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Whispering Tempter

Whispering Tempter image
Parent Issue
Day
22
Month
May
Year
1885
Copyright
Public Domain
OCR Text

IPTEK I. 'Jol in Mumfordi I ought to tie you anti wlup you half to dcath, you goodfor-nothing thing. ïon promiseu me that you wouldn'1 drink nuything today, and here you aro half drunk."' Tbose worda were ddressed to me by iiiy wlfo, Maud. A- sho stood surveying me she didu'l look mach as though she would come into the garden, unless it ruighl bo thai sbe ivere looking for a bean polo with which to belabor niy head. Mv couooption of ,-t Maud w a-, a troaturu of bnght-eyed gentlenes. whpse bair La riuglets reached down and toyed with a shelllike ear. Woll, my Maud had, previous to our niarriasrc, been sometning like this, but now - ucll. poor girl, 1 Buppóse sbo had trouble enough to effect so givat : change. I was :i newspaper sotibbler, and it was my sketches oí doruestic happiness - written while I roomed over a beer saloon- th:il lirst caused her to feel an nteresi in me. .My habits were not above reproach, bul 1 would have been indignan! bad any one called me a drunkard. I lirst mei Mmid at a ehuroh fair. Wbon sbe learned that I was tho man wbo WTOte "so cliariuingly." tho warrvud toward me and smiletl so sweetly. that l turrendered at once. I thought of all this n I sat looking at her. "Maud, did 1 promise you that I viouldn't drink anything to-day?" Yes, you did. and now you aro half drunk." "Wèll, if 1 hadn't promised you, I might have been wholo drank." Shc glared al me. "ïfyou could see yourself you nerer wóuid drink again. Sitting there blinkiug your eyes." "Of course. Can't blink anything else. Don l ezpeol me to lilink my ears, do you.'" "Oh, shut your moutli." "Maud, that's no way to treat a man. Draw hini into a discussion, and then teil hini to shut his mouth. You are ge tt in to be a regalar scold. Wbon Hopkins goes home after taking a few inspiring drinka, ln wif espeaks kindly to hini.1 ' "Shc's a fooi ir' she doe?." Oh, no, she's not a fooi. Gradúatod with lionors, l onderstand. Writea a good band, and cauie verv uearly having o&e of hw poeins prinled in a semi-weekly paper." 'She Iets that drunken brute lead hor bj the nose." ■Oh, no. uot so bad as that." Yes it is. Vi just likc to oo a man run over me." "Oh, wel), lliere's uo (hniger cf anj' man trving to run over you. Tel like to have :i snack to Oatif you have anything hatidy." ■You know where tho kitchen is." "íes, my knowledge of location is very fair." I took up a hand-Iamp and wont inio tne kltonen: A gust of wind extinguishod Ibe )i;;l)(. and not liaving a match, 1 decided, that raihor than return to thé sitting-room, I would eat in darkness. When 1 returned to the room whoro my wife gat, 1 stepped around with snell agility that I thought it mieht be a gom! iden to convince her of my sobornes. "Did you lm! anything?" "Tes, feasted sumptuously, tb ank you. Say, there's soraothing the matter with onr ivoll. Took a (rink of water just now and it uliuosl gagged me." "Wliore did yon get il?" "From the bncket in the kitchen." She laughed. "Wbat are vou laugliing at me for, MaudP" Whv, John, iliili. is a bnckel of brinc." '■Maud. j the bed. Ree koe 1 am a trille off" CHAPTEK II. The nextjnorning, jusl before startIng down town, ! kissed Maud vi-rv tenderly. S!1 did not oncourage mv careases, bul ■].■ alloweil her head to rest on mv shouider. "Gírl, nu'i drink anytbtng to day." 'That's whai you said yesterday." "Don' t reniind me of broken oromises. Help me to keep the ov.r I now make. I will not drink anything today. Have (nith in me nou. just this one time more." "I will this time, John," putting her arnis around my peck. "Oh if you knew how i love you - " 'Tnero Mam!, don'l cry. 1 ca stand your scokling bet'er than I oau your t'eais." I wonder if thore can be an actual devil who stands at theelbowand who whispers in the ear of lrail mortalityP I inid not been at work more than half f n hour, until- Involuntarily, it soemed - I aniso, walleed to a saloon and toi k a drink. I had nol that biuning thirsl of v.hich tomperanee lectura Bant; 1 would nol have aeknowledged thal my desire to drink was bevond mv control. I don'! know wïiy I drank. 1 was uot nervous - [ was not siek. but 1 drank. Then I wanted another. The work of the whispering tempte.' was nol now required. Had be tumed his pernlcions breatb into the broath of good counsel lie could not hare prevented me. I did nol go home to dinner. I s(nt a note to Maud, telling her thal I was too busy. 1 was. I was disenssing, with a lowbrowed fellow who wore canvass trciisers. the ffdvlsabilitv of ealling a constitutional convention. I did not go home until late at mght. Mand was in bed. .She Sftid nol hing but I heard her sob. "Wretoh," I thought, "why nol someone kil] me." "I was very sick the next morning. While I waa icaving. and while the perspiration ofagony was standing on my pui'plé brow, Maud remarked: "1 don't care if you are sick. It's good enough for you." I had nothing to say. All my arguments, tied up with blue strings, were ; stored away where I could rot rèach '. thciu. "Honry will soon be largo enough to Í mitste the example of his father, ' she. said, referring to our little boy. "Maud, don't say that," 1 replied. "I will say it, for it's tho truth. Il you can't slop drinkinffnow, you can't stop when the boy grows 'p to - " "Now, here, Maud, 1 tin going to itop." "WhenP" " "From tliis time forwaïd, I wiil bc;i sober raau." "I can't believe you." "Can't you trust me once more?" "Xn. Evory timel boud up a hope. you tear il down." "Is it not better lo bopc, though tbi hope may be iu vain, than not to hon atallP" ' 'It s neve.r better n ba decoived, Jobn." "Try jiic to-day. I swear by all that ia sacred, by the love l bear JOU - " "Píhaw. The lou yon bear me. If you loved me, you wouldti't drink," "Thal is no argnraont, Maud." "It is tlio Irulli. anl the trut li noeds no argument." "1 clon'i wanl auy breakfast. I'll ;;o down town now, bul mind you. ['11 be sober wiii'i! ! return. I was uu. ii to work. My hand trembled and my tbougbta were coufused. I tooi. up ;m artlcle whlch I had writton the lav bofore, while I was under tbe influence of liquor. At the timo I tvrote t. i though t it was :. gom of scntimoul, bul now the maudlin linea were repnlsive. Maud's (ace oanie up before me. Surely shc was a lovablo ivoman. '-Xi) tompter needs come to-day," J mnsed. ■! will go home sober. I will Miioko while she cuts tbc Icavos of the new magazine and tlien 1 will read t i her." "Helio, John,1' exelaimod u friond, opening tbe door and thruating a sniiling faee nto ilie room. "flard at work. eh?" "Hard at work trying In work," 1 replied, "'rook a little loo tauch of the nu'rrv demon, veterda"." "Bsttor come mu and gel a tocktail P" "No 1 atu obliged to ou," "It's ihe best thing you can do. 1 filled myself up pretty well yesterday and feit like heil this murning, but now, after takiug a cocktail or two, ['m all rlght. 1 teil you what'g a fact, John," entering the room and shutting the door. "thore's no use oí a man getting drank. The trouble is, that a fellow who swears off takes a drink and then says to hinisclf, 'well, ['ve broken my vow and l'd just as well get drunkV This is a mistak?. If, after taking two or threo drinks, he would go to work, he would keep up his end in a business sense, and would retain his selfrespecl. Come on, lct's get a drink or two and then you can work. Confound it you are not so weak that yon are afraid of the stuft aro youp Öne drink now would fall on yon like a shower of sal vat ion." "I knew that his utterances were the utterances cf sophistry; 1 knew that a child could seo through the llimsy texlure of his pretended argument, vet I went witb hiin. Asi shut the door of my room, I saw Mand's face - 1 saw the arms of my little boy stretchcd out tóward me. "We'll only takc onc round, Jake," I said to my iriend. "ïhat's all. Tlien we'll go back to work." Jake Iloward was an insurance asentand ocoupled a room iu the saine building where I did my work of desultory literature. We drank. Jake tokl tue an amusing story. 1 glanoed at the clock. "Take onc more, and then we'll go,"" said he. We drank agaln. "Let's sit down."' said he. We sat down. A mutual friend- tbat great abettor ot ihe tompter, that -man who always drinks but who ncver gets drunk came in and declared that we should drink with him. 1 asked for soda water, but with the poo lioo of good fellowship, he exclaimed, "Bring n three whisky straights." 1 went home at dinner linie. I uanot drunk, but I was far from being sober. My little boy ran out on Uie porch to meet me. i look him in my arins. "John," saiil my wife, ''do you think that you are steady enough to carry him P" I looked at her reproácbfully. As I turned to walk down the steps inlothe yard, l gtumbled and feil. Merciful God ! the Hule fellow's arm was broken. I ran to summon a surgeon. After calling at the office of the sur gcon and leaving m cali on the slate, 1 went to a neighboring saloon to steady my ner es. I lost my recolleotion. 1 remember that 1 brushed sawdust from my coat. 1 remember a dark night and a ramy day - I ! ber drinking with a one-legged man - ! but aothing was tangible. Wiien I ' beeamo sober, when oonsoiousness carne opón uin with a dull, painful awakening, 1 was in a disreputable part of the city. l had taken up my j abode in a den of ruffians. 1 ask you : - you who read this -wQuld not death by hanging have been too good for j me ? I tried to pray, bul what right had I to cali upon the groal Master of Life? None. I went home. The house was deserled. I found the following note : "My Dear Lost Etusband : 1 can no longer endure the thoughl of living with a drunkard. 1 do nol leave you in anger. I have just prayed for you. : I do not suppose thal wc shall ever meet again. Yours. .Maii." CHA1TER III. 1 wentuway from the town where I had disgraced -wliere 1 had ! trampled upon the affections of my wife. Ii would be impossible to describe my wretchedness. 1 contemplated suicide, but I remained sober. I was late in carrying out so good a resolve, and 1 found bul little consolation in theiil.i adage, 'better late than i nevor,' bul witb n aetermination bom of semi-despair, 1 tarned my back upon every temptation I lived in the hopo thal my wife would return, j Wben ovening came, 1 would go to ouv house 1 could not oall it home - and sit under the ines, the vines which Maud bad trained with such tender caro. My little angel. His face vas ever beiore me. 1 found ono I of his sboes In a closet. 1 kissed it. Wearv months oropt alóng in tiresome stretch. 1 had written raany letters to many distant friends, yel no one could toll me where I could find my wife. Critics said thal my work had become luelancholy. !-■ not tbe leaf melancholy when tho frosl lalls upon it? The preeious essence of life had been squeczed from my soul. Time! and again I prayed tbat 1 might die. Once I heard aman, who did not think that 1 was near, say that 1 was losing my mind. He was wrong. [ had too much of my mind. I wrote a liook. I; ivas a sad ory, rather than n voicc of sentiment, but the poople bougbl it. How surprised 1 was. Why do gay people like lo read lines of sadness; why the gilded butterfly lighl upon the withcred BowerP 1 lon"t know. When a friend asked me to take a drink, I said "no." 1 didn't say "1 believe not." lsaid"no." Sometimes the "hoofed" tempter would whisper in my ear, bul when I turned upon him, he would apologize and retire. The scoundrel ! The world is full of news, bul there was no news of Maud. Sha must havo board of my book, and knowing that such n book could havo only been writton by a .sober raaD, why did she not como back to mo ? I wandcred aimlessly; I strolled without puposo. I took no delight in the, attentions which literary people paid ine. How vould fair society smilo ii)ou such a wretchi' A magazine said that 1 had once been a drunkard, and in enoouragement to other men, held mo up as an examplu. One day, iu a -et ion of country which I had nover fiefore visited, I strolled throuffb :: almost pathless iorest. I suddenl . miuupoua little log school house. I would havo tes edon bui a voice held me. "Clnldren, saul Uie voice, "lam ílad that yon love mo, but I must loave yon. J must go back to my husband who has beoome a noble man. ! Wc liave long known each other and the separation will be paininl, but 1 must go. I have told you of the author of the book whieh I read to you. That man la my hnsband- Henry's father. Uu does not know that He'nry and 1 pray for him- " "Maudl'1 1 exclaimod, Qinging open the door and springing into the room. "Oh. John !" Her tcMi's and mino fe.ll on Heur'a liead. "Thank God," 1 said. Th:.'ak God," Mmiil oriëd. Into the room where I sit, the simbeama fall. From the window, 1 see ; Hi'iiry. i stiek hor 8e. 1 have just told him :i little story, how the ealf and tho oíd (d; went to a picnic. Ho incrednlously siiook hls bead, bul aoceptod tho recital without verbal disapproval. I am in constant dread, lest lic be snatohed from me, but. why should he? Fute, a f ter all, is not sö cruel. Abovc my licad haDga a licautiful picture of u man in wüose hands are claspcd the hands of a wonian. The picture of the man bears some rescmblance to me, bal the fair artist has not done credit lo tbo womau. Maud paintod the picture. Many peopie come to look at it. Art critica say that it is a master piece, hut Maud declares that she deservea do credit for its production- that her soul inSlead of her hand, guidod the delicate tracinirs of the brush. Wc are besieged by the attent ions of ■ guished vi-iitors, but vvhen thcy are gone, wc clasp each othnr in a loving embrace and thank the originator of all earthly and beavenly happinesfl. -

Article

Subjects
Old News
Ann Arbor Democrat