IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)
k
//
//
f .Ay.
/.
< ^
^
I/.
^
/
1.0
I.I
i^|2£ ■:
|50 ""^ mi
>^ IM |:
1*0 it 2.0
12.2
m
t
IIII-25 1.4 1 1.6
<
6"
►
Kiotographic
Sciences
Corporation
23 VnST MAIN STRUT
WnSTM.N.Y. MSM
(716)S72-4S03
CIHM/ICMH
Microfiche
Series.
CIHM/ICMH
Collection de
microfiches.
Canadian Institute for Historical Micro^eproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques
Technical and Bibliographic Notat/Notas tachniquaa at bibliographiquas
The Institute has attempted to obtain the best
original copy available for filming. Features of this
copy which may be bibliogrephically unique,
which may alter any of the images in the
reproduction, or which may significantly change
the usual method of filming, are checked below.
n
D
D
D
D
D
D
D
D
Coloured covers/
Couverture de couleur
I I Covers damaged/
Couverture endommagie
Covers restored and/or laminated/
Couverture restaur6e et/ou peiliculAe
I I Cover title missing/
Le titre de couverture manque
Coloured maps/
Cartes gdographiques en couleur
Coloured ink (I.e. other than blue or black)/
Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bieue ou noire)
Coloured plates and/or illustrations/
Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur
Bound with other material/
Reli6 avec d'aufes documents
Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion
along interior margin/
La reliure serr6e peut causer de I'ombre ou de la
distortion le long de la marge intirieure
Blank leaves added during restoration may
appear within the text. Whenever possible, these
have been omitted from filming/
II se peut que certaines pages blanches ajout4es
lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans le texte.
mais, lorsque cela Atait possible, ces pages n'ont
pas dt6 film6as.
Additional comments:/
Commentaires supplimentaires:
L'institut a microfilm* le meilleur exempleire
qu'il lui a M possible de se procurer. Les details
da cet exempleire qui sent peut-Atre uniques du
point de vue bibliographique. qui peuvent modifier
une image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une
modification dans la mithode normale de f ilmage
sont indiquAs ci-dessous.
r~n Coloured pages/
Pages de couleur
Pages damaged/
Pages endommagtes
□ Pages restored end/or laminated/
Pages restaurtes et/ou peiiiculies
Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/
Pages dicolortes. tachetAes ou piqu6es
I I Pages detached/
D
Pages ditachtes
Showthroughy
Transparence
Quality of prir
Quality in6gale de I'impression
Includes supplementary materii
Comprend du metiriel suppi^mentaire
Only edition available/
Seule Edition disponible
ry( Showthrough/
n~I Quality of print varies/
I I Includes supplementary material/
I — I Only edition available/
Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata
slips, tissues, etc.. heve been ref limed to
ensure the best possible imege/
Les pages totaloment ou partiellement
obscurci'M par un feuillet d'errata. une pelure,
etc.. o?tt M filmAes A nouveeu de fapon A
obteiiir le meiiieure image possible.
This item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/
Ce document jst filmi au taux de rMuction indlqu* ci-dessous.
10X
14X
18X
22X
2SX
MX
7
12X
16X
aox
a4x
2BX
32X
The copy filmed here has been reproduced thanks
to the generosity of:
National Library of Canada
L'exemplaire film* fut reproduit ijrAce A la
gAn6rosit6 de:
BibliothAque nationale du Canada
The images appearing here are the best quality
possible considering the condition and legibility
of the original copy and in Iceeping with the
filming contract specificatio.is.
Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed
beginning with the front cover and ending on
the last page with a printed or illustrated impres-
sion, or the bacic cover when appropriate. All
other original copies are filmed beginning on the
first page with a printed or illustrated impres-
sion, and ending on the last page with a printed
or illustrated impression.
The last recorded frame on each microfiche
shall contain the symbol ^»- (meaning "CON-
TINUED"), or the symbol V (meaning "END"),
whichever applies.
IMaps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at
different reduction ratios. Those too large to be
entirely included in one exposure are filmed
beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to
right and top to bottom, as many frames as
required. The following diagrams illustrate the
method:
Les images suivantes ont At* reproduites avec le
plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition et
de la nsttet* de l'exemplaire film*, et en
conformity avec les conditions du contrat de
filmage.
Les exemplaires originaux dont la couverture en
papier est imprimAe sont filmte en commen^ant
par le premier plat et en terminant soit par la
derniAre page qui comporte une empreinte
d'impression ou d'illustration. soit par le second
plat, selon le cas. Tous las autres exemplaires
originaux sont filmte en commen9ant par la
premlAre page qui comporte une empreinte
d'impression ou d'illustration et en terminant par
la dernidre page qui comporte une telle
empreinte.
Un des symboles suivants apparactra sur la
derniAre image de cheque microfiche, selon le
cas: le symbols -^ signifie "A SUIVRE". le
symbols ▼ signifie "FIN".
Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent Atre
filmte A des taux de rMuction diff*rents.
Lorsque le document est trop grand pour Atre
reproduit en un seul clich*. il est film* A partir
de Tangle sup*rieur gauche, de gauche * droite,
et de haut en has. en prenant le nombre
d'images n*cessaire. Les diagrammes suivsnts
illustrent la m*thode.
32X
1
2
3
1
2
3
4
5
6
iM
1
C J I .
0^
/
1^ ^ I -■'L^'e^'t^Tciy
A MAN Trap,
AND
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
TWO TEMPERANCE TALES,
BY
HiidlES- SL. SiKEXiTOKT.
INTRODUCTION BY
REV. A. SUTHERLAND.
J." ^^ TORONTO:
}^. MAGURN, PUBLISHER,
36 King Street East.
lerL
$/{e./-hor)M
Entered according to the Act of Parliament of Canada, in
the year one thousand eight hundred and seventy-six, by
J. B. Magurn, in the office of the Minister of Agri-
culture.
TOBomo :
WnJilAMB, SLUTB St MAOMnJiAN, Pbintus,
BAT BTRUnr.
TO
^he Jfrienba of 'lennjerancc anb Jrokibitiou
THROUGHOUT CANADA
THIS VOLUME IS INSCRIBED
wr
THEIR FRIEND AND FELLOW WORKER
THE AUTHORESS.
A MAN TEAP.
TABLE OF CONTENTS. ^
Introduction -•
Preface
' V
Contents ....
Vll
CHAPTER I.
A M'AN Trap
9
CHAPTER II.
The Elysium «
CHAPTER III.
Going Down in the World 27
CHAPTER IV.
A Bold Stroke -
35
CHAPTER V.
A Sad End . . .
52
CHAPTER VI.
The New Temperance Hall g^
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
Chapter I ! 71
Chapter II 80
Chapter III 95
Chapter IV 118
Chapter V ;' 132
Chapter VI 147
PREFACE.
N this little tale of intemperance we have at the
end thrown out some suggestions. It is our
humble opinion that such things as coffee
houses should be established for the humbler
classes. The few which now exist are only for a
certain class, but had we only for every six taverns
or saloons a coffee house such as they have in
Germany, where the workingman can go at all
hours of the day, many would sooner take a cup
of coffee than a glass of something else. As we
have in every large city many John Trescotts, we
trust that by some change they will become tired
of their calling; will turn their place into some-
thing similar to John Trescott's, and that some
friend Berryman will lend a helping hand.
THE AUTHORESS.
INTRODUCTION.
iMONG the evils which threaten the future of
this fair land, the i: luor Traffic holds a fore-
most place ; anr* the problem of its removal
has uxed some of the be il intellects of the day.
It is manifest that an evil v/hich has become intrench-
ed behind the social cufitoms, and interwoven with the
commercial interests of the country, cannot be easily
overturned. The public mind must be thoroughly in-
formed, and public interest completely aroused, before
the wished-for end can be gained.
Of late years the attention of workers in the Tem-
perance Reform has been directed chiefly to two
aspects of the question : i. The work of reforming
those who have become intemperate ; and 2. The
task of uprooting, by legislative enactment, the whole
traffic in strong drink. There are other aspects of the
question, however, which need to be taken into ac-
count, and in regard to two of these, the authoress has
done good service in the following pages.
In the " Man Trap," light is thrown upon some of
the seductive methods by which the liquor traffic en-
snares its victims, and suggests a way by which on^ of
.,'/'■
IV
INTRODUCTION.
its Strongholds may be successfully assailed ; while in
" The Fatal Inheritance," a much neglected ph)'-
siological fact is discussed, — viz., the transmission of a
growing appetite for strong drink from one generation
to another.
It is but just to say that the following tales are not,
strictly, works of fiction : they are records of facts that
have come within the scope of the writer's observation,
with just enough of fiction to link the leading inci-
dents on a continuous narrative. Some of the actors
are still living, and therefore names and places have
been veiled.
The field for literary effort presented by the tem-
perance movement is rich, and deserves better jcliltiva-
tion. It is hoped the venture of the gifted authoress
of the following pages may prove a success.
A. SUTHERLAND.
Toronto, September^ i8y6.
A MAN TEAP,
CHAPTER I.
A MAN TRAP.
RS. BERRYMAN was looking up and down
James Street in Hamilton, to see if she
could perceive her husband returning home,
for it was long past the time that he left off
" What could detain him !" she thought; she never
remembered him being so late during the three years
of their happy married life ; for even if he had business
out in the evening he never kept his wife waiting
for him. As he had often said his home was such a
cosy nest to come to, that he was always glad when
the time came to return to it. It was already getting
dark in the long summer evenings, and still he had
not come.
No wonder that she became very anxious about him
when she returned to her pleasant sitting-room where
lay in a cradle her first-bom, a noble-looking boy of
two years of age, who was the very image of his father.
William Berryman was a very handsome man, and
a true type of a Canadian ; he was tall with broad
shoulders, high forehead, hazel eyes, and a wealth of
B
10
A MAN TRAP.
dark brown hair, and when Lucy Whitley marri^ him,
she was envied by all her sex, who wondered what he,
such a noble-looking man could see in her baby face ;
but he knew that he had gained a true, faithful help-
mate, and loved her with all his heart.
There was no handsomer cottage in all the street
than theirs; it was a perfect little gem, for when
William first furnished it, he chose everything good
and in keeping with his means and station in life. He
was a carpenter by trade and earned good wages all
the time ; and every week when he brought home his
earnings to his wife, they always laid a certain sum
away which Mrs. Berryman carried to the Bank for a
rainy day. They also gave their weekly ofiering to the
church of which they were members, and from which
Mr. Berryman never was missed in rain or shine. He
was a good. God-fearing man who could spare every
day a half hour to ask God's blessing for himself and
his wife and little one. He never spent his evenings
from home, and the money which some of his fellow-
workmen spent in taverns, he spent to decorate his
home, and to buy good books out of which he read to
his wife while she sat sewing or knitting for him and
t heir boy. So his not coming home this evening was
so unusual that she became quite alarmed at last, and
was just thinking of asking one of the neighbors to
stay with her baby that she might go and look for him,
when she heard his step. She ran to open the door for
him, delighted to see him. He came in very joyously,
kissing her, but as he did so, she noticed by his breath
that he had been drinking, a thing he never had
A MAN TRAP.
11
done, and it went through her like a shot, as she said,
" how late you are, I thought you were never coming,
Willie."
"Well, you must excuse me, Lucy," he said, kissing
her again, "for keeping you waiting so long, but a little
before I left off work somebody came and asked for
me. Who do you think it was?"
" I don't know," replied his wife, busying herself to
make his tea.
" Why, the best friend I ever had in my life, John
Trescott. We went to school together, learned our trade
together with the same master, but John would not
stick to it, and went ten years ago to California, where
he has been ever since, making a great deal of money.
He only returned yesterday, with his wife and
daughter, a little girl of eight years of age, and he is
going to settle in this city. Won't that be nice, dear?"
His wife said yes, but did not think it would be
nice if this Mr. Trescott would keep Mr. Berryman
from his home, or that her Willie through him should
learn to drink.
"What is he going to do here? Live on Ins money,
I suppose," she added.
" Oh dear, no ! John is not the fellow, after having
made his money with hard work, to spend it without
replacing it. He will, if he can find a place to suit
him, buy large premises and open a handsome saloon,
something quite superior, he says, to what we have here,
and I think he will do well if he carries it out as he
intends to do."
"Another man-trap, in fact," said his wife, with
12
A Man trap.
heightened color in her face, " for all those places are
nothing else, and I am sure we have plenty in this
city without a man coming all the way from California
to increase the number ; and by making it a little more
attractive to entrap fathers and husbands in to it,
who, perhaps, otherwise never would go there."
"Why, Lucy !" cried her husband, " what ails you?
Is that the way you treat me because I happened to
stay out one evening to see an old friend ? I will
thank you not to speak so to me again," he said,
rising up with a flushed face, for he had drank more
than enough to make him excited. 'Poor Lucy began
to cry, which woke up the baby, and while she attended
to him, her husband went to bed. When she shortly
afterwards followed him, she felt that discord had
crept into their little home, casting a gloom over her
spirit which kept her awake half the night. When
morning came she rose unrefreshed from her bed, to
prepare breakfast, to which they sat down in silence.
Willie having a violent headache, ate nothing, which
made his wife very unhappy ; he kissed her and baby
as usual, as he went off to work, but did not say a
word about the evening before. He was angry with
himself for having drank too much ; with his wife for
having seen it, and as he went out he vowed to himself
that this was the first time, and should be the last ;
even to please his friend he would not drink again, and
he wondered what men could find in it to make them
like liquor, when surely they must feel like he did this
morning, more fit to go to bed than to work.
During the day his friend called in and asked him
A MAN TRAP.
13
to meet him at a certain place which was for sale, as
he would like him to see it, and then to go with him
to the hotel where they were stopping, for tea.
" No, John," replied Willie, " I cannot go to-night.
I kept my wife waiting last night till nearly eleven, so I
must go straight home ; but if you will come and meet
me here at six, and come and take tea with me, I will
go with you afterwards to see the place."
" Oh, you are one of those henpecked husbands,"
replied his friend, with a sneer, which cut Willie to
the heart, for no man likes to be called thai.
"No, I am not!" replied Willie; "far from it,
and when you see my wife, you will see how wrong
you are to say such a thing. But then I have never
left her since our marriage, for a whole evening until
last night, when I gave it up to an old friendship,
still I cannot repeat it to-night, even for you, old
fellow. So I trust you will come, and if you will bring
your wife and daughter, Lucy will heartily welcome
you all."
" I will not bring my wife and daughter to-nigl" ,"
replied Mr. Trescott, " but she shall go and see your
wife as soon as she is rested. But I tell you, Willie,
that if I choose to stay out, my wife dare not say a word.
I trained her so from the beginning ; she has her child
to keep her company, and does not want me."
" But don't you like the company of your daughter ?"
asked Willie, for his friend's answers were not pleasing
to him, and he thought how much he must have
changed to talk in that cool way.
•** Of course, I do, for I love Emma more than I
14
A MAN TRAP.
could ever love my wife ; but still that does not hinder
me from going where I please, without thinking first, will
they like it or not. * Man should never give way to
woman;* for if he does, she will soon master him."
He came to meet Willie, and they went home to-
gether, where Willie was well repaid for his resolution
by the bright smile of his wife, as she held up her face
for a kiss, and by his boy saying so prettily, " dear
papa, dear papa." Mr. Trescott could not help being
pleased with his friend's wife, and his comfortable home,
and enjoyed his tea very much, all was so neat and
clean, and he did not wonder that Willie had become
such a home-body. Still he must draw him out a
little, for a man who wanted to get on in the world
must mix with the world ; that was Ms maxim, and he
determined to teach that to his friend as soon as an
opportunity should present itself.
During the time they took their tea he told much
of his life in California, so Mrs. Berryman learned with-
out asking, that he had not always stuck to digging
for gold.
" I soon found a much easier way to make money,"
he said. " I built a kind of store with a bar-room
attached to it, where the fellows could come and sit,
and take their glass and have a chat, and the fool's-
pence, as my wife used to call them, came in faster
than by digging the ground for that yellow metal
called gold. I took in all kinds of gold-dust and
nuggets, if they had no money, and when I sold out
before I came home, I made a good round sum. I
can tell you, my little Emma will be an heiress oneaof
these days/'
A MAN TRAP.
15
" Were they all single men who spent their money
so foolishly?" asked Mrs. Berryman.
" Oh, dear no," replied Mr. Trescott ; " there were
some who had wives and children at home in the
Old Country, and had come out there to make their
fortune, but many never will be worth a dollar, for
they spend it as fast as they make it, in drink."
" And you sold it to them," said Mrs. Bertyman, not
hiding the disgust she felt at his barefaced confession.
" You got all the fool's-pence that should have gone
to their wives and children in the old world, and you
became richby it."
Mr. Trescott was surprised. This was plain speak-
ing, and from a woman whom he had put down as not
having much spirit, but he answered quite pleasantly,
" Well, if I had not sold them drink somebody else
would have done so, so I do not see that I have done
wrong. Have I, Willie?" he asked of his friend.
Willie replied, " of course not. Lucy takes the wrong
altogether ; she is just Hkc her sex, flying at conclu-
sions at once."
Lucy looked at her husband and said nothing more,
but her heart was very sad when she saw her husband
arm-in-arm, going down the street with that man,
whom she felt would bring much misery into the
city, if he opened such a splendid place as he said he
would. " I shall astonish the natives," he had said,
" by fitting up my place. There shall be no lack of
amusement, nor of surrounding beauty. I saw some
splendid places in New York, fitted up like gardens,
with trees planted in tubs, with glass roofs and spark-
16
A MAN TRAP.
ling fountains, and an orchestra, where a band played
every evening, and I shall try to imitate it as much as
I Q, in order to make it attractive.''
*' In fact, make it a man-trap, where he is enticed
to stay away from his family and spend his money,"
replied Mrs. Berryman, with a flushed face.
Her husband looked angrily at her, but she did not
care, she would let that roan know what she thought
of his business.
He tried to laugh it ofT, saying that it was really a
good name for a drinking-place, " but I never heard
it before. Mrs. Berryman is one of the witty ones, I
»
see.
"I shall not be long, Lucy," her husband said,
when he went out with his friend ; " but I must see
that John is not taken in by his bargain. I know the
city much better than he does." -
"Taken in! That man!" she repeated. "But
how many poor dupes will he take in, I wonder, before
the year is out ?"
She sat down to her sewing, but ere long her hand
lay idle in her lap, for her thoughts followed her hus-
band and his friend.
"May God, help him to keep from temptation,"
she whispered; "we have been so happy; he is
such a good, kind husband, and never gave me an angry
word ; what would I do should he fall away, led on
by that man?" Perhaps he was not so bad as she
thought him after all; he seemed to love his little
daughter, very much. She was glad he had asked her
to come and see his vdfe, and she would go there to-
A MAN TRAP.
17
morrow. It would be better to become acquainted with
her ; if she was a good woman, she ought to be able
to influence her husband, and perhaps could persuade
him to abandon the thought of opening a saloon.
There were many other kinds of business he could
enter into. She trusted he would yet change his mind
about it, but, alas! her wish was in vain. It was nearly
eleven o'clock when her husband returned, and as soon
as he entered the door sne saw that he had been drink-
ing again. Not a word of reproach did she utter, but
her sad face cut him to the heart, and he vowed that
this should be the last time ; but promises are some-
times as brittle as glass, without the help of God to
keep them.
18
A MAN TRAP.
CHAPTER II.
THE ELYSIUM.
^R. TRESCOTT had purchased the place,
and workmen were busy from morning till
night in remodeling it. Groups of men col-
lected daily in front of it to see the won-
derful sight, and to tell each other how Mr. Trescott
was going to have one room filled with trees and
flowers and fountains, and that a band was to play
there every night, and some foreign singers would be
engaged to sing two or three times a week ; that he
had ordered some splendid furniture and rare paint-
ings ; in fact, everything beautiful to charm the eye.
" And the fools will pay for it all," said an old man
who for many years had been addicted to drink, and
well knew how many fool's-pence he had put into
the publican's coffers. It will not matter how many
tears wives and daughters shed, or how many children
go supperless to bed, as long as this man and others of
his stamp get their profit. He does not care for the
broken hearts of mothers and daughters; he knows all
this belongs to the rum-traffic.
When that poor, miserable, worse than widowed
woman comes, begging him not to sell any more* liquor
to her husband, he will put her out, saying, "My busi-
ness is to sell liquor, and if your husband is fool
enough to buy it, it is hi$ business, not mine."
THE ELYSIUM.
19
On the great opening day of Mr. Trescott's saloon, he
gave a free lunch to all, with as much to drink as they
wished ; and as there are everywhere men who are
called sponging men, glad to go any place where they
can have a free dinner and get drink at somebody
else's expense, Mr. Trescott's place was thronged all
day, and all vowed that there was not a better man in
the city than John Trescott, who had such a fine place
— " the finest in Canada," some said, who professed
to know all about that sort of business.
He had several large, handsomely furnished rooms
on the first floor, leading from one into another, the
last one being fitted up as a kind of summer garden,
where free concerts were given two or three times a
week. A broad, handsome staircase led to half-a-
dozen private rooms, where neat little tables and velvet
couches invited those who chose to play. The walls
were decorated with racy paintings, and statues were
everywhere to be seen. Large gilt-framed mirrors,
reaching from the ceiling to the floor, were in every
room, where the swell could admire his handsome self.
There was a gr^d piano in the largest room, while in
another was a harp and guitar, where every evening
some poor souls played away, the music helping to
drown the pricking of conscience that some father or
son might have, who had not yet drank quite away that
article; and through all the rooms moved the host,
faultlessly dressed, with beaming face, thinking what a
capital investment he had made. His friend Willie
came very often, but as yet not every night, for he loved
20
A MAN TRAP.
his wife and child dearly, and would not leave them as
often as his friend would have wished.
Lucy had gone to see Mrs. Trescott, but by the
first look was convinced that no help could be ex-
pected from her, for having alluded to the fact that
her husband intended opening a saloon, Mrs. Trescott
said, " Yes, it is the easiest way of making money
any where. I am glad he will have a grand saloon,
something like they have in New York, and which
will draw the young men."
"Yes, a man-trap," replied Mrs. Berryman, "for
they are nothing else, enticing them to leave their
homes and spend their money, and often drink them-
selves to death in it."
Mrs. Trescott laughed at what she called a good
title, "for the name you give them does suit so
well," she said ; " but you know, Mrs. Berryman, men
must have their glass and a place to drink it in, and it
is much better to have plenty of respectable places like
ours will be, than some of those low ones, where they
sell nothing but bad whiskey."
Emma Trescott was delighted with little Henry,
and asked leave of Mrs. Berryiran to go and see
him often, to play with him, which she readily
granted, for she liked little girls ; and Emma Trescott
was such a sweet child, looking much older than she
really was, and her little boy seemed so fond of her
that first day. So Emma came nearly every day, until her
father, to make a fashionable young lady of her, sent
her to a boarding school at Toronto ; still every time
she came home her first visit was always to Mrs.
THE ELYSIUM.
81
Berryman's, for she began to love sweet Mrs. Berryman
even more than her own mother
When Mrs. Trescott told her husband of Mrs.
Berryman's visit, she added, " I don't think you will
grow fat, John, from your friend, for she is just the one
who will keep him tied to her apron strings, I can
see that. What do you think she calls our saloon ?
A ' Man trap, ' I never heard the like of it, but still I
must say that name suits very well, for sometimes the
poor dupes get awfully trapped. We shall never be
friends, she is too pious for me, but Emma has taken
quite a fancy to her and her boy, so I suppose you
have no objection to her going to play with the child
sometimes ?"
" None whatever," replied Mr. Trescott, " it will do
the child no harm, and next year I will send her to a
boarding school, for our child must be well educated
to take her place as one of the first ladies in the city.
Although we will not be recognized in what they call
good society, I am bound Emma shall, for by the time
she is grown up I hope to have made enough money
to retire from business altogether. I think the place
will be one of the best stands in the city, and I shall
spare no expense to make it attractive for gentlemen.
I want you to dress well, so that the world may
see we have money, and I know this will bring us some
friends, who, perhaps, otherwise would not look at us,
for money rules everywhere. Although I was bom
of humble parents, I am bound Emma shall be a
lady, and marry in one of the first families here."
So Emma paid the daily visits until she went to
22
A MAN TRAP.
Toronto, and her father coined money rapidly, taken
out of the pockets of those fools who visited his place.
His friend did not come often during the first few years
but when he came, John Trescott was glad to see he
could take his glass as well as the best of them, nor did
he now refuse a game of cards, as he had done at first.
He was now in business for himself, and often told his
wife when he went out in the evening that he had to
meet some one about work, when he in fact went
straight to the " Elysium," as Mr. Trescott's place was
called, although another name would have suited it
better, for it was soon the resort of those who cared
neither for God nor man. Passers by in the evening
stopped to listen to the drunken revelry going on within,
and wondered that the law of the land would permit
such nightly scenes as were enacted there ; but John
Trescott's coffers became daily fuller, his own com-
plexion more florid, and his body more portly. Did he
not feast day after day on the best ? having nothing to
do but to exercise a general supervision over his busi-
ness and count his money every night, for he kept a
staff of assistants to do his work. He made it a point
to provide the best brands of liquors for his daily in-
creasing guests, find some new amusement to attract
the young men, and was to appearance always the kind,
jovial, smiling host to all who came.
His wife called sometimes on Mrs. Berryman, but
Mrs. Berryman never set her foot in the place which
bore the name of " Elysium." She lived under the
same roof where liquor was sold, and that was enough
for her; besides, her cares for her family had increased,
THE ELYSIUM.
23
for there was a little daughter now beside her boy,
and she could not afford to keep a servant. She felt
that her husband was not doing as well as when he
had worked for a master ; she knew that he spent more
on himself now, so she saved in every way she could,
and made her work always an excuse for not visiting.
" I wish you would go out more," said her husband
one day, when she was looking very pale, after a night
when he had come home very late, so that she got no
sleep all night. " You poke too much at home, that
makes you look so pale."
" Who will take care of the children then, if I go
out?" she asked with trembling voice.
" Can you not take them with you as other women
do ? I am sure Mrs. Trescott would be delighted to
have you come to tea with her and bring the children
Why don't you be a little more friendly with her ?" said
her husband.
" Take my children to that place which they call
* Elysium?' No, never, Willie, I have already suffered
enough from it without taking my poor innocent darlings
there, they have taken you from us, but my children they
shall never welcome under their roof. You go there
now almost every night, although you tell me you must
meet some one for work. I wish you never had seen
that man whom you call your friend, for it is he who
led you on to begin for yourself, and he will lead you
on to ruin, I am sure of it, unless you cease at once
going there."
" Who told you I go there every night ?" he asked.
** Mrs. Trescott herself," replied Lucy, " she seems
24
A MAN TRAP.
to glory in telling me to wound my feelings. Every
time she comes here rustling in her silks, with her
gold watch and chain, which the fool's-pence help to
buy for her, yours amongst the rest. Oh, Willie ! Willie !
Why did that man ever come here ? we were so happy
— and now when our expenses are increasing we go
backwards, and that house is the cause of it, for you go
there to spend what would make us comfortable at
home. I know it well, although you do not tell me so.
That man never rested until you went into business for
yourself, instead of working for a good master as you
had done, and no risk and losses as you have now.
Besides, you always go out now every evening looking
for work, formerly your work was found for you, and
if you go on so, we shall soon come to beggary."
" Yes ! you would have me be a slave under a
master all my life," cried Mr. Berryman, " instead of
being a master myself. You have no ambition for
your husband as other wives Ijave, if you had, we
would be a great deal better off."
Poor Mrs. Berryman ! Had it come to that. Was
all her slaving, all her work counted as naught ?
"Oh, Willie, Willie," she said, "how your words
stab me. I who love you so, who would lay down my
life for you, could I but bring back the time when we
were so happy, ere that man crossed our path. Turn,
I implore you ; turn ere it is too late, my dear hus-
band." Tears ran down her cheeks, but they did not
affect him now as they had once done; they only
made him curse and swear, saying that as he could
not find comfort at home, he must seek it elsewhere.
THE ELYSIUM.
25
7
jr
o
* •
y
0
3
and left the house. He did not return till a late hour,
coming home reeling, in company with a man whom
a few years ago he would not have recognized in the
street, but now he was his best friend, for they got
drunk together very regularly.
Family prayer had long ceased, except when Mrs.
Berryman took her two children in a comer and wept
and prayed that God would bring back her husband
ere he should be lost forever.
Henry, her boy, was her great comforter, — a child
advanced far beyond his years. He felt very much
troubled when his father went out late at night. Young
as he was, he knew where he went to, and once he
spoke to Emma Trescott about it, saying, " I wish
your father would not have such a place as a saloon ;
it is a horrible business, and my father is not kind
now as he used to be before you came here."
Emma looked at the boy, whom she loved so dearly
and who seemed so much in earnest, and said, " Who
told you so, Henry ? You were not old enough to know
yourself; you were only a baby when we came here.
Who told you it was a horrible business ?"
" Never mind who told me. I know it is, for it
entices men to come and spend their money. If I
had not loved you so much, Emma, I would say that
I wish your place might be burned one of these days,
but as you live there I do not wish it," cried the
boy.
Emma looked, and really felt troubled. She had
learned much good from Mrs. Berrjrman, and also
. while at school. She had returned to her home a finish-
c
26
A MAN TRAP.
ed, fashionable young lady, but felt herself quite out
of place in that home, where there was plenty of
everything that a worldly heart could wish for. But,
alas ! Satan sat daily at the board, for not only her
father but her mother were often the worse for drink,
and the promise her father once made to give up the
business after she left school, was totally forgotten by
him.
GOING DOWN IN THE WORLD.
27
of
fit,
er
k,
le
>y
{
CHAPTER III.
GOING DOWN IN THE WORLD.
jNLY a few years have passed since the events
recorded in our last chapter, but what a
difference in the persons whom we here repre-
sent. Look at yonder half-starved, suffering
wretch, who once bore the name of a good man and was
once a respectable citizen, a kind and loving hu&band
and father. And now what is he? A wreck of a human
being, whose Maker sent him forth in His own image,
gave him more than his share of intellect, with which,
if he had used it rightly, he could h^ve achieved
great and noble things. But, no, he gave himself
up to Satan, and had to pay the penalty for it.
It was long since William Berry man had had regu-
lar employment. Now and then he did a little work
for some one who could not wait for a sober man.
The few dollars thus made he spent in drink, till he
often had not a cent to satisfy that appetite, and then
had to resort to the meanest things. He even stole the
money that his poor wife had scraped together to pay
her way, toiling hard by day and night working for a
tailor. Their comfortable home had long been gone,
their pretty things had been sold long ago. They
lived now in one of the poorest streets in the city,
having only the most necessary things in the way of
28
A MAN TRAP.
furniture. Henry was a good boy, and earned three
dollars a week to help his darling mother and the
sister who was always sick, and most of the time had
to keep her bed; for one night when she was hardly
two years old she fell from her chair, while her mother
was attending to her drunken husband. The child
had broken her hip, and Mrs. Berryman not having
the time nor the means to give her the care she re-
quired, she never could walk aright again ; but was a
poor, patient sufferer, who, as she said, could do
nothing but pray for her father, mother and Henry.
And pray she did, poor child, and after she told
her mother that she had heard the angel whisper to
her, " do not despair, all will be well some day with
us."
" Yes, darling, if not in this world, it will be in the
next. All will be well in the end," replied her mother.
" There all tears will be dried or wiped away from our
eyes."
" I want it to be well with us here, mother, ere we
leave this world. I want father to become good
again, as you say he was before I was bom, for I want
to see what kind of man a father can be who does not
drink. Oh, I want so many things, mother ; but I am
almost afraid God will not grant them all to me, for I
have so much to ask him day by day," said Lily.
" You may ask Him all you wish, my child, and if
He thinks it is for our good. He will grant your prayer
in His own good time and way ; but I am afraid your
father will never be better, for have I not asked the
same day by day for years past, but it seems all in
; ;
m'iSM
id three
md the
me had
hardly
mother
B child
having
she re-
: was a
Id do
^enry.
2 told
per to
y with
mthe
)ther.
a our
e we
jood
ivant
not
[am
)r I
dif
yer
Dur
the
in
GOING DOWN IN THE WORLD.
29
vain now," replied Mrs. Berryman in a hopeless voice.
" Don't, mother, this is not right ; this is not the
faith you taught me. You know that with Him nothing
is impossible. So He can bring father back again and
make him kind to us. Oh ! I do feel so sorry that I
am not strong like Henry to help you. I do wish it
was summer again, for I think Father must feel dread-
fully cold at times, his clothes are so thin, and his
boots all torn at the sides, it makes me shiver to see
him go out."
Yes ; it made his poor wife shiver too. But what
could she do? She had enough to do to give him food ;
she could not buy clothes for him too. She patched and
mended his clothes the best way she could, but the way
he tumbled about, often reeling on the sidewalk, was not
likely to improve the threadbare coat. He had lost
his overcoat one night in one of his drinking bouts,
so now he had only what he wore on his back ; no
wonder that he buttoned his coat up to the chin to
to keep out the piercing cold. How his family lived
was nothing to him. He had lost all feeling* or rather
drank it away, as is always the case with those who
give themselves up to that vice. If he had any sober
hours, they were so few, that his only thought was how
to get drunk again. His friend's place he did not
visit now, for having had no money for a long time,
he drank on credit, till at last that friend who had
helped to entice him, had refused to give him more
until he paid what he owed.
" The fact is, Will," said Mr. Trescott, " I would
much rather you would not come here any more.
30
A MAN TRAP.
Your wife blames me for it, and has set Emma up so,
that I have no peace in the house."
And is it you who tells me that?" cried Mr.
Berryman. " You, who made me drink the first glass !
You, to whom I have given hundreds of dollars of
hard-earned money ! And now when you have stripped
me of everything, you want to turn me out ! Curse
you, John!"
" Bah ! Bah ! You are a fool, William," said Mr.
Trescott. " Did I want you, or teach you, to make a
beast of yourself, day by day idling about instead of
going to work, and taking more than is good for a
man
(t
)}
You are right there," cried the poor wretch. " I
have been a fool and paid many fool's-pence to you,
but as sure as I stand here you will get your reward,
John !" He turned away and never returned to the
Elysium, but went here and there to the lowest shops.
It was all the same to him, if he could get his dram.
Emma Trescott did not now visit Mrs. Berryman.
She coula not bear to hear her talk, how her father
was the cause of all their misery, although she knew
that it was only too true. Kind as her father was he
would not allow her to speak of it. She lived an easy
life and as time went on she thought Mr. Berryman
was to blame, not her father, for drinking so much.
He had no business to do it. '
So it is always. Those who seek excuses, will soon
find them. And hundreds of women, now-a-days, who
by a kind act, or a little self-denial, could help a poor
GOING DOWN IN THE WORLD.
81
sinking wretch, find excuses, so that the fault lies at
somebody else's door rather than their own.
Mrs. Trescott became very much addicted to drink-
ing, and Emma would have gone off had she known
where to go. The high-born suitor had not yet arriv-
ed, nor had she that entrk to society which he had
hoped for and expected, by making a lady of her.
But society did not care for the daughter of a man
who had nothing to recommend him but his money,
which of late years had not accumulated as fast as
when he first began.
Did not many a poor wife curse the place where her
husband carried all his earnings, leaving her and her
little ones in want ? Nc blessing could rest on this
ill-gotten gain, and, sooner or later, they will lose all
again that they have taken out of the pockets of these
poor deluded men, who seemed to belong, body and
soul, to the rum-seller. What Shakspeare says is only
too true : " Oh ! that men should put an enemy into
their mouths to steal away their brains." How many
bright minds are lost through this, that otherwise would
be a blessing to the world. But by giving themselves
up to drink they become a pest and a curse to the
whole community in which they live.
One day Emma met Mrs. berryman, and her woe-
begone aspect touched her to the heart. Had it
come to this with them that she had not sufficient
clothing in this cold weather ?
The thin threadbare shawl and rusty black dress
told their own tale ; had not the large bundle which she
carried shown in what occupation she was engaged.
32
A MAN I RAP.
She Stopped to speak to Emma, who gave a hurried
glance around to see that none of her acquaintance
were in sight, to see her talking to such a shabby-looking
woman, the same, although poorly clad, in whose
society she once felt so happy.
Poor Emma, you are by far the poorest, notwith-
standing your rich attire ; for the tears of Mrs. Berry-
man and others helped to purchase that for you. Had
you never returned to that atmosphere after you left
school, they might have made a true woman of you ;
but to come to such an ungenial home, where nothing
was heard or seen but that which must poison the
mind of the young, if God does not help the person to
steer through the burning fire which surrounds them,
was to run a great risk.
How many are there of Emma Trescott's stamp,
who, should their friend go down in the world, would
know them no longer. A shabby dress, a threadbare
coat, are sure signals that they should not meet you ;
they will cross the street quickly no matter about dust
or dirt so as not to see you ; or, should this be im-
possible, they cast up their eyes towards heaven, whom
they in their very act so offend, by being ungrateful.
When she came home, she told her father that she
had met Mrs. Berryman, and how poorly she was
dressed. "I am sure they must be in want. Mr.
Berryman is your friend, can you not assist his family
a little?"
'* Wias my friend, not t's, Emma, you should say; you
don't suppose I call a drunken loafer my friend, do
you ? As to giving his wife help, she would not like
GOING DOWN IN THE WORLD.
38
it in the first place, and then I would not give her a
red cent. She cursed me one day, more than two years
ago, and said it was all my fault, her husband be-
coming a drunkard, ever since that time all has gone
wrong with us, what with your mother having forever
the brandy bottle to her lips, and neglecting everything
in the house, and the bar-tender running off with that
pile of money. That woman told me that not a cent
of that money should come to you, for it was the price
of many a broken heart of wives and children."
Emma shuddered when she heard that Mrs. Berry-
man had cursed her father, for she was one of those
who believe that curses follow people. She had often
before urged her father to give up his business, but in
vain ; the promise he once made seemed all forgotten
now ; she pleaded again with him to give it up.
" Oh ! father, do give up that hateful business !" she
cried, " Mr. Berryman is only one out of the many, who,
through our house, have become drunkards, and no
blessing can rest upon the money you make thus. It
is nothing but a * man-trap,' as Mrs. Berryman calls it.
See the many young men who are here nightly, never
thinking of their mothers and sisters who watch for
their return. I shudder to think how many men have
found an early grave by drinking here. It is an un-
lawful business, father ! "
" Not lawful," cried Mr. Trescott, " I would like to
know what the law has to do with my business?
Don't I pay taxes for everything I sell ? Who dare
say I break the law, even suppose I do let in a few of
my best customers on Sundays ? Don't I tell them to
34
A MAN TRAP.
make sure that no body sees them come in, nor do I
allow them to make a noise. So I would like to see
who dare tell me such a thing ! What is more lawful
than to profit by people's amusements, and sell them
something to make them merry ? So do not talk so
foolishly, Emma ; besides, I am not so rich as to give
up business just yet."
"Why not enter another business, then, father?
You are a carpenier by trade ; why not work at that ?"
'* Take a plane in my hand, and stand at a bench,
me ? I think you must be mad to suppose such a
thing, when I have lived so long an easy life. No,
thank you, I found out early in life how to make money
without much work, so it is not likely I will begin
now. Fools may work for me, I get the best part of
their earnings now ; besides, you would look nice to be
called a common carpenter's daughter?"
" I would much rather be called that, than that the
curse of many poor souls should follow me all my life.
Oh, Father ! Father ! I will work for you ; I will give up
everything, if you will only leave this business. Look
at my mother ! it makes my heart bleed to think what
her end will be, for ^hc is never sober now. Were she
away from this house v;e might save her, but as long
as the drink is witliin her reach, she will go on and
nothing will stop her. Words are in vain now, she
will not listen to me."
"Nor I either," said her father, and he turned
away and went out of the room.
b\-l^i:=i-
A BOLD STROKE.
85
CHAPTER IV.
A BOLD STROKE.
if
^PRING had come and work was plentiful,
still Mr. Berryman did but little. One of his
former workmen was now a master himself,
employing numbers of men to work for him,
he being one of those industrious, sober men who are
sui^ to get on in Canada. He felt sorry that his
former master should have so fallen away, and now he
went to him again asking him to work for him, stating
that he could give him work all summer.
" Not if I know it," replied Berryman. " I would
rather starve than work for a man who once worked
for me ; you shall not crow this way over me, I tell
you," he added; for he was not quite sober. He
thought he was an abused man to be almost in rags,
while Robert Walls was a prosperous man.
He often told his companions after seeing Robert,
" That young man once worked for me at a dollar a
day, and now look at him and look at me ; he has
had all the luck and I have had none. I started just
like him, but everything he touches becomes gold, he
is so prosperous, while everything I touch becomes
dust and ashes." But he did not tell how he first be-
gan by taking a little spirits the first thing in the
morning, then perhaps at eleven o*clock, and by-and-by
36
A MAN TRAP.
; I
■H-i
he took a glass at four o'clock, and so he went on till
he took some every hour in the day. He neglected
his business, and his men did as they pleased. Loss
after loss followed, till he had no work, and still he
went on, till his shoes went down at the heels, his hat
looked rather the worse for wear, and he looked
altogether a poor, miserable man. And yet when a
chance was offered him to turn over a new leaf, he
rejected the friendly offer because the man once had
been a workman for him.
Walls had promised Mrs. Berryman to try his best
to induce her husband to give up drinking and come
and work for him, so, although he received this un-
gracious reply, he did not give up his desire to try and
restore his former master to respectability.
" Now, see here, Mr. Berryman," he said, " you
really don't mean what you say. I know you would
like your wife to look once more the happy woman
she looked when I first saw her, and have a nice home
like the little cottage in James street, where you first
took me, a green country lad, by the hand. I can
never forget your kindness to me, so don't reject my
offer. I have a job out in Dundas, in one of the
factories, that I know you understand better than
myself, so if you will come out with me, you and I
will do it by ourselves. My wife's brother can look
after the men here in the city. Do come, for your
family's sake, I ask it. Make a firm resolution, and
you will surely conquer this great enemy, which is
eating away your life, and will at last destroy you."
" It is too* late for me to go back," cried Will Berry-
A BOLD STROKE.
81
fV/
man ; " too late for everything. That man Trescott
has been my ruin, curse him ! "
" Hush, Mr. Berryman, it is wrong to curse any
one. He is not alone to blame that you have
fallen away, and I trust now that you will turn back at
once. Do it, Mr. Berryman. Ask Gk)d to help you,
and let me also help you, and all will be well in the
end with both you and your family. Will you go with
me to-morrow to Dundas, and look at the work ?"
" How can I?" cried Mr. Berryman, partly sobered
by the other's pleading voice. "Look at these clothes;
they are my best. Why, the people would laugh at
you, bringing the like of me near a place to work."
" I asked you to let me help you. Will you let
me do so in my own way, and take it as if a son was
offering it to you?" said Robert Walls, laying his
hand on the other's arm. " So here, take this money
as an advance of payment ; get yourself a suit of
clothes, and what else you want; give the rest to your
wife, and then come to my place in the evening and
we will arrange all about going in the morning." So
sa\ ing, he handed him a roll of bills, which the other ^
eagerly clutched, for th^ sight of so much money was
a novelty to him, and through his mind no doubt the
thought passed, how much drink it would buy for him.
But God, who works in a wondrous way, had chosen
Robert Walls as a guardian angel, and it was he who
watched his movements a^ter they parted from each
other.
Robert Walls knew wha a terrible temptation he
had put in the mju. s hand, yet he knew also that by
38
A MAN TRAP.
showing him that he had still some trust in him, that
this would sooner help him than anything else, so he
followed him at a little distance unseen, and was very
glad to observe him pass by the first tavern, and then
another, and at last enter a clothes store. He was not
there long, and returned with a bundle under his arm.
He then went into a shoe store, and having bought
those much-needed articles, he turned toward his
home. Robert Walls watched him till he saw him
enter his own door. "Thank God! he may yet b.?
saved," he said, as he turned away.
Mrs. Berryman was out carrying home her work,
and his daughter was asleep, so Mr. Berryman went
and cast off his old clothes, which scarcely hung
together. Then, as he felt once more the comfort of
having a decent suit of clothes on his back, and a good
pair of boots on his feet, he thought what a fool he
had been all these years, and vowed he would turn
over a new leaf, as Robert had begged him to do.
" Lucy will not know me," he said to himself.
" Poor woman, I will see if I cannot make her happy
again." She was still absent and he sat down to wait
for her, but he felt hungry. He had still fifteen dollars
left. Yes, he would go and buy something nice for
tea, and surprise his, wife. So saying, he left the
house, taking the whole amount with him. He went
into a store where they sold everything, even whiskey^
Here he met a pal of his taking a glass over the
counter.
" Oh, Berryman, you have been in luck," cried the
man, " why you look quite the gentleiT^an, I declare.
A BOLD STROKE.
39
How did that happen, have you fallen heir to a
fortune, or what ? "
" No, I have turned over a new leaf. I got work,
so had to get clothes first, of course," replied he.
" Oh, well ! I hope you will stand a treat then, I
have stood many a time for you, and one good turn
deserves another, so stump up old fellow, and then
you may turn two leaves if you like," said the mail,
winking at the grocer behind the counter.
" I came here to buy some groceries not to drink, I
have had nothing since morning," said Berryman.
" I wish you would not ask me. How is a man to
reform if at every place a trap is laid for him. Now,
I did not think you sold whiskey at all, Mr. Smith."
"I sell all kinds of the best and purest that can
be had," repHed Mr. Smith, " many of my customers
never enter a tavern the whole year. It is not
nice to see a respectable man or woman enter those
places, no matter how high they may stand, so they
come here, drink what they wi i^t or carry it home,
and no one is the wiser for it. Just taste this and
tell me if you ever drank better whiskey in your life."
So saying he handed Benyman a glassful and also
one to his friend. After the first glass he had no
need to ask him again to stand treat, for he paid for
all who came in for the next hour, and when he left
the store seven dollars had gone into Smith's pocket,
and his wife and children were totally forgotten.
Several of his companions followed him, for had he
not money? and they knew that as long as he had a ' /
cent he would drink. They went to a tavern close
m
40
A MAN TRAP.
by to sup, Berryman paying for all. The man who
kept the tavern had only a few days before refused
him drink, but was now very gracious to him, for had
he not good clothes on, and could pull out a five
dollar bill. It did not matter to him where Berryman
got it from, he might have stolen it for all he cared ;
so long as he paid for all he ordered, it was all right.
It was late when they left the pot-house. Berry-
man was so far gone that he had to be led by two
otlr v.. often he stumbled, and once he measured his
lergtl. ; tiie sidewalk. His new clothes were
greatly aamaged by the fall, besides striking his fore-
head against some hard substance that made it bleed.
As they were near his house they met a man who
relieved them of going further with him, saying he
was Mr. Berryman's friend and would see him home.
They were glad, for they were hardly able themselves
to stand, so they left him to the man who was no
other than Robert Walls, who for hours had watched
for his return home.
Mr. Walls had trusted too much to human nature,
and to a man who for years had spent every cent of
money almost as soon as he got it, it was not safe to
entrust such a sum as he had given Berryman. He
blamed himself greatly for it. When evening came and
Berryman should have come, he told his wife to
prepare a nice supper and make a strong cup of
coffee and he would go out and meet him. They
were a newly married couple — very happy they were,
although Mrs. Walls remembered one dark spot in
her life, that was when her father was suddenly taken
II : ;
iL
■'•T~!'"."'-'IIW«JIWW
A BOLD STROKE.
41
from them, by having drank to excess for sometime.
Now she was "mad" on the subject of temperance she
said, and the Good Templars had not a more zealous
worker in their ranks than Mrs. Walls. Having
become the wife of a strictly temperate man, she
worked against the curse of intemperance with all her
might and means. She knew all about the Berry-,
mans from her husb?nd, and had often visited Mrs,
Berryman, and carried many a delicacy to little
suffering Lily. And as she knew what Mrs. Berry-
man suffered through her husband, she had often
urged Mr. Walls to try and bring Berryman once to
their home, so that she could herself speak to him.
But not until that day had her husband been able to
induce him to come and work for him ; and now that
he hoped to bring him to their home she was very
glad, and prepared a nice supper for her expected
guest. Hour after hour passed and neither her
husband nor Berryman came. When it was quite
late, she heard the heavy step of two men coming
towards the house, and opening the door she
saw her husband with Berryman on his arm, dead
drunk. ^
" Why, Robert ! " was all she said, for her husband
laid his finger on his lip as a sign to say no more,
She understood him at once, and held out her hand
to the drunken man to bid him welcome.
" He would bring me here," Berryman said, " I
don't know why," he added, with a vacant stare, as he
sank down in the chair offered him by the good
Samaritan, who although she felt all the loathing at
42
A MAN TRAP.
ni li
4/
^V the breath of the man, yet she thought this may,
i perhaps, be the turning point of his life.
" Mr. Berryman is going to stay with us to-night,
Lizzie, so we will have some supper and then go to
bed," Mr. Walls said.
His wife brought in the supper, but Berryman ate
nothing, he was too far gone for that, he could not
eat anything, but drank a cup of coffee, and then Mr.
Walls led him to a clean, tidy room, and helped him
to bed, where the poor wretch sank into a deep,
drdiiken sleep.
When Mr. Walls joined his wife, he told her that
the loason he brought him home was that he would
not let him out of his sight for some days, to see if he
could not save him. " And you, my dear, must help
' me, with it. I did wrong to-day by giving him money
J without seeing how he expended it. Now we must
try the last chance with him. We must save him now,
or he will be lost forever." \ \
" "Well, Robert, I am glad you did bring him
home ; does his wife knows where he is ?"
" No, but I will go and tell her. No doubt he will
sleep till late to-morrow ; you must keep him quiet
after I go out, and on Monday, I will take him with
me to Dundas, to let him help me with that job of
work. It will take us a week to do it, and if he keeps
sober during that time, I think he will be saved at
last." He then went to tell Mrs. Berryman where her
husband was.
Left to herself, Mrs. Walls put her woman's wits to
work to try and find a way to save that poor fallen
■■a
ill
A BOLD STROKE.
43
man up stairs. " I don't believe it is such an easy
thing to save him as Robert thinks, but "or the sake
of his wife and that poor Lily, I will try my best." She
seemed all at once to have found a way to do it, for she
clapped her hands, saying, "Yes! I'll do it ! — I'll do it !
I won't tell Robert a word about it — he need never
know it — it can't be wrong. I want to save him, but
supposing something should happen to him, he might
get so frightened. Ah, no ! he is a i^an, and fright
will not kill him : it might a womatiy but not a man. I
will do it as soon as I get Robert to bed, for Berryman
might wake up; if not, I will close the blinds and
keep the room quite dark. Yes ! I will leave a cup
of coffee beside him with some sleeping draught in it,
for sleep is the best thing for him. I want him to be
perfectly sober ere he sees it. I hope he will sleep all
day to-morrow, and then I can do it to-morrow night
nicely. On Sunday I will see if he will not come to
Church in the morning, and in the afternoon he may
perhaps go with us to hear that great Temperance
lecturer. God helping me, I may save him yet."
Mr. Walls soon returned, saying, how glad Mrs.
Berryman was to know that her husband was under
their roof. " Now, Lizzie, we must try if we cannot
save that man. The sight of his family is enough to
make a stone weep. Let us ask God to direct us how
it may best be done."
" Well, Robert, we must hope for the best. Now
will you carry this cup of coffee in to him, and place it
on a chair, — he will be thirsty before morning, I am
44
A MAN TRAP.
thinking." So saying, she handed him a large cyp of
coffee, in which she had put a sleeping draught.
Towards morning, Berryman woke up, and seeing
the cup, seized it eagerly, and drank it to the last
dregs, then sank down again to sleep. In the morning
he was fast asleep when Mr. Walls left, for which he
was very glad. "This will be the best medicine for him,"
he said, " I hope he will sleep all day."
" No ; I hope he will wake up by dinner time," said
his wife, " and have something to eat, and then go to
sleep again. I shall have some nice coffee made for him
by the time you come home," and so she had, with more
sleeping draught in it. He ate something, drank two
cups of coffee, and seemed quite conscious into whose
hands he had fallen. All he said was " Thank you,
Robert ; does my wife know I am here ?"
" Yes, Mr. Berryman, and is very glad. Now, you
must promise me not to get up to-day. To-morrow will
be Sunday, and if you rest well, you will be all right in
the morning."
" Well, somehow I do feel so sleepy, so I will stay
in bed as you ask me to do, but it does seem to me a
shameful thing being here."
Mrs. Walls looked in and urged him not to mind it,
** sleep is the best thing for you, and you know you
will turn over a new leaf, Mr. Berryman, so you will
stay in bed till morning to please me, won't you ?"
He was soon fast asleep again, and slept on till
supper time, when he took a cup of strong tea, never
dreaming it would set him off again to sleep for the
most of the night.
Hi
A BOLD STROKE.
45
As soon as Mr. Walls had gone to bed, Mrs. Walls
prepared her cure which she hoped would save the
poor man. It might be dangerous, but she hoped for
the best results from it. She had prepared all before-
hand, by having a long piece of board, blackened, and
a stick of phosphorus. She fastened the board to the
wall just opposite the bed where Mr. Berryman lay fast
asleep, and then she took the piece of phosphorus
and wrote with trembling hand, these words which
should save a fallen creature, — "Prepare yourself, for
this night your soul shall be required of you."
There it stood. As she shaded the lamp she saw
the effect of the large, fiery letters.
"God grant me my wish to frighten him, but not to
injure him," she whispered, as she left the room to go
to bed. She slept but little that night, for it was an
experiment which really might prove fatal. What
would her husband say if he found it out ?
The night wore on, and towards morning she fell
asleep, nor did she wake up till it was long past the time
for her to be up. She dressed herself quickly, and as
she passed the door of the room where Mr. Benyman
slept, she peeped in. All was quiet, — she thought he
was still asleep. Had he never woke up? Never
seen it ? She was almost glad it should be so. She
entered on tiptoe to remove the board, and as she did
so, she saw he was gone. Hastily hiding the board
in a closet with the letters still looking like fire, she
i^ent down stairs expecting to find him below, but the
' front door was open, and he was gone. ,
She became so frightened at what she had done.
46
A MAN TRAP.
that she called her husband, telling him all, and
beseeching him to go and look for the poor man, and
see if he had gone to his own home. Her husband
chided her for her experiment, telling her that she might
have driven him to some rash act, instead of doing him
any good. He was not at his house, nor could Mr.
Walls find a trace of him anywhere, and he turned his
steps at last homewards, where his wife was waiting for
him in great suspense.
" Did you tell Mrs. Berryman what I had done ?"
she asked of him.
" No ; what good would it do to frighten her. She
don't think so much about it as we do, and as to
making away v^th himself, * he is too great a coward
to do that,* his wife had said," which comforted Mrs-
Walls.
And where was he, then ? He had just entered a
church, the doors of which had been left open from
early service. He had wandered about till he had come
to this door, and almost unconscious that it was a
church, he had entered, sank into a seat, and was soon
fast asleep, the sleeping draught having not quite done
its work ; besides the fright he had had, made him
quite weak. Towards morning he had wakened up
with a start, as if some one had called him, and on
opening his eyes he saw, to his horror, the fiery letters,
with those ominous words. For a few moments his
eyes were fixed on them, as he uttered a half-loud cry,
fully believing that some higher power was at work to
warn him of his last hour, " Oh, my God ! save me.
Jesus of Nazareth have mercy on my soul. Save me !
HMNM
T
A BOLD STROKE.
4t
Oh, save me !" he cried, trembling in every limb, for
he could not lie still. The daylight was just breaking
through the closed shutters, and the letters flickered
and disappeared for a moment, then shone forth again
anew.
"Only one more day is given me to repent!" he
murmured, as he dressed himself. " I must go out ;
I cannot stay here." So saying he unlocked the door,
and went out into the cool, morning air, walking on
straight, never stopping, till he had walked miles.
Then he turned back towards the town, for he would
go home to die, and 'as he passed the open church
door he entered, for his strength was spent, and with
a sigh of relief he went into the first seat and was
soon fast asleep. The worshippers who came later did
not disturb him, for they knew him as having been
once, one of the most zealous members of that very j|
church where his footsteps had been directed to-day. j|
He awoke at last and heard a voice, which at first
sounded to him like a voice from Heaven, and he won-
dered was he already dead, and had his sins been all
forgiven that he should have found a place in the
Paradise of God. He listened now and looked
around for a moment, but soon all was forgotten ; for
the words which fell on his era. seemed as though
they were meant for him.
" Is there any poor sinner here to-day who is borne
down by grief?" said the minister; "or on account
of his past life, who thinks that his sins are so numer-
ous that they cannot be forgiven, let him come to
Jesus, repenting of his past life and strive to do better
-.1
48
A MAN TRAP.
in the future, and if he does that, his sins, whatever
they may be, will be all forgiven."
Mr. Benyman groaned, all these words seemed
expressly addressed to him. He saw what he
now, — were only a few hours granted to him ? now
could he prepare himself in so short a time ? When
the congregation left, he remained behind and went
straight to the vestry, to speak to the minister, and
tell him all, and ask him if it was possible that he
could seek grace in so short a time.
"Why, Berryman, is that you, at last come back
again?" said the Rev. Mr. R, holding out his hand to
the poor, penitent sinner.
" It is. How I came here I can hardly tell, but
God's finger must have pointed the way for mf
come once more in the church to hear your voice *-. -
I die, — for I must die to-night!"
" Die to-night ! What do you mean ?" asked the
minister in surprise, thinking the man had really taken
some kind of poison, for he looked very ill, from
fright.
He told the minister how God himself had written
it in fiery letters, " Just to recall me from my sinful
past life. I am thankful for these few hours even,
but, Oh ! could I but be spared a few years longer to
atone for all, and work once more for my poor family.
But it cannot be,"
The minister soothed his grief as much as he could,
knelt down and prayed with him, and then went part
of the way with him to his home, telling him he would
come there in the afternoon. He knew there was
t
t
^i
i
'
A BOLD STROKE. 49
some mystery connected with what Berryman had
seen, and thought he must ask the Walls about it, so
he went there before going to his own home.
After greeting them, he said, " I have just left
Berryman, perfectly sober, and I trust a repentant
sinner, at his own door. He tells me he slept here
last night, and declares he saw a vision in the shape
of fiery letters, telling him that he must die this night,
and nothing I could say could convince him that he
must have been dreaming. Can you tell me anything
about it?"
" It is quite true," replied Mr. Walls. " What he
saw was no dream, but reality ; only my wife did it
to save him, — although it might have had a bad effect
on him, poor fellow. I am glad he has turned up, for
we have been in a great state about him since we
missed him this morning." And then Mrs. Walls
related to the minister the whole of it.
" Well, so far it has worked well. I think he will
be saved now, but how in the world did you ever
think of such a thing? I never heard the like of it
before," said the minister with a smile on his face.
" I really cannot tell how it came into my mind, but
if it should bring a good result, I am thankful I
thought of it and did it."
" You will have to keep it a secret between you, for
it will not do to let him ever know it. It is better to
let him think God sent him that warning ; so tell it to
his wife, and let her be the best judge whether it is
wise to tell him or not," he said, as he left.
f "Well, give me a woman with brains, and she will
4
50
A MAN TRAP.
l!i
think of things and do them, which a man, no matter
how clever he may be, would not even dream of," said
the Rev. Mr. F. to himself. "Fiery letters, a good sub-
ject for a drunkard. That Mrs. Walls is a well read
woman, I'll be bound, or how could she know that
one can write with a stick of phosphorus?"
Later in the day he went to Berryman's house, to
witness the reunion of the poor family. Mrs. Berry-
man sat beside her husband, who lay on a bed, look-
ing really so ill that the minister became alarmed, lest
something might really happen to the poor man. He
cheered him as well as he could, and when he left he
beckoned Mrs. Berryman to follow him, and then he
told her about what her husband insisted would come
tn^e.
" Had you not better tell him ?" he said.
" No ! I think he should never know," she replied.
" And, Oh, if it will save him, how I shall bless Mrs.
Walls all my life for doing it. God will protect him
that nothing but good will come of it. He led his
steps Lo church to hear you once more, sir. Why, he
has not been there for years. I could hardly believe
my eyes when I saw him come home, he looked so
different, and I trust now all danger is passed, and
that all will be well with us, as my Lily has often said
it would be at last."
She never left him, for his terror as the night came
on was something terrible, and at last, exhausted, he
sank into a deep sleep from which he did not wake till
the warm spring sun shone through the window, and
he found that he was still alive.
A BOLD STROKE.
51
' 11
" Yes ! God has spared me. He has heard my
humble prayer and that of my angel Lily, to begin a new
life once more, and I will, God helping me, try all I
can to make my home again what it was. And by tell-
ing others of my folly, induce them to shun those
places which daily entice men from their homes, by
making all kinds of attractions for the poor fools, so
that at last their homes become hateful to them."
When they sat down that morning to breakfast, Lily
was up, and sat beside her father for the first time
since she had been a baby. And as she folded her
hands, and gave thanks for the great mercies which
God had bestowed upon them, by giving them back
their father, Mr. Berryman sobbed like a child, to
think he had such a good child, and he had not known
it. And his whole heart was lifted up to God to ask
for strength to help him in the future.
m
'"§
' u
52
A MAN TRAP.
CHAPTER V.
A SAD END.
,R. TRESCOTT was ill in I *, and his busi-
ness was left to his bar-tender and waiters,
and he charged theni) in the presence of his
daughter, to have everything nice and right
for to-morrow, and see that the side door leading into
the lane was left open. It was on a Sunday he gave this
order. For the first time in his life he really felt too
ill to rise, and was only afraid he inight lose a dollar
if his men did not do the thing right. Emma stood
by his bedside and heard all.
" Oh ! father, father, can you not for once keep the
Sabbath day as it ought to be kept, instead of, not only
breaking human law, but God's law, by enticing these
poor young men in here when they ought to be at
church ?"
" Will you hold your tongue, girl. I dare you to
cant to me ?"
" I will not be silent any longer, father. You are
heaping curse after curse on this house, and, sooner or
later, the Lord of the Sabbath will send mildew on
you and all belonging to you. There is that young
man, Mr. Dexter, the only son of a widow. He
comes here every Sunday evening, when no doubt, his
mother thinks he is at church, with others, who have
. ■
\\
A SAD END.
53
!
loved ones at home. Have you a right to open
your doors to them on the sly, as you do ? You dare
not do it openly in the face of the world. No ! You
had a door built on purpose, and you sit there on
Sunday evenings beside that reflecting glass, and
watch just like a hawk watching for his prey. I have
seen it often, and if you were not my father, I would
long ago have told of it, so that the law of the land
should have punished you."
" What ? Is it you who dare to tell me that ? You,
as a child to a father who has loved you so much, you
disobedient girl. Get out of my sight, or I will make
you go, you ungrateful hussy !" he cried, quite
furious.
" I never disobey you, unless you want me to break
the Lord's commandment. Thanks to Mrs. Berry-
man, I have come to see my great failing, of sitting
by and never telling you how wrong you are in leading
such a lawless life. And unless you tell Tom to keep
the side door locked to-day, I shall go down and tell
every one of the men who come here, that jmless they
leave at once, I will call the police," so saying she left
the room.
" Tom, Tom," shouted Mr. Trescott, after trying in
vain to get up himself, but he had the gout, and had
also a bad cold, so he had to lie still till that worthy,
who was no better than his master, came in. "Where
is that girl of mine ? " he asked. " Where is she, I
say ? Bring her in here that I may wring her neck."
"Who? Miss Emma? she is just gone down
stairs. I hear her talking to that milksop who is not
m
jl
54
A MAN TRAP.
worth his salt, as I often told you. But yet you will
keep him on."
"Go and hear what she is saying. I could kill
myself for lying here to-day, when that girl is all at
once turning rebellious. When could she have been
to that wretch of a woman ? I thought they had all
gone to the dogs long ago."
"Who? The Berryman's? Bless you he has
reformed, did you not hear of it ? He has taken that
pretty cottage in James street again, and looks quite
respectable, I can tell you. I met him yesterday and
lifted my hat to him, but he hardly looked at me, the
ungrateful wretch. But you told me to go and look
after Miss Emma."
" No, I did not, I told you to go and hear what she
is saying to William. She will not let the side door be
opened to-day, she says she will call in the police if
any one comes, and she will do it, if we do not get her
out of the way."
"I'll manage it if you leave it to me," said Tom,
with a grin, in anticipation of the lie he would tell her,
to get her out of the house, "her mother will not
want her, will she ? "
" I think not, let her have another bottle before
evening and I bet you she will not want her," said
John Trescott. " Young Dexter is going to bring a
pale lad with him, and has engaged the blue room ;
so close the shutters early and let down the blinds
before you light the gas, and have the buffet well
stocked, for they always drink like fish. But I cannot
see how we will get rid of that girl of mine. They
A SAD END.
55
must not sing mind you, nor talk too loud; once
they are safely up stairs Emma will not see them."
" Don't trouble yourself, I'll manage all," said Tom.
"Of course, they must keep still, for is it not the
Lord's Day?" said Tom, laughing, looking like a
fiend in human shape, " as to Miss Emma, I'll just
send her a note, this afternoon, from her friend Cora,
asking her for tea and to go to church with her ; so
the coast will be clear, I bet you."
" But the girl will tell her that she did not ask her
to come, and if so all will be ruined, for she will
come home at once if she finds it out"
" I'll just tell Miss Cora's brother to ask her and he
will see it all carried out, for ^e wants to come too,
he told me so yesterday, and then I shall offer the
key of the side door to Miss Emma, to throw her off
her guard, for we have six keys to the same door.
You called me a fool when I said you should have six
keys made, now see who is the fool," he said.
"Tom you are a treasure, I don't know what I
should do without you. Take good care of all while
I am ill and I'll reward you, here is a little present for
you now," said Trescott handing him a ten dollar
bill which he had taken the night before for a one.
He often did so if his customers could not see the
number very clearly, it was all the same to him.
" Thank you, master," said Tom, " now you just
lie still to-day, I will do as well as if you were about.
You must take ckre of yourself, for men at your time
of life often drop off very suddenly, with no more the
matter with them than ails you to-day." With this bit
m
fe
•i
'.)!
lii
(1
56
A MAN TRAP.
of advice he left to put all in order for his plan. He
met Miss Trescott coming up stairs, she disliked the
man for she mistrusted him, but for once he totally
blinded her.
" Thanks be to God, Miss Emma, that we can keep
the Sabbath Day for once in this house," he said,
lifting up his large eyes to the ceiling of the large
hall, " I do believe it is the Lord's doing to lay master
up. I do not wish him ill, but yet it is such a joy for
me to think that this house will be closed till the law
allows it to be opened again."
" Oh, Tom ! " cried • Emma, " do you really mean
what you say? You would not deceive me, would
you ? "
" Deceive you ! you surely don't think that of me,
do you. Miss Emma ? Says I to myself this morning,
when I heard master was too ill to get up, says I, now.
Glory be to God, Miss Emma shall have the key of
the side door and maybe she will lose it, and when
master gets up, make him brick it up. For it's a sin and
a shame to let young gentlemen come here on the
Lord's day, and go home drunk, when they should
have been kneeling down to pray."
" Oh, Tom ! how happy you make me, to think you
are of the same mind as I am. I know William
thinks it wrong and I trust father will be brought
round too, ere long."
" Now, Miss Emma, let me give you the key," said
Tom, " and then may be as I am not wanted I'll just
go to church."
'* I thought you never went," said Emma,
A SAD END.
67
" Did you ? Well you see you did not know half
the good that was in me, for of course I must do
master's bidding when he is about, but now we have
the field all to ourselves, as the saying is."
Tom left to go to church and when he returned he
brought Emma an invitation from her friend Cora, an
estimable young lady who had been at the same
school with her, and who really lo^ed Emma. It
was the only place Emma visited, and she was always
glad to spend a few hours in that unpretending home.
Cora's parents were very humble people who had
made a great sacrifice in sending their daughter to
Toronto to school, and now Cora repaid it in some
measure, for she had some pupils to whom she taught
all the English branches and music
" Here is a note for you, Miss Emma," said Tom.
" I met Master Stewart coming from church and he
gave me this for you. It is from his sister," said the
great hypocrite, for he had never been to church, but
had been prowling about Mr. Stewart's all the
morning to get a sight of Herbert Stewart. He
waited till Herbert had brought him the note, after
his sister had returned from church.
'' Oh, I cannot go to-day," said Emma, after reading
it, " I am sorry to disappoint Cora, but I cannot leave
the house with father in bed, and mother looking so
wild that she quite frightens me. You dic^ not give
her anything to drink, did you, Tom ? for Jane says
she did not."
"Me give her anything!" cried he, in an injured
tone, "did she say I gave her anything?"
1« I
m
68
A MAN TRAP.
" No, she did not ; and yet she had nothing in her
room early this morning, for I looked ; but she has
certainly been drinking, wherever she got it from, and
she has not left her room to my knowledge."
" Perhaps she had hidden some in her room, but
now she will most likely go to sleep, and I will sit with
master after tea. So I do not see why you should not
go to see your friead, 111 take care that Mrs. Trescott
gets no more, so you just go. Miss Emma."
" Oh ! if something should happen, I would never
forgive myself for it," she said, " but I should like to
see Cora, and also go to church, so 111 see if mother
is asleep. I'll go, if you promise me to take care of
all in my absence."
"I promise you that, and I'll talk to master, never
fear. I'll show him the sinfulness of his ways, in en-
ticing young men here, it will be such a good oppor-
tunity when you are out," said the hypocrite, with
such a long face, that Emma quite believed him.
He had mixed a large bowl with several kinds of
brandy, with plenty of sugar and hot water, and had
brought it to Mrs. Trescott early in the morning, telling
her to drink it quick, and not let Miss Emma know of
it. No wonder she looked wild ! but he did not stop
there. While Emma was dressing, he brought her a
bottle of the best they had in the house, which she
hid in her bed, so when the time came for Emma to
leave, Mrs. Trescott was far gone, and, as Emma
thought, fast asleep.
" You won't mind my going out, father," she said,
looking into his room for a moment, where Tom sat
1
A^SAD END.
69
k
looking so good, that she really thought that his
speaking to her father would do more good than she
could herself.
** No, I would much rather that you did go to-night,
Tom and I are going to have a long talk," replied her
father, " so go and enjoy yourself— good-bye."
" Oh, I shall look in when I come home, I won't be
late," said Emma, never dreaming what this night
would bring forth.
She and Cora were very happy ; she telling Cora
what a good man Tom was, and that she had only
found it out that day. How she hoped that he would
influence her father to give up the practice of letting
young men in on Sundays, and that she trusted
so much to Tom's help in the matter. At that
time several young men, Cora's brother among the
rest, were let in by Tom, who had his seat that evening
by the reflecting glass. He led them to the room up-
stairs, the windows of which looked into the lane.
" I thought you promised Miss Emma not to open
that door to-day," said William. " How can you be
such a deceitful /ellow, letting her go out in that
belief? You ought to be ashamed of yourself for
doing so."
" You shut up, will you ! and if you know when
your bread is well buttered, you had better not say a
word, or you will find yourself out of a place to-
morrow," cried Tom, opening the door again to a party
of young men, who, through this hell, were fast going to
destructioa Mrs. Trescott drank freely of the strong
drink, and was, long ere Emma's return, mad with it.
m
60
A MAN TRAP.
, li
il;
The servant who generally attended her was out. She
got up, for she thought her bed was full of rats and
snakes, and the room seemed fast filling with vermin
in every shape, mocking her and beckoning her to
come. At last she opened the door and rushed out
into the long passage which led to the stairs. Emma
had just returned, and had taken off her things, and
was just going to her mother's room, when she caught
a glimpse of the white night-dress at the further end
of the hall, rushing down the stairs. For a moment
she could not think what it was ; but going quickly to
her mother's room, she saw by the great disorder that
it must have been her mother, when the loud slam-
ming of the private door startled the whole house.
Several of the young men, with Tom at their head,
came out to see what it was, thinking no doubt the
police had come. They saw Emma, pale as death,
leaning for a moment against the banister for support
"What is it?" cried young Dexter, the most sober
of the party.
"What has happened. Miss Trescott?"
"My mother!" was all she could say, pointing to
the door, for which she now rushed herself, followed
by young Dexter and another. When she got out, she
saw, afar off like a spectre, the white garment of her
mother, who was making for the bay which was not far
distant.
Quick as the young men were, they could not come
up with Emma, who flew along as if she had wings.
The night was very dark, only here and there glittered
a star, which looked down on the wretched woman
'
;ii
A SAD END.
61
1-^
I
who felt that all the demons of hell were pursuing her.
She had now reached the bank. Emma was only a few
steps behind, when she saw her mother throw up her
arms in the air, and then with one piercing cry she
plunged into the water.
Emma just came up, but alas ! too late. Her cries
rent the air. She would no doubt have rushed m to try
to save her mother, had not young Dexter laid his
hand on her to hold her back. Other help came up
now ; several men had seen the apparition, and had
followed it. After the first fright was over, one man
jumped into the water and swam towards a speck which
shewed itself on the surface of the water, but ere he
could reach it, Mrs. Trescott had sank not to rise again.
They searched for more than an hour before they
found the body, but at last they got it, and brought it
where poor Emma was kneeling, looking with straining
eyes into the darkness. Young Dexter with many
others stayed beside her. Lanterns were flashing here
and there, when they laid all that remained of Mrs.
Trescott on the bank. A stretcher was brought to
convey the poor woman to her home, where Satan had
lured her on, till at last he had received her.
Ere the mournful procession started, Emma rose,
and, with tearful eyes, pointing to the dead body of
her mother, said, " This is what drink has done. Oh I
all of you who stand here to-night, take heed lest the
demon should also lay his chains about some of you.
Take warning, I beg of you, young gentlemen, ere it
is too late for you to retreat. Many of you have this
day broken the Sabbath by reckless debauchery.
62
A MAN TRAP.
instead of hallowing it. You who have mothers and
sisters, go home and tell them of this sad scene, and
ask God to help you to turn at once back to the path
of soberness and virtue."
Her earnest appeal was not without its good effect,
for many of those who heard her, never broke the
Lord's day Ljain, nor did they spend their evenings in
taverns or saloons. They found their homes more
congenial than before, for the dead woman's face,
dripping hair, and the pale, stern face of the young
girl pointing to that dead body, was a sight never to
be forgotten.
Mr. Trescott had heard the rumpus in the house,
but could not stand on his feet to see what it all meant.
He screamed himself hoarse, but no one came, and at
last all was still again, till the front door opened, and a
muffled sound reached his ear. " Where shall we carry
the body?" asked one of the men of Emma, who
pointed to a door. She was in the back-ground,
leaning on young Dexter's arm. The men, mistaking
the door, opened that of her lather's room, and ere
she could prevent it, he had seen what they carried
between them.
The fright nearly killed him, and poor Emma for
some time thought that the Lord had twice visiter'
their house in His wrath. It was a long t' ^e efore
her father could even bear any allusion tt mourn-
ful event.
" It is God's anger towards me. Yes, I see it iow;
the curse has found me at last. Emma, my child," he
:i(
\<;wiii&..ii>.. ..
A SAD END.
63
I
whispered, " had I listened to you, this would not
have happened."
" Let us try to do all we can to atone for this great
sin, father. God will help us, if we but ask Him to
direct us to do right. This is indeed a sad end of
poor mother."
The father could not be brought to look again on
his dead wife, no matter what Emma said.
" No ! it would kill me outright. I shall see her
wherever I go, as it is; but I cannot look at her
again, Emma. Poor woman, I might have made a
better husband, if this cursed business had not got
hold of me."
They buried her in the cemetery. At the last day,
" when the grave shall give up its dead," where will
Mrs. Trescott be, and those who are serving this hard
taskmaster f
The place was shut up from that Sunday evening^
never more to be opened to the public for the purpose
of enticing men to leave their own homes.
Tom, when he looked at the dead body of his
mistress, and at Emma, who sternly pointing towards
it, said, "you will get your reward for this night's
work," became so frightened, that it did not let him
rest in the house. Ere morning came, he had packed
up and gone, no one knew whither. Let us hope that
he went to lead a better life for the future, and that
his savings did not go to open one of those Man
Traps of which the world, everywhere, is so full.
One morning, two weeks after Mrs. Trescott's death,
the early ^ ser by might have seen a young girl and
i
f
64
A MAN TRAP.
N
a man emptying casks and bottles into the gutter,
and from the smell it waL evident that it was wine
and spirits. Yes ! it was Emma and William who
thus disposed of the stock from Mr. Trescott's saloon.
" No other person shall drink it, if I can help," Emma
had said to her father, who willmgly gave his consent.
I'll!
J-
i
\
THE NEW TEMPERANCE HALL.
65
CHAPTER VI.
THE NEW TEMPERANCE HALL.
f
^R. TRESCOTT was sitting up for the first
time, and had a victor. His friend, Will
Berryman, was with him, in earnest discus-
sion about the future of Mr. Trescott and
his daughter. He had humbly begged forgiveness of
Berryman for the wrong he had done him, and also of
Mrs. Berryman, which was readily granted. And now
he was consulting with his old friend what he had
better do.
, " Emma says for me to give up the house to the
Temperance Society, to have it turned into a Tem-
perance Hall, but it is almost too large for such a pur-
pose, is it not?" he asked of his friend.
"I do not think so, if you carry it out as Miss
Trescott proposes. She thinks the upper part might
be turned into a cheap coffee house ; and I think it
might be done. The place is well furnished, and I
will tell you what I would do. I would stock it with
everything necessary for six months, if it cost me a
thousand dollars, so that the working man can have
his cup of coffee for a penny and bring his wife in the
evening sometimes to sit in pleasant rooms. William
shall be the manager of it as Miss Trescott proposes.
He is the very man, having seen the curse alcohol
i,;.
66
A MAN TRAP.
brought on many under this roof. And you will be
able in your old age to look on those who formerly
visited here, coming to drink their cup of coffee and
bless the hour when this house was turned from a
drinking hell into a safe harbor for those who pay it a
visit, which, I trust, will be a countless number."
And so it was arranged Mr. Trescott gave the house
and all belonging to it, as a free gift to the Temperance
Society.
Partitions were taken down and the ground
floor was soon turned into a splendid hall, where
meetings were held. The upper rooms were turned
into a coffee house, where good coffee at a penny
a cup could be had at all hours of the day. The
rooms were all well and tastefully furnished, with little
tables here and there, while on a large table in each
room all the newspapers of the day were to be found,
and many good weeklies. Soon the place became
celebrated, not only for its good coffee and excellent
host, but also for the many innocent enjojnnents which
were provided during the long winter evenings.
No stranger visited Hamilton who did not hear of
this new coffee house, and when he turned his steps
towards the place, but would be impressed with the
capital idea of having such a place over a Temperance
HalL
" This place looks as if it had a history," said one
gentleman to the host of the hotel where he was
stopping.
"A history! I should think so," replied the man,
and he related the sad history of Mrs, Trescott,
THE NEW TEMPERANCE HALL.
67
3e
ly
id
a
a
»
e »
e
" You see that old gentleman passing here every day,
leaning on the arm of a young lady. Well, he is no
other than John Trescott, who has given to the city a
greater benefit than any other man, by establishing a
cheap coffee house, where the working man can come
at all hours of the day, to drink his cup of coffee or
cocoa, which costs him much less than beer would doj
and, I trust, ere long, many will follow Mr. Trescott'ji
example,"
'I ?
i' I
m
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
<:■ til
CHAPTER I.
" Labor is of wealth the parent,
Harbinger of peace of mind ;
Happiness entwines around it,
Peace, without it, none can find."
jT the close of a bright May day, a heavily
laden schooner, with hree men on board,
entered one of the smallest but most beautiful
bays on the St. Lawrence ; formed, by two
points jutting out from the crescent-shaped shore,
which, sweeping round in graceful curves, half-enclosed
the haven in their sheltering arms.
One of these points was long, low and narrow, and
at its termination bore a singular resemblance to the
barbed head of an arrow. Its fellow was high, par-
tially wooded, with jagged rocks protruding here and
there, and surmounted by a precipitous cliff, on whose
brow stood a group of giant oaks, that for centuries
had bade defiance to the fierce hurricanes, that in
spring and autumn poured their fury over them.
A narrow beach of shining sand and stones, mar-
gined the central shore of the bay, which then rose
into round, swelling knolls, interspersed with hollpws,
III
72
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
thickly covered with timber of the most magnificent
growth. A little farther on was to be seen the wild,
unbroken forest, which showed signs of donning its
summer garb, rising in beautiful green against the
blue horizon.
Two of the men bore the stamp of gentlemen, by
their dress and bearing ; the other was a sailor, who
well understood the management of the boat, as he
had to do it all himself, while the two men sat
carelessly puffing their Havanas, with now and then
interchanging a remark about the scenery around
them.
They were both what might be called handsome
men, yet their beauty was very different. Otway
Gregory, the owner of the boat, was about thirty years
of age, jet black hair and whiskers, and dark piercing
eyes, very striking, but of that class which can exist
without any of the higher attainments of the mind.
The other gentleman was tall and strongly made ;
his forehead was finely formed, and shaded by careless
locks of chesnut hair. His eyebrows were straight
and somewhat heavy, and his profuse dark lashes gave
a rich shade to his clear grey eyes. There was a
frank and determined expression in his face, mingled
with great sweetness. To a keen observer, its calm,
steady, unswerving aspect would have conveyed an
impression of latent power, difficult to describe. Such
was Dr. Merton. He was about the same age as his
friend Otway. They had been at college together in
Toronto, had passed two years in an English Univer'
sity, and had settled in life at the same time, the one
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
78
as a most clever architect, the other as a successful phy-
sician, in the city of Montreal. Both were married.
While Mr. Gregory's union was blessed with three
children, Dr. Merton's was ch'dless. The Doctor had
taken a holiday that May di - ie his friend's wife
and children. The youngest, the heir of the house of
Gregory, was his godson.
Mr. Gregory had lived in Montreal since his mar-
riage until a few weeks before this time, when by the
death of an uncle, the only relative Mrs. Gregory had,
she had fallen heir to a pretty country cottage, with
six acres of land attached. Therefore, they had left
the city, and were living on their little farm, as Mr.
Gregory called it. It was only three miles from the
city, where Mr. Gregory went every morning, either in
his boat, or in a vehicle of his own, returning at night
to his pretty home and his dear ones.
His friend, the Doctor, had not seen this home be-
fore, so when they landed at the little wharf, Dr.
Merton could not help congratulating his friend on
being the owner of such a charming place, as it now
presented itself to their view.
The house, of red brick, stood on a little elevation
fronting the river, surrounded by well kept grounds
and a cultivated garden. The verandah on one side of
the house during the summer months was covered
with climbing roses of various kinds. Mrs. Gregory
and the children were on the verandah. As soon as
the boat touched the wharf, there was a joyful shout
from the three children, two girls and one boy, and
they started to meet him, shouting as they ran,—
r
t
i
M
74
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
" Father is coming home ! father is coming home !"
Mrs. Gregory followed the children quickly, for of all
her husband's friends Dr. Merton stood the highest in
her estimation. He had attended her in all her ill-
nesses, and when her boy was born, whose life had
nearly cost her own, she knew, had it not been for his
assiduous attention she could never have struggled
through. Then he was her boy's godfather. Edwin
was the pride of both father and mother, nevertheless
Eva and Lydia had all the love and care that loving
parents can give to their children, still that little boy
seemed to have such a hold on their affections. They
often reproached themselves for making such an idol
of him ; but they both had too much good sense, to
spoil him; on that account, they were very strict
with him, and did not show in any way that they loved
him more than his sisters.
" This is kind of you, Doctor," said Mrs. Gregory,
extending both hands, " to come and pay us a visit.
I have been scolding Otway every day for the last
month for not bringing you. Why did you not bring
Mrs. Merton with you ?"
" Oh, she has some finery to get ready for to-morrow,
for the great christening party of Mrs. Harcourt's first-
bom. If you will allow me, I will bring her next
week, that is if my patients will behave themselves for
a day. I congratulate you, Mrs. Gregory, on your
charming home, and the roses which you and your
little ones have already gathered since you came here.
Why, Edwin has grown two inches taller since I saw
him last."
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
75
" I am a man," cried Edwin, "and just as good and
brave as papa is."
" I trust you will be a better man than me," replied
Mr. Gregory. " You had better imitate your godfather.
He is far better and braver than your papa."
" I don't think any one is better than my own papa
and mama," said Edwin. " I know my godpapa is
brave too, but I want my own dear papa to be the
best."
"That is right," said the Doctor, "never let any
one stand above your parents, my boy, no matter
who it is. I know you will be a credit to your fathi .
and to my name that I gave you, and I am proud to
call you my godson."
"How is Mrs. Harcourt?" asked Mrs. Gregory.
" It is a little daughter that she has ?"
" Yes, a girl ; but I cannot see why they need
make such a fuss about a christening party. But
these ladies will always do so with the first, and per-
haps the second, but let them have a half-dozen, then
they will think no more of having a party. In Mrs.
Harcourt's case it is not right, for she is far from
strong yet ; but she and her husband over-ruled me,
so I told them if it had any bad effect on her health,
not to blame any one but themselves."
" Well, I trust all will pass off right," replied Mrs.
Gregory. " No doubt she will leave town soon. I
do not know her intimately, or I should ask her to
come and stay a week. It would do her good."
" Yes, in more than one sense," replied the Doctor,
as a shade of sadness passed over his honest face.
76
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
" You know Harcourt well, Gregory, don't you ? You
might ask him ; I should like her to be under the
sweet influence of your dear wife for a week or two »
she might come out, if he consents, next week with
my wife, if this christening party does not throw her
back, of which I am very much afraid."
"I shall ask Mr. Harcourt on Monday," replied
Mr. Gregory. " Now, Lydia, my dear, let us have
dinner as soon as you can. I feel hungry, and I am
sure the Doctor must feel the same, for I hurried him
off as quickly as possible, for fear some sick one
should claim him."
Mrs. Gregory went at once to see after the dinner.
Although she had two servants, she was too good a
housewife to trust'entirely to them, when such a beloved
guest was to be entertained as Dr. Merton. While she
was assisting the servants with the dinner, she was re-
flecting on the Doctor's words with regard to Mrs.
Harcourt. Why should her influence have any effect
on Mrs. Harcourt, whom she remembered as a far
superior woman to herself.
Mrs. Harcourt was the daughter of one of the most
influential men in Montreal, and had been married
to one of the richest men in the city, who, from all
accounts, was one of the happiest of men. What in-
fluence could she exert over her ? She must ask her
husband, who knew more of the family than she did,
but if she could be of any use to Mrs. Harcourt she
would be most happy to be.
After dinner, at which the Doctor declared he had
eaten enough for two, they went into the garden and
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
77
fields. The Doctor could not sufficiently express his
admiration of the place, indeed, it was a home to
be proud of. " I wish I had an uncle who could
leave me such a property," he said to Mrs. Gregory.
" Yes, dear Uncle Ralph has been very good to us.
It is left without any conditions, which are so often
attached to such a gift. We could sell or give it away
any time we liked."
"But it is absolutely left to you, is it not?" asked
Dr. Merton of Mrs. Gregory.
" No, I would not let uncle make it so. My hus-
band has as much right to it as I have," she answered.
"Would you believe it, my husband did not even
thank me for talking uncle over. Was that not un-
grateful ?" she added, laughing.
What was it that gave the Doctor's heart such a
damp as he heard this news? It is said that evil
tidings often cast their shadows before. Did he think
a day would come when Mrs. Gregory would regret
that she had not let her uncle make his will in a differ-
ent way, so that no one could drive her from her home?
" Well Dr.," said Mr. Gregory, " I did all I could
to make the old gentleman stick to his first resolution,
but my wife had more influence than I, and, therefore,
my name comes first. I hope by labor to improve the
place, and double its value in a year or two. Still, I
told Lydia if we ever should lose it through any fault
of mine, she must not reproach me for it."
" No fear of that," replied his wife, gayly, " I know
you will do as you say, improve it year by year ; and,
perhaps, in time we may buy another place. Since
f'M ■ 1
M
78
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
we have been here, you have worked very hard, early
in the morning, and late in the evening, when you
ought to have been taking rest."
Mr. Gregory said, " it is astonishing how different
one feels to be able to say, ' This cottage and grounds
are my own.' "
"You know Charles, I was always lazy in the
morning, but now, I am up at day-break, I feel much
better in consequence."
" I have often heard that remark before," said the
Doctor. " That it is wonderful what a difference
ownership of anything makes in a man, and he feels,
no doubt, he would like to add to it ; but this can only
be done by labor, either with his hands or his brains,
for * Labor is of wealth the parent,' so I trust, with
God's blessing, you may reap the reward of it."
They spent a most delightful time together. As the
Dr. was then obliged to return, they all hoped he
would soon come again.
lie left in a boat, with Denis as an oarsman. Mr.
Gregory had several small boats, besides the schooner
which he only used now and then, to bring things
necessary for the farm and house. The sailor who
piloted the schooner, lived very near them, and was
always glad to take his place in the boat, for there was
nothing Martin Flint liked better, than being on the
water. Denis always rowed the small boats, either for
his master, or his mistress and children, so when the
weather was fine they had a sail every day.
You have a pretty place, out here, my man," said
<< V
\V4MMli»^
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
79
the Dr., "you don't need me in my professional capacity
very often."
" No, your honor, we don't need physic out here, it
is the delight of my heart to see these pretty children
getting rosier every day, and my mistress too, God bless
her, for ever and ever," said Denis. To which the Dr.
responded a fervent amen.
ift.1
\i..
I
80
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
iiiiii
CHAPTER II.
** From the court to the cottage, convey me away,
For I'm weary of grandeur, and what they call gay,
Where pride, without measure,
And pomp, without pleasure.
Make life, in a circle of hurry, decay.
With a rural repast (a rich banquet for me)
On a mossy green turf, near some shady old tree ;
The river's clear brink,
Shall afford me a drink,
And temperance, my friendly physician shall be."
^HE large christening party was over, and
Mrs. Dr. Merton had returned to her happy
home. She stood at the window, listening for
the Doctor, who had not yet returned from
his professional visits. Having lost Thursday, his
patients demanded double attention the next day.
The clock struck twelve, still Mrs. Merton kept
watch at the window, wondering why her husband was
so late this night. He had often been away all night>
and she had never minded it, but this night she could
not go to bed, she must wait for him, no matter how
long he would be. Her mind was very troubled. She
must tell him all her fears before she could sleep.
"No doubt, he will not beUeve it, nor would I, had I
not seen it with my own eyes."
" Good God ! that one of my own sex should so
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
81
debase herself ; and she so young, and a mother for
the first time."
" I could see by the servant's glances," cried Mrs.
Merton, in bitterness of soul, " that it was not the first
time. I wonder if the other ladies noticed it as I did.
What did she say about it ? That * the Doctor ordered
her to take brandy daily, to strengthen her.' A glass
of light wine would be better than that poison. The
town will ring of it to-morrow. I was glad her mother
was not well enough to be there. How the old lady
would have felt to have seen her own daughter drink
brandy like a man. Her husband is no better I fear, for
he went with his friends into his den (as he called it) to
have a smoke and drink. The two are generally found
together !"
" Her father, the old sinner, God forgive me for
using such language, when I told him to ask her to go
to her own room, said, ' Oh, that's nothing, Frances
has a taste for good things, don't be alarmed Mrs.
Merton, she no doubt, has doubled the dose the
Doctor prescribed for her daily, she will be all right in
the morning.' What a sin ! what a fatal inheritance
she gives to her innocent child, for as the children
of thieves are born thieves, so are the children of
those who drink (especially the mother) bom to become
drunkards, if an Almighty power does not keep guard
over them from their infancy. There he is at last," she
said, as she heard the sound of carriage wheels; in a few
moments more, the Doctor entered his door with his
latch key, thinking all had gone to bed, and was not a
little astonished to find his wife waiting for him. He
• i,
m
U M
1
82
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
W I !
saw at a glance something was troubling her very
much.
" Why, Gussie ! what is the matter that you are not
in bed ? I could not come any sooner, I have had two
bad cases in the hospital, I had to go there after I had
gone my rounds. Tell me what is troubling you ? Is
it seeing the new baby ? or, was the christening robe
not the right length ? or "
"Oh! Edwin, don't," said Mrs. Merton, and she
burst out weeping bitter tears, throwing herself into her
husband's arms.
" Why, my dear wife, what is the matter with you ?
Come, Gussie, this is not like you, I always thought
my wife to be above such weakness, tell me what it is ?"
" I know it is weakness, dear Edwin, to feel like
this, but Oh ! I saw such a sight this night, that I
never saw in my life before. One of my own sex,
one, whom we both esteem most highly, is giving
herself to drinking. I saw her arink brandy several
times, and saw the effect of it. She disgraced herself
before her nurse and servants, and it was with the
greatest difficulty we could get her to bed. She acted
like a mad woman."
" Do you speak of Ivlrs. Harcourt ? " asked the
Doctor, while a look of pain stole over his face.
" Yes, dear, I knew you would hardly believe, had I
not seen it. It is too true, and what is more, it is not
the first time."
" Just tell me how it all happened," said the Doctor,
drawing his wife close to him.
" At the supper table, were all kinds of wine, rum
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
83
and brandy. When all the glasses were filled; to drink
the health of Mrs. Harcourt and baby, I saw her pour
out some brandy for herself, and mix it with water. It
looked such a large dose, that I became hot all over.
Several of the ladies noticed it too. She saw they did,
and turning to me, said, it is by the doctor's orders that
I take brandy, Mrs. Mert^n, or I would not touch it;
he advised it months ago, and told me I must continue
to take it twice a day, as long as I nursed baby."
" Oh ! Edwin, why did you order that poison for
her ? Could you not find anything else to strengthen
her ? for I am sure as there is a, God in Heaven, that
Mrs. Harcourt will go down the road to destruction,
and on you will rest the blame."
" Hush ! Gussie ! this is foolish as well as cruel, to
talk that way ; it is true I found it necessary to order
some stimulant for her ; two or three tablespoonfuls of
brandy, with the white of egg, but since her confine-
ment, we left off the eggs. The small quantity of
brandy I told her to take would not hurt her. Am I
to blame if she likes to take enough to debase herself ?
A nice thing to tell me it is my fault. If I prescribe a
large bottle of medicme for a patient, a spoonful
to be taken two or three times a day, if he should be
fool enough to take all that is in the bottle at once,
and it should kill him, am I to be uiamed for that, tell
me?"
" Oh ! Edwin, my dear husband, don't talk so, I
don't say it's all your fault, but still she has got the
liking for it, by your ordering her to take it. When
we arose from the table, to go into the drawing-
84
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
room, I saw her take another glass ; a short time after,
she left the room, no doubt, to take some more, for
when she came back, J sawithe effect of it; her flushed
face, her wild glaring eyes, and her talk was perfectly
foolish. I am sure every lady saw ^vhat I saw ; the
town will ring of it to-morro\ir," cried Mis. Merton.
"Where was her husband, and her father and
mother ?" said the Doctor, " did they not do anything
to prevent such disgraceful conduct?"
" Her father was there, Mr. Harcourt took all the
gentlemen, except her father, into his den, (as he
called it) to have a smoke ; by the laughter and loud
talking, I fear they drank a great deal. I asked Mrs.
Harcourt to go to her room, she became almost
insulting, telling me to mind my own business. Her
father was talking about something to Mrs. Moore ; he
turned suddenly round when he heard his daughter
talking so loudly, to know the reason. I asked him to
tell her to go to bed ; he said, * don't distress yourself,
Mrs. Merton, Frances has, no doubt, doubled the dose
of your husband's prescription, she will be all right in
the morning.' Just think of this from a father; I could
have slapped him in the face. At last I got her out
of the room, the housemaid helped me to get her up-
stairs, but from her servant's whisperings, I could see
it was not the first time. Think of that poor baby
being nursed on brandy, what an inheritance if her life
is spared. It is cruel to think of it. How will she take
care of it ? I wish she would not nurse it. God has
not blessed me with such a sweet babe, and such a
mother has one,"
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
85
The Doctor rose up and paced up and down the
room with rapid steps. He could not answer his
wift; all she had said was too true. He was angry
with himself and all the world beside, and yet he could
not see that he was in the least to blame.
" Go to bed, Gussie, and to-morrow I shall see Mrs.
Harcourt and have a talk with her, and also with him.
She is not a strong woman, and needs something to
keep her up. I shall see if she would take a nurse
for the child, then she might get back her own
strength. I hope that we shall then be able to dis-
pense with the brandy and let her have pure port in-
stead."
" Why let her have anything, Edwin, except what a
woman ought to have, tea, coffee, or cocoa ? I think
, if you would not give your patients stimulants at all,
they would get as strong, as by using artificial means."
" I really don't know what you mean, Gussie, by
artificial means. You talk as if no one should use
these blessings, because some abuse them." The
Doctor's brow darkened, for he thought his wife was
making an inroad on his profession.
" Now, Edwin, don't feel angry. Just answer one
more question, then I shall go to bed and try to forget
for a while the grief I feel to-night. Tell me truly
and earnestly, do you believe that a person's life can
be saved or prolonged by the use of wine or brandy?"
" I cannot talk any more to-night on the subject,"
he replied. " Some other time we will talk it over.
Go to bed ; I will soon follow ; I have some entries
to make in my book first."
86
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
He went to his study, and Mrs. Mertcn went to
bed ; but it was a long time ere the Doctor followed
her. When he had finished making his entries he
took a volume of De Faberizewins, the great German
physician, and turned over the leaves ; yes, there was
a passage, " good pure brandy or wine." There was
no doubt about it, but he looked in vain for the page
where it said that a life might be saved or prolonged
by these stimulants. He had heard the question dis-
cussed in the Medical Council, and old clever men
had strongly advised it in many cases. But could life
be saved through it ? That was the problem that he
should like to solve. " How can I," he said, in a
troubled voice, "find it out?" He at last went to
bed, but not to sleep. Every time his wife awoke from
a fitful slumber, she found him tossing about. At
daybreak a messenger came to call him up, for Mrs.
Harcourt's baby was very ill.
When he arrived the child was in convulsions,
brought on no doubt by the mother's drinking the
night before. The poor little child smelled strongly
of brandy, which it had nursed from its mother. She
was only half conscious, and wholly unconcerned about
her child.
"Where is Mr. Harcourt ?" asked the doctor of one
of the servants. " Is he still asleep ? He ought to
be called, for that child will die."
" I will call him, sir, but he was so drunk last night
that John had to undress him and put him to bed,
and when he is like that he does not sober off quick.
I slept on the sofa here, for nurse would not stay
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
87
alone with mistress. I heard him talking till nearly
morning."
" A nice state of things," said the Doctor to himself.
" Here are a young couple, in the best society, only
married one year, both getting drunk at the christen-
ing party of their firstborn. What can I do ? I do
not want Gussie here ; it would haunt her all her life."
He gave the child something, and then forced Mrs.
Harcourt to swallow a dose to make her sleep, told
the nurse he would be back in an hour ; then he drove
to Mrs. Harcourt's parents to arouse them.
"Tell Mr. and Mrs. Lancaster that Dr. Merton
must see them at once," he said, as he addressed the
wondering servant, who could not conceive why the
Doctor called so early.
"What can he want?" Mr. Lancaster said in a
grumbling tone. " Something about Frances, I sup-
pose. Why, we married her to a rich man, what more
does he expect us to do for her ?"
" Let him come up. Frances or the baby must be
ill," said Mrs. Lancaster.
" And no wonder if she is," grumbled the father.
" Tell him to come up here. I am not going to get
up for any one ; and Mary, make me a strong cup of
coffee, and bring it as soon as you can. Don't come
again to disturb me to-day for any one. Well, what is
it ?" cried Mr. Lancaster, as soon as the Doctor en-
tered. " What brought you at this hour?"
The Doctor told him his grandchild was very
ill, and doubted if she would live through the day.
'M
Ji:
88
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
! I
i:
" If Mrs. Lancaster is better, she had better come, so
that the child may not be left entirely to servants."
"Why, where is my daughter?" asked the mother,
now fully roused.
" She is asleep at present, and I fear she will not be
capable of doing anything to-day, or Mr. Harcourt
either."
" Yes, drank too much last night both of them. I
came home before it was all over. No doubt Har-
court "enjoyed himself with his friends after I left."
" If you call it enjoying yourself by getting beastly
drunk, then he indeed did it to perfection," said Dr.
Merton.
"Pooh! Pooh!" cried Mr. Lancaster. "It will
not harm him. A man does not have a christening
party every day. He will soon be all right again."
" But wiiat is the matter with Frances?" asked Mrs.
Lancaster in an anxious tone.
Mr. Lancaster was a careless man, and old as he
was, he had no thought beyond this world and its
pleasures. What would have almost broken another
father's heart, he only laughed at. But being a rich
man, he was possessed of influence in society ; as it is,
alas ! too true, that " money covers a multitude of
sins" in the eyes of the world.
" Can you come, Mrs. Lancaster?" asked the Doc-
tor, passing over all her enquiries. " If not, I must
bring my wife, but it would be better if you could
come."
" I shall get up at once," she said, " I shall not keep
you long."
i
\)»
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
89
He went down stairs to wait for her, and in a very
short time he handed Mrs. Lancaster into his carriage,
and drove her to her daughter's home.
The Doctor said, " Mrs. Lancaster, now, I shall tell
you all about it. I trust that you, as a mother, will exert
all that influence over your daughter, which only a
mother can. You are aware that Mrs. Harcourt has
been very weak for some time. I found it necessary to
order her three table spoonfuls of brandy daily, which
would have helped her to gain strength. Instead of
that, I find she has taken for some time large doses
sufficient to make her drunk, as she was yesterday. I
was not there, but my wife told me the state she was
in, I saw several times a wildness in her eye, and a
desire for foolish talking, which was not natural ; but
I could not charge her directly with it. You know how
proud she is. As soon as she is herself, I will speak
to her about it. The child has imbibed so much of
the brandy from her milk, that it has brought on con.
vulsions ; should it recover, I shall advise a nurse for it.
I trust you, madam, to do all in your power to show
her on what a precipice she stands."
" I shall do all I can," her mother replied, " but I
fear my influence will have little effect on her, she was
always head-strong, and her father upheld her in it.
He is to blame for her marriage with Harcourt, whom,
I fear is fast becoming a confirmed drunkard. I said
all I could, and did all I could, but she would not
listen to me, she pleaded her father's words, that all
young gentlemen were wild, so she would not give
him up."
i.\
■^4 ^
*
!
! ■
I ■
<:
.1 i
in
IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)
1.0
1.1
11.25
ujKiS 122
Hill
1-4 11.6
— 6"
A^.U'V«
Sciences
Corporation
i\
^v
L1>^
c\
\
23 WIST MAIN STMIT
WltSTH.N.Y. USM
(716)t72-4303
o^
^
90
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
By this time, Mr. Harcourt had come down stairs,
looking like men do after a night of excessive drinking,
and the strong perfume of brandy from him, told the
Doctor he had begun again."
" What is up?" he asked as he saw Mrs. Lancaster,
" is Frances or the baby ill ? "
"Your little daughter is, I fear, dangerously ill.
Have you not seen your wife yet?" said the Doctor,
in surprise.
" No, plenty of time, come and have some brandy,
Doctor."
" No, thank you, I never take it, nor anything so
strong, so early ; but if you will allow me, I will ring
for a cup of coffee for Mrs. Lancaster and myself,"
replied the Doctor.
" Have what you like, but is it not rather strange
that you prescribe what you don't take yourself, Doctor
Merton ?"
" I am not ill," replied the Doctor, " I don't need
medicine. I am afraid Mr. Harcourt, you will soon
make yourself ill if you do not leave off taking brandy,
or anything that will take away your senses as it did
last night."
" Well ! that is a good one," cried Mr. Harcourt, after
a pause, staring the Doctor in the face. " Here is a man
who has ordered brandy for my wife for months past,
(and she can take it as strong as I can myself), — now
he tells me to leave off. You Doctors are for the
most part great humbugs. That is a fact See here,
I never listened to any man canting on temperance.
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
91
>•»
■}
so don't begin with me." So saying, he turned his back
on the Doctor.
They found the child better, but Mrs. Harcourt
excited.
The Doctor told the nurse to txike the brandy out of
the room, and not to give Mrs. Harcourt any until his
return.
" I knew what it would be," said the Doctor, ad-
dressing Mrs. Harcourt, "you over-exerted yourself
yesterday, and now you are worse."
" It is not that," replied Mrs. Harcourt, " but nurse
told me you had forbidden her to give me brandy, this
morning, and I feel so sinking from weakness."
" Your child had convulsions this morning, I fear it
has been brought on by your taking too much brandy;
so to save the child's life, you must not take a drop
more. You have been taking large doses, or this would
not have happened. We must put a stop to it at once,
or it will be too late," taking her hand in his, and
looking down on her with such a determined expres-
sion, it quite frightened her, and she burst into tears.
He left her with her mother and went home.
" How is the child?" asked Mrs. Merton.
" Better ; and Gussie, I told Mrs. Harcourt, to save
the child's life, she must not taste another drop of
brandy."
" Do you think she will follow youi advice ?" asked
his wife.
" I trust so ; I hope in a few days to put her under
your wing, and send her out to the Gregory's for three
weeks."
I
m
I -
t
92
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
Before he left the house, Mrs. Merton ventured to
ask another question.
<< Do you think she can do without it, or did you
order port instead?"
** I did not ; I shall see in a day or two if she can
get along without a stimulant at all, if so, Gussie, you
have won a victory.'
" Not me, but the medical profession," replied his
wife.
The child did not get better ; and now, that Mrs.
Harcourt's mind was clear, she felt the pang of sorrow
of a loving mother. That same night, as it lay in
convulsions, she cried to the Doctor, " Save my child !
I will do all you ask me, only save my child ! "
** It's life is in the hand of God, Mrs. Harcourt, I
will do all I can, don't grieve so ; if He should in His
infinite wisdom, find it better to take her now to Him-
self, it is for the best."
The Doctor was glad that she felt it so much, she
had appeared so indifferent in the morning. But then
her mind was confused, now it was clear, and shewed
the mother's nature. Oh ! how Satan's King, Alcohol,
can change the loving father, or the tender mother, to
a heartless wretch, who would take the last morsel of
food, out of the child's mouth, to satisfy their own
vicious appetite !
Mr. Harcourt was there, and when the Doctor left
the room he followed him. He was perfectly sober now;
and he felt he must apologise for his rudeness in the
morning.
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
" I hope you will forgive me Doctor, I was not
quite myself this morning."
" I trust you will always be yourself for the future,"
said the Doctor, " take warning ere it is too late."
" Do you think the child will get over this ? poor
Frances feels it dreadfully."
" No, Mr. Harcourt, the child will most likely be
dead before morning; but should her death bring
that about for which I pray, even the life of your first-
bom is not too great a sacrifice. I shall bring Mrs.
Merton to be with your wife through the night, as her
mother is gone home."
" I told her to go. Doctor, for I could not stand the
way she talked to Frances. Bad as I am, I love her,
and, if she had had in former years, more care be-
stowed on her by her parents, she would be able to
reform me. Now that she is still weak, I cannot stand
by and let her mother say all kinds of cutting things
about her faults, for which her mother is more to
blame than she."
When Mrs. Merton came, an hour later, with her
husband, they found husband and wife sitting by the
little crib, where lay the bond of their love. The
little life was fast ebbing away ; and ere the morning
dawned, angels came to meet it.
Mrs. Merton shed bitter tears for the sorrowing
young mother, whose reproaches of herself were pi^'^ul
to listen to. She endeavoured to soothe her by show-
ing her where to look for comfort and strength for the
future, and hoped, like her husband, they would lead
a better life.
I
1'!
94
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
A week later, Mr. Gregoiys schooner had two ladies
and three gentlemen on board, besides Martin Flint.
One of the ladies was dressed in deep mourning.
Mrs. Harcourt had with pleasure accepted the invita-
tion to visit Mrs. Gregory, with Mrs. Merton, and the
Doctor and Mrs. Harcourt were to go as often as they
could during their stay.
Mrs. Harcourt looked very subdued, — quite different
from her former self. She had so far kept her promise
not to taste brandy, but had several times taken port
wine. She knew it was wrong, but felt weak, and
must have something to keep her up. She had taken
wine ever since she was a child, — even at the boarding
school. Many of the girls did the same, from the
doctor's orders , and it could not do her harm now. '
Oh ! Mrs. Harcourt, take care what you do. How
many girls will have the same excuse, who attended
the same school, and perhaps there laid the founda-
tion of their future ruin in life. Most surely on that
school will rest the blame.
Mrs. Gregory welcomed her like a sister. Both
Mrs. Harcourt and her husband felt that this was true
life, — theirs was sham. Could she only have stayed
longer, no doubt her reformation would have been
completed. But she was called away suddenly by the
death of her father, and if rumor were true, his death
was caused by intemperance.
THE FATAL INHIRITANCE.
96
CHAPTER III.
** I am weary ! the world has no joy for me,
No shrine for my heart's idolatry,
I have toiled through the silent hour of night,
(While others slept) by my lamp's dim light.
I'm sick of the world, and it's cold deceit,
I'm sick of the changing friends I meet.
When I clasp a hand, it is clasped with fear,
That the new-found friend is insincere.
For Oh ! I have met since my earliest youth,
Naught but treachery ; when I looked for truth."
^EARS have passed away, and in that time,
great progress had been made in Canada.
Mr. Gregory had drawn the plans of many
handsome buildings, both public and private ;
he was a rising man, a lucky man the world said. He
had all that could make life happy. So it seemed, but
one day, a little speck showed itself. Should clouds
darken the hitherto blue heaven ? Could no warning
angel spread its wings to keep back the enemy which
wanted to enter that peaceful home ? Was not the
death of two of their friends an example, that by one
fatal step, the best and most steady men may fall ?
Once on the road to destruction, the drunkard's career
is very short.
Mr. Gregory was never a strictly temperate man,
still no one ever saw him drunk, not even his dear
wife.
if
i
' 1
n
n
ill
f
96
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
On his return one evening, he seemed excited with
drink. She looked at him with such beseeching eyes,
that he felt ashamed of himself, and begged her to
forgive him. " I met two or three friends, and have
taken rather too much, it shall not happen again, my
dear."
" Oh ! I trust it will not, Otway, I could bear any-
thing but this, and since we had such a sad example
in Mr. and Mrs. Harcourt, I would like to see in
every place, the temperance banner raised. I asked
you before, dear husband, to take the pledge, will you
not do it now, sc that you may keep back the tempter
who goes about seeking victims. Will you do it for
my sake, Otway ?
" No, Lydia, I told you so before when Merton took
it, if a man cannot keep from drinking without the
pledge, he never can keep from it. You need not fear
that I will become a drunkard, the pledge I will not
take."
" Oh ! Otway, you do not know what a comfort it
would be to me if you would. I know some would
break it. I believe only those who seek strength from
a higher power to help them can keep it. You know
God hath said, * Call on me in time of need, and I will
deliver you.' You can do nothing without His help,
if you would take the pledge, and ask His help. He
would give you strength against all temptations. So
my dear, for Edwin's sake, who is now grown to
manhood, and will take his father's life for his model,
his father should not do anything that would make
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
97
his son ashamed. Let us ask God's help to-night,
He will direct you."
Mrs. Gregory sent up a supplication to the Throne
of Grace for her husband, and lay down beside him,
trusting, with a loving woman's trust, that God would
help him to-morrow to buckle on the armour.
Before Mr. Gregory left for town the next day, his
wife asked him again "would he take the pledge, I will
go with you and take it also, then we will banish every
drop of spirits and wine from our home, which has been
my desire ever since Mr. Harcourt's death."
. " It is no use to say anything more on the subject,
Lydia, I will not do it. Merton tried his best when he
joined the temperance cause ; I told him what I told
you, don't worry me again. Why, one would really
think that I was already a confirmed drunkard to hear
you talk. I am sure I gave you no cause, only taking
a glass too much last evening."
" Therefore, let him that thinketh he standeth, take
heed lest he fall," said Mrs. Gregory, placing her
hands on her husband's shoulder, "these are the
Lord's words, not mine, Otway. How many fall,
year after year, who are just as strong as you think
yourself this day ? Oh ! my dear husband, let us
guard against the tempter. Why will you refuse my
request, which would give peace to my mind ?"
" You are perfectly absurd this morning, Lydia ; I
hope you will think better of me, by the time I come
home." So sajring, he kissed her and the children,
and left as quickly as he could.
It was in vain that Mrs. Gregory busied herself with
r I
H
'
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
her household duties ; her thoughts were all morning
with her husband. Should she go to town in the
afternoon ? Edwin might drive h .ii, but this would
make her husband angry. No ; she must commit hinl
to God. What would she not give if only Dr. Merton»
her husband's best friend, were here. But the Doctor
had given up practice two years before, and had gone
with his wife and adopted son to Europe, and it was
not known when they would return to Canada.
A year after the event recorded in the last chapter,
Mrs. Harcourt gave birth to a son. But long before
this child was bom, Mr. and Mrs. Harcourt became
more and more addicted to drink. The mother did
not do it openly, nor did she take brandy as formerly,
but she had the best porter. During the time she
nursed the child, she often took so much that she was
quite unconscious. She kept it from Dr. Merton as
well as she could, so that he only became aware of it
•when it was too late. Mr. Harcourt was seldom
sober after the birth of his son, and before the child
was a year old, he died of delirium tremens, leaving
his little one a small portion of this world's goods, but
a fatal inheritance.
Mrs. Merton took the child home with her the day
the father died, when Mrs. Harcourt's condition
became apparent to all. She made no resistance when
the child was taken from her, for a mother's love had
made room for the greatest enemy that ever came into
the world.
So long as she could find money to satisfy her vicious
appetite, what did it matter to her what became of
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
her child. It was therefore a relief when Mrs. Merton
offered to take the poor baby home with her.
The Doctor was almost heartbroken. He had
always held the old established theory to be true, that
in certain cases wine or spirits were the best remedies.
And he told himself over and over again, that he was
not to blame. But the death-bed scene of Mr. Har-
court stood ever before him. All he could do, it was
impossible to reform Mrs. Harcourt. She laughed at
him, saying, he ordered it for her " and now you want
me to leave it off, when it is the only thing that gives
me peace or makes me sleep at night. If I do not
sleep, I have all the torments of hell about me."
" But think of hereafter, Mrs. Harcourt. I beseech
of you to spend the rest of your life in repentance.
You are so young, you will shorten your days. We
will do all we can for you ; but you must come to
Jesus, throw yourself on His mercy, and He will
pardon all your sins. Will you promise me to leave off
drinking ?" he pleaded. " Come to our home, where
your child is. My wife will love you like a sister.
We will pray for you and help you to keep your vow,
if you will only take it. I have banished from my
home every drop of drink, and I am going to take the
pledge, will you join me?"
" Not to-day. Doctor. I will promise not to drink
again to-day. If you come to-morrow, I may perhaps
take the pledge."
He left, but oh, how heavy was his heart, as he
passed a comer to see a man staggering along, who,
only a year before had been a respectable man, but
100
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
had learned to love drink by having it ordered
after a severe illness. He wis now a complete sot,
spending every cent which should have gone to sup-
port his Mrife and children. On seeing the Doctor he
stopped and spoke to him.
The Doctor said, " I am sorry Brown, to see you
in such a condition."
" You can blame Dr. Fisher for it. It was he who
made me what I am," cried the man with a loud
laugh.
The Doctor shuddered at the words. He had
heard it before, but to hear it from those wretched
lips was almost too much for him. He must find rest
for his troubled conscience somewhere. Yes, he
would go and see Dr. Callaway, of Quebec, a man
who stood the highest in the medical profession. He
must hear his advice on the subject, to set his mind
at rest. He would go in a few days, if all went well
with Mrs. Harcourt. What a new life had sprung up
in his home since his wife had brought home the little
baby. How she pressed him to her heart, asking God
not to visit the sins of the parent on his innocent
head.
" Edwin, my dear husband, if this little lamb should
inherit that vice !"
" We must be more on our guard than ever. Even
should his mother give up drink, as she promised, her
health is entirely broken up. She cannot live long.
I have heard that there is very little left of the two
fortunes they had between them, — all is gone to King
Alcohol. Do you think you could prevail on Mrs.
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
101
Harcourt to come here? Under your care she may
keep her promise, Gussie ; then you can lead her to
Jesus. It is there where the greatest fault in persons
becoming intempeiate lies. They forget their Saviour,
and Satan takes hold of them. If she only could be
brought to be really sorry and repent of her sins, I
should have hope of her. As yet she is ever reproach-
ing me. Oh, Gussie, had I only followed your advice,
and not ordered her wine instead of brandy. This
will trouble me all rry life."
" I don't think he^ .ecent fall need be laid to you,
Edwin. She would have taken wine if you had not
orde 'id it. Sh. i;ook it on ihe sly when she paid that
visit to the Gregorys ; she took the wine nvith her from
town, fcr Mrs. Gregory never offered her a glass after
she was told of her f<aling. It is not your fault this
time."
" If I only could think so, my dear ; but what
right had I to tempt the woman again, when I knew
how weak she was, and after you asked me not to do
so ?" he said, in a tone of deep sadness. ** To satisfy
myself on this point, I intend to go to Quebec next
week to see Dr. Callaway ; he is the oldest man in the
profession. I cannot feel satisfied unless Mrs. Har-
court comes here to live. She cannot be left to live
only with servants. I think if she sees her boy every
day, it will make her reflect on what she has lost. Ask
her as I did, to take the pledge with me to-morrow ;
not another day shall pass without '^Mg it."
"Oh, Edwin, how happy you make me," cried his
wife. " You will be able to bring back many of your
:\
1
102
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
patients from the crooked path of sin, which you never
could do, were you not to totally abstain yourself.
You should use your influence with every mother to
banish drink from her table, for it is there much of
the evil lies. I do not think it is right to give wine,
or beer, to children at dinner, because they are not
strong or growing too fast. I am sure good wholesome
food, plenty of exercise in the open-air, and keep them
as children, by sending them early to bed, would be
far better than giving them a taste for that poison
which, in after life, may prove their destruction. Mrs.
Harcourt told me she had taken wine for dinner every
day since she was four years old., Even at boarding-
school, the medical man had ordered port wine for
her and many others. Is it any wonder that she
should get to like it so much ? Had God blessed me
with children, a glass of wine should never have
touched their lips, even if you had told me it might
save their lives. And should this poor child be spared
and left to my care, never ask me, Edwin, to give him
a drop of that poison."
"I promise you that my dear. The poor boy,
should his life be spared, will have a hard struggle to
fight against that, which I know he has inherited from
his parents."
Mrs. Merton we: it to Mrs. Harcourt, and with the
love of a mother ' ^e led her to look at her past life in its
true light. Sh^-^elt down with her, and for the first
time in her life Mrs. Harcourt felt what prayer was.
She was shivering and white as death.
'^Tnist in th^ h9T^f and He will pardon you
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
103
Though your sins be scarlet, they shall be washed
white as snow." She heard all this; her brain seemed
to have lost power.
" Oh, my God help me ! Jesus save me !" was all
she could say ; but even these few words were swiftly
carried by angels to Heaven, where there was great
rejoicing, for a poor lost sinner was saved. And then,
in one great rush of inner vision, she sinks down on
her knees ; mercy is whispered, she sees herself the
erring sinful woman that she is; then, as the blackness
reveals itself, she sees the leprosy of self that covers
the whole soul ; she crouches down on the ground
and hides herself from the light. Words long forgot-
ten, holy words that she had read, and heard read,
strike on her heart as if they would cleave a passage
through her brain, ^hat has long ceased to think of
anything except how to satisfy that appetite and prac-
tice deceit, so as to hide it from the world.
Terror and loathing are too strong for tears, she
crouches down lower and lower, she longs to hide her-
self away. It is not only her husband and child she
has sinned against. The dread question which strikes
on her heart and is searching for the deep root of her
sin, asks her as she lies cowering and trembling: VvTiat
she has been living for? She knows what it is, though
she cannot speak it : she has neither lived for God nor
any fellow-being, only for self.
Oh ! how hideous, how deformed she sees herself.
If such a revelation were lasting, human nature could
not endure existence. When God's mercy has been
granted; it is one of the truest helps to amendment.
i n I
li
':
104
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
"Oh God have mercy!" she murmured. "Grant
me only a few years to repent. Let me not be cast
away in utter darkness." Tears came at last, bitter
contrite tears, such as she had not shed at the death
of her parents or her husband, and for the first time
in her life Mrs. Harcourt poured out heartfelt thanks
and praise to the Lord for having spared her until her
soul should be transformed.
When she rose from her knees, she threw herself in
Mrs. Merton's arms, and whispered, I am saved at
last
Mrs. Merton replied, " and in Heaven is great re-
joicing over one sinner that repenteth."
Mrs. Merton took her home, and Oh ! how she
kissed her child for the first time in real love, and
prayed that God might not visit the sins of his parents
on him.
The child shrank from his mother ; she had never
cared for his wants, but had left him entirely to ser-
vants ; he reached out his little arms to Mrs. Merton.
" Take him," said Mrs. Harcourt, " he loves you
more than me, which is not to be wondered at. Take
him, and be a mother to him ; and, when he is old
enough to understand, tell him the sad history of his
parents, it may be a safe-guard against that evil which
I fear he has inherited. Could I but recall my past
life, or be spared a few years longer; but it cannot be,
I shall soon pass away, and poor Henry will be left to
you. Will you, who love him so dearly, take that trust
upon you from his poor sinful repentant mother ?"
Don't distress yourself, Mrs. Harcourt, I trust you
a
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
105
will be spared to see him grow up to be a man, and a
good one. I will help you to bring him up. Yes, I
love him, I could not love him more were he, indeed,
my own son. '
Dr. Merton went to Quebec to see Dr. Callaway.
His mind was so harrassed about Mrs. Harcourt, that
he must see what the Doctor said on that point. He
was so far relieved to think that, at last, Mrs. Harcourt
would be steadfast ; being under the influence of his
wife, he hoped for the best result. Before he left he
called on the Rev. Mr. P., one of the most zealous
servants of Christ, and asked him to visit Mrs. Har-
court Under this good man's teachings, her refor-
mation was completed.
She felt that she would not live long in this world,
all her pride was gone, she was now a meek, humble
woman, kneeling at the feet of her Saviour.
One day she said to Dr. P., "Could I warn all my
sex who indulge in taking wine, pr giving it to their
children ! Believe me, the evil is greater in private
circles than is known to the world. Look at the parties
that are given where wine is handed round to gentle-
men and ladies who take of it freely, it was this that
ruined me. I do not blame my parents entirely, but .
it was in my own father's house the seed was first
sown ; it matured into growth in the school they sent
me to, and became ripe when I had a home of my
own and could do as I liked. I could point out to
you, to-day, many ladies who never think of going to
bed without taking a glass of hot punch, which is
often prepared by the young daughter, who sips two
H
1 1
.1.
ii-
"i '
'i t
106
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
or three spoonfuls, and in time learns to take a glass
herself. I know, in my mad moments, I blamed Dr.
Merton for ordering me first brandy and then wine,
but I always had a liking for it, and he is not to
blame. Do you think God will forgive me, whom I
have so grievously offended ? "
" Rest yourself on His mercies, dear Madam," re-
plied the minister, " He will pardon all your sins. If
you are spared, use your influence by telling others of
your fall, it may bring some back to the way of truth.
I trust the little army of temperance men and women
may swell and grow, not only in this our beloved
Canada, but also in all nations, till the demon who
destroys thousands may be crushed. If every minister
of God would feel it his duty to take the temperance
banner in his hand, seek the haunts of these depraved
beings, and with love and tenderness, show them
where to look for help, the curse which darkens so
many homes might be lifted forever from our land."
Drs. Merton and Callaway were sitting together in
the study of the latter, who had told his assistant not
to disturb him unless there was really urgent need.
Dr. Callaway was a tall handsome old gentleman,
over whose head the snow of seventy-five winters had
fallen, bleaching it almost as white as snow itself.
For fifty years he had lived and practised in Quebec.
He was often called upon by medical men from
different parts of the Province for advice, which he
gladly gave to all
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
107
They were deep in the discussion on this point : —
Could life be saved or prolonged by giving stimulants ?
"I don't believe it," said Dr. Callaway, "about
forty-five years ago I thought like you, that in certain
cases, convalescence could be hastened by it, and gave
it in all cases after a serious illness. A. sad history in
my life changed the whole course of my treatment ;
since that time I have never given either wine or
spirits to any of my patients. I will relate to you
the circumstance : About the time of which I speak
Dr. Grey and myself were the only t-vo medical men
in the city. In the fall of that year typhoid fever was
very prevalent ; we had our hands full, for there was
hardly a house free from it. I was engaged to be
married, but could not find time for that important
step, therefore, I told my dear Emma we would have
to wait. I did not take off my clothes for weeks, and
it was only a few minutes at a time that I could see
my dear one. One day on my return I found a note
from her mother telling me to call at once, she feared
Emma had the fever. I had not seen her ^^ some
days, so I knew I had not carried the disease to her.
I hastened to her home and found her mother's fears
confirmed. Emma had the symptoms of the worst
kind. I had just been to see a young married man
who was one of the worst of my patients, I found
Emma's just the same. I did all I could for my
promised wife — the treatment of the young man and
her were the same, and the progress the same. After
delirium was passed, I ordered, as I always had done,
brandy. I got it myself to have it pure, took the bottle
H
t
t .
ill;
108
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
with me, when I went to see the young man, whose
name was Sanford. I said to him, *I have brought you
some brand), you must take a table spoonful three or
four times a day.' 'What ! brandy ? ' cried the man,
*no, doctor, if you cannot give me anything else I'll
die sooner than take a drop.' 'Well, if you would
rather have good old rye, you may take that instead,
but it is not as good as brandy for you.' 'No,' said
he, 'it is all the same, rye, brandy, or wine, I shall take
neither. Don't speak of it again to me, doctor,' ' But
you cannot recover unless you take some stimulant, to
strengthen you, my man, you do not need any other
medicine except that now.' 'Do you call that poison
medicine ? ' cried the poor fellow, becoming so excited
that it quite frightened me. 'No, doctor, if you
cannot find anything better I will not take it if I die.
I would approach my Maker with an unclouded mind.
I think, even my wife, would rather see me buried
than that I should become a drunkard, like my father
was. I promised my dying mother never to touch
that poison ; you must not wish me to break that
promise.' Well, all I could say or do was of no avail.
I gave the man up. My promised wife had the
brandy given to her, as I ordered. A few days
showed me she was sinking fast, while Sanford
improved daily. These words, ' if I die, I want to
approach my Maker with an unclouded mind,'
haunted me that day when my Emma breathed her
last, when I knew her mother shortly before gave her
a large dose. It has haunted rne ever since, and like
you blamed yourself in the case of Mrs. Harcourt, so
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
109
have I done with that of my lost love. Sanford
improved rapidly. The lesson I learned has never
been forgotten. In one of my interviews with him, he
asked me, if I ever asked God's blessing on every
case I took in hand, and gave Him the glory of every
recovery. * If you do, you need no stimulants to help
you.' These words sank deep in my heart. As soon
as I could leave I went abroad for a year, my health
had given way under the loss I had sustained. I
wanted to consult Dr. Carpenter, the great Court
Physician, who a few years ago published a prize
essay, to which was attached the signatures of fifteen
hundred medical and scientific men of England,
certifying, that every description of intoxicating drink
is poisonous to every thing that lives, animal or
vegetable. All this Dr. Carpenter fully explained to
me, saying that he would not say, but that for a time
life might be prolonged, especially in the case of
hemorrhage; but still, if I am compelled to give
brandy, I give it in doses as I would poison, as a
stimulant I never give it. After I returned home and
resumed my practice, I came to the determination to
take Sanford's advice, to ask God's blessing on all
cases and never to order stimulants. On account of
my asking God's blessing on my labors I became
known by the name of 'the praying doctor.'"
Yes, it was quite true ; he was known by that title
more than any other. Dr. Merton knew that, and
that it was said that many poor wretches were brought
by him to Christ. Often he was called into the coun-
try, where at that time ministers were far apart ; there-
I [
I'
•
110
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
fore, if he found a patient could not live long enough
to send for one, he knelt and prayed with him him-
self.
When Dr. Merton returned home, he was struck
with the great change in Mrs. Harcourt. She smiled
faintly, as she gave him her hand ; her whole bearing
expressed peace of mind. She felt, and the Doctor
saw, that her days were numbered. Never very strong,
strong drink had quite undermined her health. Before
she was many weeks at Dr. Merton's she breathed her
last, holding the hands of the kind friend, who had
been like a mother to her, and who, from henceforth,
was to be a mother to her boy.
Her two friends truly mourned for her. They would
have liked if she could have lived a little longer, but
God willed it otherwise, and they were thankful that
she had lived long enough to repent.
When little Harry was five years old. Dr. Merton's
health gave way. As he was rich enough to live with-
out practice, he gave it up, and went with his wife and
adopted son to Europe. He offered to take his god-
son for a few years, to finish his education, but Mr.
Gregory would not hear of it. Mrs. Gregory would
have made the sacrifice, but her husband said he
could not be separated from his son for all the world.
Did he think then, a time would come when he
would care nothing for that son, and even feel him a
burthen, because what he cost him, would have found
him more drink?
Dr. Merton urged him to join the temperance cause
when he did, but he would not hear of it, H^ felt
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
Ill
If
himself so strong, therefore why should he take such
a step ?
After the first time that he had come home the
worse for taking too much wine, and had promised that
it should not happen again, he soon came home again
in a far worse condition. So it went on from time to
time, 'always promising it should never happen again, as
he looked in the pale, tearful face of his wife. But a
time came when he did not look at her, nor did he
heed her tears or prayers, for it was seldom after the
first year that he kept sober for two or three days at a
time, and he often did not come home at night, and
even days together. ^
His business, which formerly kept them in luxuries,
did not give them enough to maintain themselves com-
fortably. He owed large sums in the city, of which
his wife knew nothing. She had to live and manage
with what came from the little farm. But this, even,
was not to be long left to her. She and her two
daughters did without servants, in order to save, and
keep Edwin at college. The more they saved and
deprived themselves, the more he spent, as he had
added gambling to the other sin.
For the sake of peace, Mrs. Gregory was silent,
— ^never a reproach passed her lips. He would come
home staggering, using brutal words, finding fault that
such and such things were not done better tor him.
She could only retire to her closet, and there lift up
her voice in supplication to Him who can change all
hearts like the current of water. She cried, "Give me
back mv husband ! Give my children back their father}"
■i ^
I
112
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
I
who now looked for his coming with fear, for he never
had a kind word for any one. One day after he went
away, Denis, the man, who often, out of love for his
mistress, did the work of a woman, came to tell her
that his master had sold the horses, and that a man
was coming for them that day.
** Sold the horses ! how can you get in the hay and
wheat without them ?" said Mrs. Gregory, in terror; it
was just harvest time.
" Oh, never mind that mistress, I'll carry it in on my
back, but what is troubling me most is, that master
wants to get rid of me altogether, and what is to be-
come of you without a friend to speak to, I cannot
tell. He told me he should not want me aiter this
month, because I told him one day how wrong it was
to go on as he does, spending his money with such a
fellow as that man Simpson, who always comes home
with him as far as the gate."
" Simpson !" repeated Mrs. Gregory, " I never heard
the name before, who is he ? I never saw him."
^* He takes good care you don't. I heard master ask
him to come in the other night, but he said he would
rather not. To my thinking, he is nothing but a black
leg, and the ruin of my master. It nearly breaks my
heart to see him such a changed man."
Changed, yes, the loving husband, the doting father,
who came home that night with a curse on his
lips, that he had not got as much for the horses as he
expected, and what he got was nearly all gone, — "It is
that rascal's fault, he shall march whei) his month i§
up."
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
113
" And who is to do the work ?" asked his wife, " if
you send Denis away, who has been such a comfort to
me for the last two years ?"
" Do you think I can keep that boy of yours here
in idleness for ever ? If he cannot work the place, it
must be sold."
" Do you mean Edwin ?" asked Mrs. Gregory. He
never before had spoken so cruelly of his children.
"Who else should I mean? I won't have idlers
here any longer, nor spies on my actions, as that fel-
low Denis is, whom you send after me, I suppose;
for I meet him every night coming home."
" Oh, my husband, don't ; the poor fellow is too
faithful to be a spy, — ^he is only so sorry for you that
you have fallen so."
Her tears fell fast, as she thought of her brave boy,
her only comfort, working the farm, instead of finish-
ing his education as a doctor, which he had chosen as
a profession.
He was now in Toronto, and would be home in a
few days, what would he say to his father's proposal ?
It had nearly broken the poor boy's heart, when he,
for the first time, saw his father in this sad condition ;
but he was far worse now than he was the year before.
" Oh ! if I had let him go with Dr. Merton," cried
Mrs. Gregory, " he would have been spared all this."
There was no kind greeting from the drunken
father, when he arrived ; only coarse language came
out of his mouth, who formerly had borne the name
of one of the most refined gentlemen of the day.
" Qh ! ifty poor father, what ^ wreck you are !''
'!^i
It
t
I
W
}
:; i
■I
I'!:
|:M
114
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
sighed the youth. " Is it possible you are the same
man? Heaven help my poor mother. What she
must have suffered this last year ! I wonder where
the money came from with which she supplied me ?
for father has given himself up to the demon entirely."
He went out to find Denis in the stable. " But
where were the horses gone ?" he asked, after greeting
the faithful servant.
" Sold, my young master. The next thing will be
the place; for your father told me he would not
require me after this month."
" It cannot be, Denis," said Edwin, " you must
stay with my mother. How in the world is she going
to live, if the land is not tilled ? "
" I would work for nothing, for there never was
such an angel as my mistress, but master will not keep
me. I offended him, one night, by going after him.
He was not so far gone then, so I just told him what
I thought of his conduct and ill treatment of my poor
dear mistress. Why, a stone would weep to hear him'
curse and swear, when he is drunk ; and she never
says a word, but is just as kind as if he was as he used
to be. Well it beats all my comprehension how drink
changes a man."
"No doubt of that," replied Edwin, " I trust God
will give me strength to keep from it all my life ; as
yet, I know not even the taste of it."
" Well, I was fond of a glass once myself, I know I
made a beast of myself once or twice, but master cured
me, I have not tasted a drop for over a year."
" Don't take it again then, Denis, better join th^
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
115
temperance cause at once, it will help you to keep
from it always. Had my father done so years ago,
when Dr. Merton asked him to take the pledge, he
never would have fallen so low. It is only God who
can bring him back now."
His mother kept her sufferings to herself as much
as she could, but Edwin's blood often boiled, when he
heard his father's language, one would have thought
that he never was anything better than belonging to
the lowest grade of society.
He treated Edwin just the same, for he did not like
to look in his manly face. The girls kept out of his
way, when he was home they went out of the room,
and never entered it again while he was there. But
Edwin would not leave his mother alone, his father
knew it, and this made him angry ; the lower he sank,
the more he seemed to glory in what should have been
his shame.
He told Edwin one day if he could " not work the
farm, it might go to hell and all belonging to it, and
he would get rid of it.
" No, father, you will not sell it."
" And who is to hinder me, you miserable boy ?"
He raised his hand to give Edwin a b^ow ; but Mrs.
Gregory sprang between father and son, and received
the blow in her face, which made the blood run from
her nose, and nearly stunned her ; he rushed out of
the house like a mad man, and they saw him no more
that night Not far from them lived a family
that once professed great friendship for Mrs. Gregory,
but who had for a long time harboured her husband,
1^
n
116
THE FATAL INHERITANCE,
and helped him to spend his money. When Mrs.
Gregory spoke to them about it — the wrong they did her
and her children — they only laughed, and told her that
her husband was no worse than other men.
Denis had to leave, and although Edwin tried to do
his best it was little that he could accomplish. Want
of everything showed itself soon. It was not only that
his father did not bring home any money now, but he
sold many things from the place ; besides it was a wet
season, half the crops rotted before Edwin could get
them in. Some days a kind old man would lend him
a horse, but he saw that they would have to give up
the place, " not sell it, mother, but rent it, if we can ;
let us go into the city and I will try and find employ-
ment to help you. The girls might find a few pupils,
so when you have an opportunity speak to father
about it — I think it would be much better — if we were
near him perhaps he would not stay out all night as
he does now.'*
"Oh, Edwin! my son, I have almost given up
hoping he will be better," she replied in a sad voice.
" You need not give it up, if you have not given up
praying," said Edwin, laying his hand kindly on his
mother's shoulders, "remember the woman in
Scripture, who received what she asked for, because
she would not give up asking."
" Yes, I know, but when one keeps on praying,
year after year, and no answer, one begins to get
weary and lose faith," she said.
" No, no, mother dear, don't lose faith, though the
I
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
117
answer is long in coming, praying breath is never
spent in vain, God will surely hear you at last."
One day, shortly after, Mr. Gregory brought home
with him a man from town, who looked all over the
place, but did not enter the house, and that night
when the children had gone to bed he laid a paper on
the table and dipping the pen in the ink asked his
wife to sign her name where he pointed.
" What is it ? " she asked. Although he was half
sober, his wild, glaring eyes frightened her, " what is it
that you wish me to sign ? "
" You need not ask, do as I tell you, you don't
understand it."
" I will try to, only explain it." She felt it was to sell
her home. Oh, how Dr. Merton's words rushed into
her mind — " Is it absolutely your property ? "
" No, I will not explain. What right have you to
ask ? I will break every buiie in your body if you do
not sign it at once."
He had locked the door, but Edwin was outside
and heard every word his father had said, and cried
to his mother not to sign it ; but she, poor woman,
fearing the worst, wrote her name quickly, and thereby
made herself and children homeless.
As soon as it was done he took the paper up, and
opening the door rushed past Edwin into the night ;
they did not see him again for a week ; then he came
and told them he had taken a house in town, and they
must leave the place to-morrow.
I
I
f
118
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
CHAPTER IV.
"What wakes me from my sleep, mother ?
With music's power,
Who can it be disturbs my rest
At this late hour ?
** No sound I hear, resign thee
To slumber mild,
No serenader comes to thee,
My poor sick child.
** Oh, 'tis no earthly music.
That lures my flight ;
The angel voices call me,
Mother, I go — good night."
— Uhland.
^HEY were back in the city, but their
hopes that the father and husband would be
reformed were all in vain. As long as he
had the money, from the sale of the farm
he went on worse than before, not even giving Mrs.
Gregory money to buy winter clothes for herself and
children.
Edwin had found a place as assistant with Dr.
Green, successor to Dr. Merton, and Lydia as daily
governess. What they earned helped at home ; but
no matter how Mrs. Gregory pinched and saved there
was often want, of which the world did not dream.
She would not expose her husband to shame more
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
119
than she could help, she often made excuses for this
or that which she hated to do ; but, she could not cry
from the housetops, " My husband drinks, he spends his
money in riotous living, and that is the reason I have
to run in debt and that I cannot pay you as I promised
you."
Oh, how many suffering women in Canada, this
day, are like Mrs. Gregory, whom the world judges
wrongfully, because they will not or can tell the true
reason of their actions ; who try to make much out of
little always hoping, always trusting, that a better day
will soon come.
As the winter advanced, when here in Canada
every one should have plenty of fuel, Mrs. Gregory to
save wood and coal sat up with her daughter in a cold
room, for she often did not know where to get money
to buy even the necessaries of life. She tried all
kinds of ways to earn a little money so that the
burden should not fall so heavily on her children.
Edwin was not well, his tender heart was nearly
broken at the sight of the misery at home. He felt
ill, but he never stopped in-doors when duty called
him out. He boarded with Mr. Green, so did not see
his mother often. It was a very sickly winter. One
day when he went to see his mother, she was horrified
to see him look so ill, he had a short cough, and a
flush in his cheek, which were too well known to his
mother.
" Edwin, my dear son, what ails you ? " taking his
hot hands in hers. " What have you done to bring
on such a cough ? "
!
120
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
"Don't distress yourself, mother," replied Edwin,
" it is really nothing, I am a little overworked that is
all, I shall be better when spring comes, there will not
be so much night work."
She did not know that he sat up many hours to
study after his office work was done, often in a cold
room, or she would have found the reason of his ill
health ; nor did he tell her that in order to perfect
himself in his profession he had to do so, as he saw
no chance of his returning to the University.
He asked after his father, as he always did. Not
one of the children treated him with anything but the
greatest respect although they received no kind word
from him, it was either coarse language or foolish
talk; still Mrs. Gregory had taught them never to
forget that he was their father.
"Is father heme?" asked Edwin, for he thought
he heard some noise upstairs which only could come
from him, as his mother and sister were with him.
" Yes, he came home this afternoon, he talked of
going to Kingston for a contract. How can I let him
go alone ? he might never come again back."
" It would be well if he did not," said his sister.
Edwin laid his hand gently on his sister's arm,
saying, " Hush, you don't know what you are saying."
" Well, one of these days he will be brought home
dead," said she bitterly, " how can it be otherwise, the
way he is going on ; now he is worse than ever."
" Pray without ceasing," said her brother, " and God
will answer us at last, and let this bitter trial pass from
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
121
US. I know and feel that we shall have a loving
father once again, as we had before."
" I hope it will be soon, or mother will not live to
see it," she replied, while her mother was out of the
room looking after her husband, who now left the
house with something hid under his arm. Of late, he
had pilfered from the house all the plate, and Mrs.
Gregory had been compelled to dispose of many
things, so that the house was not luxuriously furnished.
Still, she made it as cheerful as her means would
allow. She had always something ready for him to
eat, even if she should have to go without, which was
often the case.
All her former friends were sunshine friends. When
trouble came they knew her no longer. Her only true
friends were far away, and of late she had not heard
of them. They knew her trial, and many were the
kind letters Dr. Merton sent to his friend, beseeching
him to turn from his evil ways ; but they were never
answered, and often not even read by Mr. Gregory.
They could not come home. Dr. Merton wrote he
was in ill-health, and must stay in Germany, at
least till his adopted son's studies were finished, which
would be in two years.
" Oh, Edwin ! how I wish you were in Germany
now, I have often wished it before ; but if you could
only be there now, you look so ill."
" I am not ill, mother ; and as often as I wished to
go abroad, I thank God, father kept me, when my god-
father would have taken me. What would you have
done in all this trouble with only the girls with you ?
I
f.i
Si
If
122
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
But I do wish Dr. Merton was here, for if there is any
man that could do father good, it is he, — but he may
viever come back."
Yes, what could she have done without her son,
poor woman, when her heart was breaking? She spent
sleepless nights, either watching for her husband's
return, or kept awake with his idiotic talk.
Still, she always felt a joy creep in with all her
misery, to think that God had given her such a good
loving son. He was far more loving than her
daughters, who would have gone off, had it not been
for the gentle influence of their brother, who always
asked them to have patience, all would come right in
the end.
When Mrs. Gregory knelt down that night, she
prayed that the Lord might not send her a more bitter
trial than she had yet known, — laying her darling son
on a sick bed. Something was the matter with him.
She must ask Dr. Green about it, and see what he
thought ; he must see he was ill, he has changed so in
one week. She went to him the next day.
** Dr. Green," she began, " what ails my son ? did
you see how ill he looked yesterday?"
" Yes,. Mrs. Gregory, and I advised him to stay in
doors, he has a cough I don't like. His father's
drinking is killing him by inches, for he has the tender
heart of a woman. He often meets him in the streets,
his honor i:s touched, he cannot pass without speaking
to him, and thus it is ever before him, and will not let
him rest, even when I do not require his services.
But, believe me, I will do all I can for him."
,.#
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
123
So he did ; but a few days after, Edwin feeling really
so ill, that he was compelled to keep his bed, his
mother took him home.
Oh ! the sad time that had come for the poor
mother, to see her daxling boy fade away, — for it was
rapid consumption, and ere many weeks should pass,
he would be no more. Did this bring back the father ?
No, for a few days when he first saw him, he felt a
pang, and promised to do better, but it was only a
promise, nothing more. He went on just the same as
before, and could not be persuaded to go into his
son's room, for he could not bear to look at him. In
his inmost heart he loved him, as he loved his wife ;
but, alas ! he loved King Alcohol better, and Satan
had laid his claws so tightly upon him, that he could
not resist his power.
" Oh ! Edwin, my son," cried Mrs. Gregory, one
day, " must I indeed part from you, — you, who were
such a great comfort to me? How shall I live
without you, when you are gone ?"
" God will be your helper and comforter, mother,
and the girls will never leave you, unless father should
be reclaimed, which I hope he may be soon. Do you
know mother, I have often thought since I have lain
here, that my death may bring it about, though other
means have failed. I have felt sometimes sorry that I
have to leave you all, but still when I am in Heaven, I
trust I may look down upon you, a happy family. Should
my death bring this about, I shall gladly die. I be-
lieve this grief has brought on the disease."
During this affliction, Mrs. Gregory was obliged to
I!
!
124
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
sell many things to provide what was necessary for her
son. His knowing this, made his trial still more
bitter. Lydia gave all she earned, and yet they often
had to make a meal on dry bread and weak tea, so
that nourishing food could be provided for Edwin.
How Mr. Gregory lived during this sad time, was best
known to himself. He never stinted himself. When
he did draw a plan, for which he was well paid, not
many dollars found their way to his home.
The last day of Edwin's life had come, he felt it,
his mother saw it. She begged her husband not to go
out, — " Edwin will not live through the day."
" I have to go out," he said, " I will soon be bark."
" Do go in and see him before you go," she im-
plored, " he has been asking for you all night. Oh,
Otway ! is it possible that you have lost all love for
us 1 " He was sober — perfectly sober, if she only could
keep him in ! If he only would stay in the room with
Edwin ! She was sure, now was the time he might be
saved. He trembled all over, for he had not yet had
his morning dram.
He said, "I cannot go in now; I will be back soon."
So saying, he left the house quickly, and the poor
woman went into a comer, where she could weep
bitter tears, and pray, as she had often done before —
pray that God would change his heart, and bring him
back from the path of sin.
Early that morning a letter came from Dr. and Mrs.
Merton. They had heard of their misery and Edwin's
illness, no doubt, through Dr. Green. This letter
brought great comfort to Mrs. Gregory, not only for
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
125
!:|
their christian sympathy, but it contained a cheque for
a hundred pounds, for the use of his beloved godson.
Alas ! it had come too late, he did not need earthly
food any longer. But he was glad it had come, for it
made his last hour easier than it would have been.
His eyes brightened as his mother read the letter to
him. "Read that passage again, mother, I would like
you to take it to your hearts," turning to his mother
and sisters.
Mrs. Gregory read again, although her voice was
almost choked by the fast falling tears.
" The clusters of hope may be seen by the eye of
faith; your hand shall yet grasp the broken reed;
your tearful eyes shall yet be dried; and from the
arid mountain top, you shall return to the green pas-
tures. He will yet break drink's hellish chain, and
rise to the full stature of a man."
" Yes, mother, he will yet become a victor, I know
and feel it. You will yet be a happy, united family."
" We cannot be happy without you, Edwin," said
his sister.
" Yes you will, dear ; for you will not mourn as
those without hope. It is only a few short years our
pilgrimage here on earth, and then we shall all meet
again, before the throne of God, never to be
separated." '
The day wore on, — Mr. Gregory did not return as
he promised. The Doctor came, but returned home
and brought his wife to be with Mrs. Gregory during
those sad hours. The Doctor searched for Mr. Gre-
126
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
I
gory, going to all the places where he was known to
spend his money, — but no one had seen him.
" Good God," said the Doctor, to himself, " is it
possible that a man can sink so low, as to be so forgetful,
to lose all love for his family, that he could not stay
at home the last day of his son's life ! It is horrible
to think of!
Edwin lay with his eyes half-closed, at the least
movement opening them to see if his father had
come.
The snow was falling in large flakes, and by night
there was a regular storm. Mother and daughters
listened to every step, thinking it was Mr. Gregory.
Edwin's last hour came^ and he had not returned.
" Mother, mother dear, when father comes home
tell him how sorry I was not to say my last good night
to him. He may feel it ; and tell him, when he looks
on me in death, that my last wish — my last prayer on
earth — was that he might reform, so that I may see
him in Heaven, though I cannot see him before I go."
" Oh ! if I only knew where to find him, I would go
and bring him home," said his sister. " It is really
dreadful for him not to be here, at such an hour.
Come, Lydia, let us go and find him, if we can," she
said in a whisper.
They started out in the snow. They went into two
places that they knew he frequented, — but he was not
there. How they shrank from asking for him in those
dens, where loud laughter and mocking words greeted
their ears, when the inmates heard that Gregory's girls
were out looking for him.
I
;il
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
127
Just as they turned homewards, they saw three or
four men coming out of one of those gates of perdi-
tion, singing in drunken revelry, — and their father was
one of them. He did not notice them, but went arm
in arm with one of his companions, turning as if to go
into another street. Lydia sprang forward, crying —
" Father, come home, Edwin is dying ! "
Her pale, tearful face startled the whole group,
while her father looked at her with a wild stare, but
was too far gone to comprehend what she said. She
took him by the arm, and she and her sister led him
home through the snow. Thanks to his good wife,
he had a home to go to, when a tavern-keeper would
turn him out, to die in the cold, rather than shelter
him.
He did not say a word on the way, but when they
stood on the threshold of the door, he asked, " What
did you say, Lydia, I don't quite remember?"
" That Edwin, dear Edwin, is dying, father, and you
never as much as looked in his room before you went
out this morning," she said, sobbing.
" Oh ! never mind, girls, it is all right," he muttered,
standing against the wall.
They saw it was no use to bring him into Edwin's
room, for he was too drunk ; so they led him to his
own room, where he threw himself on his bed like a
log, unconscious that the messenger of death had
already entered, taking with him a youthful spirit.
When the sisters entered the room where their
brother lay, all was over. Edwin, the good, affection-
ate son, the true and faithful brother, had gone home,
128
THE FATAL INHERITANCE!.
leaving his last good night to his sisters and father,
with Dr. Green, who had closed his eyes.
Their poor heart-broken mother lay on a couch
attended to by Mrs. Green, looking as if she would
soon follow her boy. She roused herself in her love
for the poor lost one, not forgetting, in her anguish,
to say, " Cover him up warm." Oh ! who can fathom
a faithful wife's love ? She never wavers, no matter
how ill she is treated, she clings to him who once was
all the world to her. So Mrs. Gregory turned a deaf
ear to the advice of her friends to leave him ; for she
well knew if she did, he would go down, till at last the
gates of hell would receive him.
Mr. Gregory slept on till next evening, it was already
growing dark when he got up. He drank eagerly the
cold tea which stood beside his bed. He felt some-
thing in his heart which had not been there for a long
time, something like remorse. But his mind was so
confused that he could not think what unusual thing
he had done, or what had happened. He remembered
where he had been ; yes, he had raised two dollars,
had gone to take a glass and then go home, but
meeting Thornton, and one or two others, they had
gone to dine together, and he had paid for all, and
then — and then — he could not quite make out what
brought him home. He felt very hungry, but there
was not anything in the room. Why was the house so
quiet ? Where was his wife ? Oh, he remembered,
now, she would be in Edwin's room.
He felt in his pockets, "not a red cent," he
muttered, " what a fool I am, I don't believe I spent
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
129
it all, they sold me again, I know." He opened the
«loor and looked out, not a sound, a death-like
stillness prevailed, it made him shiver all over from
head to foot. He went at last to Edwin's room, it was
nearly in darkness. On a little stand by the bed burned
a wax taper, only lighted a few minutes before by Mrs.
Green, who was still in the house with the poor
mother. An unseen hand drew Mr. Gregory
toward the bed, where lay his boy, his only son, his
idol, whose loving heart had grieved so intensely for
his erring father that his days were shortened. He
pulled back the sheet from the cold, upturned
face for one moment, and then, with a cry of despair,
he threw himself beside his son, whose heart he had
broken.
The cry brought his wife and daughters, with Mrs.
Green, into the room. There they saw how he
covered those cold lips with kisses, calling on his son
to forgive him, to speak only once more to him.
** Oh, Edwin ! my son, would that your wretched
father could die for you."
It was pitiful to look at him. His wife beckoned
the others to leave the room, and then, with the
beloved dead, she knelt down. Drawing her erring
husband beside her, she told him of Edwin's last prayer,
and implored Heaven's help for her husband, that at
the eleventh hour he might be saved from eternal
death.
"Oh, Lydia! my dear wife, can you, will you
forgive me for what I have made you suffer?" the
thick falling tears almost blinding him. " Is your love all
M^^
130
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
dead? That true, faithful love which I have trampled
so ruthlessly under foot. Can you, will you turn to
me in love? And here by the dear body of our
darling, that noble-hearted son, I swear never to taste
a drop of that poison again, which has nearly
destroyed me. I will give my life for the future to
the cause of Temperance. I will, if God spares me,
travel from ocean to ocean, to tell men of my sins and
folly ; how I fattened the publican, and starved my
own family. Will you forgive me, my dear wife ? "
" Hush, Otway, hush ! " cried Mrs. Gregory, with
her hands around his neck, " I forgive you all, and if
you will turn back to the path of truth and soberness,
even the death of this beloved son will not be too
great a sacrifice. He will look down v/ith gladness
from before the Father's throne, and there will be
great joy among the angels over the one sinner who
has repented."
In that chamber of death the father, the husband,
knelt for a long time asking pardon for hie; past sins,
and strength for the future to withstand the tempter,
who goes about seeking whom he may devour. At
last he rose from his knees and felt that he had
conquered.
When the day came they laid Edwin in the grave.
The few who followed him to his resting place were
moved to tears, by the sight of the stricken father, and
when he knelt down beside the fresh mould praying,
they all felt that one more wretched sinner had been
snatched, by God's grace, from the burning fire which
Ill
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
131
King Alcohol kindles for those who give themselves
into his power.
The Rev. Mr. P., and Dr. Green led him home.
" Home once more it shall be, if God spares me."
" Ask His help, Mr. Gregory," replied the minister,
" He will assist you, and by your own example you
will bring others back from the path of destruction,
by telling them what great things the Lord has done
for you."
Mrs. Gregory lay for some time, between life and
death, but at last she rallied, to begin life anev ; for
Mr. Gregory was, indeed, bom again. There was a
sad void in the mother's heart.
Yet the Healer was there, who had smitten her heart,
And taken her treasure away ;
To allure to Heaven, He has placed it on high,
And the mourner will sweetly obey.
There had whispered a voice, 'twas the voice of her God.
I love thee, I love thee, pass under the rod.
132
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
CHAPTER V.
" Oh, Clara, if the love which first for thee
I fondly cherished, should again revive,
Enkindling in our hearts its purity —
And sparkling drink forgotten be.
Wilt thou unite our broken ties, and strive
To teach my soul, in love and faith to live."
^HERE was a large party assemlied at the
home of Mr. Vernon, one of the leading
men of Quebec, when a new-comer was
announced, Mr. Harry Harcourt, a gentle-
man just returned from abroad, where he had been
with his parents since he was a little boy, both of
whom died in Germany, so report said. He was a
barrister, and intended to settle in the city. Mother
Gossip talked of him as being immensely wealthy
and a handsome man. No wonder that his society
was eagerly sought after, especially by fathers anc^
mothers who had marriageable daughters.
Among the guests were Judge Armitage, his wiie,
and daughter, a sweet girl of eighteen, the only
surviving child of a large family, and upon her was
lavished all the love and care of her parents.
When Mrs. Vernon introduced Clara Armitage to
Harry Harcourt he felt like a school boy, for nev ;
had he met in all his travels a woman who had suc>.
natural grace and loveliness as Clara.
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
133
When she looked up, and met his dark, handsome
eyes, she blushed.
Her father, who was a great admirer of men that
had travelled, was soon in a deep discussion with Mr.
Harcourt, on the law of this and the old country.
After his parents' death, he had travelled all over
E'lrope, and had made good use of his time ir study-
ftig well every form of law and administration. In his
glowing description of these, he found a willing listener
in the old judge.
Clara sitting in another part of the room, listened
eagerly to every word that fell from his lips, although,
seeming to pay great attention to the conversation of
two friends who were present.
Harry took her in to supper, during which he gave
her ample proof of his brilliant conversational powers,
by describmg to her the difference between the social
life of this and the old country.
When the wine was passed round, she saw him
refuse it, even when the he 'r urged him to take some,
saying, "surely you are not a teetotaler, Mr. Harcourt?''
" No, not exactly, but I never drink wine, it does
not agree with me," he added, with heightening color,
turning to Clara, who held a glass of port wine from
which she sipped.
" Have brandy then, said the host, or anything you
wish. We have every variety in the house, only say
what you will take."
" Nothing to-night, I thank you, I have a headache,
therefore, will be better without anything but a cup
of coflfee."
134
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
Harry Harcourt, are you such a coward, that you
dare not speak out, and say, " friends, you see before
you, one to whom clings a most fatal inheritance. If
you love me, if you wish me well, never let me see
drink, never let me inhale its poisonous odor, lest the
tempter throw his chains around me, and I should be
lost like my father."
No, he must needs make excuses, for society would
scoif at him. He could not bear to be ridiculed, so
'" 'ides the history of his parents; it is so long ago,
U' dy remembers it \ow, least of all in Quebec.
When he left that night, he had a warm invitation
from Judge Armitage to dinner the next day, which
he gladly accepted, for he had for the first time lost
his heart.
He soon became a constant visitor at the house
of Judge Armitage ; and every time he saw Clara, he
felt that for him, there would be no happiness unless
he could win her. " I wish I could tell her the sad
history of my parents," he said to himself one day
after leaving the Judge's house. I cannot, perhaps
she would never look at me again, for fear I should
have inherited that vice. Oh ! God knows what a
life-long struggle it has been to me, to keep from it.
So far I have conquered ; shall it always be so ? Yes !
that sweet angel shall help me, if I win her. I'll tell
her all after she is my wife.
He took an office — a rich young lawyer with so
much experience was a great addition to the legal pro-
fession. He soon had as large a practice as some of
the older ones, and it became necessary for him to take
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
135
a partner. Before the year was out, he was considered
one of the most eminent lawyers of Quebec; and
Judge Armitage looked with much pleasure on the
growing attachment between the young lawyer and
his daughter, which was now apparent to all.
When Harry Harcourt entered the study of Judge
Armitage, to ask the hand of his daughter, the old
gentleman told him he gave his blessing most willingly.
" There is no one of whom I think so highly, so worthy
of my child as yourself. I love you like a son, so
does my wife, and we know you will make her happy,
Harry."
" My whole life belongs to her, Mr. Armitage, since
I saw her first. I felt I wanted the love of a true
woman, such as Clara's is. How I hungered for such
love, and now that I have found it, and won her, and
you give your blessing, I shall live for her happiness."
" I know you will, for let me tell you something in
secret, had you bestowed your love on any other
woman, I believe it would have killed Clara. My
wife told me some weeks ago, that Clara had lost her
heart, and a girl like Clara loves but once in het
life. She has never given us a troubled moment ; she
is all love and affection. May God's blessing rest on
you both."
Harry Harcourt was happy in Clara's love. A new
life seemed to open upon him. He had not loved
before ; but there were moments when he had just left
her, that a cloud gathered on his brow, and he felt
something like a reproach. He had not told her all
about his parents, for it needed courage to do so. He
136
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
was afraid she might become mistrustful of him, and
he could not bear that she should know what a life-
long struggle he had to keep clear of the tempter. So
far, she had often laughed at him for being so strict,
not taking wine or brandy ; yet she had not really
urged him, but once she asked him if he belonged to
the temperance society, and when he shook his head,
she replied, " I am glad, for I think it all nonsense,
this signing the pledge, it is only fools who drink
more than is good for them, a glass of wine does not
hurt anyone. I really think it would do you good
Harry, now that you work so hard ; father tells me you
have enough work for half-a-dozen men, and that you
ften sit up the greater part of the night."
" But it won't be long, darling," answered Harry,
pressing her close to his heart, " only this month, and
then you will be all mine, I shall have such a long
holiday in our honeymoon, a little hard work will not
hurt me now."
" I wish you would let me send you some old port
which I have in my cellar," said the Judge, one day,
" you look so pale, and a glass before you go to bed,
would do you all the good in the world, Harry, my
boy."
" Thank you all the same, I do not need it Judge,"
replied Harry, his face turning pale by the thought
that his partner had brought into the office the day
before some brandy. When the bottle was opened, the
odor of it, had nearly broken Harry's resolution ; but
just in time he rushed out into the street, and did not
return to the office a^ain that day.
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
137
Once in Germany, it happened that the smell had
set him drinking, and had it not been for his adopted
father and mother, God know? what would have be-
come of him, had they not told him the sad end of
his father and early death of his mother, whose life
was cut off by the use of this poison. He promised
them he would never taste liquor again. He hoped that
the kind old Judge would not send him wine, for he was
afraid of himself, that some time he might fall, ere he
could reach his goal — making Clara his wife. Why
was he such a coward ? Why did he not tell her all ?
Had he done so, and asked her to protect him, so
that no one should tempt him, all would have been
well ; but, alas ! he put it off until she was his wife.
He told himself again and again, he could not think
of causing a doubt in her love for him ; for he knew
that Clara loved him with her whole heart. He had
to work very hard to be able to leave his business for
six months, for they were going to Europe directly
after their marriage. Judge Armitage and his wife
were to accompany them. A few days before their
marriage, when Harry called, looking quite ill, Clara
said, —
" Harry, I shall send you a dozen of port to-morrow,
and I insist on you taking three glasses a day," she
added, playfully, stroking his hair. She felt him
tremble all over, but attributed it to anything but the
right cause. He answered, " for God's sake, Clara,
don't do it, I beg of you," then seeing her surprised
look, he added, " I would much rather not have you
do so, my darling ; three days more, and then I shall
138
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
put myself under your charge to do as you like with
me, but no port, if you please, my pet."
When he left that night, Clara begged of him to go
right to bed.
" I must sit up for an hour," he said, " after to-
morrow, no more business for six months, just think
of that, Clara." *
" I'll send you the port ; if you don't take some-
thing you will be ill."
He shook his head, as he waved his hand towards
her, she could see in the moonlight how sad his face
looked, but she did not think of it then ; afterwards,
she was haunted by his sad eyes wherever she went.
True to her promise, she sent John, the footman, the
first thing in the morning, with six bottles of port wine,
which had lain for years in the Judge's cellar, of which
a few glasses were enough to make the strongest man
dead drunk.
When her father saw what she was doing, he ap-
proved of it, " he needs something, working like a
horse. You must not let him keep up such crooked
notions, not to drink wine at dinner. Clara, this is
the only thing I find fault with him, but once your
husband, my child, you can set that all right."
" Never fear, father, I will take him in hand," she
replied gaily. She was so happy, so full of joy, she
loved him so dearly.
Two days passed swiftly away. She had bidden
Harry good bye, she would not see him to-morrow,
not again till in church. He had so much to do, for
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
139
he had to leave everything in order for his partner to
go on with.
When the bridal dress was brought home Clara was
busy packing; but she left her work to try it on, to be
sure that all was right. One of her bridestnaids was
there helping her. When all was arranged she heard
her father's step, who had come home much earlier,
and was calling for his wife.
Clara, looking so radiant in her glorious beauty,
went out to surprise him, but when she saw him she
shrank back, for his face looked perfectly ashy.
" What nonsense," he said, pointing to her dress,
" take that off, Clara."
She thought he had suddenly lost his reason, for
he looked so wild, as he asked for her mother, who
now came.
She stood speechless, as her father drew her mother
into a room. Telling Clara again to take off that
dress, he shut the door, but CJara went into the
next room. She feh something had happened, and
tbjre she could hear every word that was said.
" Emily," began her father, " you must take Clara
away at once, I will follow you in a day or two.
There can be no marriage. That man is a drunkard."
" Are you mad," said his wife, " do you speak of
Harry Harcourt ? "
" Yes, of no other. What do you think ? he was
carried into his office not an hour ago dead drunk, I
saw him myself. He had been drinking since the
morning, and they tell me now (why not before) that
his father and mother drank themselves to death.
140
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
We must get Clara away before the thing becomes
known through the city. A steamer leaves to-night,
get ready as soon as you can."
Clara stood before her father with outstretched
arms. " Father, has he drank the wine that I sent
him ? "
" Yes, he drank some of that wine. I am sorry you
sent it now ; but still, it is better that it has happened
now, than after your marriage. I saw two empty
bottles, he and his partner must have drank it. One
of the clerks told me some old woman fainted in the
office early in the morning and he drew the cork of
one bottle to give her a glass to revive her, then, I
suppose, they began to drink, then they went out and
I just passed as they carried him in. I went for a
doctor and he told me that he was dead drunk.
Tear that image from your heart, my child, he is
unworthy of your love. I have been so deceived in
that man," he muttered, as he went out to make
arrangements for their sudden departure.
Clara was quite passive in their hands, she was like
one bereft of reason ; for no tears came to her relief.
Before two hours she was led into a cabin, on the
steamer "Windermere," and the next day, which
should have been her wedding-day, she was far out on
the sea, far from him whom she loved better than life.
Poor Harry ! when he awoke the next day, all
conscious of what he had done, he hastened to her
home; he would tell her all before she would take the
vow; but, the servant told him that Miss Clara, with her
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
141
mother, had gone the night before, and that the Judge
would not see him.
He stood like one bewildered, not understanding
the man's words; "Gone! gone where?" he asked.
" To Europe," answered the old man, looking with
pity on the young man, whom he had learnt to love
and regard as his own master, " yes, master Harry,
she has gone, they took her off, poor dear, and you
have lost her ; her father goes by the next steamer."
Gone from him ! He gave one groan, and then ran
down the steps into the street; he went out of the city
to the place, from where the "Windermere" had
sailed a few hours before, and there he stood looking
out into the sea where his love, his life, was sailing
from him, and he had lost her forever.
" Oh, Clara ! Clara ! what have you done ? Now
I shall go down, down, fast. I have nothing to live
for. You might have saved me from that sin, — from
that Fatal Inheritance, which has clung to me' all my
life. You., my first, my only love, helped, although
unconsciously, to bring that about which I have
struggled against all my life."
He went into his office to arrange his affairs, and to
write a full confession to Clara about his parents, and
all concerning him. He sent the letter enclosed in one
to the Judge, beggl/.f him to give it to Clara, for it
contained what he should have told her before he
sought her hand.
The Judge read the letter addressed to himself,
but Clara's he put in his vest pocket.
" It can do no good," he said, " he no doubt makes
142
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
excuses for his fall ; but he shall never see her again
if I can help it."
The Judge left by the next steamer. For a time
Dame Gossip was fully employed inventing many
tales to account for their sudden de re, but as is
generally the case with this old lady, ner reports were
very wide of the truth.
Although, Harry Harcourt was seen almost daily
drunk, society shut its eyes to his misconduct, and
he could have married into any of the best families,
had he been disposed; but for him, poor fellow, there
was only one woman, and she was lost to him, through
his own weakness.
The Armitage's travelled two years, in vain to cheer
their darling Clara, then returned to Canada. Clara
had asked to be taken home, for, lugh her lost
lover never was mentioned, she th^.-giit the more
about him. She had one true friend, from whom she
heard that he was now a confirmed drunkard. " He
does not practice ; no one would employ him ; I am
sorry for him ; I wish you were here. I have seen
him pass your house two or three times a day, looking
at the closed shutters of your room. Believe me,
Clara, however bad that man is, he has something
about him that we seldom find ; he will never forget
you, and if there is a way to bring him back, it can only
be done by you. You can save him Clara — nobody else
can. Many noble men who have grown grey in the
good cause of temperance have tried it in vain."
" Poor Harry, I shall never cease to love you, no
matter what the world may say of me, never ! never ! "
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
143
dashing away the tears as she looked at a small
miniature of him which she had with her, on which
she gazed for hours, when alone.
They had not been home long, when her father one
day sent her to bring some papers that were in a vest.
As she was turning over the papers, she saw a letter
addressed to herself in Harry's well-remembered hand-
writing. Tremblingly, she broke the seal, and with
tearful eyes read the full, sad history of his parents,
and of the life-long struggle to keep clear of that Fatal
Inheritance which they had bequeathed to him. " I
cannot live without you, my beloved Clara," he wrote,
" the whole world has no worth for me without you ;
but between us, has the curse, which my parents left,
placed itself like a boundary. This cursed one can
never again offer you his hand. I feel as if my brains
were on fire ; I am wild with the pain of remorse.
Only a few days ago I held you in my arms, pressed
you to my heart, and now — the ocean lies between us.
I look, but see nothing but the heavens and waters,
and the sails of ships. My solitude is dreadful, be-
cause it is forever ; only with my death can my mis-
fortune come to an end. The happy past is behind
me, whatever may come, it is worthless to me. I have
seen my sun descend, now my way will be downward,
downward in the dark valley, where no flower blooms.
I have nothing to expect but cold stones and perhaps
a handful of sapless moss.
" Heaven's best gifts to man — ^hope and love — I must
fling aside, and with many a sorrowful, lingering look,
cast on my lost paradise, go on despairing, hopeless.
I
I
144
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
unloved by God or man, until the cold sod covers me
In my early youth, I had many happy dreams, many
bright hopes ; they all were to be realised in you, my
beloved one. You may not think me worthy, even to
breathe your name. Clara, you are lost to me. Yes,
lost for ever."
As she did not return for a long time, her father
went to see what kept her, and found her in agony too
deep for utterance.
" Father, why did I not receive this before ?" hand-
ing him the letter which none could read without
feeling ?pity for |the poor lost one, who was more
sinned against than sinning.
" What good Would it have done, Clara?" said her
father, " I kept it from you on purpose."
" You had no right to keep it," she cried, " for had
I only known all this, I would have found him before
this, my poor, poor Harry."
" Don't, Clara," replied her father, " don't weep so,
he is not worth a single tear ; he has lost his practice,
and run through that splendid fortune Dr. Merton
left him."
" No matter, father, how bad he is, or how low he
has sunk, I will save him if I can find him out. I care
nothing for what the world may say, my place is by
his side."
" And do you mean to say you will marry him,
knowing what you do ?"
" Yes, I will ; first I shall strive to reform him, and
then if he loves me, I shall marry him, so that I may
always watch over him."
!
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
145
" And is this all the gratitude I get, for all I have
done for you ? If you dare speak to that man again,
Clara," he cried, quite fiercely, " I'll cast you off for-
ever."
" Very well, father," she replied, " I am sorry to
disobey you for the first time in this, but I shall obey
the dictates of my own heart, as I know my place is
by his side, if I can only find him."
Nothing more was said about him. Her father, upon
making enquiry, found he had left the city, and, he
trusted in time, Clara would forget all about him.
But he was mistaken, a magic power had brought him
back again. Who can say but God's finger pointed
out the way to him, for he had not heard of their
arrival, yet he haunted the neighborhood where the
Judge lived.
As Clara was returning home one day from paying
a visit a little out of town, she came upon him, sleep-
ing the heavy slumber of the drunkard, under a tree in
the glaring July sun. After the first shock, of seeing
thus, for the first time, the man who was more than
life to her, she knelt down and asked God to help her
to save him from eternal death ; then, taking her
handkerchief, on which her name was embroidered in
full, she placed it over his face, and then left him,
trusting that God would help her.
This deed of hers acted like a charm to the poor
fellow. When he awoke and found the handkerchief,
he knew she had been there, and bitter, contrite tears
came and blinded his eyes.
He went to a gentleman that night, who before
146
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
tried to reform him, and told him all, asking his help
to obtain an interview with Clara, and to take him by
the hand to lead a new life.
The kind Christian offered him his home, and went
himself the next day for Clara. When he brought her
in the room where Harry sat and placed her in his
outstretched arms, his emotion was so great that he
fainted.
They sat for hours together, speaking of the future,
asking pardon from each other, for Clara felt she had
a great share in his fall, and that he had quite as much
to forgive as she had. They separated for a short
time, while she went to acquaint her parents that she
had found Harry, and would be his wife at once.
Her mother was rejoiced to hear it, but her father
raved and stormed, and said she could never reform a
drunkard, he was a beggar, and so on. But she was
firm, and at last obtained permission to bring Harry to
the house; and when he came asking forgiveness
of both parents, they felt that with God's blessing, and
Clara by his side, he would be for the future steadfast.
Their marriage a few days after, was a nine-days
wonder ; it was kept very quiet, many uncharitable re-
marks were made, but the two most interested in the act
cared little for the world's opinion, they had each other,
after going through the fiery furnace. They went to
Montreal on their wedding trip, paid a visit to the
graves of Harry's parents. Standing there, Harry
Harcourt, with his wife's hand in his, vowed never to
touch, taste or handle again any, intoxicating drinks as
long as he lived. He never broke that vow.
'I
iii'
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
147
CHAPTER VI.
*' Temperance is the truest praise,
And will yield both peace and wealth,
Safest road to length of days,
Happiness and cheerful health. "
— Goethe.
.HEN Harry Harcourt first returned to
Canada he made enquiries about Dr.
Merton's old friend, Mr. Gregory. He was
told he had removed to Upper Canada;
that he had became one of the most able advocates
of temperance, and was doing much good in showing
others the way to be saved. After Harry had fallen
in love he partly forgot the promise he had made to
his dying adopted father, to find him out ; and when
he himself traveled the wrong road he kept out of the
way of every one he thought would preach temperance
to him ; but after his marriage he told his wife all
about them.
" Oh, let us find them," said Clara, " they will be
glad to see you, you will be able to tell Mr. Gregory
how you were saved."
On making enquiries they found he was out on a
temperance lecturing tour, and would not be home for
a week. They did not like to present themselves to
Mrs. Gregory, at Beech-Grove, that was the name of
their place, as the host at the hotel told them, they
!!;!!
•lit
148
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
had only moved there a few weeks before, "It was left
to his wife by an uncle. Mr. Gregory sold and spent
every cent of it ; now, since he has reformed, he has
paid all his debts, bought the place back again, and
he spends large sums in the temperance cause."
So they went on their tour, thinking to pay them a
visit on their return from Kingston, where they were
going, for there was some property left to Harry,
which he was going to turn into money, to give him a
new start on his return to Quebec.
One night during their stay there was a temperance
lecture announced. They went to hear the able
speaker; the hall was full when they entered; an
elderly gentleman was speaking of his own case,
urging everyone to take the pledge. He said : —
" If there :.3 anyone present who has never suffered
in consequence of the use of intoxicating drinks, either
in their own person or in some dear relative or friend, I
will thank such a person to rise up. I suppose, my
friends, if this question was put before the whole world
now it would be impossible to find man, woman, or
child, who could honestly and sincerely say that he
or she had never suffered, directly or indirectly, from
the use of liquors as a beverage. Those who suffer
most are the most innocent portion of the community,
wives, daughters and children. Now, if this evil only
touched those engaged in it, I doubt, if I should have
come here to induce a man to give it up by convincing
him he was injuring himself. But when a man
partakes of that, he is either a father or a son; he has
relatives, wife and children, looking to him for
kM
I
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
149
^^IM
-,
example, and depending on him for support. He is
thus doing not only an injury to them by his example,
but is robbing them of comfort and causing tiem
great suffering and sorrow. You, and many more; will
tell me you are a moderate drinker. You do not
care if you drink a glass or two, you have no
particular appetite for it. I beg to say to you, you
are a stumbling block in the community in which you
live ; every man has influence, the higher he stands
the more influence he has. You, a respectable
gentleman, a member of a church, people look up to
you for example, therefore, you are a stumbling block.
Who are you, moderate drinker, who will never drink
too much? What do you possess that is going to
save you from becoming a drunkard ? Do you say,
sir, I have made up my mind never to indulge to an
immoderate extent? I tell you, sir, I thought so
once. I believed myself too good a man ever to
become a drunkard, and it was only by n hair breadth
that I was saved. No man, except a teetotaler, can
say, * I shall never die a drunkard.' The men who
indulge in the use of intoxicating drinks are led into
it entirely because they are a social class — men who
like to come together to relate stories, to read the
news — these are the men ; good, liberal, generous
fellows who stand a head higher than their neighbors
in social qualities, and these are those who fall. Men
will even bring up Providence ; they say, if liquor was
not a good thing it would not have been made. Now
it happens God did not make alcohol. Go through
nature, search the mineral, vegetable, and animal
'■1
150
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
kingdoms, and you will not find any alcohol — it does
not exist in nature. God did not make it, but man,
by making fruits into alcohol, on which in their pure
state man might live a long time ; but when whole-
some fruits are made into alcohol their life-sustaining
virtues are destroyed, and those who drink it shorten
their lives, because by distillation or fermentation it
becomes poison. Thus, yearly thousands of men and
women are ruined, soul and body. I could give you
many examples of it, — one I will tell you. I had a
friend, a gentleman in every sense of the word, who
held a high position in the city of Montreal, married
into one of the first families, but his wife, who had
been fed from her youth on wine, when she was
married, by the doctor's orders took brandy, which she
learnt to like so much she gave herself up to that vice.
One child died, but she had another,- a boy; but
before his birth both father and mother had given
themselves up to that demon, drink. The father
found a drunkard's grave, the mother reformed, but
the poison shortened her days, she died a repentant
sinner. The boy was left to the doctor who had
ordered the brandy to the mother as a medicine, but
if he is alive, and is now a man, I know he will
have to keep guard over himself, for I have no doubt,
that he has inherited that which will be to him one of
* the most fatal heir-looms. If I knew where to find
him, I would travel hundreds of miles to do so, for
his father was a very dear friend of mine, and,
although I knew of his fall and how he died, yet, I,
myself became a drunkard, and for years served the
THE FATAL INHERITANCE.
151
devil, and only the sacrifice of my only son brought
me back. Now, my friends, in conclusion I beg of
you all to help in abolishing this increasing evil, and
if we succeed we will do away with the most of the
crime and misery in our beloved Canada. Abolish it
and this community will flourish and blossom as a
rose. God grant it may be so."
During the last part of the lecture Harry had
whispered to his wife, "This is Mr. Gregory, he
speaks of my parents and I, let us go to the platform
and tell who we are." So when Mr. Gregory spoke
the last sentence they rose and went forward ; all eyes
of that large assembly were upon them. In front of
the platform Harry stopped and spoke, "I know you
are Mr. Gregory, I am Harry Harcourt, the son of
your friend. I have, God knows, fought all my life
against intemperance, and would no doubt have found
a drunkard's grave had I not been saved by the hand
of an angel, who is now my wife." When- he said this
and presented his wife to the many upturned faces, the
effect was simultaneous, they all rose to their feet,
while Mr. Gregory was overcome with emotion to
find there the boy of whom he had been relating that
night. The scene was very touching. Harry in a few
words implored all to give up drink, and called to
mothers to banish it from their homes. There were
many who shed tears that night; and when the
president rose to ask those who wished to come
forward and sign the pledge, there was ?. larger number
than at any time before.
# # # ♦^# # ♦ «
152
THE FATAi. INHERITANCE.
It was a lovely day in June, when a large party left
Montreal in a steamer, disembarking at the little wharf
where once a schooner landed with two gentlemen and
a sailor. Their destination was Beech-Grove, the
handsome country residence of Mr. Gregory. He
and his wife and daughters were standing on the
beach to welcome their guests. An old acqamtance
stands ready to give a hand as the steamer touches
the wharf; he looks just the same, Denis the faithful
servant of Mr. Gregory, under whose supervision the
farm is managed. Instead of six acres there are twenty-
five to be cultivated, Mr. Gregory having bought the
land around his place. Large tables are placed under
the beech trees, where the servants for some hours
have been busy to have all ready. A large flag waves
from the house and an arch built in front, beautifully
decorated, bore the most beautiful motto, which we
hope all will read and take to heart, " What will make
Canada a happy country? Sobriety." Among the
guests we see Judge Armitage and his wife, with their
daughter and her beloved husband, the most eminent
man in the legal profession. As they take their places
at the large table, loaded with good things, they all
look like one happy family. Now, as we take leave
of them, our eye catches the motto, which is the
heartfelt wish of the authoress, may become a house-
hold word throughout the homes of Canada —
What can make Canada a happy country 9 Sobriety.
.
FINIS.
PRAYER
AND m
REMARKABLE ANSWERS,
A Statement of Facts in the Ugbt of Beaam and fievelatioa.
BY REV- WM. W. PATTON, D.D.
This work ooveni grotind occupied by no other book. Its theme is one of
absorbinfir interest to the Christian, and it is believed that a perusal
of its pages will not foil to deeply interest all olasses of people. It
will confound, if not donvince, the sceptic, strengthen the faith of Believers,
and awaken to earnest thought the Impenitent.
The author has given, in popular form, buth the facts and the philo-
sophy of the subject. It is written for the people, yet it asstmies that
they are neither children nor fools, but desire cm intelligent diseutnon of a
fundamental question. The heads of the chapters, herewith, will serve to
show how thoroughly the subject has been handled by the author.
It will be observed that about one-third of the book is devoted to
the nature, characteristios, methods and conditions of
Prayer, and the remaining two-thirds to Strikingr Oases of
Answers to Prayer, for all variety of objects. The cases quoted are
largely original, and have been furnished the author from trustworthy
sources, and in most instances the sources are given. These have been
culled from a much larger number that were supplied to the author ex-
pressly for this work, but which had to be omitted for want of space. They
are iuranged carefully in distinct Chapters, to illustrate the snccestr of
nrayer for different objects, and are accompanied by explanatory and critical
remarks. It is a book which every Pastor will welcome, as helpful to the
progress of piety in his church, and which will enc«>i)raife the <9iristiaD la
Mk and expect yreater blessings for himself and for others.
PBATIR AND ITS RXIIABKABLZ AN8WIB8.
CONTENTS.
Chapter I. Prayer characteristic of Piety.— II. What true Prayer is.—
III. Why Prayer prevailB.— IV. The method of the answer.— V. Conditions
of success in Prayer.-- VI. The Prayer of Faith.— VII. Sceptical assaults
on Pray«r.— VIII. Bible-answers to Prayer— Old Testament.— IX. Bible*
answers to Prayer— New Testament.— X. Prayer for the supply of temporal
wants (commenced). — XI. Prayer for the supply of temporal wants (con*
eluded).— XII. Prayer for physical healing (commenced). — XIII. PrayeK,-
for physical dealing (concluded).— XIV. Prayer for sanctifjring grace.—
XV. Prayer to overcome physical habit. — XVI. Prayer for individual
conversions.- XVII. Parental ?Prayers.— XVIII. Prayer for ministers,
churches and revivals.- XIX. Prayer for charitable institntions.— XX.
Review of facts in conclusion. 403 pages.
The Bev. JOHN POTTS gives the following opinion of
this book.
'*I have somewhat carefully examined Dr. Patton's book entitled 'Prayer
and its Remarkable Answers.' The subject is one of undying interest to
finite beings, and its treatment by the author is intelligent, interesting and
practical. The perusal of these pages must give greatly enlarged views of
the nature, obligation and privilege of Prayer.
" Those who habitually *bow before the Grod and Father of our Lord Jesus
Christ ' will feel especially encouraged to expect large blessings, as they
learn of the remarkable answers recorded on the pages of this book.
"JOHN POTXa.
"Mbtbopolitan Chituch Parsosaoi,
"Toronto, Febi-^imy, 1876."
English cloth, black and gold, S1.50; gilt edges, $2.00.
J. B. MAGURN,
PUBLISHER
86 Kinff street East, Toronto
ZELL'S POPULAR ENCYCLOPEDIA
▲NP
UNIVERSAL DICTIONARY
New and Revised Edition, with 18 Coloured Maps.
THIS work furnishes a complete description of every inbject connected
with History, Biography, Geography, Science, Art, Language, Natural
History, Botany, Mineralogy, Medicine, Law, Mechanics, Architecture,
Manufacturing, Agriciilture, Bible History, Church History, Beligions, &c.
It is, in fact, equal to a complete library of works on all subjects.
Printed in ordinary type and page, it would make Twenty Volumes,
worth not less than $5 each, or $100 for the entire work.
It contains nearly 150,000 articles, all prepared with great care, by the
most able authors, each specially qualified for nis particular part
An article in the National Quarterly, edited by Ed. I. Sears, LL.D., gives
the views of that able and scholarly reviewer and critic upon this work.
He begins with remarking that he had received not less than fifty letters
within the year, asking bis opinion of Zell's Popular Encyclopedia.
From a prejudice against the word "popular," as too often used in this
countiy, the Doctor confesses that, before examining it, his faith in
the new Encylopedia wf.s very slight. After a careful examination, he
speaks of it, with unqualified commendation, as follows :
"'Blessed,' he says, quoting Swift, 'are they that expect nothing, for
they sh.all not be disappointed.' If we are not blessed, we are at least agree*
ably surprised. The prefix popular, as generally used in this coimtry, is
not appropriate in this present in-stance, hut in the sense of instructive
and useful to all classes of the people who have any taste for th.-
acquisition of knowlgdge, or any desire for extending the sphere of their
intelligence ; and, in this sense, we know no similar work to which it may
be more justly applied. In other words, the new Encyclopedia is not the
crude, shallow, slip-shod, self-cniitradictory sort of perfonwance which so
many of our authors and compilers seem to regard a.s only suitable for the
peoiile, and the only kind that ought to be called popular. It is a work
which, while it must prove attractive, as well as useful, to those who have
received only the most elementary education, cannot fail to reconiimend
I
BITRRAOE AND BIAGURN'S PUBUOATIONB.
medical dictionary, a history of the world, a complete natural history, a com-
plete work on botany, also on mechanics, and a Church history. In short,
there is no subject in connection with literature, the arts and sciences, history,
biography, and the general range of human knowledge, to which reference
is not made. There are eighteen very valuable and elegant maps;
also thousands of illustrations of every conceivable kind, and well executed.
The compilers have aimed at compressing the materials which in ordinary
encyclopedias would fill a score of volumes, into two, and this they effect by
compactness of literary style, and the use of small but clear tvpe arranged
in quarto three column form. All who want a book to which they can turn
in a moment for anything in the world they want to know about, will find
Zkll's Encyclopedia just what they require. Its information is, moreover,
brought down to the latest date."
THIS WORK IS SOLD ONLY BY SUBSCRIPTION.
It 18 published in 2, 3 and 4 volume editions; bound in library, half-
morocco and fuU morocco, varying in price from 837.50 to $75 per set.
When subscribed for in parts (tnere are 64 at 50 cts. each) the parts will be
delivered by carrier, or sent by mail, prepaid, as may be most convenient.
If taken in parts, the subscriber can have them bound at publishers' prices,
all charges being paid by us. We will pay the express charges, when parties
order bound copies. Specimen part, with map, sent by mail for twenty-
five cents. FuU particulars sent on application.
THE HOUSEHOLD CYCLOPEDIA;
OB
TEN THOUSAND RECEIPTS.
By H. HARTSTONE, M.D.
Numerous and handsome illustrations on steel and wood. This Is aa
invaluable book for every family. Price $4.00 and $4.50.
COMPREHENSIVE FAMILY BIBLES.
Containing steel engravings after DoRft, together with a very large amount
of additional matter, aids to the studv of the Word ; illustrated by several
hundred engravings on wood, maps, plans, &c. The best value at the price.
In arabesque, panelled sides, gilt edges, $10; the same in morocco, $16.
LIVIHGSTOHrS UFf IMOBK.
Latest and best edition, 144 ill
MS. Price !^.50 to $6.50.
WOMAN AS WIFE AJ,D MOTHER.
By p. H. OHEVASSE, M.D.
Every women who would retain health should get and carefnUy re»d thJa
work. Price $2.50.
sill's popular INOTOLOPBDIA.
itself, ftlflo, to the most highly educated, even to poRsesson of good librariei,
for the large amount of information, in general, well digested and accurate,
which it embraces on multiform subjects, including the whole circle of the
Arts and Sciences.
"Many articles are quite long and elaborate. The majority owe their
value to the circum'^tanne that in their condensed form they rarely omit any
important particular, and scarcely ever any newly-discovered fact Thus
the literaxy and scientific labourer is often enabled to obtain at a Grla>noo
information requiring extensive research elsewhere, and which is not to be
found at all in other Encyclopedias.
" It aflfords us pleasure to bear testimony to the peculiar merits of this
work. The departments which please us most are the Historical, Geo-
graphical, Archasological, and Scientific.
" In the department of Science, we have sufficient of what is not founvi in
any similar work, being the result of recent research and discoveries, to
recommend the work.
" The Lexicographical department ^one is of great value ; it is indeed
such that none navmg it wiU have any need to pay the high price demanded
at the present day for a copy of Webster's Dictionary.
"The numerous and generally accurate illustrations of Zell's Popular
Encyclopedia considerably enhance the interest and attractiveness of tibe
work."
an
The following notices are fVoni the "Cilob« and "Nail."
" This work, which will be exceedingly useful as a book of reference, is pub-
lished in numbers, sixty-four of which, forming two volumes, are to complete
the whole. It is edited by L. Colange, LL.D., is handsomely printed, and
contains eighteen beautiful maps, besides numerous illustrative engravings.
Whilst aiming at scientific accuracy, it is at the same time intenaed to oe
popular, the articles being written m plain language. The latest sources of
information have been examined. ' AH the latest discoveries of travellers,
explorers, and scientific expeditions, Grovemment surveys and documents,
official census reports, the latest and best histories and reports, the most
authentic biographies of celebrated men, the latest researches of men of
science, and everything that would add to the value of the work has been
examined, and, when necessary^ freely used. In order to show the value of
the work to every one, we will mention that it is a complete dictionary of
language ; it contains every word, with its etymology and definition, that is
to be found in other large dictionaries. It is also a complete gazetteer. It
has the bio^aphy of every distinguished military, civil, and professional
man of ancient and modem times. It contains tne technical terms apper-
taining to chemistry, medicine, mechanics, &c., &c., with definition and
description. The articles on religion and politics are neutral in their
character. All denominations of religion are represented according to the
belici tiiey teach, and not as represented by opponents in faith."
" This work, of which the first twenty numbers are before us, is valuable
ai jiportant. The plan is wonderfully comprehensive, embracing as it does
» OiCtionary of language, a biographical dictionaiy, a complete gazetteer, a