THE DRAM SHOP PLOT
The stars hang burning in the skies,
The earth gives back their diamond light,
Where like a radiant bride it lies
Reposing in that glorious night.
Again the night was intensely cold. There had been a storm of sleet
and rain during two whole days, and now came on a keen frost, sheeting
the pavements, the trees and the housetops with ice.
Chester was pacing his rounds, as on the first night when we presented
him to the reader. Sometimes he paused to remark the delicate tracery
of ice that hung in fretted masses over the gutters, or was frozen
in waves along the curb-stones, or looked upwards to the tall trees
that seemed absolutely dripping with light, as the moonbeams streamed
over them, while the gas from the street lanterns sent up golden
gleams through the lower branches and along the glittering trunks.
Intensely cold as the night was, Chester could not resist that
exquisite sense of the beautiful, which objects so novel and
picturesque were sure to excite in his imaginative mind. There was
something so purely ideal in those massive branches, stripped of
leaves and laden down with crystalline spray, while the wind swayed
them heavily about, and the moonlight flooded them through and
through, that even a duller man than Chester must have paused to
admire.
Through the glittering arcade--for along the rich man's district the
trees grew thick and high--Chester could see the bright winter stars
shining, and the deep blue Heavens slumbering afar off, while with
folded arms and eyes uplifted he paced along the street, forgetful,
for the time, that the night was so cold, or that his own frame was
yet too feeble for unnecessary exposure.
In going to the poor man's district, Chester was obliged to pass one
of those majestic old elms which our forefathers planted, still to
be found here and there scattered over the great city. This elm stood
on a corner, and beneath its great pendent branches a small dram-shop
desecrated the soil which gave nourishment to the brave old forest
tree. This was the squalid object that fell upon Chester's gaze as
he glanced reluctantly from those long pendent branches, flashing
and shivering as it were with a fruitage of diamonds, to the dull
and dirty windows.
The dram-shop seemed to be full, for he could see the shadows of
several men passing to and fro behind the murky windows, and when
the door opened to let out a woman, who passed him with a small
pitcher in her hand, he saw that many others were left within the
building. There was something startling in the contrast between the
sublime beauty of the sky and the vice hovel underneath, and Chester
stopped to gaze on it, pondering in his thoughts how it was that men,
upright and honorable in other things, should ever become so lost
to all sense of humanity, as to legalize the vicious traffic which
this old elm, rising so nobly and so free against the sky, was obliged
to shelter.
As these thoughts occupied his mind, two men came out of the store,
arm in arm, and passed the place where he was standing. One of the
men looked keenly at him as he went by, but Chester scarcely observed
him, and remained as before, with his mind wholly engrossed.
"It is he!" said one of the men to his companion, "and looking toward
the corner, as if it would not be a hard job to get him in."
"Hush! he will hear you," replied the other. "Let us walk round the
block and go in from the other street; he will not know us again!"
"If we could but get him in for once, just long enough to taste one
glass, that would settle his business," was the rejoinder. "Move
slower, and let us talk it over. Jones will go in with us through
thick and thin, for the fellow has hurt his business more than a
little, reformed a great many of his best customers, and persuaded
others to be off. We shall find Jones ready for anything."
The two men walked forward, feeling their way along the slippery
sidewalk, and conversing earnestly until they reached the dram-shop
again.
Chester was still there, pondering the ideas of blended pleasure and
pain, which the scene had presented to him with unusual force that
evening. The dram-shop had opened two or three times while he was
standing there, and when the two men passed in he saw without closely
observing them.
At length, he was about to move forward, when the shop, that had been
up to that time remarkably quiet, became a scene of some strange
tumult. Three or four persons left abruptly, and the sound of loud,
angry voices reached him through the door whenever it was flung open
to allow persons to pass out. After a few minutes there came running
across the street a little boy, who seemed quite breathless with haste
and terror.
"Oh! you are a policeman, sir; I am so glad, pray come with me!" he
cried, seizing hold of Chester's coat. "They are quarreling--two men
are quarreling in there, and one of them has a knife drawn."
Chester hastened across the street, for the angry voices were becoming
louder, and there really seemed to be some danger threatened. He
entered the store, and to his surprise, found only two persons
present, besides the owner, who stood back of a little imitation
marble counter with his arms folded, evidently enjoying a scene of
altercation that was carried on, it appeared, with some effort between
his guests; for as one of the men was thrown back against the counter
in the scuffle, he merely circled two or three half empty decanters
with his arm, and laughingly told them not to interfere with their
best friends; then throwing half his weight upon the counter again,
he seemed to enter heart and soul into the dispute.
"There, there," said the owner, rising as Chester came in, "we have
had enough of this--here is the police. Give up, give up, both of
you. Shake hands and take a drink--that is the way to settle these
little matters. Come, Mr. Policeman, help me to pacify these two
hot-heads; what do you say to my recommendation, brandy and water
all round?"
"That would be the last thing that I should recommend," said Chester,
speaking in his usual bland and gentlemanly manner. "These two
persons, I doubt not, will listen to the reason without firing up
their blood with more strong drink."
"With more strong drink!" cried one of the men, laughing rudely as
he cast his antagonist carelessly from him; "why we haven't had a
drop yet. It was thirst, sheer thirst that made us both so savage.
Come, Smith, here is my hand. Let us drink and make up."
The man thus addressed rose from the cask against which he had been
thrown, and suddenly took the offered hand of his antagonist.
Chester saw that the quarrel, if it ever had been serious, was now
at an end, and turned to leave the store; but Jones, the owner,
followed him with an anxious face, and whispered that it was only
fear of the police that had so suddenly quieted the men, and besought
him not to withdraw till they were ready to leave the establishment.
Chester turned back; both the place and company were repugnant to
him, but it was his duty to remain, and he sat down regarding the
two men as they drank at the counter, boisterously knocking their
glasses together in token of renewed fellowship.
"Come, Mr. Policeman, take a glass," said Smith, who all the while
had been the most noisy. "You look pale as a ghost," and the man took
a glass half full of brandy and brought it to the stove by which
Chester had drawn his chair.
Chester did indeed look pale, for coming out of the clear night into
a room heated to suffocation by a close stove, and redolent with the
mingled fumes of tobacco smoke and alcohol, the atmosphere oppressed
him with a sickening sensation; his head began to reel, and he sat
unsteadily in his chair. Thus oppressed, he reached forth his hand
and lifted the glass to his lips. The scent of its contents, however,
warned him; he arose without tasting the brandy, and placed it on
the counter. Just then two or three persons came in from the street.
Jones and Smith exchanged triumphant glances, and Chester sat down
again, supporting his forehead upon one hand, sickened with the heat,
and becoming each moment more pallid.
"Come," said Smith, at length addressing his companion, "let us go
now, we can soon find a place where gentlemen can settle their
disputes without being hunted down by the police!" and the two went
out.
Jones hastily came round the counter and addressed Chester.
"They will get up a street fight," he said, with great apparent
anxiety. "Had you not better follow them?"
Chester arose with difficulty and left the store, scarcely conscious
of his own movements, for he was still faint from the changed
atmosphere. But the cold air revived him, and he walked on beneath
the old elm, passing the two men, who stood on the curb-stone leaning
against its trunk, apparently in excited conversation. The pavement
all around was one glaze of ice, and Chester was obliged to guard
his footsteps with great care, as he moved slowly forward. As he came
near the two men, one of them put forth his foot, and Chester fell
forward with a faint cry, striking his temples against the curb stone
with a violence that sent the broken ice in a shower over his head.
"Halloo! here is a fallen star," cried Smith, lifting his voice. The
dram-shop was flung open at the sound, and its owner came forth
followed by several persons who had entered the place just as Chester
left it.
They found the policeman stretched on the ice with the two men, who
had been the cause of his mishap, bending over him with that jeering
expression in their words and features, with which the coarse-minded
usually meet accidents which result from intoxication.
Chester was much hurt, but he had lost no blood, so the bystanders
turned away with a laugh, and he was left to the mercy of those two
evil men.