FROM the time Mr. Andrew Grim opened a low grogshop near theWashington Market, until, as a wealthy distiller, he counted himselfworth a hundred thousand dollars, every thing had gone on smoothly;and now he might be seen among the money-lords of the day, asself-complacent as any. He had stock, houses, and lands: and, in hismind, these made up life's greatest good. And had he not obtainedthem in honest trade? Were they not the reward of perseveringindustry? Mr. Grim felt proud of the fact, that he was the architectof his own fortunes. "How many had started in life side by side withhim; and yet scarcely one in ten of them had risen above the commonlevel."
Thoughts like these often occupied the mind of Mr. Grim. Such werehis thoughts as he sat in his luxurious parlor, one bleak Decemberevening, surrounded by every external comfort his heart coulddesire, when a child not over seven or eight years of age wasbrought into the room by a servant, who said, as he entered--
"Here's a little girl that says she wants to see you."
Mr. Grim, turned, and looked for a moment or two at the visiter. Shewas the child of poor parents; that was evident from her coarse andmeager garments.
"Do you wish to see me?" he inquired, in a voice that was meant tobe repulsive.
"Yes, sir," timidly answered the child.
"Well, what do you want?"
"My mother wants you."
"Your mother! Who's your mother?"
"Mrs. Dyer."
The manner of Mr. Grim changed instantly; and he said--
"Indeed! What does your mother want?"
"Father is sick; and mother says he will die."
"What ails your father?"
"I don't know. But he's been sick ever since yesterday; and hescreams out so, and frightens us all."
"Where does your mother live?"
The child gave the street and number.
Mr. Grim walked about the room uneasily for some time.
"Didn't your mother say what she wanted with me?" he asked again,pausing before the little girl, whose eyes had been following allhis movements.
"No, sir. But she cried when she told me to go for you."
Mr. Grim moved about the room again for some time. Then stoppingsuddenly, he said--
"Go home and tell your mother I'll be there in a little while."
The child retired from the room, and Mr. Grim resumed hisperambulations, his eyes upon the floor, and a shadow resting on hiscountenance. After the lapse of nearly half an hour he went into thehall, and drawing on a warm overcoat, started forth in obedience towhat was evidently an unwelcome summons--for he muttered to himselfas he descended to the pavement--
"I wish people would take care of what they get, and learn to dependon themselves."
Mr. Grim took an omnibus and rode as far as Canal street. Down Canalstreet he walked to West Broadway, and along West Broadway for acouple of blocks, when he stopped before an old brick house thatlooked as if it had seen service for at least a hundred years, andexamined the number.
"This is the place, I suppose," said he, fretfully. And he steppedback and looked up at the house. Then he approached the door, andsearched for a bell or knocker; but of neither of these appendagescould the dwelling boast. First, he rapped with his knuckles, thenwith his cane. But no one responded to the summons. He looked up andsaw lights in the window. So he knocked again, and louder. Afterwaiting several minutes, and not being admitted, Mr. Grim tried thedoor and found it unfastened; but the passage into which he steppedwas dark as midnight. After knocking on the floor loudly with hiscane, a door opened above, a gleam of light fell on an old stairway,and a rough voice called out,
"Who's there?"
"Does Mr. Dyer live here?"
"Be sure he does!" was roughly answered.
"Will you be kind enough to show me his room?"
"You'll find it in the third story back," said the voice,impatiently. The door was shut again, and all was dark as before.
Mr. Grim stood irresolute for a few moments, and then commencedgroping his way up stairs, slowly and cautiously. Just as he gainedthe landing on the second flight, a stifled scream was heard in oneof the rooms on the third floor, followed by a sudden movement, asif two persons were struggling in a murderous conflict. He stoppedand listened, while a chill went over him. A long shuddering groanfollowed, and then all was still again. Mr. Grim was aboutretreating, when a door opened, and the child who had called for himcame out with a candle in her hand. The light fell upon his form andthe child saw him.
"Oh! mother! mother!" she cried, "Mr. Grim is here!"'
Instantly the form of a woman was seen in the door. Her look waswild and distressed, and her hair, which had become loosened fromthe comb, lay in heavy masses upon her shoulders.
"For heaven's sake, Mary! what is the matter?" exclaimed Mr. Grim,as he approached the woman.
"The matter!" She looked sternly at the visiter. "Come and see!" Andshe pointed into the room.
A cry of unutterable distress broke upon the air, and the womansprang back quickly into the room. Mr. Grim hurried after her. Bythe feeble light of a single poor candle, he saw a half-clothed mancrouching fearfully in a corner of the room, with his hands raisedin the attitude of defence.
"Keep off! Keep off, I say!" he cried, despairingly. "Oh! oh! oh!It's on me, Mary! Mary! Oh! Lord, help me! help me!"
And as these broken sentences fell from his lips, he shrunk closerand closer into the corner, and then fell forward, writhing upon thefloor. By this time, his wife was bending down over him, and withher assuring voice she soon succeeded in quieting him.
"They've all gone now, Henry," said she, in a tone of cheerfulconfidence, assumed at what an effort! "I've driven them away. Come!lie down upon the bed."
"They're under the bed," replied the sufferer, glancing fearfullyaround. "Yes, yes! There! I see that blackest devil with the snakein his hand. He's grinning at me from behind the bed post. Now he'sgoing to throw his horrible snake at me! There! oh-oh-oh-oh!"
The fearful, despairing scream that issued from the poor creature'slips, as he clung to his wife, curdled the very blood in the veinsof Mr. Grim, who now comprehended the meaning of the scene. Dyer andhis wife were friends of other days. With the latter he had grown upfrom childhood, and there were many reasons why he felt an interestin her. Her husband had learned drinking and idleness in hisbar-room, many years before; and more than once during the time ofhis declension, had she called upon Mr. Grim, and earnestly besoughthim to do something to save the one she loved best on earth fromimpending ruin. But, he had entered the downward way, and it seemedthat nothing could stop his rapid progress. Now he met him, afterthe lapse of ten years, and found him mad with the drunkard'smadness.
The scene was too painful for Mr. Grim. He could not bear it. So,hurriedly drawing his purse from his pocket, he threw it upon thefloor, and turning from the room made his way out of the house,trembling in every nerve. When he arrived at home, the perspirationstood cold and clammy on every part of his body. His mind wasgreatly excited. Most vividly did he picture, in imagination, thehorrible fiend, striking the poor drunken wretch with his serpentspear, or blasting him with his terrific countenance. For an hour hewalked the floor of his chamber, and then, exhausted in body andmind, threw himself on a bed, and tried to find oblivion in sleep.But, though he wooed the gentle goddess, she came not with hersoothing poppies. Too vivid was the impression of what he had seen,and too painful were the accompanying reflections, to admit of sweetrepose. At last, however, exhaustion came, and he fell into thathalf sleeping and waking state--in which the imagination remainsactive, so painful to endure. In this state, one picture presentedby imagination was most vivid of all; it was the picture of poorDyer, shrinking from the fiend with the serpent, which latter wasnow as plainly visible to him as it had been to the unhappydrunkard. Presently the fiend began to turn his eyes upon him with amalignant expression; then it glanced from him to the drunkard, andpointing at the latter, said Grim heard the voice distinctly--
"It is your work!"
The distiller closed his eyes to hide from view the grinningphantom. But it did not shut out the vision. The fiend was beforehim still; and now it swung around its head a horrid serpent withdistended jaws, and seemed about to dash it upon him. He cowered andgroaned in fear. As he still gazed upon the dreadful form, it slowlychanged into a female of stern yet beautiful aspect. In one hand sheheld a naked sword, and in the other a balance. Her knew her, andtrembled still more intensely.
"I am JUSTICE," said the figure. "You have been weighed in thebalance and found wanting. The world is sustained by mutualbenefits. No man can live wholly for himself. Each must serve theothers. What one man produces another enjoys. You have enjoyed, inabundance, the good things produced by others; but what has beenyour return? Let me show you the work of your hands. Look!"
Suddenly there was a murmur of voices; the sound came nearer andnearer, and a crowd of men and women came eagerly toward theprostrate distiller--all eyes upon him, and all countenancesexpressive of anger, rebuke, or despair. One poor mother heldtowards him her ragged, starving child, and cried--
"Your cursed trade has murdered his father. Give him back to us!"
Another marred and degraded wretch called, with clenched hand--
"Where is my money, my good name, my all?" You have robbed me ofevery thing!"
By his side was a poor drunkard, supporting the pale form of hissick wife, while their starving children stood weeping before them--
"Look at us?" said he. "It is your handy-work!"
And there were dozens of others in the squalid crowd who called tohim with bitter execrations, or pointed to their ruined homes andcried--
"It is your work! Your work! Rum--rum has cursed us!"
"Yes, this is your work," said Justice, sternly. "For the goodthings of life you received on all hands from your fellow-men, yougave them back a stream of fire to consume them. Wealth is therepresentative of use to society. It comes, or should come, as areward for serving the common good. So earned, it is a blessing; andhe who thus gains it has a right to its possession. But, in youreager pursuit of gain you have cursed every man who brought you ablessing; and now your ill-gotten wealth must be given up. See!"
And, as she spoke, she pointed to an immense bag of gold.
"It is all there!" continued Justice. "Your houses and lands, yourstocks and your merchandise, have been converted into gold; and Inow distribute it once more among the people, to be gathered bythose more worthy to possess it than thou!"
Then a troop of fiends came rushing down through the air, and,seizing the bag, were bearing it off in triumph, when the agonizedsleeper sprang towards his gold, and in the effort threw off theterrible nightmare that was almost crushing out his life.
There was no sleep for him during the hours that intervened untilthe daylight broke. The images he had seen, and the words he hadheard, were before him all the time, crushing his heart like thepressure of heavy footsteps. As soon as the day had dawned hestarted forth and sought the dwelling he had so hastily left on thenight before. All was silent as he ascended the stairway. The doorof the room where he had been stood partly open. He listened amoment--all was silent. He moved the door, but nothing stirredwithin. Then he entered. His purse lay upon the floor where he hadthrown it; that was the first object which met his sight. The nextwas the ghastly face of death! The wretched drunkard had passed tohis account; and his body lay upon the bed. Close beside was theform of her who had been to Mr. Grim, in early years, as a tendersister. She was in a profound sleep; and on the floor lay the child,also wrapped in deep forgetfulness of the misery with which she wassurrounded.--
"And this is the work I have been doing!" sighed the distiller;whose mind could not lose the vivid impression made by his dream.
A little while he contemplated the scene around him, and then takingup his purse he silently withdrew. But ere returning home he madeknown to a benevolent person the fact of the unhappy death which hadoccurred, and, placing money in his hand, asked him to do all thathumanity required, and to do it at his expense.
Few men went about their daily business with a heavier heart thanMr. Andrew Grim. He felt that he was the possessor of ill-gottengain; and felt, besides, a sense of insecurity.
"Wealth is the representative of use to society. It comes, orshould come, as a reward for serving the common good," he repeatedto himself, in the words he had heard in his dream. "And how have Iserved the common good? What good have I performed that correspondsto the blessings I have received and enjoy? Ah, me! I wish it wereotherwise."
With such thoughts, how could the man be happy! When night cameround again he feared to trust himself in the arms of sleep; andwhen exhausted nature yielded, painful dreams haunted him untilmorning. Weeks elapsed before the vivid impression he had receivedwore off, and before he enjoyed any thing like a quiet slumber. But,though he had a better sleep, his waking thoughts ceased to bepeaceful and self-satisfying. A year went by, and then, frettedbeyond endurance at his position of manufacturer of death anddestruction, both natural and spiritual, for his fellow men, hebroke up his distillery, and invested his money in a business thatcould be followed with benefit to all.
THE END.
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