Good-by, Jim Brown, you have got the last cent of my money that you
will ever get,” said a poor, miserable looking wretch, as he turned
to leave the bar-room of a hotel, where a large company of men sat
drinking and carousing.
“I guess when you find a few cents, I shall get them, Jake,” answered
the besotted landlord with a sneer, “but I tell you again that you will
get no more drinks of me until you pay off the old debt.”
“Good-by, Jim Brown,” said old Jake again, “you will never get one cent
of it, nor will you ever sell me another glass of strong drink.”
“Goin’ to sign the pledge, Jake?” queried another voice, “guess ’twill
not do you much good if you do, for you like rum too well to keep it
long.”
“Maybe I shall sign the pledge,” was the reply, “but I consider my word
here, just as sacred and binding as a written pledge, and so I solemnly
swear before God and man never to touch another drop of the accursed
poison so long as I live,” and Jake retreated toward the door as he
said it.
“Hold on, Jake, don’t go yet,” called out another voice, “come back and
I will treat you. Here, landlord, give him a good glass of whiskey to
make him better natured.” But Jake never looked toward the speaker,
and still kept moving slowly toward the door.
“You will try in vain, I guess,” he slowly said, “for I have drunk my
last glass of liquor, God helping me,” and old Jake Bell walked away.
[Illustration: “_I have drunk my last glass of liquor_”]
“Wonder what has got into the old fool,” said one of the bar-room
loungers, “for I never knew him to refuse a glass of whiskey before.”
“Guess he’ll come back before many days go by,” was heard from another
part of the room.
“Suppose that old Jake should reform,” said one who had not spoken
before, “I never saw him with such a fit on, and if he should stick to
what he said, Landlord Brown has lost one of his best customers.”
“And a few shillings besides,” chimed in another voice.
“Guess he has not lost much by old Jake Bell, for if I’m not mistaken,
his money has been quite an advantage to Jim Brown for a number of
years,” was the reply.
“Stop your noise, will you?” said the landlord, with a scowl on his
face, “I’ll take care of old Jake.”
“Perhaps he’ll take care of himself,” was his reply, “and I think he
would do quite as well, and his wife and children would be the gainers.”
“Stop your infernal noise, Bill Gray, or leave the room,” yelled the
landlord, growing black with passion.
“If I do go,” said Bill quietly, “I shall go as old Jake did, never to
come back again. You know that what Bill Gray says, he means.”
* * * * *
Susan Bell sat by the low window of her house, looking out upon the
beautiful landscape, bathed with the golden rays of the setting
sun. There was an expression of pain and sadness upon her face, and
occasionally a tear gleamed in her faded eyes.
We doubt if the glory of the fields and the sky had awakened one
cheerful thought in her heart, and if it did, the dark clouds of misery
soon turned the ray of sunlight to gloom again. Ah! the bright hopes of
other days had long ago died out from the heart of Susan Bell, and the
gray shadows of wretchedness had long thronged her pathway.
But the time had been when this wretched woman had seen bright days of
happiness, though they appeared now like some fairy dream, which cast
its mocking glory upon the barren wastes of life.
Strong drink had destroyed the hopes of poor Susan Bell, and driven
peace and plenty away from the once cheerful fireside. It had ruined
the prospects of Jacob Bell, and made him a miserable, besotted wretch.
In other days he had been loved and respected, for he possessed many
noble, generous qualities, and he seemed likely to become a man of more
than ordinary usefulness in the world.
But he became possessed with a thirst for strong drink, and so started
upon the fearful road of sin and ruin. His children once made music in
their home, but after he began his career of sin and shame, disease
laid its hand upon two of them, and they died.
Mrs. Bell did not murmur as the death angel claimed them, for she
saw the storm that was gathering. It came all too soon, and then she
thanked God that there were only two children left to suffer the abuse
of a drunken father and to bear the heavy load of want and poverty. Jim
Brown had taken the earnings of the husband and father for many years,
and in return, gave him the deadly poison that made him a brute and
deadened every impulse of nobleness.
“He has gone to Brown’s, as usual,” said Susan Bell to herself. “Oh,
how I wish that he would not go there so often! He will never even try
to reform as long as he goes there to spend his leisure hours.”
A tear dropped from her eyes as she looked in the direction of the
village tavern. “It will do no good to hope any longer, for he will
never do any better,” she said half aloud.
The sun went down behind the western mountain and twilight began to
gather over the earth. Still Susan Bell sat by the low window, looking
toward the now lighted bar-room. “Why! he is coming!” she exclaimed,
as she saw the well known form of her husband, coming down the street,
in the twilight. “How strange that Jacob should come home so early; I
wonder what it means.”
[Illustration: “_Susan Bell sat by the low window_”]
Jacob walked steadily into the house, and in a pleasant voice asked:
“Susan, will you get some supper? I am very hungry.”
“We have but little to eat, Jacob,” was the reply, “but I will get you
what we have.”
“Have we any coffee?”
“No, but perhaps I can borrow a little of Mrs. Blake.”
“Have we any flour or sugar, Susan,” was the next inquiry.
“None,” was the reply.
“Then I will go and buy some,” said Jacob. “Mr. Grant is owing me for a
half day’s work, and I guess he can pay me.”
Susan Bell’s heart beat very fast as her husband started out again. “Oh,
if he does not stop at Brown’s!” she exclaimed to herself.
He did not stop at Brown’s, although a dozen voices called to him as he
was passing by. “I think you will not succeed,” he said quietly, as he
walked toward home.
“Now, make me a cup of coffee, Susan,” he said, as he placed several
small packages upon the table.
His wife quickly obeyed, and in a short time Jacob sat down to a better
supper than he had had for many a day.
“I am very tired to-night,” he said, as he finished the meal, “but
please call me early in the morning, Susan, for I am going to work for
Mr. Grant. I have taken the job of building his barn, and want to get
it well started this week.”
Mrs. Bell could scarcely sleep that night; there was a strange, deep
joy in her heart, that she had not known for years. And yet, she hardly
dared to hope. She really could not account for the strange conduct of
her husband.
The day came with its beautiful splendor, and just as the morning sun
began to bathe the far away mountains with light, Jacob Bell sat down
to his morning meal.
After breakfast, he asked: “Have you enough flour to last to-day?”
“We have a little,” was the reply.
The day passed away at last, and just as the sun was setting, Jacob
Bell entered the door of his home.
“Here are three dollars, Susan,” he said. “Take the money and use it as
you think best. Herbert can bring home whatever you like, for he will
not work any longer for Mr. Hill. He is not strong enough to do such
work as he has been in the habit of doing there. He will go to school
the remainder of the summer.”
[Illustration: “_Here are three dollars_”]
Mrs. Bell said not a word. She only hoped and prayed.
Another day passed away and three dollars more were placed in her
hands. A whole week went by, and her husband had worked every day, and
had not once visited Jim Brown’s saloon.
Then he came home one night with a new suit of clothes.
“These were a present to me,” he said simply, in reply to Susan’s
inquiry. “Mr. Grant gave them to me.”
“And why did he do it, Jacob?” asked Susan in a trembling voice.
“If I tell you, then you will know my secret. But I think I will. It
was because I signed the pledge.”
“Have you signed the pledge, Jacob?” asked the wife in a voice choked
with emotion.
“Yes,” he quietly answered, “and with God’s help, I will keep it. Jim
Brown has got the last cent of my money that he will ever get.”
“Why did you take this step?” Susan asked, trying very hard to keep her
voice from trembling.
“I can’t really tell you, Susan, but Mr. Grant, I think, was the true
cause of it. He has talked so earnestly and kindly to me of late, that
I saw myself as I never did before.
“And then about a week ago, I went to Jim Brown’s bar-room and asked
him to trust me for a drink. I was owing him a few shillings, and as
he was nearly drunk himself, he refused to trust me. I was very angry;
and then I made a vow before all present never to drink another drop of
liquor, and as I have said before, God helping me, I will never taste
that accursed poison again.”
Susan Bell silently thanked God, and earnestly prayed that he would
help her husband to keep his vow sacredly.
Five years have passed away with their sunshine and shadow, and still
Jacob Bell keeps his vow. The old brown house has been transformed by
his skillful hand, and it is the prettiest cottage in the village.
Everything about the place betokens thrift and plenty.
Jacob Bell looks much younger than he did five years ago, and for some
reason, people do not call him “Old Jake.” The village tavern still
stands, but old Jim Brown died long ago with delirium tremens. Another
rum seller fills his place, but Jacob Bell has never spoken to him.
Thus did the drunkard keep his vow.
* * * * *
“Who hath woe? who hath sorrow? who hath contentions? who hath
babbling? who hath wounds without cause? who hath redness of
eyes?--They that tarry long at the wine; they that go to seek mixed
wine.
“Look not thou upon the wine when it is red, when it giveth his color
in the cup, when it moveth itself aright. At the last it biteth like a
serpent, and stingeth like an adder.”--_Solomon._
“Every man that striveth for the mastery is temperate in all
things.”--_Paul._