On a board of bright mosaic wrought in many a quaint design,
Gleam a brace of silver goblets wreathed with flowers and filled with wine.
Round the board a group is seated; here and there are threads of white
Which their dark locks lately welcomed; but they're only boys tonight.
Some whose words have thrilled the senate, some who win the critic's
praise--
All are "chums" to-night, with voices redolent of college days.
"Boys," said one, "do you remember that old joke--about the wine--
How we used to fill our oil cans and repair to 'No. 9'?
But at last the old professor--never long was he outdone--
Opened up our shining oil cans and demolished all our fun!"
In the laugh that rings so gayly through the richly curtained room,
Join they all, save one; Why is it? Does he see the waxen bloom
Tremble in its vase of silver? Does he see the ruddy wine
Shiver in its crystal goblet, or do those grave eyes divine
Something sadder yet? He pauses till their mirth has died away,
Then in measured tones speaks gravely:
"Boys, a story, if I may, I will tell you, though it may not merit
worthily your praise,
It is bitter fruitage ripened from our pranks of college days,"
Eagerly they claim the story, for they know the LL.D.
With his flexible voice would garnish any tale, whate'er it be.
"Just a year ago to-night, boys, I was in my room alone,
At the San Francisco L---- House, when I heard a plaintive moan
Sounding from the room adjoining. Hoping to give some relief
To the suffering one, I entered; but it thrilled my heart with grief
Just to see that wreck of manhood--bloated face, disheveled hair--
Wildly tossing, ever moaning, while his thin hands beat the air.
Broken prayers, vile oaths and curses filled the air as I drew near;
Then in faint and piteous accents, these words I could plainly hear:
'Give me one more chance--one only--let me see my little Belle--
Then I'll follow where they lead me, be it to the depths of hell!'
When he saw me he grew calmer, started strangely--looked me o'er--
Oh, the glory of expression! I had seen those eyes before!
Yes, I knew him; it was Horace, he who won the college prize;
Naught remained of his proud beauty but the splendor of his eyes.
He whom we were all so proud of, lay there in the fading light.
If my years should number fourscore, I shall ne'er forget that sight.
And he knew me--called me 'Albert,' ere a single word I'd said--
We were comrades in the old days; I sat down beside the bed.
"Horace seemed to grow more quiet, but he would not go to sleep;
He kept talking of our boyhood while my hand he still would keep
In his own so white and wasted, and with burning eyes would gaze
On my face, still talking feebly of the dear old college days.
'Ah,' he said, 'life held such promise; but, alas! I am to-day
But a poor degraded outcast--hopes, ambition swept away,
And it dates back to those oil cans that we filled in greatest glee.
Little did I think in those days what the harvest now would be!'
"For a moment he was silent, then a cry whose anguish yet
Wrings my heart, burst from his white lips, though his teeth were tightly
set,
And with sudden strength he started--sprang from my detaining arm,
Shrieking wildly, 'Curse the demons; do they think to do me harm?
Back! I say, ye forked-tongued serpents reeking with the filth of hell!
Don't ye see I have her with me--my poor sainted little Belle?'
"When I'd soothed him into quiet, with a trembling arm he drew
My head down, 'Oh, Al,' he whispered, 'such remorse you never knew.'
And again I tried to soothe him, but my eyes o'erbrimmed with tears;
His were dry and clear, as brilliant as they were in college years.
All the flush had left his features, he lay white as marble now;
Tenderly I smoothed his pillow, wiped the moisture from his brow.
Though I begged him to be quiet, he would talk of those old days,
Brokenly at times, but always of 'the boys' with loving praise.
"Once I asked him of Lorena--the sweet girl whom he had wed--
You remember Rena Barstow. When I asked if she were dead,
'No,' he said, his poor voice faltering, 'she is far beyond the Rhine,
But I wish, to God, it were so, and I still might call her mine.
She's divorced--she's mine no longer,' here his voice grew weak and hoarse
'But although I am a drunkard, _I have one they can't divorce_.
I've a little girl in heaven, playing round the Savior's knee,
Always patient and so faithful that at last she died for me.
"'I had drank so much, so often, that my brain was going wild;
Every one had lost hope in me but my faithful little child.
She would say, "Now stop, dear papa, for I know you can stop _now_."
I would promise, kiss my darling, and the next day break my vow.
So it went until one Christmas, dark and stormy, cold and drear;
Out I started, just as usual, for the cursed rum shop near,
And my darling followed after, in the storm of rain and sleet,
With no covering wrapped about her, naught but slippers on her feet;
No one knew it, no one missed her, till there came with solemn tread,
Stern-faced men unto our dwelling, bringing back our darling--_dead!_
They had found her cold and lifeless, like, they said, an angel fair,
Leaning 'gainst the grog shop window--oh, she thought that _I was there!_
Then he raised his arms toward heaven, called aloud unto the dead,
For his mind again was wandering: 'Belle, my precious Belle!' he said,
'Papa's treasure--papa's darling! oh, my baby--did--you--come
All the way--alone--my darling--just to lead--poor--papa--home?'
And he surely had an answer, for a silence o'er him fell.
And I sat alone and lonely--death had come with little Belle."
Silence in that princely parlor--head of every guest is bowed.
They still see the red wine sparkle, but 'tis through a misty cloud.
Said the host at last, arising, "I have scorned the pledge to sign,
Laughed at temperance all my life long. Never more shall drop of wine
Touch my lips. The fruit _was_ bitter, boys; 'twas I proposed it first--
That foul joke from which poor Horace ever bore a life accurst!
Let us pledge ourselves to-night, boys, never more by word, or deed,
In our own fair homes, or elsewhere, help to plant the poison seed."
Silence once again, but only for a moment's space, and then,
In one voice they all responded with a low and firm "Amen."
_Will Victor McGuire._