"IT is two years, this very day, since I signed the pledge,"remarked Jonas Marshall, a reformed drinker, to his wife, besidewhom he sat one pleasant summer evening, enjoying the coolness andquiet of that calm hour.
"Two years! And is it, indeed, so long?" was the reply. "How swiftlytime passes, when the heart is not oppressed with cape and sorrow!"
"To me, they have been the happiest of my life," resumed thehusband. "How much do we owe to this blessed reformation!"
"Blessed, indeed, may it be called!" the wife said, with feeling.
"It seems scarcely possible, Jane, that one, who, like me, hadbecome such a slave to intoxication, could have been reclaimed. Ioften think of myself, and wonder. A little over two years ago, Icould no more control the intolerable desire for liquor that I felt,than I could fly. Now I have not the least inclination to touch,taste, or handle it."
"And I pray Heaven you may never again have!"
"That danger is past, Jane. Two years of total abstinence havecompletely changed the morbid craving once felt for artificialstimulus, into a natural and healthy desire for natural and healthyaliments."
"It would be dangerous for you even now, Jonas, to suffer a drop ofliquor to pass your lips; do you not think so?"
"There would be no particular danger in my tasting liquor, Ipresume. The danger would be, as at first, in the use of it, untilan appetite was formed." Marshall replied, in a tone of confidence.
"Then you think that old, inordinate craving for drink, has beenentirely eradicated?"
"O yes, I am confident of it."
"And heartily glad am I to hear you say so. It doubles the guaranteefor our own and children's happiness. The pledge to guard us on oneside, and the total loss of all desire on the other, is surely asafe protection. I feel, that into the future I may now look,without a single painful anxiety on this account."
"Yes, Jane. Into the future you may look with hope. And as to thepast, let it sink, with all its painful scenes,--its heart-achingtrials, into oblivion."
Jonas Marshall and his young wife had, many years before the periodin which the above conversation took place, entered upon the worldwith cheerful hopes, and a flattering promise of happiness. Theywere young persons of cultivated tastes, and had rather more of thisworld's goods than ordinarily falls to the lot of those justcommencing life. A few years sufficed to dash all their hopes to theground, and to fill the heart of the young wife with a sorrow thatit seemed impossible for her to bear. Marshall, from habitualdrinking of intoxicating liquors, found the taste for them fullyconfirmed before he dreamed of danger, and he had not the strengthof character at once and for ever to abandon their use. Gradually hewent down, down, slowly at first, but finally with a rapid movement,until he found himself stripped of everything, and himself aconfirmed drunkard. For nearly two years longer, he surrenderedhimself up to drink--his wife and children suffering more than mypen can describe, or any but the drunkard's wife and drunkard'schildren realize.
Then came a new era. A friend of humanity sought out the poor,degraded wretch, in his misery and obscurity, and prevailed upon himto abandon his vile habits, and pledge himself to total abstinence.Two years from the day that pledge was signed, found him againrising in the world, with health, peace, and comfort, the cheerfulinmates of his dwelling. Here is the brief outline of a reformeddrinker's history. How many an imagination can fill in the darkshadows, and distinct, mournful features of the gloomy picture!
On the day succeeding the second anniversary of Jonas Marshall'sreformation, he was engaged to dine with a few friends, and met themat the appointed hour. With the dessert, wine was introduced. Amongthe guests were one or two persons with whom Marshall had butrecently become acquainted. They knew little or nothing of hisformer life. One of them sat next to him at table, and verynaturally handed him the wine, with a request to drink with him.
"Thank you," was the courteous, but firm reply. "I do not drinkwine."
Another, who understood the reason of this refusal, observing it,remarked--
"Our friend Marshall belongs to the tee-totallers."
"Ah, indeed! Then we must, of course, excuse him," was thegentlemanly response.
"Don't you think, Marshall," remarked another, "that you temperancemen are a little too rigid in your entire proscription of wine?"
"For the reformed drinker," was the reply, "it is thought to be thesafest way to cut off entirely everything that can, by possibility,inflame the appetite. Some argue, that when that morbid craving,which the drunkard acquires, is once formed, it never can bethoroughly eradicated."
"Do you think the position a true one?" asked a member of the party.
"I have my doubts of it," Marshall said. "For instance: Most of youknow that for some years I indulged to excess in drink. Two yearsago I abandoned the use of wine, brandy, and everything else of anintoxicating nature. For a time, I felt the cravings of an intensedesire for liquor; but my pledge of total abstinence restrained mefrom any indulgence. Gradually, the influence of my old appetitesubsided, until it ceased to be felt. And it is now more than a yearsince I have experienced the slightest inclination to touch a drop.Your wine and brandy are now, gentlemen, no temptation to me."
"But if that be the case," urged a friend, "why need you restrictyourself, so rigidly, from joining in a social glass? Standing, asyou evidently do, upon the ground you occupied, before, by a toofree indulgence, you passed, unfortunately, the point ofself-control: you may now enjoy the good things of life withoutabusing them. Your former painful experience will guard you in thatrespect."
"I am not free to do so," replied Marshall.
"Why?"
"Because I have pledged myself never again to drink anything thatcan intoxicate, and confirmed that pledge by my sign-manual--thusgiving it a double force and importance."
"What end had you in view in making that pledge?"
"The emancipation of myself from the horrible bondage in which I hadbeen held for years."
"That end is accomplished."
"True. But the obligations of my pledge are perpetual."
"That is a mere figure of speech. You fully believed, I suppose,that perpetual total-abstinence was absolutely necessary for yoursafety?"
"I certainly did."
"You do not believe so now?"
"No. I have seen reason, I think, to change my views in thatrespect. The appetite which I believed would remain throughout life,and need the force of a solemn bond to restrain it, has, under therigid discipline of two years, been destroyed. I now feel myself asmuch above the enslaving effects of intoxicating liquors, as I everdid in my life."
"Then, it is clear to my mind, that all the obligations of yourpledge are fulfilled; and that, as a matter of course, it ceases tobe binding."
"I should be very unwilling to violate that pledge."
"It would be, virtually, no violation."
"I cannot see it in that light," Marshall said, "although you may beperfectly correct. At any rate, I am not now willing to act up toyour interpretation of the matter."
This declaration closed the argument, as his friends did not feelany strong desire to see him drink, and argued the matter with himas much for argument sake as anything else. In this they acted withbut little true wisdom; for the particular form in which the subjectwas presented to the mind of Marshall, gave him something to thinkabout and reason about. And the more he thought and reasoned, themore did he become dissatisfied with the restrictions under which hefound himself placed. Not having felt, for many months, the leastdesire for liquor, he imagined that even the latent inclinationwhich existed, as he readily supposed, for some time, had becomealtogether extinguished. There existed, therefore, in hisestimation, now that he had begun to think over the matter, no goodreason why he should abstain, totally, from wine, at least, on asocial occasion.
The daily recurrence of such thoughts, soon began to worry his mind,until the pledge, that had for two years lain so lightly upon him,became a burden almost too intolerable to be borne.
"Why didn't I bind myself for a limited period?" he at last said,aloud, thus giving a sanction and confirmation by word of thethoughts that had been gradually forming themselves into a decisionin his mind. No sooner had he said this, than the whole subjectassumed a more distinct form, and a more imposing aspect in hisview. He now saw clearly, what had not before seemed perfectlyplain--what had been till then encompassed by doubts. He wassatisfied that he had acted blindly when he pledged himself tototal-abstinence.
"Three hundred signed the pledge last night," said his wife to him,a few weeks after the occurrence of the dinner-party, justmentioned.
"Three hundred! We are carrying everything before us."
"Who can tell," resumed the wife, "the amount of happiness involvedin three hundred pledges to total-abstinence? There were, doubtless,many husbands and fathers among the number who signed. Now, there isjoy in their dwellings. The fire, that long since went out, is againkindled upon their hearths. How deeply do I sympathize with theheart-stricken wives, upon whom day as again arisen, with a brightsun shining down from an unclouded sky!"
"It is, truly, to them, a new era--or the dawning of a newexistence.--Most earnestly do I wish that the day had arrived, whichI am sure will come, when not a single wife in the land will mournover the wrong she suffers at the hand of a drunken husband."
"To that aspiration, I can utter a most devout amen," Mrs. Marshallrejoined, fervently.
"A few years of perseverance and well-directed energy, on our part,will effect all this, I allow myself fondly to hope, if we do notcreate a reaction by over-doing the matter."
"How, over-doing it?" asked the wife.
"There is a danger of over-doing it in many ways. And I am by nomeans sure that the pledge of perpetual abstinence is not aninstance of this."
"The pledge of perpetual abstinence! Why, husband, what do youmean?"
"My remark seems to occasion surprise. But I think that I can makethe truth of what I say apparent to your mind. The use of thepledge, you will readily admit, is to protect a man against theinfluence of a morbid thirst for liquor, which his own resolution isnot strong enough to conquer."
"Well."
"So soon, then, as this end is gained, the use of the pledgeceases."
"Is it ever gained? Is a man who has once felt this morbid thirst,ever safe from it?"
"Most certainly do I believe that he is. Most certainly do I believethat a few years of total abstinence from everything thatintoxicates, will place him on the precise ground that he occupiedbefore the first drop of liquor passed his lips."
"I cannot believe this, Jonas. Whatever is once confirmed by habit,it seems to me, must be so incorporated into the mental and physicalorganization, as never to be eradicated. Its effect is to change, ina degree, the whole system, and to change it so thoroughly, as togive a bias to all succeeding states of mind and body--thustransmitting a tendency to come under the influence of that bias."
"You advance a thing, Jane, which will not hold good in practice.As, for instance, it is now two years since I tasted a drop of wine,brandy, or anything else of a like nature. If your theory were true,I should still feel a latent desire, at times, to drink again. Butthis is not the case. I have not the slightest inclination. Thesight, or even the smell of wine, does not produce the old desire,which it would inevitably do, if it were only quiescent--notextirpated--as I am confident that it is."
"And this is the reason why you think the pledge should not beperpetual?"
"It is. Why should there be an external restraint imposed upon amere nonentity? It is absurd!"
"Granting, for the sake of argument, the view you take, in regard tothe extirpation of the morbid desire, which, however, I cannot seeto be true," Mrs. Marshall said, endeavouring to seem unconcerned,notwithstanding the position assumed by her husband troubled herinstinctively,--"it seems to me, that there still exists a goodreason why the pledge should be perpetual."
"What is that, Jane?"
"If a man has once been led off by a love of drink, when no previoushabit had been formed, there exists, at least, the same dangeragain, if liquor be used;--and if it should possibly be true thatthe once formed desire, if subdued, is latent--not eradicated--thedanger is quadrupled."
"I do not see the force of what you say," the husband replied. "Tome, it seems, that the very fact that he had once fallen, and theremembrance of its sad consequences, would be a sure protectionagainst another lapse from sobriety."
"It may all be so," Mrs. Marshall said, in a voice that conveyed aslight evidence of the sudden shadow that had fallen upon her heart.And then ensued a silence of more than a minute. The wife thenremarked in an inquiring tone--
"Then, if I understand you rightly, you think that the pledge shouldbe binding only for a limited time?"
"I do."
"How long?"
"From one to two years. Two, at the farthest, would be sufficient, Iam fully convinced, to restore any man, to the healthy tone of mindand body that he once possessed. And then, the recollection of thepast would be an all-sufficient protection for the future."
Seeing that the husband was confirming himself more and more in thedangerous position that he had assumed, Mrs. Marshall said no more.Painfully conscious was she, from a knowledge of his peculiarcharacter, that, if the idea now floating in his mind should becomefixed by a rational confirmation, it would lead to evilconsequences. From that moment, she began eagerly to cast about inher mind for the means of setting him right,--means that shouldfully operate, without her apparent agency. But one way presenteditself,--(argument, she was well aware, as far as it was possiblefor her to enter into it with him, would only set his mind the moreearnestly in search of reason, to prove the correctness of hisassumed positions,)--and that was to induce him to attend morefrequently the temperance meetings, and listen to the addresses andexperiences there given.
"Come, dear," she said to him, after tea, a few evenings subsequentto the time Marshall had begun to urge his objections to the pledge."I want you to go with me to-night to this great temperance meeting.Mr.--is going to make an address, and I wish to hear him verymuch."
"It will be so crowded, Jane, that you will not have the leastsatisfaction," objected her husband--"and, besides, the evening isvery warm."
"But I don't mind that, Jonas. I am very anxious to hearMr.--speak."
"I am sorry, Jane," Marshall said, after the silence of a fewmoments. "But I recollect, now, that I promised Mr. Patton to calldown and see him this evening. There are to be a few friends there,and he wished me, particularly, to meet them."
Poor Mrs. Marshall's countenance fell at this, and the tearsgathered in her eyes.
"So, then, you won't go with me to the temperance meeting," shesaid, in a disappointed tone.
"I should like to do so, Jane," was the prevaricating reply, "butyou see that it is out of my power, without breaking my promise,which you would not, of course, have me do."
"O, no, of course not."
"You can go, Jane. I will leave you at the door, and call for youwhen the meeting is out."
"No, I do not feel like going, now I should have enjoyed it with youby my side. But to go alone would mar all the pleasure."
"But surely that need not be, Jane. You know that I cannot be alwayswith you."
"No, of course not," was uttered, mechanically; and then followed along silence.
"So you will not go," Marshall at length said.
"I should not enjoy the meeting, and therefore do not wish to go,"his wife replied.
"I am sorry for it, but cannot help it now, for I should not feelright were I not to comply with my promise."
"I do not wish you to break it, of course. For a promise should everbe kept sacred," Mrs. Marshall said, with a strong emphasis on thelatter sentence.
This emphasis did not escape the notice of her husband, who feltthat it was meant, as it really was, to apply to his state of mindin regard to the pledge. For it was a fact, which the instinctiveperception of his wife had detected, that he had begun, seriously,to argue in his own mind, the question, whether, under thecircumstances of the case, seeing, that, in taking the pledge, theprinciple of protection was alone considered, he was any longerbound by it. He did not, however, give expression to the thoughtsthat he had at the time. The subject of conversation was changed,and, in the course of half an hour, he left to fulfil hisengagement, which had not, in reality, been a positive one. As heclosed the door after him, Mrs. Marshall experienced a degree ofloneliness, and a gloomy depression of feeling, that she could notfully account for, though she could not but acknowledge that, for aportion of it, there existed too certain a cause, in the strange anddangerous position her husband had taken in regard to the pledge.
As Marshall emerged from his dwelling, and took his way towards thefriend's house, where he expected to meet a select company, his minddid not feel perfectly at ease. He had partly deceived his wife inreference to the positive nature of the engagement, and had done soin order to escape from an attendance on a temperance meeting. Thisdid not seem right. There was, also, a consciousness in his mindthat it would be extremely hazardous to throw off the restraints ofhis pledge, at the same time that a resolution was already halfformed to do so. The agitation of mind occasioned by this conflictcontinued until he arrived at his friend's door, and then, as hejoined the pleasant company within, it all subsided.
"A hearty welcome, Marshall!" said the friend, grasping his hand andshaking it warmly. "We were really afraid that we should not havethe pleasure of your good society. But right glad am I, that, withyour adherence to temperance men and temperance principles, you donot partake of the exclusive and unsocial character that so manyassume."
"I regard my friends with the same warm feelings that I ever did,"Marshall replied,--"and love to meet them as frequently."
"That is right. We are social beings, and should cultivatereciprocal good-feelings. But don't you think, Marshall, that someof you temperance folks carry matters too far?"
"Certainly I do. As, for instance, I consider this binding of a manto perpetual total-abstinence, as an unnecessary infringement ofindividual liberty. As I look upon it, the use of the pledge, is toenable a man, by the power of an external restraint, to gain themastery over an appetite that has mastered him. When that isaccomplished, all that is wanted is obtained: of what use is thepledge after that?"
"Very true," was the encouraging reply.
"A man," resumed Marshall, repeating the argument he had used to hiswife, which now seemed still more conclusive, "has only to abstainfor a year or two from liquor to have the morbid craving for itwhich over-indulgence had created, entirely eradicated. Then hestands upon safe ground, and may take a social glass, occasionally,with his friends, without the slightest danger. To bind himself up,then, to perpetual abstinence, seems not only useless, but a realinfringement of individual liberty."
"So it presents itself to my mind," rejoined one of the company.
"I feel it to be so in my case," was the reply of the reformed manto this, thus going on to invite temptation, instead of fleeing fromit.
"Certainly, if I were the individual concerned," remarked one of thecompany, "I should not be long in breaking away from such arbitraryrestrictions."
"How would you get over the fact of having signed the pledge?" askedMarshall, with an interest that he dared not acknowledge to himself.
"Easy enough," was the reply.
"How?"
"On the plea that I was deceived into signing such a pledge."
"How deceived?"
"Into a belief that it was the only remedy in my case. There is nomoral law binding any man to a contract entered into ignorantly. Thefact of ignorance, in regard to the fundamental principles of anagreement, vitiates it. Is not that true?"
"It certainly is," was the general reply to this question.
"Then you think," said Marshall, after reflecting for a few moments,"that no moral responsibility would attach to me, for instance, if Iwere to act independently of my pledge?"
"Certainly none could attach," was the general response; "provided,of course, that the end of that pledge was fully attained."
"Of that there can be no doubt," was the assumption of the reformedman. "The end was, to save me from the influence of an appetite fordrink, against which, in my own strength, I could not contend. Thatend is now accomplished. Two years of total abstinence has made me anew man. I now occupy the same ground that I occupied before I lostmy self-control."
"Then I can see no reason why you should be denied the socialprivilege of a glass with your friends," urged one of the company.
"Nor can I see it clearly," Marshall said. "Still I feel that asolemn pledge, made more solemn and binding by the subscription ofmy name, is not a thing to be lightly broken. The thought of doingso troubles me, when I seriously reflect upon it."
"It seems to me that, were I in your place," gravely remarked one ofthe company, heretofore silent, "I would not break my pledge withoutfully settling two points--if it is possible for you, or any otherman, under like circumstances, to settle them."
"What are they?" asked Marshall, with interest.
"They are the two most prominent points in your case;--two that havealready been introduced here to-night. One involves the question,whether you are really free from the influence of your formerhabits?"
"I have not a single doubt in regard to that point," was thepositive reply.
"I do not see, Mr. Marshall, how it is possible for you to settle itbeyond a doubt," urged the friend. "To me, it is not philosophicallytrue that the power of habit is ever entirely destroyed. Allsubsequent states of body or mind, I fully believe, are affected andmodified by what has gone before, and never lose the impression ofpreceding states,--and more particularly of anything like anovermastering habit--or rather, I should say, in this case, of anovermastering affection. The love, desire, or affection, whicheveryou may choose to call it, which you once felt for intoxicatingdrinks, or for the effects produced by them, never could haveexisted in the degree that they did, without leaving on yourmind--which is a something far more real and substantial than thismaterial body, which never loses the marks and scars of formerabuse--ineradicable impressions. The forms of old habits, if this betrue, and that it so, I fully believe, still remain; and theseforms are in the endeavour, if I may so speak, to be filled with theaffections that once made them living and active. Rigidly excludeeverything that can excite these, and you are safe;--but, to me itseems, that no experiment can be so dangerous, as one which willinevitably produce in these forms a vital activity."
"That, it seems to me," was the reply of one of the company, "is alittle too metaphysical--or rather, I should say,transcendental--for, certainly, it transcends my powers of reasoningto be able to see how any permanent forms, as you call them, can beproduced in the mind, as in the body--the one being material, andthe other immaterial, and, therefore, no more susceptible of lastingimpressions, than the air around us."
"You have not, I presume, given much thought to this subject," theprevious speaker said, "or you would not doubt, so fully, the truthof my remark. The power of habit, a fact of common observance, whichis nothing but a fixed form of the mind, illustrates it. And,certainly, if the mind retained impressions no better than the airaround us, we should remember but little of what we learned in earlyyears."
"I see," was the reply to this, "that my remark was too broad.Still, the memory of a thing is very different from a permanent andinordinate desire to do something wrong, remaining as a latentprinciple in the mind, and ready to spring into activity yearsafterwards, upon the slightest provocation."
"It certainly is a different thing; and if it be really so, itsestablishment is a matter of vital importance. In regard to reformeddrinkers, there has been much testimony in proof of the position. Ihave heard several men relate their experiences; and all have saidthat time and again had they resolved to conquer the habit that wasleading them on headlong to destruction; and that they had, on morethan one occasion, abstained for months. But that, so soon as theyagain put liquor to their lips, the old desire came back for it,stronger and more uncontrollable than before."
"That was, I presume," Marshall remarked, "because they had notabstained long enough."
"One man, I remember to have heard say, that he did not at oneperiod of his life use any kind of intoxicating drink for threeyears. He then ventured to take a glass of cider, and was drunk andinsensible before night! And what was worse, did not again risesuperior to his degradation for years."
"I should call that an, extreme case," urged the infatuated man."There must have been with him a hereditary propensity. His fatherwas, doubtless, a drunkard before him."
"As to that, I know nothing, and should not be willing to assume thefact as a practical principle,"--the friend replied. "But there isanother point that ought to be fully settled."
"What is that?"
"No one can, without seriously injuring himself, morally, violate asolemn pledge--particularly, as you have justly said, a pledge mademore binding and solemn, by act and deed, in the sign-manual. A manmay verbally pledge himself to do or not to do a thing. To violatethis pledge deliberately, involves moral consequences to himselfthat are such as almost any one would shrink from incurring. Butwhen a man gives to any pledge or contract a fulness and aconfirmation by the act of subscribing his name to it, and thendeliberately violates that pledge or contract, he necessarilyseparates himself still further from the saving power of goodprinciples and influences than in the other case, and comes morefully under the power of evil principles and evil influences. Aftersuch an act, that man's state is worse, far worse than it wasbefore. I speak strongly and earnestly on this subject, because Ifeel deeply its importance. And I would say to our friend Marshallhere, as I would say to my own brother, let these two points befully settled before you venture upon dangerous ground. Be sure thatthe latent desire for stimulating drinks is fully eradicated--and becertain that your pledge can be set aside without great moral injuryto yourself, before you take the first step towards its violation,which may be a step fraught with the most fatal consequences toyourself and family."
This unlooked-for and serious turn which the discussion assumed, hadthe effect to make Marshall hesitate to do what he had too hastilymade his mind up that he might venture upon without the slightestdanger. It also furnished reasons to the company why they should noturge him to drink. The result was, that he escaped through all thetemptations of the evening, which would have overcome him,inevitably, had his own inclination found a general voice ofencouragement.
But none of the strong arguments why he should not again run madlyinto the way of evil, which had been so opportunely and unexpectedlyurged, had the effect to keep his eye off of the decanters andbrim-full glasses that circulated far too freely;--nor to preventthe sight of them from exciting in his mind a strong, almostunconquerable desire, to join with the rest. This very desire oughtto have warned him--it should have caused him to tremble and fleeaway as if a raging wild beast had stood in his path. But it didnot. He deceived himself by assuming that the desire which hefelt to drink with his friends arose from his love of sociality, notof wine.
The evening was lonely and long to Mrs. Marshall, and there was ashadow over her feelings that she endeavoured in vain to dispel. Herhusband's knock, which came between ten and eleven o'clock, and forwhich she had been listening anxiously for at least an hour, madeher heart bound and tremble, producing a feeling of weakness andoppression. As she opened the door for him, it was with a vaguefear. This was instantly dispelled by his first affectionate worduttered in steady tones. He was still himself! Still as he had beenfor the blessed two years that had just gone by!
"What is the matter, Jane? You look troubled," the husband remarked,after he had seated himself, and observed his wife's appearance.
"Do I?--If so, it is because I have felt troubled this evening."
"Why were you troubled, Jane?"
"That question I can hardly answer, either to your satisfaction ormy own," Mrs. Marshall said. "From some cause or other, my feelingshave been strangely depressed this evening; and I have experienced,besides, a consciousness of coming misery, that has cast a shadowover my spirits, even now but half dispelled."
"But why is all this, Jane? There must be some cause for such achange in your feelings."
"I know but one cause, dear husband!" Mrs. Marshall said, in a voiceof deep tenderness, laying her hand upon her husband's arm as shespoke, and looking him in the face with an expression of earnestaffection.
"Speak out plainly, Jane. What is the cause?"
"Do not be offended, Jonas, when I tell you, that I have not been soovercome by such gloomy feelings since that happy day when yousigned the pledge, as I have been this evening. The cause of thesefeelings lies in the fact of your having become dissatisfied withthat pledge. I tremble, lest, in some unguarded moment, under theassurance that old habits are conquered, you may be persuaded tocast aside that impassable barrier, which has protected your homeand little ones for so long and happy a time."
"You are weak and foolish, Jane," her husband said, in ahalf-offended tone.
"In many things I know that I am," was Mrs. Marshall's reply, "butnot in this. A wife who loves her husband and children as tenderlyas I do mine, cannot but tremble when fears are suddenly awakenedthat the footsteps of a deadly enemy are approaching her peacefuldwelling."
"Such an enemy is not drawing nigh to your dwelling, Jane."
"Heaven grant that it may not be so!" was the solemn ejaculation.
"To this, Marshall felt no inclination to reply. He had already saidenough in regard to his pledge to awaken the fears of his wife, andto call forth from her expressions of strong opposition to his viewsof the nature of his obligation. His silence tended, in no degree,to quiet her troubled feelings.
On the next morning, Marshall was thoughtful and silent. Afterbreakfast, he went out to attend to business, as usual. As he closedthe door after him, his wife heaved a deep sigh, lifted her eyesupwards, and prayed silently, but fervently, that her husband mightbe kept from evil. And well might she thus pray, for he neededsupport and sustenance in the conflict that was going on in hisbosom--a conflict far more vigorous than was dreamed of by the wife.He had invited temptation, and now he was in the midst of astruggle, that would end in a more perfect emancipation of himselffrom the demon-vice that had once ruled him with a rod of iron, orin his being cast down to a lower depth of wretchedness and miserythan that out of which he had arisen. In this painful struggle hestood not alone. Good spirits clustered around him, anxiouslyinterested in his fate, and endeavouring to sustain his falteringpurposes; and evil spirits were also nigh, infusing into his mindreasons for the abandonment of his useless pledge. It was a periodin his history full of painful interest. Heaven was moving forwardto aid and rescue him, and hell to claim another victim. But neitherthe one nor the other could act upon him for good or for evil,except through his own volition. It was for him to turn himself tothe one, and live, or to the other, and die.
So intense was this struggle, that, after he had entered his placeof business, he remained there for only a short time, unable to fixhis mind upon anything out of himself, or to bid the tempest in hismind "be still." Going out into the street, he turned his steps heknew not whither. He had moved onwards but a few paces, when thethought of home and his children came up in his mind, accompanied bya strong desire to go back to his dwelling--a feeling that requireda strong effort to resist. The moment he had effectually resistedit, and resolved not to go home, his eye fell upon the temptingexposure of liquors in a bar-room, near which he happened to bepassing. At the same instant, it seemed as if a strong hand wereupon him, urging him towards the open door.
"No--no--no!" he said, half aloud, hurrying forward, "I am notprepared for that. And yet, what a fool I am," he continued, "tosuffer myself thus to be agitated! Why not come to some decision,and end this uncertain, painful state at once? But what shall I do?How shall I decide?"
"To keep your pledge," a voice, half audible, seemed to say.
"And be for ever restless under it,--for ever galled by its slavishchains," another voice urged, instantly.
"Yes," he said, "that is the consequence which makes me hesitate.Fool--fool--not to have taken a pledge for a limited period! I wasdeceived--tricked into an act that my sober reason condemns! Andshould I now be held by that act? No!--no!--no! The voice of reasonsays no! And I will not!"
As he said this, he turned about, and walked with a firm, deliberatestep, towards the bar-room he had passed but a few moments before,entered it, called for a glass of wine, and drank it off.
"Now I am a free man!" he said, as he turned away, and proceededtowards his place of business, with an erect bearing.
He had not gone far, however, before he felt a strong desire foranother glass of wine, unaccompanied by any thought or fear ofdanger. From the moment he had placed the forbidden draught to hislips, the struggle in his mind had ceased, and a great calmsucceeded to a wild conflict of opposite principles and influences.He felt happy, and doubly assured that he had taken a right step. Asecond glass of wine succeeded the first, and then a third, beforehe returned to his place of business. These gave to the tone of hisspirits a very perceptible elevation, but threw over his mind a veilof confusion and obscurity, of which, however, he was not conscious.An hour only had passed after his return to business, before heagain went out, and seeking an obscure drinking-house, where hisentrance would not probably be observed, he called for a glass ofpunch, and then retired into one of the boxes, where it was handedto him. Its fragrance and flavour, as he placed it to his lips, weredelightful--so delightful, that it seemed to him a concentration ofall exquisite perceptions of the senses.
Another was soon called for, and then another and another, each onestealing away more and more of distinct consciousness, until at lasthe sunk forward on the table before which he had seated himself,perfectly lost to all consciousness of external things!
Gladly would the writer draw a veil over all that followed thatinsane violation of a solemn pledge, sealed as it had been by thehand-writing of confirmation. But he cannot do it. The truth, andthe whole truth needs to be told,--the beacon-light must be raisedon the gloomy shores of destruction, as a warning to the thoughtlessor careless navigator.
Sadder and more wretched was the heart of Mrs. Marshall during themorning of that day, than it had been on the evening before. Therewas an overwhelming sense of impending danger in her mind, that shecould not dissipate by any mode of reasoning with herself. As herchildren came about her, she would look upon them with an emotion ofyearning tenderness, while her eyes grew dim with tears. And thenshe would look up, and breathe a heart-felt prayer that He whotempereth the winds to the shorn lamb, would regard her little ones.
The failure of her husband to return at the dinner hour, filled herwith trembling anxiety. Not once during two years had he been absentfrom home without her being perfectly aware of the cause. Itsoccurrence just at this crisis was a confirmation of her vaguefears, and made her sick at heart. Slowly did the afternoon passaway, and at last the hour came for his return in the evening. Butthough she looked for his approaching form, and listened for thewell-known sound of his footsteps, he did not come.
Anxiety and trembling uncertainty now gave way to an overwhelmingalarm. Hurriedly were her children put to bed, and then she went outto seek for him, she knew not whither. To the store in which he hadbecome a partner, she first turned her steps. It was closed as shehad feared. Pausing for a few moments to determine where next toproceed, she concluded to go to the house of his partner, and learnfrom him if he had been to the store that day, and at what time. Onher way to his dwelling, she passed down a small street, in whichwere several drinking-houses, hid away there to catch the many whoare not willing to be seen entering a tavern.
In approaching one of these, loud voices within, and the sound of ascuffle, alarmed her. She was about springing forward to run, whenthe door was suddenly thrown open, and a man dashed out, who fellwith a violent concussion upon the pavement, close by her feet.Something about his appearance, dark as it was, attracted her eye.She stooped down, and laid her hand upon him. It was her husband!
A wild scream, that rung upon the air,--a scream which the poorheart-stricken creature could not have controlled if her life hadbeen the forfeit--brought instant assistance. Marshall was takeninto a neighbouring house, and a physician called, who, on making anexamination, said that a serious injury might, or might not havetaken place--he could not tell. One thing, however, was certain, theman was beastly drunk.
O, with what a chill did that last sentence fall upon the ear of hiswife! It was the death-knell to all the fond hopes she had cherishedfor two peaceful years. For a moment she leaned her head against thewall near which she was standing, and wished that she could die. Butthoughts of her children, and thoughts of duty roused her.
A carnage was procured and her husband conveyed home, and then,after he had been laid upon a bed, she was left alone with him, andher own sad reflections. It was, to her, a sleepless night--but fullof waking dreams, whose images of fear made her heart tremble andshrink, and long for the morning.
Morning at last came. How eagerly did the poor wife bend over thestill unconscious form of her husband, reading each line of hisfeatures, as the pale light that came in at the windows gavedistinctness to every object! He still breathed heavily, and therewas an expression of pain on his countenance. A double cause foranxiety and alarm, pressed upon the heart of Mrs. Marshall. She knewnot how serious an injury his fall might have occasioned,--nor howutter might be his abandonment of himself, now that he had brokenhis solemn pledge. As she bent over him in doubt, pain, and anxiety,he suddenly awoke, and, without moving, looked her for a momentsteadily in the face, with a glance of earnest inquiry. Then came adistinct recollection of his violated pledge; but all after that wasonly dimly seen, or involved in wild confusion. His bodilysensations told him but too plainly how deep had been his fall: andthe intolerable desire, that seemed as if it were consuming his veryvitals, was to him a sad evidence that he had fallen, never, hefeared, to rise again. All this passed through his mind in a moment,and he closed his eyes, and turned his face away from the earnest,and now tearful gaze of his wife.
"How do you feel, Jonas?" Mrs. Marshall inquired, tenderly,modifying her tones, so as not to permit them to convey to his earthe exquisite pain that she felt. But he made no reply.
"Say, dear, how do you feel?" she urged, laying her hand upon him,and pausing for an answer.
"As if I were in hell!" he shouted, springing suddenly from the bed,and beginning to dress himself, hurriedly.
"O, husband, do not speak so!" Mrs. Marshall said, in a soothingtone. "All may be well again. One sin need not bring uttercondemnation. Let this be the last, as it has been the first,violation of your pledge. Let this warn you against the removal ofthat salutary restraint, which has been as a wall of fire around youfor years."
"Jane!" responded the irritated man, pausing, and looking at hiswife, fixedly, while there sat upon his face an expression ofterrible despair; "that pledge can never be renewed! It would belike binding a giant with a spider's web. I am lost! lost! lost! Theeager, inexpressible desire that now burns within me, cannot becontrolled. The effort to do so would drive me mad. I must drink, ordie. And you, my poor wife!--and you, my children! what will becomeof you? Who will give you sufficient strength to bear your dreadfullot?"
As he said this, his voice fell to a low and mournful, despairingexpression--and he sunk into a chair, covering his face with hishands.
"Dear husband!" urged his wife, coming to his side, and drawing herarm around his neck, "do not thus give way! Let the love I have everborne you, and which is stronger and more tender at this moment thanit has ever been--let the love you feel for your dear little ones,give you strength to conquer. Be a man! Nerve yourself, and lookupwards for strength, and you must conquer."
"No--no--no--Jane!" the poor wretch murmured, shaking his head,mournfully. "Do not deceive your heart by false hopes, for they willall be in vain. I cannot look up. The heavens have become as brassto me. I have forfeited all claim to success from above. As I liftedthe fatal glass to my lips, I heard a voice, whose tones were asdistinct as yours--'Let us go hence!' and from that moment, I havebeen weak and unsustained in the hands of my enemies. I am a doomedman!"
As he said this, a shrinking shudder passed through his frame, andhe groaned aloud. The silence that then reigned through the chamberwas as appalling as the silence of death to the heart of Mrs.Marshall. It was broken at length by her husband, who looked up withan expression of tenderness in her face, as she still stood with herhand upon him, and said--
"Jane, my dear wife! let me say to you now, while I possess my fullsenses, which I know not that I ever shall again, that you have beentrue and kind to me, and that I have ever loved you with an earnestlove. Bear with me in my infirmity;--if, amid the grief, and wrong,and suffering, which must fall upon you and your children, you canbear with the miserable cause of all your wretchedness. I shall notlong remain, I feel, to be a burden and a curse to you. My downwardcourse will be rapid, and its termination will soon come!"
A gush of tears followed this, and then came a stern silence, thatchilled the heart of Mrs. Marshall. She longed to urge still furtherupon her husband to make an effort to restrain the intense desire hefelt, but could not. There seemed to be a seal upon her lips. Slowlyshe turned away to attend to her little ones, upon whom she nowlooked with something of that hopelessness which the widow feels, asshe turns from the grave of her husband, and looks upon herfatherless children.
With a strong effort, Marshall remained in the house until breakfastwas on the table. But he could only sip a little coffee, and soonarose, and lifted his hat to go out. His wife was by his side, as helaid his hand on the door.
"Jonas," she said, while the tears sprang to her eyes, "rememberme--remember your children!" She could say no more; sobs choked herutterance--and she leaned her head, weak and desponding, upon hisshoulder.
Her husband made no reply, but gently placed her in a chair, kissedher cheek, and then turned hastily away, and left the house.
It was many minutes before Mrs. Marshall found strength to rise, andthen she staggered across the room, like one who had been stunned bya blow. We will not attempt the vain task of describing her feelingsthrough that terrible day;--of picturing the alternate states ofhope and deep despondency, that now made her heart bound with alighter emotion,--and now caused it to sink low, and almostpulseless, in her bosom. It passed away at last, and brought thegloomy night--fall--but not her husband's return. Eight, nine, ten,eleven, and twelve o'clock came, and went, and still he was absent.
For an hour she had been seated by the window, listening for thesound of his approaching footsteps. As the clock struck twelve, shestarted, listened for a moment still more intently, and then arosewith a deep sigh, her manner indicating a state of irresolution.First she went softly to the bed, and stood looking down for somemoments upon the faces of her little ones, sleeping calmly andsweetly, all unconscious of the anguish that swelled their mother'sheart almost to bursting. Then she raised her head, and againassumed a listening attitude. An involuntary sigh told that she hadlistened in vain. A few moments after she was aroused from a stateof deep abstraction of thought, by a strong shudder passing throughher frame, occasioned by some fearful picture which her excitedimagination had conjured up. She now went hastily to a wardrobe, andtook out her bonnet and shawl. One more glance at her children, toldher that they were sleeping soundly. In the next minute she was inthe street, bending her steps she knew not whither, in search of herhusband.
Almost involuntarily, Mrs. Marshall took her way towards thatportion of the city where she had, on the night previous,unexpectedly found him. It was not longer before she paused by thedoor at the same drinking-house from which her husband had beenthrust, when he fell, almost lifeless, at her feet. Although it waspast twelve o'clock, the sound of many voices came from within,mingled with wild excitement, and boisterous mirth.
Now came a severe trial for her shrinking, sensitive feelings. Howcould she, a woman, and alone, enter such a place, at such an hour,on such an errand? The thought caused a sensation of faintness topass over her, and she leaned for a moment against the side of thedoor to keep from falling. But affection and thoughts of dutyquickly aroused her, and resolutely keeping down every weakness, sheplaced her hand upon the door, which yielded readily to even herlight hand, and in the next moment found herself in the presence ofabout a dozen men, all more or less intoxicated. Their loud, insanemirth was instantly checked by her entrance. They were all men whowere in the habit of mingling daily in good society, and more thanone of them knew Marshall, and instantly recognised his wife. Norudeness was, of course, offered her. On the contrary, two or threecame forward, and kindly inquired, though they guessed too well, hererrand there at such an hour.
"Has my husband been here to-night, Mr.--?" she asked, in achoking voice, of one whose countenance she instantly recognised.
"I have not met with him, Mrs. Marshall," was the reply, in a kind,sympathizing tone, "but I will inquire if any one here has seenhim."
These inquiries were made, and then Mr.--came forward again, andsaid, in a low tone,
"Come with me, Mrs. Marshall."
As the two emerged into the street, Mr.--said,
"I would not, if I were you, madam, attempt to look further for yourhusband. I have just learned that he is safe and well, only a littleovercome, by having, accidentally, I have no doubt, drunken a littletoo freely. In the, morning he will come home, and all will, Itrust, be right again."
"What you say, I know, is meant in kindness, Mr.--," Mrs. Marshallreplied, in a firmer tone, the assurance that her husband was atleast safe from external danger, being some relief to her, "but Iwould rather see my husband, and have him taken home. Home is thebest place for him, under any circumstances--and I am the mostfitting one to attend to him. Will you, then, do me the favour toprocure a hack, and go with me to the place where he is to befound?"
Mr.--saw that in the manner and tone of Mrs. Marshall which madehim at once resolve to do as she wished him. The hack was procured,into which both entered. Directions were given, in a low tone, tothe driver, and then they rattled away over the resounding pavement,for a space of time that seemed very long to the anxious wife. Atlast the hack stopped, the door was opened, and the steps throwndown. When Mrs. Marshall descended, she found herself in a narrow,dark street, before a low, dirty-looking tavern, the windows anddoors of which had been closed for the night.
While Mr.--was knocking loudly for admission, her eyes, growingfamiliar with the darkness, saw something lying partly upon thestreet and partly upon the pavement a few yards from her, that grewmore and more distinct, the more intently she looked at it.Advancing a few steps, she saw that it was the body of a man,--a fewpaces further, revealed to her eyes the form of her husband. Anexclamation of surprise and alarm brought both Mr.--and thehack-driver to her side.
In attempting to raise Marshall to his feet, he groaned heavily, andwrithed with a sensation of pain. Something dark upon the pavementattracted the eye of his wife. She touched it with her hand, towhich it adhered, with a moist, oily feeling. Hurrying to the lampin front of the hack, with a feeling of sudden alarm, she lifted herhand so that the light could fall upon it. It was covered withblood!
With a strong effort, she kept down the sudden impulse that she feltto utter a wild scream, and went back to Mr.--and communicated tohim the alarming fact she had discovered. Marshall was at once laidgently down upon the pavement, and a light procured, which showedthat his pantaloons, above, below, and around the knees, weresaturated with blood.
"O, Mr.--! what can be the matter?" Mrs. Marshall said, in huskytones, looking up, with a face blanched to an ashy paleness.
"Some passing vehicle has, no doubt, run over him--but I trust thathe is not much hurt. Remain here with him, until I can procureassistance, and have him taken home."
"O, sir, go quickly!" the poor wife replied, in earnest tones.
In a short time, four men, with a litter, were procured, upon whichMarshall, now groaning, as if acutely conscious of pain, was placed,and slowly conveyed home. A surgeon reached the house as soon as theparty accompanying the injured man. An examination showed that hislegs had been broken just above the knees. And one of them had theflesh dreadfully torn and bruised, and both were crushed as if runover by some heavy vehicle. A still further examination showed thefracture to be compound, and extensive; but, fortunately, the kneejoint had entirely escaped. Already the limbs had swollen veryconsiderably, exhibiting a rapidly increasing inflammation. This wasa natural result flowing from the large quantity of alcohol which hehad evidently been taking through the day and evening.
Fortunately, notwithstanding the morbid condition of his body, andthe nature and extent of the injury he had sustained, the vitalsystem of Marshall, unexhausted by a long-continued series ofphysical abuse from drinking, rallied strongly against the violentinflammation that followed the setting of the bones, and dressing ofthe wounds, and threw off the too apparent tendency to mortificationthat continued, much to the anxiety of the surgeon, for many days.During this time, he suffered almost incessant pain--frequently ofan excruciating character. The severity of this pain entirelydestroyed all desire for intoxicating drink. This desire, however,gradually began to return, as the pain, which accompanied theknitting of the bones, subsided. But he did not venture to ask forit, and, of course, it was not offered to him.
With the most earnest attentions, and the tenderest solicitude, didMrs. Marshall wait and watch by the bedside of her husband, both dayand night, wearing down her own strength, and neglecting herchildren.
At the end of three weeks, he had so far recovered, as to be able tosit up, and to bear a portion of his weight. As fear for theconsequences of the injury her husband had received, began to fadefrom the mind of Mrs. Marshall, another fear took possession ofit--a heart-sickening fear, under which her spirit grew faint. Therewas no pledge to bind him, and his newly-awakened desire for liquor,she felt sure would bear him away inevitably, notwithstanding thedreadful lesson he had received.
About this time, however, two or three of his temperance friends,who had heard of his fall, came to see him. This encouraged her,especially as they soon began to urge him again to sign thepledge;--but he would not consent.
"It is useless," was his steady reply, to all importunities, andmade usually, in a mournful tone, "for me to sign another pledge.Having broken one, wilfully and deliberately, I have no power tokeep another. I am conscious of this--and, therefore, am resolvednot to stain my soul with another sin."
"But you can keep it. I am sure you can," one friend, moreimportunate than the rest, would repeatedly urge. "You broke yourfirst pledge, deliberately, because you believed that you were freedfrom the old desire, even in a latent form. Satisfied, from painfulexperience, that this is not the case, you will not again try sodangerous an experiment."
But Marshall would shake his head, sadly, in rejection of allarguments and persuasions.
"It may all seem easy enough for you," he would sometimes say, "whohave never broken a solemn pledge; but you know not how utter adestruction of internal moral power such an act, deliberately done,effects. I am not the man I was, before I so wickedly violated thatsolemn compact made between myself and heaven--for so I now lookupon it. While I kept my pledge, I had the sustaining power ofheaven to bear me safely up against all temptations;--but since thevery moment it was broken, I have had nothing but my own strength tolean upon, and that has proved to be no better than a broken reed,piercing me through with many sorrows."
To such declarations, in answer to arguments, and sometimes earnestentreaties made by his friends to induce him to renew his pledge,Mrs. Marshall would listen in silence, but with a sinking, sickeningsensation of mind and body. All and more than she could say, wassaid to him, but he resisted every appeal--and what good could herweak persuasions and feeble admonitions do?
Day after day passed on, and Marshall gradually gained more use ofhis limbs. In six weeks, he could walk without the aid of hiscrutches.
"I think I must try and get down to the store to-morrow," he said,to his wife, about this time. "This is a busy season, and I can beof some use there for two or three hours, every day."
"I don't think I would venture out yet," Mrs. Marshall said, lookingat him, with an anxious, troubled expression of countenance, thatshe tried in vain to conceal.
"Why not, Jane?"
"I don't think you are strong enough, dear."
"O, yes, I am. And, besides, it will do me good to go out and takethe fresh air. You know that it is now six weeks since I have beenoutside of the front door."
"I know it has. But--"
"But what, Jane?"
"You know what I would say, Jonas. You know the terrible fear thatrests upon my heart like a night-mare."
And Mrs. Marshall covered her face with her hands, and gave way totears.
A long silence followed this. At length Marshall said,
"I hope, Jane, that I shall be able to restrain myself. I am, atleast, resolved to try."
"O, husband, if you will only try!" Mrs. Marshall ejaculatedeagerly, lifting her tearful eyes, and looking him with an appealingexpression in the face--"If you will only try!"
"I will try, Jane. But do not feel too much confidence in my effort.I am weak--so weak that I tremble when I think of it--and rememberwhat an almost irresistible influence I have to contend with."
"Why not take the pledge, again, Jonas?" said his wife, for thefirst time she had urged that recourse upon him.
"You have heard my reasons given for that, over and over again."
"I know I have. But they never satisfied me."
"You would not have me add the sin of a double violation of a solemnpledge to my already overburdened conscience?"
"No, Jonas. Heaven forbid!"
"The fear of that restrains me. I dare not again take it."
"Do you not deeply repent of your first violation?" the wife asked,after a few moments of earnest thought. "Heaven knows how deeply."
"And Heaven, that perceives and knows the depth and sincerity ofthat repentance, accepts it according to its quality. And just sofar as Heaven accepts the sincere offering of a repentant heart,conscious of its own weakness, and mourning over its derelictions,is strength given for combat in future temptations. The bruised reedhe will not break, nor quench the smoking flax. Hope, then, dearhusband! you are not cast off--you are not rejected by Heaven."
"O, Jane, if I could feel the truth of what you. say, how happy Ishould be!--For the idea of sinking again into that hopeless,abandoned, wretched condition, out of which this severe afflictionhas lifted me, as by the hair of the head, is appalling!" was thereply, to his wife's earnest appeal.
"Trust me, dear husband,--there is truth in what I say. He who camedown to man's lowest, and almost lost condition, that he might raisehim up, and sustain him against the assaults of his worst enemies,has felt in his own body all the temptations that ever can assailhis children, and not only felt them, but successfully resisted andconquered them; so that, there is no state, however low, in whichthere is an earnest desire to rise out of evil, to which he does notagain come down, and in which he does not again successfully contendwith the powers of darkness. Look to Him, then, again, in a fixedresolution to put away the evils into which you have fallen, and youmust, you will be sustained!"
"O, if I could but believe this, how eagerly would I again fly tothe pledge!" Marshall said, in an earnest voice.
"Fly to it then, Jonas, as to a city of refuge; for it is true. Youhave felt the power of the pledge once-try it again. It will bestrength to you in your weakness, as it has been before."
Still Marshall hesitated. While he did so, his wife brought himpens, ink and paper.
"Write a pledge and sign it, dear husband!" she urged, as she placedthem before him. "Think of me--of the joy that it will bring to myheart--and sign."
"I am afraid, Jane."
"Can you stand alone?"
"I fear not."
"Are you not sure, that the pledge will restrain you some?"
"O, yes. If I ever take it again, I shall tremble under the fearfulresponsibility that rests upon me."
"Come with me, a moment," Mrs. Marshall said, after a thoughtfulpause.
Her husband followed, as she led the way to an adjoining room, wheretwo or three bright-eyed children were playing in the happiest mood.
"For their sakes, if not for mine, Jonas, sign the pledge again,"she said, while her voice trembled, and then became choked, as sheleaned her head upon his shoulder.
"You have conquered! I will sign!" he whispered in her ear.
Eagerly she lifted her head, arid looked into his face with a glanceof wild delight.
"O, how happy this poor heart will again be!" she ejaculated,clasping her hands together, and looking upwards with a joyoussmile.
In a few minutes, a pledge of total abstinence from all kinds ofintoxicating drinks, was written out and signed. While her husbandwas engaged in doing this, Mrs. Marshall stood looking down uponeach letter as it was formed by his pen, eager to see his namesubscribed. When that was finally done; she leaned forward on thetable at which he wrote, swayed to and fro for a moment or two, andthen sank down upon the floor, lost to all consciousness of externalthings.
From that hour to this, Jonas Marshall has been as true to hissecond pledge, even in thought, as the needle to the pole. Sodreadful seems the idea of its violation, that the bare recollectionof his former dereliction, makes him tremble.
"It was a severe remedy," he says, sometimes, in regard to hisbroken legs; "and proved eminently successful. But for that, Ishould have been utterly lost."
THE END.
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