yet, in every other respect, he was all that could be
desired. He was honest, faithful and obliging, and, knowing as they
did that he was well acquainted with the trade of the city, and
could go directly to the houses of Mr. Lagrange's customers, Messrs.
Dayton and Treves were induced to have him remain.
At the end of a month, Edward found himself in prosperous
circumstances, and wrote to his old village friends of the fact.
They, as a matter in course, were overjoyed in the reception of such
intelligence, and no one more so than Emily Lawton.
Edward had entered into a business in which temptations of a
peculiar nature gathered about him. Like nearly every one in those
days, he had no scruples against the use of wine. He thought no
danger was associated with its use; and, as an objection against
that would clash with the interests of his own pecuniary affairs, he
would be the last to raise it. In dealing forth to others, how
strong came the temptation to deal it to himself! Othro drank, and
pronounced a certain kind of wine a great luxury. Edward could not
(or, at least, so he thought) do otherwise; and so he drank, and
pronounced the same judgment upon it.
"What say you for an evening at the theatre?" said Othro, one
evening, as they were passing from their place of business, having
left it in care of their servants. "At the Gladiate the play is
'Hamlet,' and Mr. Figaro, from the old Drury, appears."
Edward had been educated in strict puritanic style, and had been
taught to consider the theatre as a den of iniquity. It is not our
purpose to defend or oppose this opinion. It was his, and he freely
expressed it. In fact, his partner knew it to be such before making
the request.
"I suppose," said Mr. Treves, "you oppose the theatre on account of
the intoxicating drinks sold there. Now, I am for a social drop
occasionally. Edward, a glass of pure 'Cogniac,' a nice cigar, and a
seat in front of a grate of blazing coal, and I'll be joyful."
"You may be joyful, then," replied Mr. Dayton; "but your joy might
be changed to grief, and your buoyancy of spirit be turned to
sadness of heart."
"Indeed, Edward! Quite a lecture, I declare! Been studying theology,
eh?"
"Not so; you are mistaken, Othro," said he. "There," he continued,
pointing to a reeling sot that passed them, "ask that man where he
first went for joy, and he may tell you of the theatre, or of social
glasses of brandy, cigars, and such like."
They had now arrived in front of the "Gladiate," a massive stone
structure, most brilliantly illuminated. Long rows of carriages
stood in front, and crowds of the gay and fashionable were flocking
in.
All was activity. Hackmen snapped their whips. Boys, ragged and
dirty, were waiting for the time when "checks" would circulate, and,
in fact, were in much need of checks, but those of a different
nature from those they so eagerly looked for.
Anon, the crowd gathered closer; and the prospect of a fight put the
boys in hysterics of delight, and their rags into great commotion.
To their sorrow, it was but the shadow of a "row"; and they kicked
and cuffed each other, in order to express their grief.
A large poster announced in flaming characters that that night was
the last but two of Mr. Figaro's appearance, and that other
engagements would prevent him from prolonging his stay, however much
the public might desire him to do so; whilst, if the, truth had been
told, the public would have known that a printer was that moment
"working off" other posters, announcing a re‰ngagement of Mr. Figaro
for two weeks.
"Will you enter?" inquired Othro. Edward desired to be excused, and
they parted; one entering the theatre, the other repairing to his
home.