ARRIVAL IN CANADA: A FRIENDLY HOST APPLIES FOR A SITUATION.
It was a beautiful morning when the boat landed at the picturesque
little Canadian town of L----. The first that Ashton knew of the
arrival was when he was awakened from his drunken stupor by being
violently shaken by Ginsling; and, as he gained consciousness, he
heard that worthy saying, with a subdued voice: "Come, wake up,
Ashton, for we are again on British soil. Why, is not that strain
enough to cause any true Briton to rise from the dead?"
He was at last aroused, and his first sensation was that he had a
terrible pain in his head, a horrible thirst, and a certain vague
realization that he heard the strains of "Rule Britannia." He
staggered out to the bar, for he felt he must soon have a drink,
or he could not live. Ginsling also stepped up without being
invited; for that worthy could not righteously be charged with too
much modesty, as he never was backward in helping himself at a
friend's expense.
They immediately, after securing their luggage, stepped out upon
the wharf, where there was a large crowd gathered, listening to
the music of a band--each member of which was dressed in the garb
of a British soldier--as it played patriotic airs, such as "Rule
Britannia," "God Save the Queen," etc. The reason of this
manifestation of patriotism will be readily understood when we
inform the reader that it was the Queen's Birthday.
Ashton, for a moment or two, almost thought he was back in Old
England again, and he was so carried away by the grand old airs
that if a recruiting sergeant had presented himself just then he
might have taken a step in haste of which he would have repented
at leisure.
"Come, Ashton, don't stand there in that daft fashion, or the
Canucks will imagine you are one of the irresponsibles who lately
arrived in New York from Europe, and that the cute Yankees have
quietly shipped you over to John Bull's domains."
He was aroused by the voice of Ginsling out of his day-dream to
realize that several cabbies were exerting the utmost of their
lung power in crying up the merits of their respective hotels.
"British American, sir--the best house in town. Won't cost you a
cent to ride there, sir."
"Don't you believe that fellow," shouted another. "Come to the
Tarlton; it is the only house in town which is fit to kape a
gentleman like you, sir." And then several others shouted out in
full chorus, each endeavoring to say something more witty than the
other; and if push, rough bantering wit, and imperturbable good
nature could secure success, certainly each would have had a bus
full.
But Ashton had caught the name "British American," and as he, just
then, was feeling intensely loyal, he determined to put up there,
and he intimated to the runner his resolution. Ginsling, who was
waiting for him to decide, jumped aboard also, and they were soon
quartered at the aforementioned hotel, which they found, if not of
the very highest grade, at least eminently respectable. The
charges, also, were exceedingly moderate.
The room he had given to him looked out upon the blue waters of
noble Ontario, which swept far away to the south, until it laved
the shores he had left but a few hours before--a land now
associated in his mind with so much of happiness and of misery,
and which yet contained those who were inexpressibly dear to him.
He had no sooner secured a room than he sat down to write a note
to Ruth; for, demoralized as he was, he did not forget his
promise. He found, however, that his head was in a perfect whirl,
and that his hand was so unsteady as to make the accomplishment of
the task almost an impossibility; but he managed, in an almost
illegible scrawl, to inform her of his safe arrival. He asked her
to excuse the brevity of his communication, as he was still
suffering from the effects of his stormy voyage across the lake,
which had shattered, for the time being, his nervous system. He
ended by sending his love to her and the children, and asking her
to write immediately, as he was anxious to hear from his darlings
at home.
The next two weeks were passed in continuous drunkenness. He would
awaken each morning feeling, as those who have passed through the
ordeal say has to be experienced in order to have the faintest
idea of what it is; his lips and throat were as dry as withered
leaves; his brain seemed on fire, and his bloodshot eyes, gleaming
out from his pale, emaciated face, appeared as though they might
have belonged to one of Canada's dark-visaged aborigines in the
savage state rather than to their present intellectual, though
dissipated, owner.
In his sober moments he would think of his wife and children, and
there was in the thought a mingling of shame and agony which
almost drove him wild; then he would remember the purport of his
journey, for which he had not yet made the slightest endeavor; and
when, on examination, he found his stock of money was almost gone,
and that he would soon have either to secure a situation or be a
penniless vagrant in a strange land, it added to his despair.
"I say, Mr. Ashton," said the polite landlord of the hotel one
morning, as he was about to take his first drink, "did you not
give me to understand you were looking for a situation in some dry
goods or clothing establishment?"
"Yes, Mr. Rumsey, that is what I am after; but God knows how I
will succeed; for I have done nothing, nor am I, as I am now, in a
fit state to do anything; for who would engage such a wretch as I
am?"
Rumsey pitied him; for he was a man who was too good for the
business in which he was engaged.
"I will give you a light glass, Ashton," he said; "but you must
sober off. I like you, and therefore will not let you kill
yourself with drink at this establishment; so for your sake, and
also to keep up the reputation of my house, I must limit you to-day
to two more glasses. And if you will excuse me for presuming
to interfere with your business, I would advise you to cut the
acquaintance of that precious companion of yours. I gave him a bit
of my mind last night, and told him pretty emphatically what I
thought of him. Why, man, have you entirely lost possession of
your senses, to let a leech like that loafer drain you dry? I will
give you this drink now, one after breakfast, and one after
dinner; then you must eat something, for I do not believe that
during the last three days you have taken enough to keep a pigeon
alive. If you find that in trying to sober off you are likely to
be sick, I will send for the doctor, and he will help you through.
You told me you were a married man; for the sake of your wife and
children you must get over this spree."
Ashton took the proffered glass with his hand shaking as if he had
the ague, and with the eagerness of one who was perishing for want
of a drink.
"Oh, landlord," he said, "that was only a taste; I must have more.
Do, please, give me more."
"No, sir, not a drop," said Mr. Rumsey, with considerable
sternness. "If you must have it, you will have to go to some other
house to get it. I am not willing to be in any way responsible for
what is sure to follow. Come, now, and have some breakfast--a bit
of toast, a poached egg--and be yourself; for I want to become
acquainted with the _bona fide_ Mr. Ashton. I have not met
him yet; you have not been sober since you came here."
"Well, sir, I will take your advice; and there is one who, when I
tell her, will thank you, as I cannot. She has not a very high
opinion of your guild, and she has strong reason not to have. God
help me--how am I to get over this?"
"Well, Mr. Ashton, if others would stop selling liquor, I would
willingly never sell another glass, for I could live comfortably
here on the income I derive from the travelling public and my
summer guests; for, to tell you the truth, I don't like the
business, especially when I see its effects as exhibited in cases
like your own; but while others sell I must, or I would lose my
business. It is a case of self-preservation, and you know that
'self-preservation is the first law of nature.'"
"Or, in other words," said Ashton, "'every man for himself, and
Satan take the hindmost.'"
Ashton made the trial, and, though he had to pass through the
fiery ordeal of intense suffering, yet, aided by the judicious
treatment of his host, he was brought safely through.
He had, in the meantime, received a letter from his wife, and each
of his children, breathing out love to him. Each one expressing
the deepest anxiety as to the nature and result of his illness,
and praying that he would soon be back with those who loved him so
truly.
"Ashton," said Mr. Rumsey, his host, one morning, "this is the
thing which will just suit you, if you can secure it," and he
handed a copy of the _Daily Globe_ to Ashton, at the same
time pointing to an advertisement which read as follows: "A good
managing clerk wanted for a dry goods and clothing establishment
in the town of Bayton. He must be a man of matured experience.
Apply Box 152, Post Office."
"That will just suit me," said Ashton. "What is the distance to
Bayton?"
"About ninety miles. I suppose you think of applying personally? I
should advise you by all means to do so."
Ashton immediately set about making the necessary preparation, and
next morning started for the above-mentioned town, upon which
journey we will leave him for the present.