“Bless me!” exclaimed Mr. Wedgewell, who had through all Mr. Crupp’s delivery sat erect with his hands upon his knees, and his eyes and mouth wide open. “I assure you, my dear sir, that I never had an idea that the success of the temperance cause depended upon so many conditions, and I also beg to assure you”—here the Reverend Jonas hastily proffered his right hand—“that I appreciate and admire the spirit which has prompted you to examine this subject in so many of its bearings, and to endeavor to throw light upon it. But surely all the—the men who, as you express it, have been drinking—surely these cannot be constrained to continue by conditions similar to those which you have instanced? There must be some who, if only they exercise their will-power, will succeed in putting their vile enemy under their feet?”
“Yes,” replied Crupp, “there are such. Lots of young fellows drink only because they think it’s smart, and because they haven’t got man enough in them to stop when they want to. They’re like a lot of wolves—plucky enough when they’re together, but a live rooster could scare one of them if he caught him alone. I’m going to look out for that crowd myself; they need somebody to preach to ’em wherever he can catch ’em, and I know where they hang out. But I’m not through with the other kind yet. There’s Fred Macdonald, he’s going to be the hardest man to manage in the whole lot. Good family, you know—got a judge for a father, and ambitious as the——ambitious as Napoleon Bonaparte. He’s in with all the steamboat fellows, and whisky is an angel alongside of some things they carry. They’ll ruin him, sure. Steamboating looks like something big to him, you know; it shows off better than country stores and saw-mills. It’s no use talkin’ to him; I’ve tried it once or twice, for I know the steamboat people of old; but he as good as told me to mind my own business. Now if some of the business men could get up something enterprising, and put Fred at the head of it, on condition that he wouldn’t drink any more, they might make money and save him from going to the—the bad. I’ll put some money into the thing, for I believe in Fred. Of course he’ll have to be watched a little, for he may be too venturesome; but he can get more trade and get more work out of his men than any other man in this county.”
“Mr. Crupp,” said the minister, again taking the hand of the newly-made reformer, and laying his own left hand affectionately upon Mr. Crupp’s right elbow, “I cannot find words adequate to the expression of my admiration of your earnestness in this great moral movement. But I must confess that your treatment of the subject is one to which I am utterly unaccustomed. I have been wont to regard intemperance solely as an indication of an infirm will and a depraved appetite, but your theory seems plausible; indeed, I do not see that either of our respective standpoints need be wrong. But, with regard to the employment of the reformatory means you suggest, I am not a capable adviser. It might be well for you to consult some of our leading business men.”
“That’s what I am going to do,” replied Crupp. “And I am going to see the doctors, too, and all the other ministers. What I want of you is, to back me up; preach at these fellows that are well enough off to make themselves useful.”
“I’ll do it!” replied the minister with emphasis. “A suitable text has already providentially entered my mind: ‘Am I my brother’s keeper?’ Three heads and application: First, demonstrate that every man is his brother’s keeper; second, show how in the divine economy it is wise that this should be so; third, the example of Christ; application, our duty to the needy in our midst. Another text suggests itself: ‘We, then, that are strong ought to bear the infirmities of the weak.’ And yet another: ‘Give strong drink unto him that is ready to perish;’ argument to be that if the Inspired Word justifies such action as that implied by the text, and if alcohol is the demon we believe it to be, it is our duty to prevent, by any means in our power, people from reaching a condition in which such a terrible remedy must be used. I beg your pardon, my dear Mr. Crupp,” exclaimed the minister, springing excitedly from his chair; “but if you have any other calls to make, I will repair at once to my study and prepare a discourse based upon one of these texts. Excuse my seeming rudeness in thus abruptly closing our interview, but my soul is on fire—on fire with ardor which I cannot but believe is from heaven.”
“Oh, certainly,” replied Mr. Crupp, rising quite briskly. “Business is business; it’s so in the liquor trade, I know, and I suppose it is in preaching. I’ll go down and see Squire Tomple, I guess.”
The Rev. Jonas Wedgewell dropped abruptly into a chair, and the fire with which his soul had been consuming seemed suddenly to expire. His face became blank and expressionless, his lower jaw dropped a little, and he gasped,
“Squire Tomple? I had a discouraging conversation with him only yesterday morning on a subject involving very nearly the ideas which you have advanced. His very estimable clerk, George Doughty, who signed the pledge at our meeting, asserted that his work must decrease in volume in order that he might continue faithful; so I made haste to intercede for him with his employer, but I did not meet with that encouragement which I had hoped for. Brother Tomple intimated that temperance was temperance and business was business, and even made some remarks which have since seemed to me to contain implications that I was unduly concerned about his affairs.”
“Tomple’s a—a hog, if he is a church member,” replied the irreverent Crupp; “but he’s got to make himself useful if plain talk will do it. It takes all kinds of men to make a world, parson, or to make men act like men to their neighbors. Perhaps if you preachers come down on rich men who hoard their money, and poor men that are about as stingy with how-d’ye-do’s, and if business men show the public that it’s as cheap to reform a pauper as it is to support him, and that it isn’t the thing to stand by, while a man’s killing himself, without sayin’ a word or spendin’ a cent to prevent him—perhaps we can be of some use in the world. Good day, parson.”
CHAPTER IV.
REFORM WITH MONEY IN IT.
Tom Adams, driver of the brick-yard wagon, and signer of one of the pledges circulated at the great temperance meeting, was certainly a man worth saving. He had a wife and was rich in children. His wife was faithful, good-natured, and industrious, and his children were of that bright, irrepressible nature which is about the most valuable of inheritances in this land where other inheritances do not average largely in money value. For the good of such a group it was very desirable that the head of the family should be in the constant possession of strong arms and all his wits. And even for his own sake Tom was worth a great deal more attention than men of his kind ever receive. He was perfectly honest, a hard worker, cheerier in temperament than any pastor in the village, quicker-witted than most of the lawyers within the judicial circuit upon which the town of Barton was situated, and more generous in proportion to his means than any of his well-to-do fellow-citizens. During the season for making and delivering bricks he worked from sunrise to sunset, rendered fair count to seller and buyer, and never abused his employer’s horses. His regular pay was seventy-five cents per day, which sum, in a land where flour was sold at two cents per pound and meat was only twice as high as flour, and a comfortable house could be hired at four dollars per month, paid his family expenses. But the season at the brick-yard lasted only during six months of the twelve. During the remaining six months Tom gladly did any work he could find: he drove teams where any hauling was to be done, chopped wood, worked in the pork-houses where merchants prepared for the Southern market the fatted hogs which were the principal legal-tenders for the indebtedness of farmer customers, formed part of