On the day that succeeded the evening of this fearful tragedy, placards
were to be seen all over the village, announcing a mass meeting at the
"Sickle and Sheaf" that night.
By early twilight, the people commenced assembling. The bar, which had
been closed all day, was now thrown open, and lighted; and in this
room, where so much of evil had been originated, encouraged and
consummated, a crowd of earnest-looking men were soon gathered. Among
them I saw the fine person of Mr. Hargrove. Joe Morgan--or rather, Mr.
Morgan--was also one of the number. The latter I would scarcely have
recognized, had not some one near me called him by name. He was well
dressed, stood erect, and though there were many deep lines on his
thoughtful countenance, all traces of his former habits were gone.
While I was observing him, he arose, and addressing a few words to the
assemblage, nominated Mr. Hargrove as chairman of the meeting. To this
a unanimous assent was given.
On taking the chair, Mr. Hargrove made a brief address, something to
this effect.
"Ten years ago," said he, his voice evincing a slight unsteadiness as
he began, but growing firmer as he proceeded, "there was not a happier
spot in Bolton county than Cedarville. Now, the marks of ruin are
everywhere. Ten years ago, there was a kind-hearted, industrious miller
in Cedarville, liked by every one, and as harmless as a little child.
Now, his bloated, disfigured body lies in that room. His death was
violent, and by the hand of his own son!"
Mr. Hargrove's words fell slowly, distinctly, and marked by the most
forcible emphasis. There was scarcely one present who did not feel a
low shudder run along his nerves, as the last words were spoken in a
husky whisper.
"Ten years ago," he proceeded, "the miller had a happy wife, and two
innocent, glad-hearted children. Now, his wife, bereft of reason, is in
a mad-house, and his son the occupant of a felon's cell, charged with
the awful crime of parricide!"
Briefly he paused, while his audience stood gazing upon him with
half-suspended respiration.
"Ten years ago," he went on, "Judge Hammond was accounted the richest
man in Cedarville. Yesterday he was carried, a friendless pauper, to
the Alms-house; and to-day he is the unmourned occupant of a pauper's
grave! Ten years ago, his wife was the proud, hopeful, loving mother of
a most promising son. I need not describe what Willy Hammond was. All
here knew him well. Ah! what shattered the fine intellect of that
noble-minded woman? Why did her heart break? Where is she? Where is
Willy Hammond?"
A low, half-repressed groan answered the speaker.
"Ten years ago, you, sir," pointing to a sad-looking old man, and
calling him by name, "had two sons--generous, promising, manly-hearted
boys. What are they now? You need not answer the question. Too well is
their history and your sorrow known. Ten years ago, I had a
son,--amiable, kind, loving, but weak. Heaven knows how I sought to
guard and protect him! But he fell also. The arrows of destruction
darkened the very air of our once secure and happy village. And who is
safe? Not mine, nor yours!
"Shall I go on? Shall I call up and pass in review before you, one
after another, all the wretched victims who have fallen in Cedarville
during the last ten years? Time does not permit. It would take hours
for the enumeration! No; I will not throw additional darkness into the
picture. Heaven knows it is black enough already! But what is the root
of this great evil? Where lies the fearful secret? Who understands the
disease? A direful pestilence is in the air--it walketh in darkness,
and wasteth at noonday. It is slaying the first-born in our houses, and
the cry of anguish is swelling on every gale. Is there no remedy?"
"Yes! yes! There is a remedy!" was the spontaneous answer from many
voices.
"Be it our task, then, to find and apply it this night," answered the
chairman, as he took his seat.
"And there is but one remedy," said Morgan, as Mr. Hargrove sat down.
"The accursed traffic must cease among us. You must cut off the
fountain, if you would dry up the stream. If you would save the young,
the weak, and the innocent--on you God has laid the solemn duty of
their protection--you must cover them from the tempter. Evil is strong,
wily, fierce, and active in the pursuit of its ends. The young, the
weak, and the innocent can no more resist its assaults, than the lamb
can resist the wolf. They are helpless, if you abandon them to the
powers of evil. Men and brethren! as one who has himself been well-nigh
lost--as one who, daily, feels and trembles at the dangers that beset
his path--I do conjure you to stay the fiery stream that is bearing
every thing good and beautiful among you to destruction. Fathers! for
the sake of your young children, be up now and doing. Think of Willy
Hammond, Frank Slade, and a dozen more whose names I could repeat, and
hesitate no longer! Let us resolve, this night, that from henceforth
the traffic shall cease in Cedarville. Is there not a large majority of
citizens in favor of such a measure? And whose rights or interests can
be affected by such a restriction? Who, in fact, has any right to sow
disease and death in our community? The liberty, under sufferance, to
do so, wrongs the individual who uses it, as well as those who become
his victims. Do you want proof of this? Look at Simon Slade, the happy,
kind-hearted miller; and at Simon Slade, the tavern-keeper. Was he
benefited by the liberty to work harm to his neighbor? No! no! In
heaven's name, then, let the traffic cease! To this end, I offer these
resolutions:--
"Be it resolved by the inhabitants of Cedarville, That from this day
henceforth, no more intoxicating drink shall be sold within the limits
of the corporation.
"Resolved, further, That all the liquors in the 'Sickle and Sheaf' be
forthwith destroyed, and that a fund be raised to pay the creditors of
Simon Slade therefor, should they demand compensation.
"Resolved, That in closing up all other places where liquor is sold,
regard shall be had to the right of property which the law secures to
every man.
"Resolved, That with the consent of the legal authorities, all the
liquor for sale in Cedarville be destroyed, provided the owners thereof
be paid its full value out of a fund specially raised for that purpose."
But for the calm yet resolute opposition of one or two men, these
resolutions would have passed by acclamation. A little sober argument
showed the excited company that no good end is ever secured by the
adoption of wrong means.
There were, in Cedarville, regularly constituted authorities, which
alone had the power to determine public measures, or to say what
business might or might not be pursued by individuals. And through
these authorities they must act in an orderly way.
There was some little chafing at this view of the case. But good sense
and reason prevailed. Somewhat modified, the resolutions passed, and
the more ultra-inclined contented themselves with carrying out the
second resolution, to destroy forthwith all the liquor to be found on
the premises; which was immediately done. After which the people
dispersed to their homes, each with a lighter heart, and better hopes
for the future of their village.
On the next day, as I entered the stage that was to bear me from
Cedarville, I saw a man strike his sharp axe into the worn, faded, and
leaning post that had, for so many years, borne aloft the "Sickle and
Sheaf"; and, just as the driver gave word to his horses, the false
emblem which had invited so many to enter the way of destruction, fell
crashing to the earth.