[Illustration]
When Enoch Wilton died, people said that Daniel Naylor was sure to come
into possession of a handsome property, since his Uncle Enoch was known
to be a man of some means, and Daniel was his favorite nephew.
But when the will was read, they changed their minds, for the only
clause it contained which referred to Daniel read as follows:--
“_And to Daniel Naylor, my beloved nephew, I give and bequeath
the framed copy of the temperance pledge to which, under Divine
Providence, I owe salvation from a drunkard’s grave; also to this I
owe all the material prosperity which has gladdened my latter years.
And I recommend that he remove it from its frame, and affix his
signature beneath mine; satisfied that he will find the pledge an
unfailing source of wealth to him, as it has been to me._”
Daniel Naylor resented this, as he was a drinking man, and he
indignantly stowed away his uncle’s bequest, among the rubbish in
the attic, assuring his wife that, as his uncle had treated him so
shabbily, he should not trouble himself further about it; and there,
for years, it slumbered, utterly forgotten.
Meanwhile, Daniel Naylor’s affairs went from bad to worse, for his
drinking habits had strengthened their hold upon him.
One day, about five years after his uncle’s death, he returned to his
now squalid home, to tell his wife that the last cent had gone, and
that “Squire Grip,” the village lawyer, would, the next day, foreclose
the mortgage on their little place, leaving them homeless.
“Oh Daniel!” exclaimed the poor woman in a tone of despair, “What shall
we do? Where can we go?”
“I do not know,” he responded moodily,--“to the poorhouse, perhaps.”
“Don’t say that, Daniel!” pleaded the wife, “you still have two hands
left, and if--”
“I cannot get employment,” he interrupted. “I have been to all my
employers and to all my friends; I can assure you that I have made
every effort possible. But somehow, they don’t act toward me as they
used to, in the old days when I was more prosperous. I don’t know
what’s the matter, I’m sure. They only shake their heads and say they
are sorry, but the times are so hard they cannot give me work. I shall
have to give it up.”
“But you must not give it up, there must be employment somewhere.”
“But I tell you, I am unable to find it. I have tried everywhere; there
is nothing for me to do.”
“Look here, Daniel, if you will promise me just one thing, I’ll tell
you how you can find work,--Oh, if you would only promise, Daniel!” and
Mrs. Naylor glanced appealingly at her husband.
Daniel Naylor felt a trifle uncomfortable, for he saw traces of tears
in his wife’s eyes, and she had rarely spoken to him so earnestly. But
he only stammered brokenly:--
“What are the conditions?”
“Will you promise?”
“I would rather know the conditions first.”
“The conditions are that you quit your drinking habits and sign the
temperance pledge.”
Daniel Naylor started.
“What!” he cried, in astonishment. “Do you intend to say that my
drinking a little, now and then, interferes with my getting work to do?”
“It certainly does, Daniel,” was the sorrowful reply, “for I have heard
at least one of your old employers say as much.”
“Who was it?”
“Mr. Field.”
“What did he say?”
“You recollect the time, about three weeks ago, when you were--were--”
“Drunk.”
“Yes, when you were drunk. You were at work for him then, and when
he came after you, and I told him you could not come, he guessed the
truth, and I heard him say to his clerk, who was with him, as he drove
off:--
“‘Well, this is the second time Dan Naylor has failed me when I needed
him most, but I shall be sure he does not do it again.’
“And that, my husband, is the source of almost all our trouble, as I
believe you, yourself, will admit when you think the matter over; you
can’t imagine how it makes me feel.” And Mrs. Naylor put her apron to
her eyes and sobbed hysterically.
It was Daniel Naylor’s turn to reflect now,--and it was not the first
time, by any means. This subject had long been troubling him. But
it was very hard for him to acknowledge or to realize that his deep
poverty and misery had been brought about by his own conduct.
[Illustration: “_Seven one thousand dollar notes fell out._”]
“Well, I believe you are right,” he said, at last. “But what can I do?
Our home is gone, and I have lost the confidence of my employers,--so
signing the pledge cannot amount to much.”
“Yes, it would amount to a great deal. It would restore your
self-respect, and in a great measure you would be able to regain their
confidence.”
Then came another period of silence. At last a great purpose entered
his heart, and the light of a firm resolve shone in his eyes.
“Bring me a paper, and I _will sign it_, and may God give me strength
to keep it!”
“Why not sign Uncle Enoch’s pledge?” his wife inquired. “I saw it lying
up in the attic the other day, and if you wish, I will bring it.”
“Certainly; that will save writing another.”
The pledge was soon brought, and Daniel Naylor removed it from the
frame and placed it on the table. As he did so, a roll of brown paper
fell out of its back and dropped unnoticed at his feet.
After he had signed his name under that of his uncle, he turned to
replace the pledge in its frame.
In doing this, his eyes fell upon the small roll of brown paper lying
on the floor.
Stooping to pick it up, he uttered a sudden cry of astonishment, as he
saw the corner of a bank note protruding; with trembling fingers, he
undid the package, to find _seven one thousand dollar notes_, and a
scrap of paper on which was written:--
“Is not the pledge a sure road to wealth?”
“God bless good Uncle Enoch!” he exclaimed fervently. “I can now take
up the mortgage, and as for the pledge, I will keep that sacred as long
as I live.”