DANGER;
OR, WOUNDED IN THE HOUSE OF A FRIEND.
BY T. S. ARTHUR,
AUTHOR OF "THREE YEARS IN A MAN-TRAP," "CAST ADRIFT," "TEN NIGHTS IN
A BAR-ROOM," ETC., ETC.
PHILADELPHIA, CINCINNATI, CHICAGO, ST. LOUIS AND SAN FRANCISCO.
1875
PREFACE.
ALL efforts at eradicating evil must, to be successful, begin as
near the beginning as possible. It is easier to destroy a weed when
but an inch above the ground than after it has attained a rank
growth and set its hundred rootlets in the soil. Better if the evil
seed were not sown at all; better if the ground received only good
seed into its fertile bosom. How much richer and sweeter the
harvest!
Bars and drinking-saloons are, in reality, not so much the causes as
the effects of intemperance. The chief causes lie back of these, and
are to be found in our homes. Bars and drinking-saloons minister to,
stimulate and increase the appetite already formed, and give
accelerated speed to those whose feet have begun to move along the
road to ruin.
In "THREE YEARS IN A MAN-TRAP" the author of this volume uncovered
the terrible evils of the liquor traffic; in this, he goes deeper,
and unveils the more hidden sources of that widespread ruin which is
cursing our land. From the public licensed saloon, where liquor is
sold to men--not to boys, except in violation of law--he turns to
the private home saloon, where it is given away in unstinted measure
to guests of both sexes and of all ages, and seeks to show in a
series of swiftly-moving panoramic scenes the dreadful consequences
that flow therefrom.
This book is meant by the author to be a startling cry of "DANGER!"
Different from "THE MAN-TRAP," as dealing with another aspect of the
temperance question, its pictures are wholly unlike those presented
in that book, but none the less vivid or intense. It is given as an
argument against what is called the temperate use of liquor, and as
an exhibition of the fearful disasters that flow from our social
drinking customs. In making this argument and exhibition the author
has given his best effort to the work.
WOUNDED IN THE HOUSE OF A FRIEND.
CHAPTER I.
SNOW had been falling for more than three hours, the large flakes
dropping silently through the still air until the earth was covered
with an even carpet many inches in depth.
It was past midnight. The air, which had been so still, was growing
restless and beginning to whirl the snow into eddies and drive it
about in an angry kind of way, whistling around sharp corners and
rattling every loose sign and shutter upon which it could lay its
invisible hands.
In front of an elegant residence stood half a dozen carriages. The
glare of light from hall and windows and the sound of music and
dancing told of a festival within. The door opened, and a group of
young girls, wrapped in shawls and waterproofs, came out and ran,
merrily laughing, across the snow-covered pavement, and crowding
into one of the carriages, were driven off at a rapid speed.
Following them came a young man on whose lip and cheeks the downy
beard had scarcely thrown a shadow. The strong light of the
vestibule lamp fell upon a handsome face, but it wore an unnatural
flush.
There was an unsteadiness about his movements as he descended the
marble steps, and he grasped the iron railing like one in danger of
falling. A waiter who had followed him to the door stood looking at
him with a half-pitying, half-amused expression on his face as he
went off, staggering through the blinding drift.
The storm was one of the fiercest of the season, and the air since
midnight had become intensely cold. The snow fell no longer in soft
and filmy flakes, but in small hard pellets that cut like sand and
sifted in through every crack and crevice against which the wild
winds drove it.
The young man--boy, we might better say, for, he was only
nineteen--moved off in the very teeth of this storm, the small
granules of ice smiting him in the face and taking his breath. The
wind set itself against him with wide obstructing arms, and he
reeled, staggered and plunged forward or from side to side, in a
sort of blind desperation.
"Ugh!" he ejaculated, catching his breath and standing still as a
fierce blast struck him. Then, shaking himself like one trying to
cast aside an impediment, he moved forward with quicker steps, and
kept onward, for a distance of two or three blocks. Here, in
crossing a street, his foot struck against some obstruction which
the snow had concealed, and he fell with his face downward. It took
some time for him to struggle to his feet again, and then he seemed
to be in a state of complete bewilderment, for he started along one
street, going for a short distance, and then crossing back and going
in an opposite direction. He was in no condition to get right after
once going wrong. With every few steps he would stop and look up and
down the street and at the houses on each side vainly trying to make
out his locality.
"Police!" he cried two or three times; but the faint, alarmed call
reached no ear of nightly guardian. Then, with a shiver as the storm
swept down upon him more angrily, he started forward again, going he
knew not whither.
The cold benumbed him; the snow choked and blinded him; fear and
anxiety, so far as he was capable of feeling them, bewildered and
oppressed him. A helmless ship in storm and darkness was in no more
pitiable condition than this poor lad.
On, on he went, falling sometimes, but struggling to his feet again
and blindly moving forward. All at once he came out from the narrow
rows of houses and stood on the edge of what seemed a great white
field that stretched away level as a floor. Onward a few paces, and
then--Alas for the waiting mother at home! She did not hear the cry
of terror that cut the stormy air and lost itself in the louder
shriek of the tempest as her son went over the treacherous line of
snow and dropped, with a quick plunge, into the river, sinking
instantly out of sight, for the tide was up and the ice broken and
drifting close to the water's edge.