There is in a pleasant part of the Old Dominion, a thrifty village
named Goodcheer. The inhabitants, from the first settlement of the
place, were kind, and bland, and social. Indeed many of them went
further. They jested, they fiddled, they danced, they sang songs, they
played at cards, they drank wine, they frolicked. Yet was there among
them a strong and steady current of public opinion against acts of
very low and gross meanness or depravity. They were not liars, or
thieves, or swindlers, or rakes.
In this village lived Gregory Griffith, the tanner, whose industry and
probity earned for him a respectability and an independence rivalled
by none except the old patriarch of the village, more generally known
by the name of the Major. Gregory had married the eldest daughter of
old farmer Ryefield, a woman well suited to make him happy. Her
disposition was easy, and her habits industrious and economical. They
were a bonny couple.
"The day moved swiftly o'er their heads,
Made up of innocence and love."
Fourteen months after their marriage, their first born son, a lovely
child, smiled in the face of his parents. Him they called Grayson. Nor
was he the only pledge of their love. They alternately rejoiced over a
daughter and a son, until their quiver was full, having four sons and
three lovely daughters. The death of their second child, who bore her
mother's name, had in the fourth year of their marriage, wrung the
bleeding hearts of these parents, and chastened their feelings to
sober thinking. Between their first born and their third child lay an
interval of nearly five years--a period which Mr. and Mrs. Griffith
always spoke of with deep emotion.
Grayson, in his childhood, had but feeble health--a circumstance which
secured to him very indulgent treatment. This indulgence rose to
excess after the death of the lovely Martha, his little sister. So
soon after the death of the daughter, as the gay villagers could with
propriety, they planned a general meeting at Mr. Griffith's. They
came, and after some time spent in sober enjoyment, a game of whist
was proposed. The proposal sensibly affected Mrs. Griffith. She seemed
to feel that it was too soon after her babe's death. The tears started
in her eyes, and she sought a place to weep. She went to her toilet
and bathed her face, and returned with an air of constrained
cheerfulness. Meanwhile Mr. Griffith had taken his seat with a second
company who were playing loo. Before Martha's death, Grayson had been
regularly carried to the nursery, as the sun threw his lowest and
latest beams on the summit of a hill in sight from the portico. But
after the death of his sister, he was encouraged to spend the evening
with his parents; and when overcome by sleep, his cradle and his
pillow were the bosom and the lap of parental fondness. And when
company was present, he was often awake until a late hour. On this
evening every one had something to say to Master Grayson. All the
ladies kissed him, and more than one promised him a daughter for a
little sweetheart. When whist and loo became the amusement, Grayson
was much interested, especially when he saw his father dealing out.
The very beaminess of his eye seemed to throw a charm around the
figures on every card. At first he said nothing. At last he went to
his mother and said: "Mamma, won't you teach me to do like papa? O, I
wish sister Martha was not dead, that she might see the pretties papa
has got. Mamma, what are the papers with the hearts on?" The mention
of Martha's name overcame Mrs. Griffith. She led Grayson to her
bed-room, and wept and kissed him until, overcome by sleep, he forgot
his joys and his sorrows until the next day. The nurse having lodged
the sweet boy in the long crib at the side of his parent's bed, Mrs.
Griffith returned to her company. Either her appearance, or a sense of
propriety in her guests, operated a speedy dissolution of the party.
The company being gone, Mr. Griffith said he wished he had not
consented to play that evening--that Martha had been dead but a year,
and that he really thought that as his child had been taken to heaven
when not two years old, it was time for him to begin to think of
preparing to meet her. Mrs. Griffith wept at the mention of Martha's
name, repeated what Grayson had said, observed that she had felt
badly, but that they must not be melancholy. She also said it was very
kind in the neighbors to endeavor to cheer them up. It was after
midnight, in the month of June, before these parents slept at all. At
the very dawn of day Grayson awoke his parents by kissing them often,
and calling their names aloud. So soon as he could get his father's
attention, he said: "O father, what were those pretty things you had
in your hand last night? Father, were they yours? May I have some?
Can't I do as you did with them? Father, what was you doing? Please,
sir, give me some to carry to school to-day." Mr. Griffith was not
displeased that Grayson did not wait for an answer to his
interrogatories. To his request for some to carry to school, he
replied that Mr. Birch, the teacher, was a religious man, and would
not let the boys carry such things to school. Grayson said: "And an't
you religious too, papa?" and kissed him. Mr. Griffith looked at his
wife. They both smiled confusedly.
After breakfast, some of the neighbors called and inquired for the
welfare of the family. Some of the ladies kissed Grayson, as did his
mother, and he went to school. At play-time he told the children what
he had seen, and one of the older boys explained the matter to the
rest of the company. He said the old people loved fun, and also played
for money--and yet they would not let their boys play. "Never mind,"
continued he, "I can make fun, if you will all beg some pins and bring
here to-morrow. Now, fellows, don't forget--bring a good many." The
next morning every mother and sister were faithfully plied for pins,
and every boy's sleeve was brightened with them. Before the teacher
had arrived, the elder boy, before named, had taught all his juniors
two ways of playing pins--one on a hat, and the other called "heads or
points." In a few days one boy had secured all the pins, and kept them
safely in a little case made of a section of reed. The spirit of
gambling, however, did not expire with the loss of the pins. Indeed
the loss of the many was the gain of one, and that one was the object
of profound admiration.
In a day or two, one of the boys came to school with an ear of white
and another of red corn, and a piece of chalk in his pocket, and
whispered to all his play fellows that now they would have fine fun.
Every urchin was restless for play-time. Grayson Griffith was sure the
master's watch must have stopped or must be too slow, and said so. At
length the hour of recreation came, and as soon as all were fairly out
of the teacher's hearing, the aforesaid boy prepared to teach his
fellows the game of fox and geese. With his chalk he chequered a
board, and arranged his white and red grains in proper order--calling
the white grains of corn geese, and the red foxes. Soon he initiated
every boy, and Grayson Griffith among the number, in the mysteries of
the game.
Ere long it was proposed that every boy should ask for a cent at home,
and bring it to school. It was done. Grayson Griffith asked for one
cent, and his father gave him two, and his mother one. They said he
was old enough to have pocket money. He was now nearly eight years
old. In the playtime, all the boys agreed to throw heads or tails,
until they had won or lost the money that could be had. At the end of
the sport, Grayson had seven cents--but on his way home, he dropped
one in the grass, and by throwing heads or tails with another boy, he
lost three more--so that at night he had no more and no less than in
the morning.
That evening he asked if his father would go to the race next day. His
father replied he did not know. "Well," said Grayson, "I bet you three
cents and my barlow knife against ninepence, that Colonel Riley's
Firefly will beat General Hobson's young Medley." "You will bet?" said
Mr. Griffith. "Why, yes," said Grayson, "did not you bet at loo,
father?" Grayson and his father, as by mutual consent, waived the
conversation.
Next day Grayson told at school what had occurred. Mr. Griffith did
not go to the races; but in the evening some of the gentlemen came to
see him, and induced him to bet as high as twenty dollars on a game at
loo. Grayson seemed hardly to notice the occurrence, yet he was in
reality closely observing, and caught several of the expressions of
the gentlemen visiters. The next day, at a game of fox and geese, he
cried "Damme soul." And as he went to school he kept saying, "Clubs
are trumps--high, low, jack and the game." He thought it sounded
pretty.
In the meantime Mr. Griffith's family increased. He had now three sons
and a daughter; and Grayson would often promise to show his little
brother how to play fox and geese when he should grow a little larger.
Mrs. Griffith had also played at cards when any very special company
was present, or she was much urged.
Mr. Griffith about this time gave a hundred dollars towards building a
church in the village, and subscribed twenty dollars a year towards
the minister's salary; and many of the people had become very serious,
and even religious. The good minister, like his master Jesus Christ,
was very fond of children. All the children knew him in six weeks
after he went to live in Goodcheer, and they all loved him. They would
speak to him all the way across the street. One day Mr. Goodnews (for
that was the minister's name) called at Mr. Griffith's, and asked
Grayson if he knew how many commandments there were. His answer was,
"I bet you I do." "But," said Mr. Goodnews, "I never bet, my dear
little boy. Did not you know it was wrong to bet?" "No," said Grayson,
"it is'nt--Father and mother bet." Mrs. Griffith's face colored, and
she stammered out, "My son, you ought not to tell stories, even in
fun. You will make dear Mr. Goodnews think very badly of your
parents." "Any how, mother, it is true," said the boy.
When Grayson was eleven years old, he was allowed to go to the races.
Here his fondness for sport and gaming was much increased. He also saw
many things that he did not understand, and some that made him
shudder. His parents had given him at different times money, which he
had saved, and adding to which, what he received that morning, the sum
total amounted to one dollar and a quarter. The race that day was
chiefly between two noted animals, Major Clark's Rabbit, and Colonel
Nelson's Yellow Gray. Betting ran high. At first Grayson bet
twenty-five cents in favor of Rabbit; then he bet fifty cents against
twenty-five on the Yellow Gray; then he bet his remaining fifty cents
against another fifty cents in favor of Yellow Gray. In the meantime
he bought some beer and some cakes, and paid away twenty-five cents of
his money. When he first remembered that he might lose, he thought he
would not be able to meet all his engagements; but on reflection he
discovered, that let who would win, he could not lose all. The race
was run. Rabbit was beaten, and Grayson got his seventy-five cents,
and paid what he had lost, and had now left one dollar and a half. At
first he thought he would go home, and started--but a boy stepped
forward and said, he could show him some _tricks_--that he had a
rattle-come-snap, &c. Grayson went with him into the bushes, and there
Grayson lost one dollar at some sort of game, became vexed, and went
home. At night he would have determined never to bet any more, had it
not been that some gentlemen came to his father's, and talked
earnestly about their gains. Then the thought entered his mind that it
was entirely owing to good luck that some succeeded, and that he would
have better luck another day.
A few days after the races, Mr. Griffith was called to see his mother
die. She had been a very worldly-minded, proud woman--but her last
sickness had humbled her. With her last breath she spoke of herself as
a great sinner, and of her salvation as doubtful, and most solemnly
warned all her children not to follow her example. The minister at
Goodcheer went over to preach the funeral sermon, and returning in
company with Mr. Griffith, he thought he perceived some seriousness in
his manner, and introduced a very friendly and solemn conversation on
the importance of preparing for death. From that time Mr. Griffith
began to change, and in twelve months he and his wife both joined Mr.
Goodnews's church. They also presented their five children to the
Lord. This was a great change, and was much spoken of by the
villagers. It is thought the father and mother were both truly
converted. The day the children were baptized, Grayson did not behave
well in church, yet he dared not to do anything very wrong. The next
day, when one of the boys laughed at him for being baptized, he at
first thought he would say nothing, and had he done so, all would have
been well. But the laugh tormented him. So in going home from school
he made fun of it, and said the old people had got mighty religious.
When he got home he felt dreadfully at seeing Mr. Goodnews at his
father's; but he soon left the house, and took the old cat in his
arms, and called the dogs, and went to chase cats in the old field.
His parents with difficulty prevailed on him to attend Sabbath school.
He said five days and a half in a week were enough to go to school. He
also disliked to come to prayers. He was frequently out until a late
hour at night, and once was found with some very bad boys in an old
house on a Sabbath night, doing what he called "projecting." His
parents had all along opposed the cold water men, and had allowed
Grayson to have some sweetened dram in the morning out of their cups.
And even after Mr. and Mrs. Griffith joined the church, it did not
seem easy to conquer in a day all their prejudices against the
temperance society. These things led Master Grayson to drink julaps,
and punch, and even grog. But he did not drink much. He had also
learned to use profane language to an extent that was very distressing
to some pious people who had heard him; but his parents supposed he
never swore.
When Grayson was sixteen years old, he read Hoyle on Games; and though
he understood very little of what he read, he conceived that gaming
must be a very profound science. Especially was this impression
deepened by hearing a member of congress say, that Hoyle was as
profound as Sir Isaac Newton. He read Hoyle again, and even on the
Sabbath. His parents began to suffer much uneasiness about him; they
sometimes wept over his case; they took great pains to make religion
appear amiable--but he was eager in his pursuit of vanity.
When Grayson was eighteen or nineteen years old, he became acquainted
with Archibald Anderson, a most unworthy young man, of low breeding
and much cunning. Archie persuaded Grayson to go a pleasuring the next
Sunday--told him he had found a bee-tree, and that they would get some
girls and go and take the bee-tree next Sunday. They went, and
although Grayson tried to think it fine fun, it was a very gloomy day.
A thousand times did he wish himself in church. At night he came in
late, and went immediately to bed. Next day his father inquired where
he had been. But Grayson let him understand that young people must not
be watched too closely. In a day or two Mrs. Griffith became alarmed
at finding in Grayson's apparel evident preparations to elope; but
gentle and kind treatment soon seemed to regain his confidence.
Mr. Griffith had, in the course of business, previously borrowed a
thousand dollars from one of his neighbors, who had since removed to
the city of Allvice--and wishing to raise his bond, he gave Grayson
$1060, being the principal and interest for one year, and money to buy
himself a suit of clothes, and started him to town. Grayson had never
been to the city before, and his hopes were very high. On the evening
of the third day's ride, he arrived in the city of Allvice, and put up
in Blockley Row, at Spendthrift Hotel, next door to the sign of the
Conscience-seared-with-a-hot-iron. After supper he went to the
bar-room, and asked a young man "how far it was to any place where he
could see some fun." "What, the theatre," said the young man. "Any
place where I can see a little fun," said he. The young man said,
"follow me." Ere long they were at the door of the theatre, where
Grayson saw in large letters over a door--"The way to the pit." He
knew not what it meant, but said to the young man, "Don't let us go
that way." "No," said his companion, "we will go to the gallery. You
know _they_ are in the gallery." Grayson knew not who was meant by the
emphatic _they_; but following his guide, was soon in a crowd of black
and white women, and young and old men. Taking the first lesson in the
species of crime there taught, he stepped down a little lower, and
asked to what place a certain door led. He was told, "to the boxes."
Entering that door, he found many a vacant seat, and listened--but
when others laughed, he saw nothing to laugh at, until the clown came
on the stage. At him he laughed--he roared. Yet he felt as if he had
lost something, but could not tell what it was. "In the midst of
laughter the heart is sad," were words he often repeated, as he sat in
a box alone. The play being ended, he endeavored to find his way to
the hotel, but was greatly discomposed at remembering that his money
had been left in his saddle-bags, and they not locked, and that he had
not seen them since he came to town. At length he reached his
lodgings, and found all safe. He went to bed, but could not sleep.
Most of the night was spent in reflection, or rather in wild and vain
imaginations. A little before day a well dressed gentleman was shown
into the room where our young hero lay, there being two beds in the
room. The new inmate took a seat, and sighed; he paced the floor; he
took out his port-folio, and wrote a few words; he dropped his pen and
said, "What a fool." At length Griffith (for he is now too old to be
called by his given name,) ventured to inquire whether he could in any
way assist his room-mate to a greater composure. "O sir," said the
man, and sighed. At length the stranger said: "Eight days ago I left
home with $3,600 to go to the north to buy goods. I came here day
before yesterday, and to-night they have got the last cent from me at
the faro bank. And now, O what a fool!--I had rather take five hundred
lashes than do what I must,--write to my partner or my wife to send me
money to carry me home." Griffith expressed regret, but of course
could offer no consolation. He resolved, however, to pay the $1,060 as
soon as he could find the man to whom it was due. This he accordingly
did before nine o'clock next morning. The rest of the day he walked
the streets. Every little while $3,600 kept ringing in his ears. At
night, not having bought his suit of clothes, he went to the bar, and
there found the same young gentleman who the night before had
accompanied him to the theatre. Griffith took a seat by a window, and
the well dressed young man came to him and said: "Young gentleman, I
see you are fond of real genteel pleasure; let us go down into hell,
and win those fellows' money." Perhaps more mingled emotions never
agitated a bosom. In the first place he had been called a young
gentleman--an honor which, though he had deserved it before, had
seldom been given him. Then the idea of "real and genteel pleasure."
But the very sound of "going down to hell!" He would not go in "the
way to the pit" the night previous--and now could he go to hell? At
length he concluded that it was a mere nickname, and that the place
was really no worse than if it were called heaven, and he replied, "I
don't care if I do." They both left the room and went to the stable.
"Stop a minute," said Griffith, "let me see if Decatur has a good bed
and a plenty to eat." In half a minute he satisfied himself that his
horse fared well, and he followed his young acquaintance into one of
the stalls, through which they passed by a blind door into a long,
narrow and dark entry. "Follow me," said the young man. Presently they
entered a large room. Griffith was struck with the abundance of good
things to eat and drink, which too were all free for visiters. At a
table on one side, sat an old man with a playful countenance. He rose
and said: "Last night a man won $3,600 at this table." Three thousand
six hundred dollars thought Griffith--and "how much had he to begin
with?" said he to the old gentleman. "Only a ten dollar note," was the
reply. In another part of the room, Griffith saw a young man sitting
behind a table, and leaning against the wall, with his hat drawn down
over his forehead, and wearing a heavy set of features. Before him on
the table lay three heaps of money--one of silver--another of gold--a
third of paper. Griffith eat some very fine blanc mange on the table,
and drank a little brandy, after which he concluded he would risk ten
dollars on a card. He did so, and put a ten dollar bill into his
pocket. His next risk was five dollars, which he lost. With various
success he spent an hour, at the end of which he had tripled his
money. He then retired to his room, and slept until a late hour in the
morning. Then he went to a merchant tailor, and ordered his new suit,
and spent the day in musing--visiting factories--attending auctions,
and laying plans for the night. "If I had held on I might have broke
them," said he; "I should have gotten $3,600!" Night came, and with it
a self-confident feeling peculiar to the young gambler. He returned
alone through the stall into "hell," and there lost all he had but
five dollars. The next night he won $150. The next night, which was to
be his last in the city, he went, and for a time succeeded. Once he
had $700 in pocket, but before day-light he had lost every cent he
had, and making known his situation, two men who had won his money,
gave him each five dollars, and advised him to leave town at
day-light. That was a wretched night to Griffith. His couch was a "bed
of unrest." His very dreams were startling. At daylight he paid his
bill, and had remaining three dollars and a quarter. He mounted
Decatur, and with a heavy heart journeyed towards the village of
Goodcheer. When he found himself in sight of home, he felt in his
pocket and found he had seventy-five cents. He also felt for the
cancelled bond, but could not find it. Riding into the woods, he
examined his saddle-bags, and found the bond in a waistcoat pocket.
Seizing it with great joy, he shed a tear, and mounted again. All the
way home he had thought much of the manner in which he should account
for not having the new clothes. At length seeing no way of escape,
from confusion at least, in case his father should inquire respecting
the matter, he cherished the hope that his father would say nothing.
So he paced along, and got home just in time for dinner. There was an
air of affected cheerfulness in young Griffith's gait and manner, that
was unusual. He did the best he could--took care early to deliver the
cancelled bond--said he was not much pleased with the city, and told
something of what he had seen. Next day his father asked if he had
gotten the new suit. He replied that he had concluded not to get it
then, and reddened very much. Mr. Griffith told his wife that he had
fears about Grayson. They both wept, and agreed to pray for him more
than usual.
In the course of time, young Griffith being twenty-one years old, left
his father's, with $700 and Decatur, to seek his fortune in the West.
He soon obtained employment, and in the course of two years was able
to commence business as partner in a new firm. But, unfortunately, he
was not satisfied in the village where he was, but broke up and went
to the town of Badblood, where he opened a store. He was not long here
until a quarrel commenced betwixt him and one of his neighbors. The
occasion of the quarrel was a disagreement as to the beauty of a piece
of music. One declared the other to have a bad taste, and this was
regarded as insulting. Of course a challenge was given, and accepted.
The day of combat arrived. At the first fire no blood was spilt. This
was owing to the great agitation of both the combatants. At the second
fire Griffith wounded his antagonist slightly, but himself received no
wound. At the third fire Griffith's right arm was broken, and his
antagonist was wounded in the thigh. Here the seconds and friends
interfered, and declared they had fought enough. Had it not been for
public opinion, they would have thought that it was enough to be shot
at once a piece. But they were both content to quit, and even to drink
each other's health, before they left the ground. In the course of
eight or nine weeks, they were both in their usual health, and
attending to their accustomed duties.
The effect on Mr. Griffith's family on learning that Grayson was
expected to fight, was very distressing. The day the challenge was
given, Griffith wrote to his father thus:
_My very dear Father:_--On the morning of the day on which this shall
reach you in due course of mail, I shall have settled an affair of
honor. I do not love to fight, because I neither like the idea of
killing or being killed. If I go on the ground, I shall certainly take
life or lose it. I can't help it. I should be posted as a coward, if I
did not. Mr. B. will write you as soon as it is decided. Love to
mother and the children. God bless you. I can't bear an insult. Your's
ever,