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BURNING OF THE GREAT HOTEL. 
 
THE 
 
 BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY; 
 
 OK, THE 
 
 GREAT HOTEL SPECULATION. 
 
 T. S. ARTHUR, 
 
 AUTUOE 0? " TEN NIGHTS IN A BAR-ROOM," *0. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA : 
 PORTER & COATES, 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1877, by 
 
 POUTER & COATES, 
 in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
l337 
 77 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. PAGE 
 
 Fountain Inn j 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Enemy Foiled .... -9 2 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The Enemy in Council 43 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The Great Hotel Project ni 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Hyer Opens a Saloon . . . . .02 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A Gala-day in Brantly 1 1 $ 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The New Hotel not a Success . , . .134 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Bitter Fruit . . . . . . .156 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The Reaction .178 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Loss and Gain 198 
 
 M119131 (T) 
 
yi CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XL PAGE 
 
 Marie s Wedding 221 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 More Bitter Fruit ... . 245 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Fire 270 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A Movement Against the Enemy . . .285 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 The Enemy Gaining Strength .... 304 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 The Blight on Brantly . 3 2 3 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Retribution 35 2 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Brantly Aroused 3^7 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 The Enemy Cast Out 39 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Brantly Redeemed . 4 5 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Conclusion 43 2 
 
THE 
 
 BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE GREAT HOTEL SPECULATION. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 TPIE FOUNTAIN INN. 
 
 Tj^OR over ten years there had not been in 
 Brantly a single public house in which 
 liquor was sold. The town lay stretched along 
 the Bedford turnpike, its neat white houses, with 
 their green latticed blinds, and gardens filled 
 with shrubbery and flowers, presenting an aspect 
 of thrift and comfort. There were a tannery, a 
 saw-mill, a large shoe manufactory, and an estab 
 lishment for canning the fine fruits and vege 
 tables with which the fertile neighborhood 
 abounded. Other industries added their mea 
 sure of prosperity to the pleasant town. 
 
 (7) 
 
THE BAR- BOOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 There being considerable travel along the 
 Bedford pike, a public house was as necessary 
 to the town as a post-office or blacksmith s shop, 
 and in consequence there had always been a 
 tavern in Brantly. But as the keeper of this 
 house for the past ten years, a well-to-do farmer 
 named Jacob Grover, entertained a wholesome 
 regard for the well-being and well-doing of his 
 neighbors, and honestly believed that drinking 
 liquor was not only a useless, but a very hurtful 
 custom, no bar had been permitted at the " Foun 
 tain Inn." Of course many of those who passed 
 through Brantly, and were compelled to stay at 
 Graver s, grumbled when liquor was denied, but 
 as the landlord was a pleasant, good-humored 
 man, with plenty of excellent cheer to offer, he 
 had little trouble in reconciling his guests to the 
 privation. Indeed, spite of this lack of a bar, 
 the " Fountain Inn," was the favorite tavern on 
 the Bedford road. 
 
 Many efforts had been made to induce Jacob 
 Grover to dispense liquor to his guests, some- 
 
THE FOUNTAIN INN. 9 
 
 times enforced by threats of opening a new tav 
 ern ; but he was not to be moved. He had set 
 his -foot down on that question, and no influ 
 ence was strong enough to induce him to take 
 it up. 
 
 Neither the county jail nor the almshouse 
 could point to a single inmate from Brantly, a 
 fact that Jacob Grover rarely failed to use in the 
 occasional arguments on the topic of liquor-sell 
 ing which came up between him and some of the 
 people who made his house their stopping place. 
 
 One day there alighted from the stage-coach, 
 a man wearing a profusion of gold chains, dia 
 mond rings and studs. He carried his head rather 
 high, and had an air of vulgar importance. It 
 was a cold, crisp day in November, and as he 
 came into the office, with a breezy air and a 
 stamping tread, he cried out in a voice that had 
 in it more of command than request, 
 
 " A whiskey punch, hot and strong, and be 
 quick about it, landlord ! I m ice to the very 
 bones !" 
 
10 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 Now, Jacob Grover was an independent sort 
 of a man, with all his good humor, and never 
 took any nonsense from his guests. To the 
 courteous, he was courtesy itself; but the rude 
 and aggressive met with little favor or forbear 
 ance. 
 
 " We don t have any whiskey punches here, 
 my friend," he answered, a slight ripple of dis 
 turbance in his voice. 
 
 " You don t !" The man s small gray eyes 
 dilated, and the arch of his thin eyebrows bent 
 strongly upward. " And pray, what have you 
 then ?" 
 
 " Good, strong coffee, smoking hot," returned 
 the landlord, his voice steadier than when he 
 last spoke. 
 
 " Oh ! oh ! You keep a temperance house. 
 That s it !" There was an expression of disgust 
 on the stranger s face. 
 
 " Yes, that s just it," answered Grover, coolly, 
 his large, steady eyes settling themselves upon 
 his guest. 
 
THE FOUNTAIN INN. 11 
 
 " Faugh ! It won t suit me, then. I ll go to 
 the other house." 
 
 " All right, my friend. This is a free country," 
 said the landlord, as the traveller turned away, 
 looking angry and annoyed. "If you don t find 
 yourself suited at the other house," he added, 
 with a grim humor in his tone, just come back 
 here, and we ll do the best for you we can, sav 
 ing the hot whiskey punch. * 
 
 An oath and a growl were the only response 
 as the unhappy stranger went striding out of the 
 room. 
 
 " Where s the other tavern ?" he asked, roughly, 
 of the stage-driver, who had just mounted his 
 box and was getting up the reins- 
 
 " Five miles ahead, at Watertown," was the 
 reply. 
 
 " No, no ! I don t mean that. The other 
 tavern in Brantly," said the man impatiently. 
 
 " There is no other tavern in Brantly," replied 
 the driver. 
 
 "What!" 
 
12 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 " It s just as I tell you. And if you r going to 
 stop here, it s your only chance ; and a mighty 
 good chance at that, if you did but know it a 
 chance that people who travel on this road don t 
 get twice along the line." 
 
 "A cursed, one-horse place!" muttered the 
 traveller, as he turned from the driver, who 
 threw his long whip-lash .out into the air, and 
 then drew it in with a crack like that of a pistol, 
 his horses springing away at the sound. 
 
 Jacob Grover stood calmly in the door as the 
 stranger, with knit brows and a curling lip, 
 jerked himself around and confronted him. 
 
 " Hobson s choice, I find." His manner was 
 as offensive as his words. 
 
 He made a movement to enter, but the tav- 
 ernkeeper s sturdy frame blocked up the door. 
 
 " Look here, sir, I m not going to stand any 
 nonsense !" broke out the irritated stranger, his 
 face growing fiery red. 
 
 " You won t have any of that sort of thing to 
 stand at Grover s," replied the landlord, not mov- 
 
THE FOUNTAIN INN. 13 
 
 ing from his position ; " we deal in good hard 
 sense. And now, my friend, what is it you 
 want?" 
 
 Even a savage dog knows the eye of a brave 
 and fearless man, and cowers beneath its steady 
 gaze. So cowered this excited stranger. 
 
 " You keep a public house," said he, fretfully, 
 but in a more respectful tone. 
 
 I do." 
 
 " Can I get a room for a day or so ?" 
 
 " Yes, if you can put up with our accommoda 
 tions, and at the same time act in a becoming 
 manner. We will do the best for you we can, but 
 you must conduct yourself like a gentleman." 
 
 The man s little gray eyes shot out an angry 
 gleam; but a depressing sense of his inferiority 
 to the stalwart, self-poised landlord, and of his 
 present dependence on his favor, made him 
 repress all further signs of irritation. 
 
 G rover moved back from the door and the 
 stranger entered. He registered his name as 
 Andrew Hyer, New York. 
 
14 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 " I can have a fire in my room, I suppose," 
 he remarked, as he put his fingers to his mouth 
 and breathed on them. 
 
 " Certainly," and Grover rang a bell ; " we ll 
 warm you up in a good Christian way, and you ll 
 feel all the better for it." 
 
 A waiter came in answer to the bell. " Make 
 a fire in Number 10 right away, Tom." 
 
 " Yes, sir," and the man disappeared. 
 
 "Walk into the parlor, sir. You ll find it 
 warm there ; and as soon as your room is ready 
 we ll let you know." 
 
 With a half sulky manner the stranger with 
 drew to the parlor, and seated himself before a 
 grate in which a fire was burning. There was 
 another inmate of the room, an elderly gentle 
 man who sat near one of the windows reading a 
 newspaper. As the new comer entered, this 
 person lifted his eyes and looked at him over his 
 spectacles, curiously. 
 
 " A miserable one-horse place!" grumbled the 
 stranger. 
 
THE FOUNTAIN INN. 15 
 
 " What did you remark, sir ?" inquired the old 
 gentleman. 
 
 " I remarked, that this was a miserable one- 
 horse place," responded the stranger, with an 
 emphasis on every word. 
 
 " Do you mean the town or the tavern ?" 
 
 " I don t know anything about the town ; but 
 if your tavern is a sample brick, I wouldn t give 
 much for the town." 
 
 " We Brantly folks set considerable store by 
 our tavern," said the old gentleman. 
 
 " You do !" and the stranger gave a little de 
 risive laugh, at which the old gentleman dropped 
 his newspaper, and rising from his chair, walked 
 slowly across the room, with his hands behind 
 him. On reaching the grate he turned his back 
 to the fire, and stood for a moment or two before 
 speaking. Then he said : 
 
 " What s wrong about the tavern, my friend ?" 
 
 " Can you get a drink if you want it ? A 
 public house ! Faugh !" 
 
 " Oh, that s your trouble ! I see." A smile 
 
16 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 lit the old gentleman s face. " No, you can t 
 get a drink if you want it ; but you ll find 
 plenty of good eating, and a quiet, orderly, well- 
 kept house. No idlers in your way, nor tipsy 
 loungers to annoy you. You may be as com 
 fortable at Grover s as in your own house." 
 
 " Dry sort of comfort," responded Hyer, the 
 growl dying out of his voice. The warmth of 
 the room, and the pleasant manner of the old 
 gentleman were beginning to soften the asperities 
 of his temper. " What kind of people live 
 here ?" he asked. 
 
 " Very good kind of people ; sober, industrious 
 and thrifty. There is not a beggar nor a pauper 
 in the township." 
 
 " There isn t !" the stranger lifted his eye 
 brows and looked incredulous. 
 
 " Not one, sir ! not one !" was the emphatic 
 answer. "And that s something we Brantly 
 people take pride in. No, sir ; not a beggar nor 
 a pauper !" 
 
THE FOUNTAIN INN. 17 
 
 " Indeed !" The stranger did not appear to 
 take much interest in the statement. 
 
 66 Do you imagine we could say this if our 
 friend Grover here kept a bar ?" 
 
 "I m sure I don t know nor care much, 
 either," returned Hyer, half indifferently and 
 half rudely. 
 
 " Well, I know, and care too," said the old 
 gentleman, his pleasant manner giving way to 
 one more serious. " You can t have bars and 
 drinking-houses in any town or neighborhood 
 without making idlers and drunkards ; and pau 
 perism follows as a natural consequence." 
 
 "If a man wants liquor he ll get it," said 
 Hyer. 
 
 " He can t get what he can t find ; a fact that 
 you seem to have discovered since your arrival 
 in Brantly." 
 
 "You don t mean to say that I can t get a 
 glass of liquor in this town ?" 
 
 " You can t buy it in a tavern or dram-shop." 
 
18 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 "That may be; but I ll get it for all that, 
 and as much as I want." 
 
 " Where ?" 
 
 The man shrugged his shoulders and looked 
 knowing. 
 
 "You ve been here before?" queried the old 
 gentleman, his manner becoming graver. The 
 sphere of the stranger was beginning to repel 
 him. 
 
 " Never." 
 
 " Are you acquainted with any one in 
 Brantly ?" 
 
 " Yes. Do you know a Mr. Dennis Fithian ?" 
 
 " Of the firm of Grubb Fithian ?" 
 
 " Yes. They can fruits and vegetables. I ve 
 often met Fithian in New York." 
 
 " I know him very well." 
 
 " Nice sort of a man," said Hyer. " I like 
 him." 
 
 The old gentleman made no response ; but an 
 observer would have seen a soberer expression 
 Bettling into his face. 
 
THE FOUNTAIN INN. 19 
 
 " How far is his establishment from here ?" 
 
 " Only a few hundred yards away." 
 
 1 i It s large, I m told." 
 
 " Yes ; we think it quite extensive." 
 
 " Making money fast?" 
 
 "It is said so." 
 
 Here a servant came into the parlor and in 
 formed Mr. Andrew Hyer that his room was 
 ready. 
 
 " Don t like that fellow," said the old gentle 
 man, speaking to the landlord, who came into 
 the parlor as his guest was leaving it. 
 
 " Puts on airs; but it won t do here," replied 
 G rover. " Had to take him down a peg." 
 
 "You did?" 
 
 Yes." 
 
 " He s acquainted with Fithian." 
 
 " Did he say so ?" 
 
 " Yes. Has business w r ith him, I infer." 
 
 " Likely. Looks as if he might know Fithian." 
 
 The old gentleman shrugged his shoulders. 
 " D you know," he said, " that I ve a queer 
 
20 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 kind of feeling about this man? What s his 
 name ?" 
 
 " Andrew Hyer so he wrote it down." 
 " Well, as I was saying, I ve a queer kind of 
 feeling about this man as if his coming here 
 wasn t for any good." 
 
 "I don t fancy that it is; at least so far as 
 the man s intentions are involved. Such fellows 
 rarely if ever intend good to any except them 
 selves ; and good to themselves too often means 
 ill to their neighbors." 
 
 " I wonder what he wants with Fithian ?" 
 " He s a clerk or partner in some New York 
 house that deals in canned goods, I presume, and 
 is here on business," returned the landlord, with 
 an air of indifference strongly in contrast with 
 the old gentleman s concerned and nervous 
 manner. 
 
 And here let us say something about this old 
 gentleman. His name is Percy Norman; and he 
 has lived in Brantly for over forty years. He is 
 a character in his way, and his life runs in a 
 
THE FOUNTAIN INN. 21 
 
 groove out of which it is rarely thrown. He 
 came to Brantly when he was twenty-one years 
 of age and opened a small country store in the 
 then insignificant village, which did not number 
 a hundred houses all told. There were two 
 remarkable things about his little store; one 
 was the excellent quality and great variety of 
 the goods which were kept for sale, and. the 
 other the absence of all kinds of distilled or 
 fermented liquors. There was no little stir and 
 talk in the village when the fact became known 
 that neither whiskey, rum, gin, brandy, wine 
 nor beer could be bought at the new store. 
 Some said the thing was perfectly absurd, and 
 that young. Norman would never succeed ; while 
 others, who saw and deplored the evil of drink 
 ing, which was seriously hurting the neighbor 
 hood, ranged themselves on his side, talked of 
 him approvingly, and bought of him all they 
 needed. 
 
 The keeper of the old village store had been 
 for some years previous to this rather too good 
 
22 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 a customer for the liquors which he kept for 
 sale. Neglect of business, thriftlessness, and 
 indifference to the wants of his customers came 
 as a consequence ; and it was not long after the 
 new store opened, with its attractive appearance, 
 great variety of goods, and novelties never seen 
 in Brantly until now, ere young Norman had 
 more than two-thirds of all the trade, and his 
 neighbor found little to do except in the way of 
 drawing pints and quarts of spirits for those 
 who bought their dry goods and groceries from 
 his rival and their liquor from him. Arid what 
 made it worse was the fact that too many of 
 these customers ran up accounts which they did 
 not settle as promptly as he could wish. 
 
 The result was, a closing out, before the end 
 of the first year, of all his general business, and 
 the reduction of his place to a drinking-house 
 or mere dram-shop. In the mea#i time, a senti 
 ment in favor of temperance had been slowly but 
 steadily gaining ground. It was because of his 
 deep convictions touching the evils of intemper- 
 
THE FOUNTAIN INN. 23 
 
 ance, that Percy Norman had set his face against 
 the liquor traffic in all its forms ; and having 
 read and reflected much upon the subject, he was 
 able, in any of the numerous discussions into 
 which he was naturally drawn, to express lead 
 ing and enlightened views, and to give a healthy 
 direction to public thought and feeling. Steadily 
 grew the party of temperance in Brantly until, 
 on the death, from apoplexy after a fit of drunk 
 enness, of the only man in the town who sold 
 liquor, it was influential enough to banish the 
 trade from their midst. This did not occur, how 
 ever, until five years after Norman came into the 
 place, nor until there had been many sad evi 
 dences of the curse drink was laying upon the 
 village and neighborhood. 
 
 Things had been running down sadly with 
 certain of the denizens of Brantly up to the time 
 of this change in the order of affairs. Half a 
 dozen men, once industrious, and good providers 
 for their families, had become sots, and their 
 wives and children reduced to want and misery. 
 
24 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 Not content with eschewing evil work himself, 
 Norman had tried to reclaim the men whom 
 another s evil work had injured; but his efforts 
 were vain so long as his neighbor set temptation 
 in their way. But when temptation was re 
 moved, the task was easier. There were some 
 who would have liquor, if they sent for it to the 
 next town, or walked three miles to the nearest 
 tavern on the road. Still, there were many in 
 Brantly, especially among the youths and young 
 men, with whom appetite was not yet dominant, 
 who ceased to use intoxicating drinks after its 
 sale in their midst was stopped. 
 
 Percy Norman was a philanthropist. His 
 thought was always going out to his neighbor, 
 and seeking for ways to do him good. He was 
 diligent in his business, and prospered therein 
 because of his diligence; but he differed from 
 most of those around him in this, that he never 
 lost sight of his neighbor s welfare while seeking 
 his own. In all his transactions he was so rigidly 
 just, that the people who dealt with him soon 
 
THE FOUNTAIN INN. 25 
 
 learned to regard their interests as entirely safe in 
 his hands. So, in this very justice, which had as 
 much regard for his neighbor as for himself, Nor 
 man found an element of prosperity. Even those 
 who would have overreached, and so cheated him 
 in a bargain had the opportunity been given, 
 felt it safer to deal with him than with most 
 other men, because they were sure that no advan 
 tage would be taken, and therefore gave him 
 their custom, and swelled the tide of his pros 
 perity. 
 
 In the course of time Percy Norman began to 
 grow rich. As a good citizen, he felt it to be his 
 duty to invest his steadily accumulating wealth 
 in ways that should benefit the town and his 
 neighbors as well as himself. He had become 
 identified with Brantly, and regarded it as some 
 thing more than a place in which money was to 
 be made. He gave liberally for the building of 
 churches ; for a town hall ; and for the establish 
 ment of a young men s library and reading room. 
 But the work to which he devoted himself most 
 
26 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 earnestly, as his means grew larger, was the 
 erection of comfortable dwellings for the poor 
 and industrious people of the town. He bought 
 two acres of ground, fronting on the principal 
 street, and running back to a stream that skirted 
 the village on one side, laying it out into streets 
 and building lots, and planting it with shade 
 trees. On a portion of this, in starting his enter 
 prise, he built ten small, but neat and convenient 
 houses, suitable for working men s families. 
 These he sold to sober and industrious men 
 of honest reputation, to be paid for in small 
 monthly instalments, that were but little larger 
 than the rent they had been paying for meaner 
 tenements. The time given for the payment of 
 the entire purchase money was ten years, in 
 order that the monthly instalments might be as 
 light and as little burdensome to the poor fami 
 lies as possible. Equitable provision was made 
 in the title deeds for forfeitures and reclamations, 
 where, from any causes, the purchasers of these 
 houses failed to meet the required conditions. 
 
THE FOUNTAIN INN. 27 
 
 After the lapse of two years, the success of his 
 scheme was so clearly demonstrated, that Mr. 
 Norman put up ten more dwellings, all of which 
 found purchasers on his easy terms. Thirty 
 houses were in due time built on this lot of 
 ground. It cannot be said that the kind-hearted 
 man who, in the investment of his money, looked 
 as well to the good of his neighbor as to his own 
 profit, met with no ingratitude, trouble or dis 
 honest efforts to rob him of what was justly his 
 own. But Mr. Norman understood human na 
 ture, and was not only wise and forbearing, but 
 firm and decided in his dealings with those who 
 sought to do him wrong. A good and just man, 
 he was far from being weak or vacillating, as all 
 those who set themselves to do him evil found 
 sooner or later to their cost. 
 
 At the time our story opens, Mr. Norman was 
 over sixty years of age, a bachelor, and out of 
 active business ; though he still retained an in 
 terest in the large store of which he had once 
 been the owner, and which was now in the hands 
 
28 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 of two young men whom he had raised, and 
 with whom he had left a considerable amount of 
 capital. His chief occupation consisted in look 
 ing after the interests of Brantly, with which he 
 had now become almost as completely identified 
 as if the entire ownership of the place were 
 vested in himself; and as he was the richest 
 man in the whole township, most people were 
 inclined to let him have his way. The excep 
 tions were chiefly among those who cared so 
 little for any but themselves that they did not 
 scruple to do things hurtful or annoying to 
 others, if gain were to be acquired thereby ; and 
 as Mr. Norman kept a sharp lookout on the 
 doings of these people, and did not hesitate about 
 interfering with them, it is not at all surprising 
 that they held him in disfavor. 
 
 A few times small drinking-houses had been 
 opened, and determined efforts made to set flow 
 ing in Brantly the fiery stream of ruin ; but Mr. 
 Norman s influence was potent enough to arrest 
 the evil almost in its very beginning. Thus for 
 
THE FOUNTAIN INN. 29 
 
 over thirty years, with only occasional inroads 
 of the enemy, the town had maintained its hos 
 tile attitude towards all forms of intemperance. 
 
 It was now just ten years since the last of 
 these attempts to establish and maintain a 
 drinking-saloon was made by a man named 
 Dennis Fithian. This man had saved a few 
 hundred dollars out of his salary as clerk in a 
 store, and being a smart young fellow and am 
 bitious to get ahead in the world and withal 
 destitute of any scruple as to the means he 
 resolved to take the shortest road to prosperity 
 that lay before him. What better investment 
 of his money could he make, what quicker or 
 surer return was to be had, than in a drinking- 
 bar ? As for public sentiment, he took little 
 account of that. " Nobody cares for me," he 
 said, " and why should I care for anybody? 
 It s every man for himself in this world, and 
 I m going to look after Number 1." 
 
 But he kept his own counsel, knowing that, 
 if his intention v/ere disclosed, great excitement 
 
30 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRAXTLY. 
 
 would follow and a vigorous effort be made to 
 turn him from his purpose or to hinder him 
 in its accomplishment. Not until he had leased 
 a house and commenced fitting it up did his 
 purpose transpire. Among the first to see him 
 and to endeavor to influence him, was Mr. Nor 
 man. But Fithian was prepared for every argu 
 ment and for the strongest opposition. Against 
 his " Nobody cares for me, an.d why should I 
 care for anybody ?" Mr. Norman set his consid 
 erations of moral responsibility in vain. 
 
 " People needn t drink if they don t want to. 
 I shall not force any one." With speech like 
 this he held doggedly to his resolution,, and went 
 on fitting up his place and getting in his stock 
 of liquors. 
 
 The excitement, anxiety and distress of Mr. 
 Norman were very great. He could rest neither 
 night nor day, and left no influence untried on 
 Fithian up to the very hour that he opened his 
 saloon and offered the people of Brantly a free 
 
THE FOUNTAIN INN. 31 
 
 lunch, and for that particular occasion free 
 drinks into the bargain. 
 
 For just one month the doors of Fithian s 
 saloon were opened ; but he had miscalculated 
 as to the extent of his patronage. Mr. Norman s 
 influence with the people, young and old, was 
 greater than he had imagined. Finding that lie 
 could not turn the man from his purpose, Mr. 
 Norman s next effort was with the men and boys 
 on whom Fithian counted for support in his new 
 business. A visit was made to every man and 
 woman in town, and every possible consider 
 ation urged against any countenance whatever 
 of this effort to make gain out of the hurt of the 
 people. In this he was so successful that, at the 
 end of the first week, Fithian had not put as 
 much money into his till as would pay his rent 
 for the time the saloon had been open. 
 
32 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE ENEMY FOILED. 
 
 young saloon-keeper was sitting behind 
 his bar on the morning that opened the sec 
 ond week of his new enterprise, feeling dull and 
 discouraged, when a lad came in and handed 
 him a note. It was from Mr. Norman, and con 
 tained a request that he would call and see him, 
 as he had something to communicate which he 
 believed would be to his advantage. Fithian 
 growled an ill-natured consent to the lad as he 
 crumpled the note in his hand. An hour after 
 ward, he entered the office of Mr. Norman, as 
 suming as he did so, a half indifferent, half defi 
 ant air. The old gentleman received him kindly; 
 but with a grave and serious manner. 
 
 " If I am rightly informed," he said, after 
 Fithian, awkward and ill at ease, had taken the 
 
THE ENEMY FOILED. 33 
 
 chair to which he pointed him, " this wretched 
 business is not proving as successful as you had 
 hoped." 
 
 "It will all come out right; I am not in the 
 least afraid," replied the young man, with forced 
 confidence. 
 
 " It can never come out right, my young friend, 
 never !" was the emphatic response of Mr. Nor 
 man ; " and of all who are concerned, you should 
 be most afraid." 
 
 " Of what ?" asked Fithian, a slight curve of 
 contempt giving his coarse mouth a still more 
 repulsive expression than the one it usually 
 wore. 
 
 " The injury and loss that will surely come to 
 yourself if you go on with this business; for it 
 is a law of our moral life, that in every attempt 
 we deliberately make to serve ourselves through 
 hurt to the neighbor, we incur a heavier loss and 
 sadder consequences than we inflict upon others. 
 The good God may soften the blow we strike at 
 
 another; but not the rebound upon ourselves." 
 8 
 
34 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 A stolid expression came into the young man s 
 face. It was almost an unknown tongue in which 
 Mr. Norman was speaking to him. 
 
 "I ll take all that sort of risk," he answered, 
 after an effort had been made to get a little light 
 into his mind. " What I m trying for now is to 
 get a start in the world. If I don t help myself, 
 there ll be none to help me. Clerking it at three 
 or four hundred dollars a year doesn t suit Den 
 nis Fithian. There s a faster way to get money 
 and he is bound to find it." 
 
 " Your present adventure doesn t seem to be 
 over-promising," said Mr. Norman. 
 
 " It s in the right direction, and is sure to come 
 out right. Patience and perseverance are all 
 that are required." 
 
 " It is my opinion that your patience and per 
 severance will have a long and severe trial. I 
 have lived here for over thirty years, and my 
 heart is bound up in the well-being of the peo 
 ple. I know that nothing can hurt them like 
 intemperance ; that it is the most dreadful 
 
THE ENEMY FOILED. 35 
 
 curse that can fall upon any community. To 
 save them from it, I will spend rny money, my 
 time and my influence. I shall have to regard 
 you as an enemy to the common good, and treat 
 you as an enemy. I shall have to do all in my 
 power to obstruct your business, and to break it 
 down. I know every man, woman and child in 
 Brantly, and I warn you, that while your doors 
 stand open, and you seek to entice the weak and 
 unwary to enter the road that leads to destruc 
 tion, I shall not cease day nor night in my efforts 
 to hold them away, and to give such a direction 
 to public sentiment that all men will come to 
 regard and treat you as their common enemy." 
 
 In spite of his efforts to seem indifferent, the 
 lace of young Fithian lost its color, and his 
 mouth shut closely with a hard, angry, troubled 
 expression. 
 
 " You can persecute me, if you will," he said. 
 " You have money, and I am but a poor young 
 man. I am comparatively a stranger in the 
 place ; you know everybody. There are heavy 
 
36 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 odds against me, but," and he struck his fist in 
 his palm, and swore an oath, "I am bound to 
 carry this thing through, and" flinging out 
 another oath "I will !" 
 
 "That is, if you can," Mr. Norman answered, 
 without showing any excitement. 
 
 " Where there s a will, there s a way," re 
 sponded Fithian. 
 
 " Not always ; and especially not when a 
 stronger will, with larger means of action, are 
 set in opposition. And just these, you must un 
 derstand, are in your way." 
 
 " We shall see," returned the young man, 
 rising from his chair in considerable excite 
 ment, an angry flush chasing the pallor from 
 his face. 
 
 Mr. Nor man had sent for Fithian with a pur 
 pose in his mind ; but the spirit and temper ex 
 hibited by that individual made him hesitate 
 about declaring it. After the conference had 
 been continued for a little while longer, and with 
 no satisfactory result to either party, Fithian re- 
 
THE ENEMY FOILED. 37 
 
 tired with the declaration, that come what would, 
 his bar should be kept open. 
 
 And now the war began in earnest. There 
 were a great many in the town of Brantly to 
 whom the taste of liquor was pleasant, and who 
 would hardly be able to resist temptation if it 
 came in their way. A number of these were 
 working men with families to support; and there 
 were at least a dozen of these, who owned and 
 occupied the houses built by Mr. Norman. Some 
 of them had, in years gone by, indulged their 
 appetite too freely, and were only out of danger 
 when away from the sight and smell of liquor. 
 There were boys of from fourteen to twenty 
 years of age, some of whom were under too little 
 restraint from their parents. These were in 
 danger of drifting, especially after nightfall, into 
 the saloon which had just been opened. 
 
 Mr. Norman saw all this, and set himself reso 
 lutely to the work of holding these weak ones 
 away from the dangerous ground that was before 
 them. His first movement against the enemy 
 
THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 was made very quietly. He drew up a paper, in 
 which the evil that threatened the town was 
 clearly stated, and the purpose to discountenance 
 and oppose in every way the sale of intoxicating 
 drinks declared personal abstinence being espe 
 cially affirmed. With this in his hand, headed 
 by his own signature, he called upon every man 
 in Brantly, and obtained the signatures of nearly 
 all to the document. Then he went among the 
 lads and succeeded in getting their names to a 
 similar paper. He spent days in this work, talk 
 ing with great earnestness to the people, and in 
 spiring them with his own spirit. 
 
 It was in vain that the saloon-keeper pla 
 carded his windows with the names of fancy 
 drinks, and announcements of free lunches; his 
 place was under such perpetual observation that 
 few ventured within his doors in the open day 
 light. In the evenings he had more visitors; 
 but not in sufficient numbers to make his profit 
 equal to his expenses. 
 
 One, two, three, four weeks went by, and in 
 
THE ENEMY FOILED. 39 
 
 all that time but few, except the lowest and 
 most degraded of the population in Brantly, were 
 seen going into the bar-room. The better and 
 more respectable classes regarded the place as a 
 blot upon the town, and something a great deal 
 worse than a nuisance. 
 
 At the end of a month Fithian received an 
 other note from Mr. Norrnan asking him to call 
 upon him. as he had something of interest to 
 communicate. 
 
 " You wish to see me, I believe," he said, on 
 entering Mr. Norman s office, scarcely making an 
 effort to conceal his dislike for the man who had 
 set himself in opposition, and blocked his way to 
 the success he had counted on so surely. 
 
 " Yes, I wish to see you, Mr. Fithian. Sit 
 down," and the old gentleman, with a gracious- 
 ness of manner, that came spontaneously, offered 
 his visitor a seat. Fithian sat down upon the 
 edge of the chair ; his face clouded, and his 
 mouth set hard. 
 
 " I want to have a friendly talk with you," 
 
THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY, 
 
 said Mr. Norman, and yet a very serious one. 
 And first, let me ask as to the result of your 
 new business. Do you regard it as in any re 
 spect satisfactory ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir; in some respects quite satisfac 
 tory/ 7 was the prompt answer. 
 
 " Have your profits for the first month been 
 sufficient to pay your rent?" 
 
 "I think so; but if not, it signifies little. 
 You may start any business you please and the 
 chances are against your doing any better in the 
 first month than I have done. One thing I 
 know; my profits were twice as much this last 
 week as they were the first, and I consider that 
 encouragement enough." 
 
 Fithian was watching Mr. Norman s face as 
 lie said this, and noted with satisfaction the 
 change that passed over it. 
 
 " I wish, my young friend, that you were in 
 a better business," was replied, " one that would 
 benefit instead of hurting the people." Mr. Nor 
 man spoke very seriously. 
 
THE ENEMY FOILED. 4| 
 
 " Find me such a business, and if it requires 
 no more capital than this, and pays as well, I ll 
 shut up my saloon instanter. Now, sir, what do 
 you say to that ? Show me the business and I m 
 your man." 
 
 There was a kind of rude banter, not unmixed 
 with triumph, in Fithian s manner. 
 
 "I know of a business," said Mr. Norman, 
 speaking slowly and with a thoughtful air, "that 
 is sure, in the end, to pay better than the one you 
 have started, but it requires for its successful 
 prosecution more capital than you can com 
 mand." 
 
 " Of course," was answered, " I know of good 
 openings enough if I could put down the cash. 
 It takes money to make money." 
 
 "Good openings in Bran try?" queried Mr. 
 Norman. 
 
 " I know of at least one." 
 
 " What is the business ?" 
 
 66 Canning fruit. Charley Grubb has made a 
 good start, but can t do much for want of more 
 
42 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 capital. If I could have raised two or three 
 thousand dollars instead of two or three hun 
 dred, I would have gone in with him." 
 
 " Suppose you had the two or three thousand 
 now, what would you say ?" 
 
 A look of surprise flashed into the man s face, 
 and its expression of mingled defiance and ill- 
 nature began to die out. 
 
 " As I haven t that sum, I have nothing to 
 say," he answered, his manner a little disturbed 
 and bewildered. 
 
 " It is of this very business that I wish to 
 speak with you," said Mr. Norman. " I have had 
 some conversation with Mr. Grubb, and have a 
 pretty clear apprehension of his business, its 
 needs, and the chances of its growth under 
 proper conditions. He needs capital, and an 
 active, intelligent business partner. I have been 
 thinking about him for some time, and if I could 
 find the right man to join him, might be induced 
 to supply the money." 
 
 A marked change was now visible in young 
 
THE ENEMY FOILED. 43 
 
 Fithian; his face brightened, his hard mouth 
 found a more attractive expression, he looked 
 another and a better sort of a man. Mr. Norman 
 half wondered at the transformation. 
 
 " I am sorry you went into your present mis 
 erable business/ said the old gentleman. " The 
 very fact of your having done so brings doubts 
 and questions that trouble me." 
 
 Fithian looked at him in silence, the light 
 which had corne into his face gradually fading 
 out. 
 
 "You are young and active, have had a fair 
 business training, are ambitious to get along in 
 the world, and would, I think, if associated with 
 Mr. Grubb and aided with capital, make his 
 adventure an assured success. If you had 
 
 not " The old gentleman s brow grew cloudy 
 
 and perplexed, as he checked his speech and left 
 the sentence unfinished. Fithian understood all 
 he would have said. 
 
 " To speak plainly," resumed Mr. Norman, 
 " the very fact of your being willing to go into 
 
44 THE BAR-BOOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 such a dreadful business as that in which you 
 are now engaged a business in which you can 
 not make a dollar without injuring your neigh 
 bor makes me more than half afraid to trust 
 you. Don t you see in what an attitude you 
 have placed yourself, and to what kind of a 
 judgment you are naturally subjected ? You 
 have not scrupled about the loss to others so 
 that you made gain. Will you scruple under 
 other circumstances ? Here comes the doubtful 
 question." 
 
 Fithian understood him clearly, and at the 
 same time saw how largely it would be to his 
 advantage to have Mr. Norman s confidence and 
 friendship. 
 
 " I would gladly give up a business for which 
 I have no taste, if I could only find another in 
 which I could make a living and at the same 
 time get ahead in the world. I knew no other 
 business, and so I made my venture in this. 
 There are thousands of respectable men engaged 
 in it, and it has the sanction of la\v. You judge 
 
THE ENEMY FOILED. 45 
 
 me too severely, Mr. Norman. I never wronged 
 a man out of a dollar in my life. I would starve 
 rather than be guilty of a dishonest act. I have 
 not looked at this matter as you have been 
 accustomed to look at it, sir ; have not seen the 
 harm in it that you have seen. To one who 
 has only a small capital on which to work it is 
 regarded as the surest and easiest way to get 
 a start in the world. You must not blame 
 me too severely. I have only myself to depend 
 on." 
 
 Mr. Norman began to feel softened towards 
 the young man, whose whole bearing had under 
 gone a change, and who seemed to have risen 
 into a better spirit. 
 
 "It s a dreadful, dreadful business! the 
 worst a man can follow ! Go home, take down 
 your signs and shut your doors. Then come 
 back and see me, and we ll talk over affairs." 
 
 Will you give me a little time for considera 
 tion?" asked Fithian. 
 
 "Certainly. Think it over; and when you 
 
46 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 have come to a decision, if it is in the right direc 
 tion, call and see me." 
 
 In less than two hours the young man returned 
 with the announcement that he had closed his 
 saloon. A week from that time he became asso 
 ciated with Mr. Grubb in the canning business, 
 Mr. Norman having loaned three thousand to 
 the new firm. 
 
 Ten years later we find this firm still in exist 
 ence, owning a large establishment and having 
 extensive trade; both partners having become 
 well off. The capital advanced by Mr. Norman 
 has been paid back with interest; but we are 
 sorry as much cannot be said as to the good will 
 and favor that went with the capital. Mean 
 natures are incapable of gratitude ; and too often 
 let a sense of obligation goad them into hatred. 
 Fithian was never able to forget, in the benefits 
 received at the hands of Mr. Norman, the im 
 pediments which had been thrown in his way by 
 that individual, nor the fact that he had once 
 insulted him, as he was pleased to regard it. 
 
THE ENEMY FOILED. 47 
 
 The insult lay in Mr. Norman s expression of a 
 doubt, based on the fact of his going into the 
 liquor business, of his real integrity of character. 
 This had always rankled ; and he still held it as 
 a grudge against his benefactor which sooner or 
 later he would repay. 
 
 No farther attempts were made to sell liquor 
 openly in Brantly up to the time our story com 
 mences. 
 
48 THE BAR-llOOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 T 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE ENEMY IN COUNCIL. 
 
 WO men were sitting together in a well-fur 
 
 nished room. It was evening. A fire 
 burned in the grate, and a lamp spread its soft 
 light through the apartment. On a table were 
 cigars, glasses and a decanter. A few pictures 
 in showy frames hung on the walls. By his 
 self-important bearing, his narrow forehead, small 
 gray eyes, and glitter of jewelry and diamonds, 
 we recognise one of these men as the dissatisfied 
 guest of the Fountain Inn, who registered his 
 name as Andrew Hyer. The other is Dennis 
 Fithian, noticeable for his coarse, sensual face 
 and hard mouth, the under portion of which 
 projects strongly. 
 
THE ENEMY IN COUNCIL. 49 
 
 " It is almost comical when one thinks 
 of it," the man Hyer leaned back in his chair, 
 taking his cigar from his mouth as he did 
 so, and blowing out the smoke in short, leisurely 
 puffs. 
 
 " Worse than comical," returned his compan 
 ion, in an irritated tone of voice, " I m sick to 
 death of this one-man influence in Brantly. It 
 ought to be broken down." 
 
 " The surprising thing to me is, that you have 
 submitted to it so long. If I had been living 
 here there would have been a different state of 
 affairs long ago." 
 
 The door opened and a neighbor came in. He 
 was the chief legal man of the town. 
 
 " Ah, Mr. Lyman ! Good evening ! Good 
 evening ! Glad to see you ! My friend Mr. 
 Hyer from New York. Mr. Roger Lyman." 
 
 So Fithian greeted the newcomer, and pre 
 sented his friend ; doing it in a familiar and cor 
 dial manner. 
 
 "Enjoying yourselves, I see/ remarked the 
 4 
 
50 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 lawyer, a smile of pleasure warming over his face 
 as he looked at the wine and cigars. 
 
 "Yes; it s a way I have with my friends/ 
 returned Fithian, pouring out a glass of wine 
 and handing it to Mr. Lyman. 
 
 "A way to which some of us take rather 
 kindly, especially in this dry place," said the 
 lawyer, as he took his empty glass from his lips. 
 It was noticeable that he drank with the man 
 ner of one athirst. 
 
 " Good for you !" exclaimed the man from New 
 York, " a confounded dry place, as I happen to 
 know !" 
 
 " Staying at Grover s?" queried the lawyer. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Dry as a bone, there." A comical expression 
 came into the speaker s eyes. 
 
 " Dry as a bone everywhere, except just here, 
 if I am to take the word of my friend Fithian. 
 It is really comical, as I was saying when you 
 came in. We were talking about your one-horse 
 town." 
 
THE ENEMY IN COUNCIL. 51 
 
 " Beg pardon," said Roger Lyman, his manner 
 becoming serious, "we don t consider Brantly a 
 one-horse town by any means." 
 
 " You ve got a miserable, one-horse tavern, at 
 any rate," replied Andrew Hyer, "and you can 
 generally judge of a place by its tavern." 
 
 "I cannot agree with you there, either; beg 
 ging pardon for differing. Bat we think our 
 Fountain Inn the best kept tavern within a cir 
 cuit of ten miles." 
 
 66 Can you get a bottle of wine, or a glass of 
 spirits to thaw the ice out of your veins ? Not a 
 bit of it! Faugh!" 
 
 " There might be an improvement in respect 
 to this, I confess ; but while Mr. Norman main 
 tains his present influence with Grover, no 
 change is possible. I m getting a little out of 
 patience with the old fellow. One would think, 
 by the way he meddles with every thing, and 
 concerns himself about every one s business, 
 he owned the town and all the people into the 
 bargain. Isn t that so, Fithian ?" 
 
52 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 And the lawyer winked at the man as he said 
 this. 
 
 Fithian s hard mouth grew harder and more 
 respulsive ; while heavy lines darkened his 
 brow. 
 
 " He doesn t own me, thank heaven !" came 
 roughly from his lips. " He s crossed my path 
 once too often, confound him ! I hate the very 
 sight of his hypocritical face." 
 
 " He s well enough in his way," said Mr. Ly- 
 man ; " and there is no concealing the fact that 
 he has done a great deal for Brantly. You 
 mustn t let an old grudge hide what is really 
 good in the kind-hearted, but rather meddlesome 
 old man." 
 
 " It will be a good day for Brantly when he 
 drops out of it," was the rejoinder. 
 
 " The promise of which is not very flattering," 
 answered the lawyer, smiling. " Norman doesn t 
 belong to the short-lived generation. For all his 
 years, he s as hale and hearty as the best of us." 
 
 " The more reason why we should assert our 
 
THE ENEMY IN COUNCIL. 53 
 
 freedom now," said Fithian. " There s a splendid 
 business waiting here for somebody." 
 
 " Ah ! What is it ?" queried the lawyer, with 
 a look of interest in his face. 
 
 " A splendid business, and plain sailing, if only 
 Norman were out of the way, or suppressed." 
 
 " Oh, I understand. You are thinking about 
 a new hotel ?" 
 
 " Yes ; one fitted up in modern style ; and 
 having all the modern improvements, conveni 
 ences and attractions ; a hotel in which a man 
 can get anything he wants. Not an old, dry, 
 miserable, obsolete affair like the Fountain Inn, 
 with its sleepy, behind-the-age landlord." 
 
 " A desideratum, certainly ; though I cannot 
 agree with all you say about Grover and his 
 tavern. In its way the Fountain Inn excella. 
 There is no such house of entertainment on all 
 the Bedford road." 
 
 "May be not; but that is not saying much. 
 A shanty bears about the same relation to a 
 palace that our tavern does to a first-class hotel ; 
 
54 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 that s the real truth of the matter. It s a shame ! 
 If we had a good hotel in Brantly the town 
 would wake up from its stupor and start ahead. 
 We should have live people coming here, and 
 looking around them. Property would begin to 
 run up in value. Every man s business would 
 increase. Instead of having to be all the while 
 going to the cities, and drumming up customers, 
 I would have people coming here to buy, 
 attracted by the very life and stir of the place. 
 Population would increase, business flourish ; 
 and in less than five years we should have rail 
 road connections with New York, and all the near 
 towns and cities. You can t draw strangers to 
 a place unless you give them a first-class hotel. 
 That s what s the matter with Brantly ! I m 
 amazed that men like you, Mr. Lyman, don t 
 see this. Your practice at the bar would double 
 in a few years, and your real estate be worth 
 two dollars to one that it will bring to-day." 
 
 " There may be something in that/ remarked 
 the lawyer, thoughtfully. 
 
THE ENEMY IN COUNCIL. 55 
 
 " I ve had my eye on that corner lot opposite 
 Grover s for some time," resumed Fithian. " It s 
 just the place for a hotel. I can buy it for 
 fifteen hundred dollars." 
 
 " You haven t thought, seriously, of giving up 
 your present business, Mr. Fithian ?" 
 
 " No; but I want to increase it, arid at the 
 same time invest my money to the greatest advan 
 tage. Unless Brantly begins to show some signs 
 of growth and progress, I shall have to pull up 
 and take my business and capital somewhere 
 else." 
 
 " 0, no, Mr. Fithian," remonstrated Lyman. 
 " We can t let you go. Twenty others may be 
 spared, but not you !" - 
 
 " Thank you for your good opinion, Mr. 
 Lyman. Let me fill your glass. Sherry that 
 is sherry ! You see I know good wine. Now, 
 seriously, what if I should buy that lot and 
 get plans and specifications for a first-class 
 hotel ; do you think there are half a dozen men 
 of means in Brantly who would unite with me 
 
56 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 in forming a joint-stock company, representing 
 a capital of say one hundred thousand dollars 
 for the erection and equipment of a first-class 
 hotel? The investment would be splendid. I 
 am ready to head the list with twenty thous 
 and dollars." 
 
 " You may put me down for five thousand 
 more," said Andrew Hyer. 
 
 " Twenty-five thousand to start with ; one- 
 fourth of all the sum needed." 
 
 Mr. Lyman looked surprised and a little be 
 wildered. 
 
 "What do you say? How much will you 
 subscribe ?" 
 
 " I must have time for reflection," returned 
 the lawyer, cautiously. " All this is new to 
 
 me." 
 
 " Of course. Of course. But I have thought 
 about it a great deal ; and am so well satisfied 
 as to its being a paying investment that I am 
 willing to put down twenty thousand dollars. 
 My friend Hyer knows something about hotels, 
 
THE ENEMY IN COUNCIL. 57 
 
 and you see how ready he is to take advantage 
 of the opportunity." 
 
 " Norman will set himself against the scheme, 
 and do all in his power to defeat it." 
 
 " Let him !" And Fithian snapped his thumb 
 and finger in defiance and contempt. " Get the 
 chief part of the stock taken in Brantly, and 
 Norman s power is gone." 
 
 " Yes ; that would follow as a thing of course. 
 But can you get it taken here ?" 
 
 " 1 believe so. I shall count you in for at 
 least ten thousand." 
 
 " You put the figures too high for me," said 
 the lawyer, in whose tone consent was as appa 
 rent as in his words. 
 
 " High or low, you are counted in. So much 
 settled. A third of the stock taken. I ll secure 
 the lot to-morrow." Fithian s enthusiasm was 
 rising. 
 
 " Don t be precipitate, Mr. Fithian. Take 
 time for reflection. There is too much involved 
 in all this for hasty action." Lyman s brows 
 
58 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 were contracting ; and something like a troubled 
 expression was gathering about his lips. "In 
 the first place, Mr. Norman s opposition will be 
 no small impediment. You know what influence 
 he has with the people. And, in the second 
 place, I am not so sure that we shall gain all you 
 seem to imagine. To be candid, I m afraid, on 
 second thought, of the new order of things your 
 new hotel would introduce. Too many of our 
 young men would be attracted to the bar ; and 
 a bar-room is not " 
 
 Mr. Lyrnan did not finish the sentence. As 
 he paused in his speech, he let his eyes rest upon 
 the floor, and half lost himself in thoughts and 
 images that were evidently far from agreeable. 
 
 " If young men want liquor they ll get it ; and, 
 in my opinion, there s far less danger in open 
 than in secret drinking. Stolen waters are sweet, 
 you know. Men will have stimulants; nature 
 calls for them; and all attempts at restriction 
 are but weakness and- folly. At an open bar, a 
 man will take a single glass with his friends; 
 
THE KXEMY IN COUNCIL. 59 
 
 but. if alone with that friend, and away from 
 observation, three or four will hardly suffice. 
 Two men are made drunkards by secret drink 
 ing where one is hurt by frequenting bar-rooms. 
 That is my observation." 
 
 "I don t know about it," replied the lawyer, 
 doubtfully, and in a depressed tone of voice. He 
 had suddenly lost animation. 
 
 " Well, I do, then," said Fithian, speaking 
 even more positively than before. " It stands 
 to reason. Restrict a man in anything, and his 
 first impulse is to break through that restriction ; 
 and in breaking through, there are nine chances 
 in ten that he will run into excess. There is a 
 great deal more drinking in Brantly than three- 
 fourths of the good, self-complacent people know ; 
 and drinking of a kind most dangerous of all. 
 An open bar would cure this. Men who drink 
 under observation are more on guard, as I have 
 said, than those who drink in secret." 
 
 Mr. Lyman did not show any disposition to 
 argue the point; but was more inclined to push 
 
60 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 it aside as something that disturbed him. Not 
 for an instant did he accept the case as presented 
 by the other. He knew that it involved a 
 specious fallacy, though based on assumptions 
 that were correct in the main. And yet, his 
 inclinations were on the side of Fithian s scheme. 
 A good hotel would, he believed, give Brantly 
 an impulse in the right direction. The town 
 was situated in a beautiful region of country, 
 and he knew that summer visitors would drift 
 there from New York and other cities, if attract 
 ive accommodations were offered. Men of means 
 would come with their families ; capital would 
 be invested ; improvements made ; and in time, 
 there must come, as a consequence, railroad con 
 nections. Property would advance, business 
 improve, and especially the business of Roger 
 Lyman, the leading lawyer in the town. Yes,^ 
 he would like to see a first-class hotel in Brantly. 
 It was the one thing needed to give thrift and 
 progress ; and make every man s dollar two 
 instead of one. 
 
THE ENEMY IN COUNCIL. 61 
 
 While this discussion was in progress, two 
 women in a pleasant home not far away, were 
 sitting together in earnest conversation. The 
 elder of the two was calm, but very serious ; the 
 younger, flushed, excited and in tears. They 
 were mother and daughter the wife and child 
 of Mr. Roger Lyman. 
 
 Mrs. Lyman was a woman past forty. She 
 had a refined, intelligent face, all the features 
 of which were clearly cut. Her dark-hazel eyes 
 were large and calm, with a shade of trouble in 
 them. Her mouth was peculiarly soft and sweet 
 when she smiled, and as marked in its expression 
 of sadness when the smile faded off. And 
 yet, she was cheerful and loving in her family, 
 and faithful to every duty. The daughter was 
 unlike her mother, as well in person as in char 
 acter. Her eyes were blue and her complexion 
 fairer ; and she lacked the other s tender, exqui 
 sitely-formed and sensitive mouth. 
 
 " You are both too young, Marie, to 
 think of an engagement. Your father and I 
 
62 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 must withhold our consent ; at least for the 
 present." 
 
 " Frank is twenty-one and I am nearly 
 eighteen," answered the girl ; " and we have 
 known each other ever since we were children." 
 
 " All very true, my daughter. Still, there are 
 reasons why we must insist upon your deferring 
 an engagement." 
 
 " What reasons, mother ?" 
 
 " My fear is, that you will neither understand 
 nor appreciate them, Marie." 
 
 "What are they, mother? Have you heard 
 anything against Frank ?" 
 
 "No; but from what I see of him, and know 
 of his character and habits, I do not feel satis 
 fied." 
 
 "Character and habits, mother!" The girl s 
 eyes flashed, and there was a thrill of quick, stir 
 ring indignation in her voice. " I don t under 
 stand what you mean." 
 
 " Lack of character I might have said. So 
 far he has developed no clear purpose in life. He 
 
THE ENEMY IN COUNCIL. 63 
 
 seems content to drift along with the current into 
 which he has been thrown, and let it bear him 
 where it may. To live on his father, instead of 
 making a way in life for himself." 
 
 " You are unjust to Frank," replied the daugh 
 ter, " he wants to study law ; but his father 
 won t hear to it, and insists on his going into the 
 shoe factory. Frank has no taste for this busi 
 ness and no heart in it." 
 
 " And so idles a great part of his time, forming 
 habits that will, in all probability, go with him 
 through life. I don t like it, Marie. As for the 
 law, I doubt his possession of the mental qualities 
 that are required for success at the bar." 
 
 " You misj udge him, mother." 
 
 " No. My love for my daughter makes my 
 observation keen-sighted. I have watched him 
 closely ; and believe I understand him. Not 
 until I see him take hold of his life-work in real 
 earnest, will his suit find favor in my eyes." 
 
 " What is he to do, mother ? His father will 
 not hear to his studying law." 
 
64 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 " Settle the question of his work or profession, 
 and enter upon the business of his life, whatever 
 it may be, in real earnest. Until he does this, 
 my consent to an engagement cannot be had ; 
 and I know that your father s views are in agree 
 ment with mine." 
 
 A passionate burst of tears was Marie s re 
 sponse. The mother s pale face grew somewhat 
 paler as she looked at her weeping child ; and 
 lines of sadness drew closer about her quiet 
 mouth. She waited until this ebullition of feel 
 ing had spent itself and then said, speaking 
 slowly and with great seriousness of manner, 
 
 " Beyond Frank s lack of any real purpose in 
 life, lies another thing that troubles me. I wish 
 it were in my power to make you see this, in the 
 light that I see it, my daughter. He is not only 
 self-indulgent, but inclined to yield too easily to 
 the allurements of appetite. He likes eating and 
 drinking too well." 
 
 " Drinking, mother ! Frank doesn t drink !" 
 
 " I say eating and drinking, to express my 
 
THE ENEMY IN COUNCIL. 65 
 
 meaning. His mere sensual life is too strong for 
 what is higher and nobler in his nature, and the 
 great danger is that it may -gain the ascendancy 
 over him. Under circumstances of allurement, 
 he will drift easily away on the currents of pleas 
 ure that bear men out of the regions of safety. 
 If he had decision and strength of character; if 
 some ruling purpose in life were beginning to 
 show itself; if I saw that he was coming under 
 the government of a manly reason, I would have 
 more hope in his future. But as he is, so I 
 must judge him, Marie ; and I cannot but fear 
 for his future. To have your life bound to his 
 life, in all this doubtful future, is something that 
 appals me when I think of it. It might come 
 out well ; but as I look at it, the chances are all 
 on the adverse side." 
 
 " I cannot understand you, mother. You 
 wrong Frank. He is good and true ; and no 
 man could be more tender and loving than he 
 will be. He is not coarse and hard, like Charley 
 Fithian, nor quick and passionate like Henry 
 
66 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 Irwin ; nor jealous and exacting like Mr. Gris- 
 com, who is engaged to Fanny Stewart." 
 
 " No, Marie ; but if he had something of the 
 strength and decision of character shown by 
 either of these young men, I would have more 
 confidence in his future. In his weak good 
 nature lies much of his danger. He belongs to 
 a class that is more inclined to drift with the 
 stream than to pull resolutely against it ; and 
 the drifts of life are too often towards the whirl 
 pools of sensual indulgence in which thousands 
 find shipwreck every year. It is my opinion, 
 daughter and I will express it now that if 
 young men were as much exposed to temptation 
 in Brantly as they are in other towns, Frank 
 would, ere this, have acquired a taste for liquor." 
 
 A flash of indignant surprise leaped across the 
 girl s face ; followed by a fresh burst of tears. 
 
 "His safety," added Mrs. Lyman, as her 
 daughter grew calm, " lies in his freedom from 
 temptation. But he cannot have this freedom 
 always. I would tremble for him if there were 
 
THE ENEMY IN COUNCIL. 67 
 
 as many open bar-rooms hero as in other places ; 
 for he is social, and weak, as I have said, on the 
 sensual side of his nature ; and his lack of an 
 earnest purpose in life only increases his peril." 
 
 They heard the door bell ring, and a few mo 
 ments afterwards the familiar voice of the person 
 about whom they were talking sounded along 
 the hall. Marie made a hurried effort to remove 
 all traces of tears and excitement before <roin 
 
 o O 
 
 down to meet her lover. 
 
 The young man who awaited her in the parlor 
 was fresh and boyish in appearance. His clear 
 blue eyes shone with a pleasant light; he had a 
 ruddy face, full rounded lips, and a skin that was 
 line and soft almost as a baby s. You could see 
 at a glance that Mrs. Ly man s estimate of his 
 character was in the right direction. There 
 were no evidences of strength or purpose about 
 him. If circumstances were all favorable, he 
 might become a successful man ; if unfavorable, 
 he would scarcely have strength to rise above 
 
05 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 them and make his way in spite of what was 
 adverse and uncongenial. 
 
 lie waited rather longer than usual for Marie, 
 and when she came in, caught her hand quickly 
 and looked at her with a tender concern in his 
 eyes; for he saw that something was troubling 
 her. The girl made an effort to control her feel 
 ings; but could not keep back the tears that 
 came pressing through her half-closed eyelids. 
 
 " Why Marie, dear !" the young man ex 
 claimed. " What is it ? What has happened ?" 
 
 Some moments passed before she could trust 
 her voice to speak. She then communicated to 
 Sylvester so much of what had passed between 
 herself and her mother as related to his lack of 
 any well-defined purpose in life ; and gave him to 
 understand that he would not be regarded by her 
 parents with favor until he gave himself earn 
 estly to some business or profession. 
 
 "What am I to do?" was his reply. "My 
 preference is for the law, but father will not 
 hear to it. I have no taste for his business no 
 
THE ENEMY IN COUNCIL. 69 
 
 heart in it. The very sight of the shoe factory 
 gives me a shiver." 
 
 He spoke weakly, and in a fretful tone. Marie 
 did not answer. But tears came into her eyes 
 again and commenced dropping over her cheeks. 
 "For your sake I will do anything, Marie 
 dear! Give up all thoughts of the law, and 
 make a slave of myself in the factory !" 
 
 " If you could only be content in the business, 
 Frank. And you know that your father has set 
 his heart on it." 
 
 The young man shook his head. " The very 
 smell of leather makes me sick. Faugh !" An 
 expression of disgust marred all the lines in his 
 boyish face. "But no matter," he added, "Til 
 settle myself down to the business for your sake ; 
 and your father and mother shall see that there 
 is work in me." 
 
 " If you only would, Frank ! And you will 
 find it so much easier than the law. The busi 
 ness is all made to your hand. No waiting for 
 
70 THE BATl-KOOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 years, as in a profession; and no hard struggle to 
 achieve success." 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders, as he replied : 
 " There s a great deal in that, of course. This 
 waiting for half a lifetime before one gets fairly 
 started isn t a pleasant thing to contemplate. 
 The easier and plainer way may after all be the 
 best way. At any rate, there seems to be only 
 this course open to me. I give up and submit." 
 
 He kissed Marie s rosy lips, and saw to his 
 delight a sunny smile light up her countenance. 
 
 "And you are really in earnest about this, 
 Frank," said the girl, as she drew closely to his 
 side, and gazed at him fondly. 
 
 " Of course I am. Anything in the world to 
 make you happy." 
 
 But Marie was not wholly satisfied. She could 
 not be. Her lover s infirmity of will was some 
 thing with which she had already become famil 
 iar ; and what her mother had said about his 
 weakness of character, and lack of an earnest 
 purpose in life, was too fresh in her memory to 
 
THE ENEMY IN COUNCIL. 71 
 
 be pushed aside. How much he would do, and 
 how much sacrifice in order to secure her happi 
 ness, were things impossible to know ; and her 
 clearer intuitions held her back from trusting in 
 them too strongly. Not until now had the ques 
 tion of her future life, as bound up in his life, 
 assumed in her mind an aspect of sober import 
 ance. All this future had looked so sunny and 
 beautiful. There had been no cloud in the sky, 
 and no blight on the flowers. But a shadow had 
 fallen on everything, and she felt its chill creep 
 ing into her heart. 
 
 Of the two, Marie Lyman had the stronger 
 and more positive character. But she loved 
 Frank with girlish ardor ; and this had made her 
 tolerant of his faults, if not wholly blind to 
 them. Now, as though a veil had been suddenly 
 removed, she saw them in well-defined propor 
 tions. Her mother s clearer sight had come to 
 her own eyes ; and the pressure of concern which 
 had lain on her mother s heart was beginning to 
 rest upon her own. The blind passion of the 
 
72 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 girl was giving place to the clearer intuitions of 
 the woman. 
 
 One suggestion of her mother s she had re 
 jected it almost indignantly when made set 
 her thoughts in a new direction, and left an un 
 pleasant weight on her feelings. It was the 
 suggestion of Frank s danger should he ever be 
 exposed to the allurements of drink. She knew 
 that he was weak, and that appetite, if ever 
 indulged, would easily gain the mastery over 
 him. She was already beginning to look at him 
 through her mother s eyes ; yet not with any 
 feeling of coldness. The difference in her feel 
 ings because of her clearer sight, was that they 
 were growing tenderer and truer in this newly- 
 awakened concern. 
 
THE GREAT HOTEL PROJECT. 73 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE GREAT HOTEL PROJECT. 
 
 "ORANTLY was in a fever of excitement ; and 
 the most excited man in town was Mr. Percy 
 Norman. Whispers and intimations of some 
 thing wrong were floating on the air. Dennis 
 Fithian had made an offer of fifteen hundred 
 dollars for the large corner lot opposite Grover s 
 Hotel, and after some chaffering with the owner, 
 the property was about changing hands for the 
 sum of eighteen hundred dollars. 
 
 " What does Fithian want with this property ?" 
 was the question that passed naturally from lip 
 to lip, when it became known that he was trying 
 to purchase the lot opposite to Grover s Hotel. 
 There were only two men besides Fithian who 
 
74 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 really knew what was in his mind. These were 
 Mr. Lyman, the lawyer, and Andrew Hyer, who 
 still remained a guest at the Fountain Inn, 
 though over a week had elapsed since he entered 
 his name on the hotel register. He had been 
 reserved in speech since the day of his arrival, 
 and, as some thought, mysterious in his actions; 
 visiting the establishment of Grubb & Fithian 
 every morning ; and spending his evenings with 
 the last-named member of the firm, with whom 
 he evidently had a good understanding about 
 something, 
 
 Mr. Norman had felt, from the first, that, in 
 some way, this man Ilyer s appearance in Brantly 
 boded no good to the town ; and his prolonged 
 stay and intimacy with Dennis Fithian only in 
 creased the vague concern that was troubling 
 him. When, therefore, it became known that 
 the latter was about purchasing the lot of ground 
 to which reference has been made, a suspicion of 
 the real object in view flashed on the mind of 
 Mr. Norman, and his convictions on the subject 
 
THE GREAT HOTEL PROJECT. 75 
 
 were so strong that he accepted them as true, 
 and acted \vith promptness. The property In- 
 longed to a man named Albright. He was owner 
 of the saw-mill which supplied lumber for build 
 ing purposes to all the neighborhood for miles 
 around. The relations existing between him 
 and Mr. Norman were of the most friendly char 
 acter. 
 
 " Good-morning, friend Albright," said the 
 latter, as he entered the little business office 
 attached to the saw-mill. There was a flush on 
 the old man s face, and an unusual nervousness 
 apparent in his manner. 
 
 "Ah, good-morning! good-morning, Mr. Nor 
 man ! Glad to see you. Pleasant day ; cool, 
 and crisp, and seasonable. Had a sharp frost 
 last night ; the ground looked as white at sun 
 rise as if a spit of snow had Mien. Sit down !" 
 And he offered his visitor a chair. 
 
 As Mr. Norman reached his hand to take the 
 chair, Mr. Albright saw that it trembled ; and 
 
76 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 he became aware that his old friend was in a 
 state of repressed excitement. 
 
 " What s the matter ?" he asked. " You seem 
 to be in a kind of flurry. Nothing gone wrong 
 anywhere ?" 
 
 " I ve just heard," answered Mr. Norman, 
 coining at once to the object of his visit, " that 
 you ve had an offer for that property in the 
 centre of the town." 
 
 " Yes ; Fithian wants it." 
 
 " So I m told. Have you accepted his offer ?" 
 
 " Not finally. We have partly agreed on 
 eighteen hundred dollars, but nothing is yet 
 settled." 
 
 " Oh, I m glad of that. You don t stand com 
 mitted to Fithian in any way ?" 
 
 " Not as I understand it. I set my figures 
 at two thousand dollars ; he offered fifteen hun 
 dred. We have had several interviews ; and 
 eighteen hundred is the price he is now willing 
 to pay. I am to give him my answer this after 
 
 noon." 
 
THE GREAT HOTEL PROJECT. 77 
 
 " What will it be ?" 
 
 " I shall probably accept his offer." 
 
 " That is, if you do not get a better one ?" 
 
 " Exactly so." 
 
 " Suppose I were to offer you two thousand 
 dollars?" 
 
 u You ?" In some surprise. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 44 What do you want with that property, Mr. 
 Norman ?" 
 
 " What does Pithian want with it ?" 
 
 " I m sure I do not know. But he s got some 
 project in his head." 
 
 " Did he give you no intimation of what he 
 intended doing with it T 
 
 " No. I asked him ; but his reply was that 
 he wanted to put out some money, and thought 
 this would be a good investment." 
 
 " Well, friend Albright, to come straight to 
 business, I want this property, and will take it 
 at two thousand dollars." 
 
 " I wish you had come to me before," said the 
 
78 TIIE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 neighbor, bis manner growing serious. " If I 
 should accept your offer without first speaking 
 with Fithian, I would only get his ill-will-; and 
 you know what a vindictive sort of a man he 
 is." 
 
 "As I understand it, you are not in any 
 way committed to Fithian." 
 
 " I did not, in so many words, accept his offer 
 of eighteen hundred dollars : but we have been 
 talking about the matter for two or three days, 
 and he will think himself badly treated if I 
 should sell the property without giving him a 
 chance." 
 
 u Then, if he should offer to pay two thousand, 
 you would give him the preference." 
 
 " Ought I not to do so, Mr. Norman ? Would 
 it be treating him right, as things stand, for me 
 to sell the lot to another for a price he is willing 
 to pay ? You see, we are j ust on the eve of clos 
 ing the bargain." 
 
 Mr. Norman s face grew troubled. He did not 
 reply. 
 
THE GREAT HOTEL PROJECT. 79 
 
 " If I had only known that you wished to buy 
 this property, you should have had it without a 
 word. But as tilings stand now, I am not free 
 to bargain with you until I have seen Fithian." 
 
 " If he should offer two thousand dollars, will 
 you see me before closing with him?" 
 
 " Certainly. There s no hurry about the 
 matter." 
 
 When Fithian called on Mr. Albright for the 
 purpose of getting his final answer, he was told 
 that Mr. Norman would take the property at 
 two thousand dollars. His surprise was great, 
 and his indignation greater; for he understood 
 just what this meant. Once before Mr. Norman 
 had thrown himself across his path. In that 
 instance he had so completely barred his way, 
 that to go forward was impossible ; for then he 
 was young and poor, and without friends and 
 influence. For this, as we have seen, he had 
 never forgiven Mr. Norman, and was only wait 
 ing for an opportunity to try conclusions with 
 him again. And now he felt that his oppor- 
 
80 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 tunity was at hand. He had grown strong, and 
 rich, and influential. His money had given him 
 standing with the best people in Brantly. The 
 very fact that Mr. Norman was moving across 
 his path, and setting himself in the way of his 
 hotel project, only made stronger his purpose to 
 carry out this project. He would do it, he said to 
 himself, if only to let this man see who was 
 strongest in Brantly now. 
 
 " We had agreed upon eighteen hundred. That 
 was settled," he replied, with considerable 
 warmth of manner, when Mr. Albright had 
 informed him that he could get two thousand 
 dollars for the lot of ground. 
 
 " No ; I said that I would give you an answer 
 to-day." 
 
 " Who offered you two thousand dollars ? 
 Not Mr. Lyman!" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Is the party responsible ?" 
 
 " Perfectly. It will be cash down." 
 
 " What does he want with it?" 
 
THE GREAT HOTEL PROJECT. 81 
 
 " I don t know." 
 
 " Who is the man ? Or, are you just playing 
 with me in order to get more for the property 
 than it is worth ; that is, if I should be fool 
 enough to buy it at your figures ?" 
 
 " I ve never lied for money so far," Mr. Al 
 bright answered, with honest indignation flash 
 ing from his eyes ; " and it s rather too late to 
 begin. Mr. Norman is the man, if you wish to 
 know." 
 
 " Mr. Norman !" Fithian s surprise sent, for a 
 moment, the color out of his face. 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Norman. And you can always 
 count on his word." 
 
 A bitter execration broke from Fithian s lips ; 
 and in the excitement that followed he so far 
 lost all sense of worldly prudence as to declare 
 that Norman should not have the property if he 
 paid twice two thousand dollars for it a declara 
 tion that Mr. Albright did not fail to note. 
 
 " You ll give me the refusal of course," said 
 Fithian, as soon as his anger had cooled down. 
 6 
 
82 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 " The property is not really worth so much ; but 
 I ll take it at your original figures ; and here s 
 a hundred dollars to bind the bargain." 
 
 He drew out his pocket-book as he spoke, and 
 selecting a bank-bill, reached it towards Mr. Al 
 bright. But that person declined taking the bill 
 from his hand, 
 
 " I claim the refusal. It would be neither 
 right nor neighborly to let Norman have the 
 property if I stand ready to pay as much as he 
 will give." 
 
 " You shall have the refusal, Mr. Fithian. I 
 am willing to say that much." 
 
 " Very well. I ll take it at the price Norman 
 has offered." 
 
 " Or may offer ?" queried Mr. Albright. 
 
 The angry stains came back into Fithian s 
 face ; and another imprecation on Mr. Norman s 
 head fell from his lips. 
 
 " Yes ! For every dollar he puts down 
 I ll " 
 
 But Fithian checked himself ; for his worldly 
 
THE GREAT HOTEL PROJECT. 83 
 
 prudence was beginning to rebuke his weak pas 
 sion. He was showing too great eagerness about 
 the property. 
 
 " No, I won t say that, either. If the whining 
 old idiot offers more than two thousand dollars 
 for the lot, you d better take him up. There 
 are other properties in Brantly that can be had 
 for lower figures, any one of which will suit me 
 quite as well." 
 
 " Then, if I understand you, Mr. Fithian, I 
 am free to close with Mr. Norman should he 
 advance beyond two thousand dollars ?" 
 
 " Yes certainly ! Let him have it !" 
 
 Then, as one who reconsiders a matter, Fithian 
 said, with a reflective air, " No ; you had better 
 see me again should he increase his offer." 
 
 " Very well. If Mr. Norman bids higher, I 
 will let you know. If not, the property is yours 
 at two thousand dollars." 
 
 But Mr. Norman, as Fithian felt very certain 
 would be the case, did go higher, advancing his 
 offer to twenty-five hundred dollars. 
 
84 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 By this time, as intimated at the beginning 
 of the present chapter, all Brantly was in a fever 
 of excitement. There was scarcely a man, woman 
 or child who did not know that Mr. Fithian was 
 trying to purchase the large lot of ground oppo 
 site the Fountain Inn, and that Mr. Norman was 
 bidding against him each resolved to secure the 
 property. With every one on the alert, and 
 query, and suggestion passing from lip to lip, it 
 is not surprising that the truth found its way to 
 the surface. Before this contest between the 
 two men was over, all Brantly knew that a great 
 hotel had been projected, and that it was to be 
 built in the very centre of the town, should 
 Fithian be successful in his efforts to secure the 
 lot owned by Mr. Albright. Almost immediately 
 two parties began forming ; and the question as 
 to the effect of a large and well appointed hotel 
 on the material interests of the town was 
 warmly discussed by the people. 
 
 Most of the business men and property holders 
 were, either openly or secretly, in favor of the 
 
THE GREAT HOTEL PROJECT. 85 
 
 scheme. Mr. Lyman was very guarded in speech 
 at first ; but as he carefully noted the expression 
 of public sentiment, and observed the drift of 
 feeling, he let his influence and arguments be 
 come more and more pronounced, until, in the 
 end, he was among the strongest advocates of the 
 new hotel, and the new order of things that must 
 in his view surely follow its erection. 
 
 Mr. Lyman was a man of weight in Brantly. 
 As he went, so went a large number; and soon 
 the specious arguments used by him in discussing 
 the subject were repeated from one to another, 
 and widely accepted as true, .especially by the 
 young men of the town, who were sick of the 
 dull and stupid place, and elated over the visions 
 of progress and contact with the living world 
 that were presented to their minds. 
 
 For more than a week the bidding and counter 
 bidding went on. The people waited with in 
 tense interest for the result, while the two par 
 ties which had been formed assumed more dis 
 tinctive features, and set themselves in stronger 
 
86 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 opposition to each other. Gradually the truth 
 forced itself upon the mind of Mr. Norman. 
 The weight of public feeling was against him. 
 He no longer held a controlling influence in 
 Brantly ! 
 
 "He s a nuisance and must be put down !" 
 " It s a shame ! Setting himself in the way of 
 progress !" 
 
 " A perfect incubus on Brantly !" 
 " The days of old fogyism are numbered !" 
 So the changes were rung. It was hardly 
 possible for so much to be said against Mr. Nor 
 man as was said in the heat of discussion, with 
 out some of it coming to his ears. The tide had 
 turned suddenly and he felt it bearing strongly 
 against him. He stood up bravely and manfully; 
 but the tide swept in upon and around him, and 
 he saw, with a sad heart, that to stem it was im 
 possible. Mammon was against him. Every 
 owner of real estate in Brantly was to have the 
 value of his property doubled ; and every busi 
 ness man saw his gains increasing. The new 
 
THE GREAT HOTEL PROJECT. 87 
 
 hotel would bring an influx of strangers ; and 
 before a year had passed the town would be in 
 railroad connection with New York and other 
 large cities. 
 
 Already the price of real estate had begun to 
 rise ; and many did not hesitate to declare that 
 its value, under the mere prospect of getting a 
 new hotel, had advanced at least twenty per 
 cent. 
 
 Mr. Norman was about to make an offer of 
 five thousand dollars for the lot of ground, when 
 he discovered that Fithian had opened negotia 
 tions for another piece of land. Satisfied now 
 that he could not prevent the consummation of 
 a scheme that he felt sure would bring many sad 
 disasters upon the town he withdrew from the 
 contest, leaving his opponent to take the pro 
 perty for the sum of four thousand eight hundred 
 dollars, which was promptly paid, and the site 
 secured. 
 
 Mingled with the triumph that swelled the 
 heart of Dennis Fithian, was a feeling of anger 
 
88 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 against Mr. Norman, and a purpose to have his 
 revenge. 
 
 "He might just as well have put his hand 
 into my pocket and taken out three thousand dol 
 lars !" Was his declared statement of the case, 
 " and I ll have it out of him, see if I don t ! 
 He imagined that he owned Barntly was cock 
 of the walk ! But he knows another thing 
 now !" 
 
 Immediately on securing the ground on which 
 to build, half a dozen of the leading men in town 
 who had suddenly awakened to a consciousness 
 of the fact that they had been asleep while the 
 rest of the world was wide awake and taking 
 step with the progressive movement of the age, 
 met together and organized the " Brantly Hotel 
 Company," with a nominal capital of one hun 
 dred thousand dollars. Mr. Lyman was elected 
 president of the company, and Dennis Fithian 
 treasurer. In due time a charter was obtained, 
 and the books opened for subscription to the 
 stock, which was to be paid by instalments, as 
 
THE GREAT HOTEL PROJECT. 89 
 
 money was needed for building purposes. 
 Twenty per cent, was required to be paid in 
 on receipt of stock certificates, in order to secure 
 funds for a prompt commencement of the work. 
 
 The tide was setting all one way now, and 
 those who did not go with it, were tossed aside 
 into eddies, where, for the time, they drifted 
 about helplessly. 
 
 Within a month, ground was broken for the 
 new hotel, plans and specifications for which had 
 been obtained from a celebrated New York 
 architect. In the office of the company was to 
 be seen a finished drawing of the hotel, which 
 . was certainly a grand and imposing affair. In 
 order to give the beholder an impression of its 
 largeness and elegance, the architect had been 
 instructed to introduce the " Fountain Inn" into 
 his drawing, and to dwarf its dimensions while 
 he exaggerated those of the new hotel standing 
 opposite. The contrast was very striking, and 
 gave an impression of meanness and shabbiness 
 on the one side, and of imposing grandeur on the 
 
90 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 other. For the first time, the people of Brantly 
 began to feel ashamed of their public house, and 
 to speak of it as a relic of non-progressive past. 
 
 All the best masons and carpenters within a 
 distance of ten miles around obtained work on 
 the new building, and were able to get an advance 
 of wages over the old prices. Money became 
 more plentiful among the people, and circulated 
 freely from hand to hand. A tide of prosperity, 
 such as it had never known, was setting in upon 
 Brantly ; and the now wide-awake town was 
 happy. Even before the foundations of the 
 " Brantly House," were fairly laid, the railroad 
 project was under discussion, and some of the 
 most sanguine saw the iron track stretching 
 fur away to the sea-board, and heard the greeting 
 whistle of the locomotive as it bore in upon the 
 town its long train of cars full freighted with 
 passengers and merchandise. 
 
 There were a few clear-headed and far-seeing 
 men in Brantly, who were not able to discover 
 in a new and splendidly-equipped hotel, with 
 
THE (ill WAT HOTEL PROJECT. 01 
 
 rooms enough to accommodate nearly two hun 
 dred guests, a source of wealth and prosperity to 
 the people ; nor in the talked of railroad a pro 
 mising investment for their money. But not 
 many came over to their way of thinking. Had 
 not the waves of prosperity already begun to set 
 in, though the walls of the new building were 
 scarcely yet above the ground? All the 
 mechanics in town were hard at work and earn 
 ing good wages ; and what was more, spending 
 their wages at the stores, and making money more 
 plentiful than it had been at any time within 
 the memory of the oldest inhabitant. Added 
 to this, was an unusual influx of strangers from 
 New York and other places, who were in some 
 way connected with the new hotel scheme, or who 
 came hither in the hope of getting some advan 
 tage out of it ; so that Jacob Grover s modest 
 house of entertainment was often taxed to its 
 full capacity, These were solid facts against 
 which argument was broken to pieces. 
 
92 1IYE11 OPENS A SALOON. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 HYER OPENS A SALOON. 
 
 rilHOUGH discomfited, disheartened and dis 
 tressed, Mr. Norman did not let his hands 
 fall listlessly, nor his voice sink into silence. A 
 watchman on the wall of the city, he saw the 
 sword corning, and did not fail to send forth his 
 cry of warning to the people ; and his cry was 
 the more earnest as he saw the peril became more 
 and more imminent. 
 
 According to contract, the new hotel was to 
 be ready for guests in six months after the ground 
 was broken, which was in the month of Septem 
 ber. But, when the next March came, the pro 
 mise of completion did not lie within two or 
 three, or even four months. Things had not 
 
HYER OPENS A SADOON. 93 
 
 gone exactly in the line of the programme. An 
 drew Hyer, who was to be manager of the hotel, 
 had talked largely of New York capital, and of 
 the liberal subscriptions he would be able to get 
 in that city. At least half the stock was to be 
 taken there; and as shrewd and clear-headed a 
 man, and as apt a reader of human nature as 
 Roger Lyman, Esq., suffered himself to credit 
 this coarse and specious pretender with the in 
 fluence in Wall street, which he so boastfully 
 claimed. Of the promised New York subscrip 
 tions, only five thousand dollars were to be found 
 on the books of the company, and these were 
 represented by a single name, that of Andrew 
 Hyer ! On this only the first instalment of 
 twenty per cent, had been paid. 
 
 The reader has already guessed at the cause 
 of delay in completing the new hotel lack of 
 funds. Of the fifty thousand dollars subscribed 
 in Brantly and neighborhood, only twenty-five 
 thousand had been paid in. As early as the 
 month of March, the whole of this sum was 
 
THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 expended ; and a new instalment had to be called 
 for. By this time, sober second thought was 
 troubling the minds of most of these sanguine 
 projectors. But to stop where they were and 
 abandon the hotel scheme, was not only to sink 
 the money which had gone into it, but to give 
 up that future of prosperity for the town on 
 which they had built so many golden hopes. No, 
 this was not to be thought of for an instant. 
 The work must go on. A new effort was made 
 to sell stock ; but though it was offered at a 
 discount of thirty per cent, on the par value, 
 not a single additional share could be disposed 
 of. Nothing was left but to call in an instal 
 ment and keep the work going. 
 
 The sober second thought, of which we have 
 spoken, led several holders of the stock to act 
 on the prudent maxim, that it is a folly to send 
 good money after bad. The consequence was, 
 that instead of paying in the new instalment 
 called for, many of these let their stock be 
 forfeited. 
 
HYER OPENS A SALOON. 95 
 
 Spring had come, and unless the work were 
 pushed with great vigor, the hotel would not be 
 in readiness for the crowd of summer visitors 
 that were to come flocking into Brantly immedi 
 ately on the announcement that its grand hotel 
 was ready for the reception of guests. To com 
 plete it on the original plan was impossible, even 
 if there had been sufficient money in the trea 
 sury. The best that could be done was to finish 
 and equip the right wing of the building, and 
 let the left wing remain as it was until the next 
 year. With a careful and economical expendi 
 ture of money, which involved the abandonment 
 of quite a number of imposing architectural 
 features, and an entire change in the style of fur 
 nishing, it was thought that for twenty or at most 
 for twenty-five thousand dollars, the hotel could 
 be made ready for the reception of guests by the 
 first of July. To accomplish this the directors 
 of the company, under the lead of Mr. Lyman 
 and Mr. Fithian, set themselves vigorously to 
 work. Instalment after instalment was called 
 
96 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 in rapidly, resulting each time in forfeitures of 
 stock by weak or discouraged holders, until 
 these two men found themselves standing almost 
 alone under the crushing weight of their magni 
 ficent enterprise. In order to meet the steady 
 demand that came in upon the treasurer, pro 
 perty had to be sold or mortgaged, and they saw 
 the substantial things in which they had trusted 
 changing into the doubtful and unsubstantial. 
 
 Meanwhile, Andrew Hyer had grown impa 
 tient of delay. There was a ripe harvest field 
 in Brantly, waiting for him who should first 
 thrust in his sickle a township with a popula 
 tion of several thousand, and not a single open 
 bar in the whole district ! The people were 
 ready for new ideas ; for more freedom, and for 
 progress. The excitement and discussions grow 
 ing out of the hotel project had broken them 
 loose from the old bond of prejudice. Bar-rooms 
 were not such frightful things after all. The 
 " Brantly House," first class in everything, was 
 to have its stock of choice liquors, and its bar 
 
HYER OPENS A SALOON. 97 
 
 for their dispensation. Why wait six months 
 or a year for an opportunity to make gain of this 
 people all ready to let the gain be made ? 
 Why not begin their education in intemperance 
 at once, and form and strengthen an appetite 
 that should waste their substance, and give him 
 an opportunity to build for himself out of this 
 waste? Then was not money circulating more 
 freely than it had ever .circulated here before? 
 All things were auspicious. Mr. Norman was of 
 no more account. He might talk, and stir up a 
 feeble opposition ; but his influence was gone. 
 The people had grown away from him. 
 
 Acting from these conclusions, and backed by 
 Dennis Fithian, Andrew Hyer had thrown open 
 on the previous New Year s day an elegantly- 
 furnished saloon. This opening day was made a 
 free day, and all Brantly invited to eat and drink, 
 and gaze at the glass and the gildings, the mar 
 ble and the walnut, to their heart s content. 
 
 The days of non-progressive stupid old fogyism 
 7 
 
98 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 were past for Brantly, and men drank over the 
 fact, and shook hands over the fact. 
 
 " At last we have a chap brave enough to take 
 this temperance bull by the horns," said one, 
 speaking out his mind under the influence of a 
 second glass. 
 
 " Here s to the health of Percy Norman !" 
 cried another, whose third glass had made him a 
 little reckless. 
 
 But Brantly, even under the excitement of 
 Hyer s free liquor, was not quite ready for such 
 an insult to the name of this good old man, whom 
 the young men present had known from their 
 boyhood, and whom all respected for the kind 
 ness, integrity and open-handed charity which 
 had ever distinguished him and made him dear 
 to the people. 
 
 A deep silence fell upon the noisy bar-room ; 
 then a hiss cut the still air sharply, followed by 
 another and another. 
 
 " He may be a little show, and behind the 
 times ; but he s one of the best men living, and 
 
HYEIl OPENS A SALOON. 99 
 
 you must keep your hands off of him, young 
 man !" spoke out one, addressing the person who 
 had trespassed too far on the sentiments of 
 Brantly. Both had been drinking more freely 
 than their heads, unused to strong drink, could 
 bear. 
 
 " Not yours to command !" was angrily 
 retorted, " I ll say and do what I like, without 
 asking your leave." 
 
 " Keep your hands off of Mr. Norman, young 
 man ! I have said that and I mean it !" 
 
 Two faces were hot with anger; and two pairs 
 of eyes looked fiercely into each other. 
 
 u He a sneaking old hypocrite; nosing about 
 after other people s affairs instead of minding his 
 own !" 
 
 " You re a liar, and a slanderer !" was the pas 
 sionate rejoiner. 
 
 It is not surprising that blows followed; nor 
 that a young man, who happened to belong 
 to one of the leading families in town, carried 
 with him, for weeks afterwards, in the shape of 
 
100 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 a black eye, the signs of a drunken brawl, as 
 among the first fruits of the new order of things 
 that was to thereafter reign in Brantly. There 
 were other fruits besides ; for the influx of life 
 into this evil tree which had been planted in 
 their midst was very strong, and ripened the 
 fruit quickly. 
 
 Two men w r ho had been close friends for years 
 fell into a dispute while under the influence of 
 Hyer s tempting liquor ; then quarrelled, almost 
 coming to blows. They had gone into the new 
 saloon together, fast friends ; they came out with 
 a bitter feeling of wrong and antagonism rank 
 ling in their hearts ; a feeling which, unhappily, 
 did not die out with the sober and repentant 
 morning that followed this most unhappy New 
 Year s day, but increased continually under one 
 real or imagined provocation after another, until 
 the two men found themselves in court, each 
 bent on ruining the other, if possible. Young 
 men who had never been under the influence of 
 strong drink before, went home half stupefied 
 
HYER OPENS, A SALOON. 101 
 
 that night to sadden, if not half break the hearts 
 of those who loved them. 
 
 The shadow of a great evil, which was to 
 drink the blood of this people, fell over the town 
 that day. There was not a man or woman in 
 Brantly who did not feel the dusk and chill it 
 threw into the air. To most eyes there was a 
 changed aspect in everything, when the town 
 became astir on the next morning. Many 
 took thought of this change, half wondering 
 about it ; but many more felt the change and 
 took no thought. 
 
 " A grand success !" This was Dennis Fithian s 
 ejaculation, as the last man went out of the 
 saloon on New Year s night, and he stood alone 
 with his friend Andrew Hyer. 
 
 " Splendid !" was the gratified response. 
 
 " Poor Norman ! He ll be heart-broken !" 
 
 The two men looked into each other s faces and 
 laughed triumphantly. Twenty-four hours after 
 wards their spirits were less jubilant. The great 
 flood-tide of apparent success which had set in 
 
102 THE BAR-ROQMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 so strongly, did not return on the second day. 
 The eclat of the opening was past ; and there 
 was no more free eating and drinking. In addi 
 tion to these adverse causes, was the town talk 
 over the quarrels which had taken place in the 
 saloon, and the estrangements between old friends 
 already grown out of them. It was bad fruit, 
 and its bitter taste was in the mouth of almost 
 every one. 
 
 During the forenoon of the second day but few 
 persons ventured inside of Hyer s saloon. Some 
 threw it furtive glances in passing, and some 
 stopped for a moment to take a survey of its 
 gaudy front and inviting window. The first 
 day s doings therein had not been altogether 
 satisfactory to the people, and the more cautious 
 felt inclined to wait for a clear expression of 
 public sentiment before being seen to enter its 
 doors in the broad daylight. 
 
 In the afternoon customers were more fre 
 quent; but not until night closed over the town 
 was the state of things at all satisfactory to Hyer 
 
HYER OPENS A SALOON. 103 
 
 and his friend. There was no jubilation when 
 the doors closed and the two men were again 
 alone in the silent bar-room; but a mutual 
 strengthening of each other. 
 
 " A little slow," said Hyer, " but 111 fetch em. 
 Never you fear for that !" 
 
 " The thing was overdone yesterday." 
 
 " Of course. It s always so the first day if you 
 go off with a rush and rush is the word. But 
 good seed was sown ; you may count on that. 
 And you may trust me to gather in the har 
 vest." 
 
 " Oh, Fin not discouraged. Don t think that 
 for a moment," answered Fithian. And yet for 
 all his confident words, he was not able to keep 
 his discouragement out of his voice. He was to 
 be a sharer in the profits of this new enterprise ; 
 and his count of the gains had been large. He 
 was feeling the need of these gains ; for, though 
 a rich man, as riches were estimated in Brantly, 
 he had not been able to make his already large 
 investment in the new hotel without a draft on 
 
104 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 his business to an extent that was not only 
 causing uneasiness to his partner, but embarrass 
 ing their operations. Already Mr. Grubb had 
 objected to any farther use of the firm s capital, 
 and given notice that if more money were 
 required for the hotel scheme, it must be raised 
 outside of their business ; and he was in a posi 
 tion to have his say in this matter. 
 
 There were golden hopes in the mind of Fithian 
 which the second day s business in the new 
 saloon had failed to brighten. Having permitted 
 his fancy to run away with him, he had exag 
 gerated the thirst of Brantly. The scores of 
 men and boys who came and went all through 
 the opening day, scarcely exceeded in number 
 the regular customers he had anticipated. No 
 wonder the falling off of the second day was a 
 damper on his spirits, which no confident talk of 
 his friend and partner in this business could 
 remove. 
 
 What to Hyer would be success, to him would 
 be next to failure. He wanted thousands, w r here 
 
HYER OPENS A SALOON. 105 
 
 Hyer needed only hundreds. The one could 
 wait for this seed, which had been planted in 
 virgin soil, to grow up and bear fruit the other 
 could not. 
 
 By the close of the first week Dennis 
 Fithian s hope in the new business was all 
 gone. That it would pay him a good interest 
 on the money invested had been demonstrated, 
 but as a source of large and rapid income 
 what he was after it had no sure promise. 
 He had not gone into it as a good interest- 
 paying investment, but with the hope of secur 
 ing immediate gains. Hyer had no such exag 
 gerated ideas. He understood the business, and 
 knew that if a good run could be obtained before 
 others came rushing in through the door he was 
 first to open, that a harvest rich enough to meet 
 his anticipations would be reaped. 
 
 "If?" But the " if" came in; it generally 
 does, as a check to our best-laid schemes. Be 
 fore the close of the first week two more bar 
 rooms were opened in the town ; one of them in 
 
106 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 the poorer district, where most of the mecha 
 nics and working people resided. Scarcely a 
 month elapsed before liquor was sold in a dozen 
 different places. 
 
 Did Mr. Norman fold his hands in despair, as 
 he saw this flood of evil break in upon his 
 beloved town? Not he. A faithful watchman 
 on the walls, he had given a cry of warning, as 
 he saw the enemy advancing. His cry had not 
 been heeded. An enemy, pitiless as death and 
 hell, was over the wall and in the city, and the 
 sword had already begun its dreadful work 
 among the people. Brave as faithful, he gath 
 ered about him a small band of true and 
 earnest men whom no glitter of tinsel could 
 blind and no promise of gain seduce, and girding 
 on his sword, stood forth ready for battle. But 
 the enemy laughed him to scorn. What cared 
 he for the poor array drawn up against him ? 
 He would not so much as pause in his work of 
 rapine to sweep this little opposing band out of 
 
HYER OPENS A SALOON. 107 
 
 existence ; it looked so weak and contemptible 
 in bis eyes ! 
 
 But in truth and right there is a living power. 
 All the forces of heaven flow into them ; and 
 the influence of men who are on the side of 
 truth and right can never be wholly lost. Mr. 
 Norman made a rallying point, and gathered in 
 recruits from day to day ; and while the work 
 of evil went on, and the gener.il public sentiment 
 became more and more demoralized, he was 
 active in the formation of another and better 
 public sentiment, the voice of which began, ere 
 long, to be heard above the " Io triumphe !" of 
 the enemy. 
 
 " It is of no use, Mr. Norman," said one and 
 another, as he talked with the people, and 
 addressed them in public, and scattered tem 
 perance tracts and documents in every house ; 
 "you cannot stop this thing now. The law pro 
 tects these men in a business that pays them 
 well; and gain is the god that most men 
 worship." 
 
108 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 " If I can save a single soul from the curse 
 that has fallen upon our town, it will be worth 
 all the effort I shall make ; and I trust to save 
 many," was the steady answer. 
 
 What the law allowed, and no more, was 
 permitted to those who went into the evil traffic. 
 Mr. Norman saw to it that no man who applied 
 for a license to open a bar-room in Brantly 
 obtained one without meeting the provisions of 
 the state law to the very letter ; and if any dis 
 regarded the law, or made an effort to evade it, 
 he was promptly brought into court and pun 
 ished ; for in the beginning of this fight with 
 intemperance, neither the courts nor the juries 
 in Brantly had come under the influence of 
 that whiskey power which has controlled legis 
 lation, obstructed justice, and set at defiance 
 every principle of right arid humanity. In the 
 outset he did not find it hard to hold the fiery 
 stream which was pouring through the town to 
 the prescribed limits established by law. Every 
 trespass or evasion was met by prompt legal 
 
HYER OPENS A SALOON. 109 
 
 action. But evil is for ever seeking to find a way 
 through its limitations. It has no honor, no 
 conscience, and no regard for anything but 
 itself. 
 
 According to the law, the sale of liquor to 
 minors was forbidden ; also to men known as 
 drunkards. It was chiefly under the clause touch 
 ing minors that Mr. Norman brought trouble 
 upon the tavern keepers, for at the commence 
 ment of this traffic there were no drunkards in 
 the town. He had nearly all the mothers in 
 Brantly on his side ; and they were watchful 
 over their boys and very keen-sighted. When 
 ever the breath, or any other sign, gave evidence 
 to one of these mothers that her son had been 
 visiting a bar-room, word was sent to Mr. Nor 
 man ; and then a watch would be set upon the 
 lad. Not being on guard, he could be easily 
 traced to the saloon whither the desire for liquor, 
 or the companionship to be found there, impelled 
 him to go. The proper evidence was then ob 
 tained, if he were seen to drink. Prosecution 
 
110 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 followed immediately. For awhile, Mr. Nor 
 man was able to hold these liquor sellers account 
 able for every fairly proven breach of the law. 
 But, gradually, one technical obstruction after 
 another was thrown in his way; and judges and 
 juries began to be affected by legal quibbles and 
 doubts about evidence. Things seen in open 
 daylight, and testified to with a positiveness 
 that no cross-questionings or the bul lyings of 
 counsel- could shake, were not found to be proven. 
 Judges made weaker and more halting charges to 
 the juries ; while the juries more readily found 
 loop-holes through which the accused ones might 
 escape. Mr. Norman troubled the courts. 
 Judges began to grow impatient with this perti 
 nacity in pressing his cases ; and opposing counsel 
 grew less considerate towards the " unrelenting 
 old man," as they called him in their first depart 
 ure from a respectful attitude toward one whom 
 they had so long known and so highly regarded. 
 It was not a great while before such epithets as 
 " nuisance ; " old busy-body ;" " mean in- 
 
HYER OPENS A SALOON. Ill 
 
 former;" - stick in the mud;" "relic of the 
 past;" and the like, were thrown at him in open 
 court. 
 
 This cruel discourtesy hurt Mr. Norman; and 
 the more so, as it unveiled to him the true char 
 acter of certain men with whom he had been in 
 friendly relations for years, and whom he had 
 regarded as honorable gentlemen. 
 
 " He holds himself at a lower price than I had 
 thought," was his quiet remark, in regard to one 
 of these men, Roger Lyman into whose hands 
 most of the law-violating whiskey sellers gave 
 their cases for defence, and to whose skill in 
 their management and influence with the juries 
 they so often owed their escape from merited pun 
 ishment. " But there is no price large enough 
 for the honor he has so cheaply bartered away." 
 
 " He must defend and save his clients if within 
 the bounds of possibility," was answered; " he 
 pledges himself to that when he undertakes the 
 management of their cases." 
 
112 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 " No man s duty to another requires him to 
 sell his soul." 
 
 " That is speaking too harshly, Mr. Norman. 
 You hurt yourself and the cause you advocate by 
 such sweeping and unwarranted inferences." 
 
 " How does a man sell his soul ?" There was 
 no reply, and Mr. Norman answered his own 
 question. " By casting in his lot with evil-doers, 
 and sharing their gains. This is one of the many 
 ways in which men make merchandise of their 
 souls and sell them to the wicked one." 
 
 "I do not see what this has to do with Mr. 
 Lyman s professional life. Learned in the law, 
 and skilled in all matters pertaining thereto, he 
 gives to men who have cases in court the benefit 
 of his legal knowledge. Is there anything wrong 
 in this ?" 
 
 " Because a man is a lawyer, is he any the 
 less under the obligations of good citizenship?" 
 queried Mr. Norman. 
 
 "Of course not." 
 
HYER OPENS A SALOON. 113 
 
 " Will a good citizen help an evil man to evade 
 the law ?" There was no reply. 
 
 " Or, by fair means or foul, promote the escape 
 of a criminal, that he may still prey upon the 
 community ?" 
 
 "Until a man is found guilty, the law re 
 gards him as innocent." 
 
 " I am not arraigning the law, but men. If I 
 see a man steal, do I not know him to be a thief, 
 even though the law should acquit him through 
 the cunning devices of his counsel ? A man s 
 responsibility is absolute, not technical. If I, 
 knowing a man to be a thief, help him to evade 
 the law, I am guilty of doing violence to the 
 law, and forfeit my honor. There are not two 
 codes of honor ; one for a lawyer and the other 
 for an unprofessional citizen." 
 
 " Men are often accused wrongly. It is the 
 lawyer s duty to question the evidence at every 
 point, and to do his utmost to establish the inno 
 cence of his client." 
 
 " What if he knows him to be guilty ?" 
 8 
 
114 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 " In that case " But the gentleman with 
 
 whom Mr. Norman was talking checked himself 
 before filling out the sentence. He was not sure 
 that it would be well to commit himself to the 
 declaration he was about making. 
 
 " He would not stand innocent before God or 
 man," said Mr. Norman, emphatically, " and 
 Mr. Lyman is not innocent. I hold him largely 
 responsible for the rapid growth of a great evil, 
 the curse of which is at every man s door. But 
 for him, and a few like him, I could have held it 
 within the bounds prescribed by law ; could have 
 set a limit to its aggressions, and made it circum 
 spect instead of defiant. No man can do an evil 
 thing himself, nor give aid to the doers of an evil 
 thing, without reaping in some measure of the 
 harvest that is sure to come ; and Mr. Lyman 
 cannot escape from the operations of a law that 
 works out its results with unerring certainty. 
 The curse will not linger on his threshold, but 
 pass over." 
 
A GALA DAY IN BRANTLY. 115 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A GALA DAY IN BRANTLY. 
 
 TT was a gala day in Brantly. The new hotel, 
 so far as the outside was concerned, had 
 been pushed to completion, and presented a very 
 imposing aspect. Inside, only the centre and 
 right wing were furnished and in readiness for 
 guests. As to the furnishing, not a great deal 
 can be said. Two things had been mainly re 
 garded, show and cheapness. To the unin- 
 structed eye, arid the uncultivated taste, all 
 looked grand and beautiful. Rich color, glitter 
 and tinsel, were everywhere. 
 
 It was, as we have said, a gala day in Brantly, 
 for the new hotel, all ready for a rush of busi 
 ness, had been thrown open, and the managers 
 
116 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 were having a jubilation. There was a dinner, 
 with invited guests from New York and other 
 cities, among whom were several representatives 
 of the press. Flags were flying from all the 
 windows ; and a band discoursed loud music, at 
 intervals, all through the day and evening. 
 Not since the previous New Year s day, when 
 the first drinking saloon was opened, had there 
 been so much excitement in the town. Business 
 was almost entirely suspended ; and people were 
 on the streets, or roaming about the hotel from 
 morning until night. All the saloons and bar 
 rooms were crowded. 
 
 It was hard on to the middle of July when this 
 event took place. Since the first of the month, 
 advertisements of the new hotel, with glowing 
 descriptions of its modern improvements and 
 arrangements for the comfort of guests, and of 
 the health and beauty of Brantly and the sur 
 rounding neighborhood, had been appearing in 
 the daily papers of most of the large Atlantic 
 cities. Many applications had been received, 
 
A GALA DAY IN BRANTLY. 117 
 
 and many persons who were looking for summer 
 boarding had come to see what kind of a place 
 this Brantly was. 
 
 If the house had been ready by the first of 
 July, a large part of the rooms might have been 
 engaged. But the fifteenth was too late for most 
 families in search of pleasant localities wherein 
 to spend the hot weather ; and the consequence 
 was, that only twenty rooms out of the forty 
 which had been made ready for guests, were so 
 far taken. 
 
 The dinner was a great affair. Roger Lyman 
 was in the place of honor at the head of the 
 table, and made a glowing speech " over the 
 walnuts and the wine," in which Brantly was 
 represented as starting up from her long sleep, 
 shaking her vigorous limbs, and setting a foot in 
 advance preparatory to a forward spring. He 
 talked to Brantly, to New York, to America, to 
 Europe, to the world ! Representing Brantly, 
 he held out his hand in token of universal 
 brotherhood. No longer asleep, isolated, un- 
 
118 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 known, Brantly was thrilling with the new life 
 which had been poured into her veins, and was 
 panting for the race set before her. Brantly 
 meant to be heard from. Brantly meant to write 
 herself so high on the list of progress, enterprise, 
 wealth and social advancement, that her name 
 would be the synonym for all these ! 
 
 It did not escape the observation of Mr. Ly- 
 man s friends that his manner, as w r ell as his 
 speech, were a little wild at times. After the 
 toasts and speeches, came comic songs, humorous 
 recitations, uproarious laughter, and a general 
 giving up of manly dignity, until, at length, the 
 scene was little more than a bacchanalian orgie, 
 which was kept up until a late hour. 
 
 There was a great deal of heavy sleeping in 
 Brantly during the night that followed this 
 memorable day ; whether from excessive fatigue, 
 free potations or from minds at rest and satisfied, 
 we will not say. And there was, also, if that too 
 must be told, a great deal of wakefulness. Many 
 of the sleepers, if they dreamed at all, had golden 
 
A GALA DAY IN BRANTLY. 119 
 
 visions; but to the watchers and the waking, 
 came haunting fears, and sorrowful forebodings. 
 Among these was Mrs. Roger Lyman. She had 
 looked for her husband and son to return from the 
 dinner as early in the evening as ten o clock. But 
 when the time wore on until the hour of twelve, 
 the sense of uneasiness and concern which had 
 been troubling her all day and through the even 
 ing became like a heavy weight in her heart. Not 
 vague nor idle were the fears and anxieties that 
 oppressed her mind. What others had seen and 
 spoken of, she had seen also. From the time 
 Hyer opened his saloon scarcely a day v^eni by 
 that she did not detect the odor of wine or beer 
 on her husband s breath. He was away from 
 home more frequently in the evenings than 
 before ; and often, on his return, brought with 
 him the unmistakable signs of where he had 
 been. 
 
 No wife who loves her husband, and who feels 
 that all her happiness in this world is bound up 
 in his well-being and well-doing, can note the 
 
120 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 odor of drink on his breath, without a feeling of 
 trouble. It may be slight; but it will surely 
 come ; and the oftener she notes it the stronger 
 will be this feeling. It had been growing in Mrs. 
 Lyman s heart for many months, until now it was 
 a perpetual concern, the shadow of which lay in 
 her eyes and over her thoughtful face. 
 
 But not as a wife only was she concerned. 
 The mother s heart had cause for alarm. Her 
 only son, born with all her gentle instincts and 
 refinement of character, had grown up to man 
 hood, bearing on every lineament of his fresh, 
 young face the signs of a pure life and the pro 
 mise of a bright and honorable future. He had 
 passed safely through the temptations of college 
 companionship, and was now earnestly pursuing 
 the study of law in his father s office. In a few 
 months he would be admitted to the bar. His 
 age was twenty-two. 
 
 Up to the time when his relish for a good 
 glass of wine, which he was pretty sure to get 
 at Dennis Fithian s, brought Mr. Lyinan into 
 
A GALA DAY IN BRANTLY. 121 
 
 association with Andrew Hyer, his son had few 
 aspirations beyond the role of a successful 
 country lawyer; though he meant to be at the 
 head of his profession in the courts where he 
 practised. To gain this eminence he knew that 
 he must work and wait. But it was not long after 
 the event to which we have referred, before the 
 parties who had become interested with Mr. Ly- 
 man in the hotel scheme made frequent visits to 
 his office, where many and long discussions were 
 had over the new enterprise. To these Horace 
 Lyman could not but listen with interest ; and 
 he very naturally went over to his father s way 
 of thinking. To think affirmatively on any 
 question of morals or conduct, usually results in 
 action when the opportunity comes. It is not 
 at all surprising then that, taking both the - pre 
 cept and example of his father as a rule, the 
 young man, seeing little harm or danger in a 
 glass of liquor, should be led into an occasional 
 indulgence with his young friends at Hyer s 
 
THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 saloon, after that door to ruin was opened in 
 the town. 
 
 The two parties into which the people soon 
 became separated, as the hotel progressed and 
 the new order of things its projectors were to 
 establish in Brantly began to shadow itself forth, 
 came naturally into wordy conflict, and the town 
 was agitated by their discussions. Mr. Ly man s 
 office was the head-quarters, so to speak, of the 
 progressive men, as they were pleased to style 
 themselves ; and there the most specious argu 
 ments in favor of stimulants, as a natural want 
 of the bodily organism, were to be heard. No 
 man argued so learnedly and conclusively as 
 Mr. Lyman himself. Here, too, men discussed 
 questions of social and political economy ; finance 
 and the laws of trade, and the development of 
 industries. Always these discussions had their 
 starting-point in the new hotel, back to which 
 they as surely came; and the grand conclusion 
 certain to be reached was, that through this hotel 
 would be opened for Brantly a way of prosperity 
 
A GALA DAY IN BRANTLY. 123 
 
 that must in less than a decade more than quad 
 ruple its wealth and population. The opinions 
 advanced and the conclusions reached in Mr. 
 Lyman s office were taken forth and re-stated 
 and re-argued among the people. It was mar 
 vellous how wise and learned on these subjects 
 many became ; and how speciously they could 
 argue on the side of drinking and progress. 
 
 Plow easily young Horace Lyman was drawn 
 over to the wrong way of thinking can readily 
 be seen. He was like a partisan in politics who 
 sees the newspapers of one side only. Day after 
 day he heard certain doctrines asserted ; and 
 maintained by facts, statistics and specious argu 
 ments, that few of the visitors to his father s 
 office attempted to gainsay. It is no wonder 
 that he rested in the common sentiment so posi 
 tively expressed by those around him, many 
 of whom were men of twice his years, experi 
 ence and observation. A circumstance that 
 committed him more entirely to the hotel scheme, 
 was the fact that he had been elected secretary 
 
124 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 to the company at a salary of one thousand 
 dollars a year ; and that a great deal of business 
 connected with the new building passed through 
 his hands. This business had taken him to New 
 York several times; and once it kept him in 
 that city for over a week. On his return after 
 this prolonged visit, his mother saw the first 
 change in him which gave her the alarm. Just 
 what it meant she did not know ; but that it 
 meant evil and danger her sinking heart too 
 surely foreboded. 
 
 From this time Mrs. Ly man s jealous observa 
 tion of her son was never intermitted. Her eyes 
 were on him in his going out and his coming in. 
 She hearkened to all he said, and watched the 
 drift of his sentiments. Slowly, fighting with 
 her fears at every step, the sad and sorrowful 
 conclusion forced itself upon her mind that he 
 was in the flow of a current that was bearing 
 him out upon a dangerous sea. Every day he 
 seemed to be going a little away from her. The 
 lovelight was fading in his beautiful eyes, and 
 
A GALA DAY IN BRANTLY. 125 
 
 the tenderness out of his voice. Or, was it only 
 a fancy ? Was not this change due more to the 
 earnestness with which he was devoting himself 
 to work and study, than to any loss of love for 
 his mother ? Is a mother s heart easily de 
 ceived ? 
 
 Long before that gala day in Brantly, had the 
 heart of Mrs. Lyman been sorely troubled many, 
 many times. Now it was for her son, now for 
 her husband, and now for her daughter, whose 
 lover was already showing palpable signs of 
 indulgence in liquor the thing she had so much 
 feared if temptation should ever come in his 
 way. The young men of the town had grown 
 up together from boyhood, and a few of those 
 who had been well educated and were of average 
 intelligence, used often to meet for friendly inter 
 course and mental improvement. It was not 
 long after the new saloon became one of the 
 popular places of resort, before in the meetings 
 together of these young men mental improvement 
 ceased and moral deterioration began. Often, 
 
126 THE BAll-llOUMS AT BllANTLY. 
 
 instead of books and essays, and discussions on 
 politics, history, and the progress of ideas in the 
 world, there would be a supper at Hyer s, with 
 cards, and, of course, a few bottles of wine. 
 Songs and stories, not always of the fittest sort, 
 took, on these occasions, the place of intellectual 
 culture. 
 
 Horace Lyrnan and Frank Sylvester were 
 favorites among their companions, and a supper 
 was rarely given without an invitation being 
 extended to both of them. There was another 
 danger in their way a danger to which they 
 had never been exposed before. Up to the 
 period at which our story commences, no stimu 
 lating beverages of any kind had ever been 
 served among the refreshments at a social party. 
 But the progressive element was growing away 
 from the old customs and narrow prejudices 
 which had so long held the people, and good 
 society in Brantly began to follow in the wake 
 of good society elsewhere. First one, and then 
 another gave wine with their entertainments; 
 
A GALA DAY IN BRANTLY. 131 
 
 "Of course I will." 
 
 A brief, uneasy silence. 
 
 " Get him alongside of you at the table." 
 
 " I ll try." 
 
 " And don t let him drink too much. You 
 can have a good influence over him." 
 
 " I will do nry best ; but Frank is so fond of 
 good eating and drinking ; and doesn t seem to 
 have any control over his appetite." 
 
 Horace checked himself. He was saying too 
 much and thus increasing his mother s anxiety. 
 
 " Not a particle of control ; and here lies his 
 great peril. This new order of things which you 
 and your father say is going to send in upon as 
 a flood-tide of prosperty, will be the cause, I fear, 
 of this young man s ruin !" 
 
 " No, no, mother! Push these idle fears out 
 of your mind. Frank may get a little off his bal 
 ance at first ; but he ll come out all right." 
 
 " He is far too weak of purpose now ; and far 
 too self-indulgent to leave much hope of his com 
 ing out right. Could I have known that this 
 
132 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 curse of drink would fall upon our town, I would 
 never have given my consent to his engagement 
 to your sister. It was just this that I most 
 feared. But I thought we were free from such 
 a danger. Just think of your sister as the wife 
 of a drunkard ! It makes me shudder 1" 
 
 " If Frank should take to indulging too freely, 
 the engagement must be broken off." 
 
 66 Easier said than done." 
 
 " It must be. You and father have only to 
 say, < No ! " 
 
 " The No of father and mother is not always 
 regarded by the child. There have been many 
 instances in which a girl has clung to a dissi 
 pated lover, and married him in spite of all 
 opposition." 
 
 "Marie will not be one of these." 
 
 " I am not so sure." 
 
 " When she sees how he is drifting, should he 
 get away from safe moorings, she will discard 
 him as unworthy of her love." 
 
A GALA DAY IN BRANTLY. 133 
 
 " I fear not. He has begun to drift already, 
 and Marie knows it." 
 
 " Why do you say that, mother ?" 
 
 " There are signs which cannot be mistaken, 
 and my eyes have seen them. Instead of the 
 effect you imagine, they have, so far, only drawn 
 her closer to him." 
 
 " Impossible ! A girl with Marie s strong, 
 good sense is not going to cast in her lot with a 
 man who is in danger of becoming a slave to 
 intemperance. A weak and imaginative girl 
 might, under the influence of some heroic fancy, 
 do so wild a thing, but not our Marie." 
 
 The young man turned away as he said this. 
 " Time is passing, and I must go," he added, in 
 a lighter voice. " Don t trouble yourself about 
 me. It will be worry for nothing." 
 
 And then he was gone. 
 
134 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE NEW HOTEL NOT A SUCCESS. 
 
 FITTING in her chamber, Mrs. Lyman had 
 an unobstructed view of the Brantly House. 
 Light was streaming from a hundred windows ; 
 and the large and stately edifice, surrounded by 
 a halo which set it forward upon the background 
 of darkness, looked like a grandly-illuminated 
 castle. All the air was filled with music. If 
 there had not been resting on her heart a heavy 
 weight of concern, the scene would have im 
 pressed her as one of almost entrancing beauty. 
 She would have permitted her fancy to go free ; 
 would have seen before her a palace, filled with 
 knights and courtly dames. All would have 
 been grand and royally magnificent. 
 
THE NEW HOTEL NOT A SUCCESS. 135 
 
 Alas for the reality ! Only for a little while 
 did an impression of beauty remain with Mrs. 
 Lyman. The gorgeous palace changed in its 
 aspect ; out from the windows came a lurid 
 glare as of consuming fires ; and the music that 
 floated to her on the soft summer air was min 
 gled with sounds of unhallowed revel. The eyes 
 of her soul were looking through the glowing 
 windows and encompassing walls. She saw men 
 eating and drinking, and debasing their manhood 
 in carousal. She heard the click of glasses, the 
 confusion of tongues, the bacchanal song, and 
 her heart grew faint and fearful ; for were not 
 those she loved dearest in all the world in that 
 palace of danger through which the fires of hell 
 were seeking to find an opening ? Would they 
 come back to her without the smell of this con 
 suming fire upon their garments ? 
 
 Hour after hour she sat by this window as if 
 a spell were holding her there. Would the lights 
 never go out? Would the music that hurt her 
 ears with every wave of sound, never cease its 
 
136 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 discordant crash ? The dinner was to commence 
 at seven o clock. But it was nearly twelve 
 before the light began to fade in the great dining 
 hall, and the windows to grow dark. Half an 
 hour later, and where the brilliant palace stood 
 only a black mass was visible against the starry 
 sky. 
 
 Tramp of feet and sound of voices : snatches 
 of song and bursts of laughter. The air was 
 fretted and jarred with these for awhile ; then a 
 deep silence fell upon the town. Mrs. Lyman 
 drew back from her window, and stood waiting 
 and listening for her husband arid son, her heart 
 so heavy with a vague dread and uncertainty 
 that it seemed as if she would lose the power of 
 respiration. Would they never come ? Why, 
 of all others, should their return be so long 
 delayed ? 
 
 At last her sensitive ear detected the sound of 
 their approaching feet familiar, and yet in 
 something changed. She was sure of the step ; 
 but why did it halt and hesitate ? Where was 
 
THE NEW HOTEL NOT A SUCCESS. 137 
 
 the free, strong tread ? She heard their voices. 
 They were low and indistinct, and the utterances 
 brief. At last they were at the door. It was 
 opened so noiselessly that Mrs. Lyrnan did not 
 hear its movement on the hinges. But scarcely 
 were they inside before the stillness of the house 
 was broken. One of the hall chairs, a little out 
 of place, had been struck against and thrown 
 down ; in a moment after came the heavy jar of 
 a falling body. 
 
 With a cry that her overstrained feelings made 
 it impossible for her to repress, Mrs. Lyman came 
 springing down the stairs. Horace was lying 
 upon the floor, where he had fallen over the chair 
 which had been struck, his father stooping over 
 and trying to drag him up by one of his arms. 
 But it w r as evident from his uncertain manner 
 and the small effort exerted, that he was not in 
 the full possession of either his mental or physi 
 cal powers. 
 
 Mrs. Lyman could never afterwards recall, 
 with any great distinctness, what followed this, 
 
138 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRASTLY. 
 
 to her, appalling scene for she was in no doubt 
 as to its meaning. The terror which had been 
 throwing its chill shadow across her heart for 
 hours, stood stark in her way now. Her only 
 son, the pride of her heart, the one being in all 
 the world for whom she would have given her 
 life, lay prone before her ; all his manhood gone 
 down in the besotment of wine ! 
 
 Ah! the heartaches, the fears, the dread, the 
 mortifications, and the bitter repentances that 
 were in Brantly on the morning that followed its 
 grand gala day ! There was no hint of these in 
 any of the glowing accounts of the opening of the 
 new hotel, and the splendid entertainment, which 
 appeared in the New York papers. According 
 to these, the whole affair had been a grand suc 
 cess, at which all Brantly was in a state of felici 
 tation. Nor did even Brantly itself have any 
 thing more than a faint conception of the extent 
 to which these heartaches, and fears, and mortifi 
 cations prevailed. The darkness of the night, 
 and the silence and reserve of the days that fol- 
 
THE NEW HOTEL NOT A SUCCESS. 139 
 
 lowed that night, hid from common observation 
 the skeleton which had found a place in as many 
 as a score of houses, where only the beautiful had 
 been seen before. 
 
 One circumstance was noticeable. People no 
 longer talked so grandly about the new hotel and 
 the wonderful things it was going to do for 
 Brantly. Its establishment had become a fixed 
 fact. Pursuit was over; and now, in the assur 
 ance of possession, people had pause and leisure 
 for a more unprejudiced look at things. The 
 question as to how the new hotel was going to 
 do so much for the town s prosperity, did not 
 bring as ready answers as before ; and the voice 
 of the party on the adverse side began to be 
 heard more distinctly. While the building was 
 in the course of erection, money had been more 
 plentiful than usual, but, as the work drew to 
 completion, complaint was heard of dull times 
 and scarcity. Storekeepers, mechanics, and work 
 ing people of all classes felt this stagnation, and 
 wondered why it was so. Men who had never 
 
140 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 been out of work for years, found their occupation 
 gone. There were too many carpenters, and ma 
 sons, and laborers in town for the ordinary work 
 of the place. Excess of labor depressed wages ; 
 so that those who had work were forced to accept 
 lower prices. The newcomers were in many 
 cases able to hold their own against the old me 
 chanics, who were thrown out of employment 
 and compelled to remove with their families to 
 other places where work was more likely to be 
 secured. 
 
 Worse than all this was the result of the new 
 liquor traffic. There were now more than twenty 
 bar-rooms in Brantly, one-half of them belonging 
 to the class called " doggeries," in which boys 
 were depraved, and poor laborers and mechanics 
 led into vice and drunkenness. It was surprising 
 with what a- sudden and rank growth these evil 
 weeds had sprung up and filled the town. You 
 saw them everywhere ; here throwing out red 
 banners in the face of all, with a challenge arid 
 an invitation, and there hiding in nooks and by- 
 
THE NEW HOTEL NOT A SUCCESS. 141 
 
 ways, and poisoning the air with their noxious 
 exhalations. Brantly began to give signs of 
 illness. There was a fever in her veins. Her 
 step, once so firm and even, began to halt in 
 weakness and inde termination. What was the 
 matter ? Men looked this way and that ; ques 
 tioned ; doubted ; wondered. Something had 
 gone wrong. What was it ? 
 
 Summer had come and gone. The harvest 
 was reaped and stored, the gains counted and the 
 result for the season known. Was it satisfactory ? 
 Let us see. 
 
 There had been, from the opening of the 
 " Brantly House " in July, to the close of the 
 season in September, an average of sixty guests. 
 The average daily receipts, including the bar, had 
 been, during this period, about two hundred and 
 fifty dollars : or a little upward of fifteen thousand 
 dollars for the entire summer season. The first 
 of October found the house deserted. The 
 meeting of the board of directors which was then 
 called to hear the report of the treasurer, did not 
 
142 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 prove to be a very satisfactory one. The balance 
 in the hands of the treasurer was less than five 
 hundred dollars, and there were outstanding bills 
 against the house for more than three thousand. 
 
 How different this from the estimated result 
 will be seen when w r e state that the lowest 
 gross receipts of the season had been set down at 
 twenty-five thousand dollars, more than half 
 of which was to be on the side of clear profit. It 
 was a sad disappointment for the men who had 
 engineered this great enterprise, which was to 
 make every dollar they possessed worth from 
 three to four. Instead of a dividend, there would 
 have to be an immediate assessment. If that 
 w r ere all ! If the exhausting drain which had 
 been going on now for so long a time would only 
 stop here ! But nearly sixty thousand dollars 
 had been expended in the erection and furnish 
 ing of this still unfinished hotel, and thousands 
 more would be required for its completion. 
 
 In the board of directors, two of the largest, 
 stockholders held opposing views. They were 
 
A GALA DAY IN BRANTLY. 127 
 
 and young men and young women who had 
 scarcely tasted it before, were invited to drink as 
 freely as they chose. There were many young 
 men who had never entered Hyer s saloon, and 
 who would have felt themselves disgraced if 
 seen crossing its threshold, who did not hesi 
 tate about accepting the wine that was offered 
 to their lips at a gay party. There was some 
 thing half royal in this wine-drinking. It gave 
 a sense of advancement and largeness and supe- 
 ^iority. Young men drew their heads a little 
 upwards, with a self-satisfied air, as they touched 
 their glasses or nodded across the tables at their 
 fair friends. They felt that they had risen to a 
 higher social level, and held themselves to a 
 manlier bearing. 
 
 Thus the danger increased, and the ways of 
 temptation began opening on all sides for the feet 
 of those who had hitherto walked in safety. No 
 wonder that the heart of Mrs. Lyman had grown 
 troubled; nor that her anxieties were great on 
 
128 THE BAK-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 the gala day that saw Brantly the proud pos 
 sessor of a splendid hotel. 
 
 " My son," she said, as Horace came out of his 
 room late in the afternoon all ready for the grand 
 dinner at which he was to be present; "won t 
 you be just a little guarded for my sake?" 
 
 Both hands were laid upon his shoulders, and 
 she was looking into his face with a loving con 
 cern that filled her eyes with unwonted mois 
 ture. 
 
 " Guarded ! About what ?" 
 
 The surprise in his voice and look was un 
 feigned. 
 
 " Wine is a mocker, my son ; and wine at 
 this dinner will be as water. Nob that I am 
 afraid for you, Horace ; but, but " 
 
 The mother s voice shook a little and then 
 halted on the half-finished sentence. 
 
 " Why, mother !" The young man looked hurt. 
 It was the first time she had permitted him to 
 bee so clearly the anxiety which had been grow- 
 
A GALA DAY IN BRANTLY. 129 
 
 ing in her heart for months. " Is that all the 
 confidence you have in me ?" 
 
 " I have all confidence in you, Horace," Mrs. 
 Lyman answered, trying to smile into her son s 
 face. " But I know that you and all our young 
 men who have been invited to this dinner will 
 be tempted to use wine too freely. There will 
 be men there so accustomed to drinking, that 
 they can take a whole bottle without being as 
 much affected as you would be with a single 
 glass ; and their example will lead many into an 
 unsafe indulgence. From what I have heard of 
 these public dinners in other places, my fear is 
 that some of our young men will be betrayed 
 into folly to-night. If one of these should be 
 my son, I think it would break my heart !" 
 
 The mother s pleading, tender eyes fixed them 
 selves on her son s face. 
 
 " Your heart is safe, mother. It will never 
 break from such a cause," replied Horace, who 
 endeavored to repress the annoyance he was feel 
 ing. I am sorry," he added, speaking gravely, 
 9 
 
130 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 " that you feel as you do. There is no occasion 
 for it, so far as I am concerned. I care too little 
 for wine ever to be betrayed through its entice 
 ments." 
 
 " I know, I know, dear. But a mother who 
 is as proud of her only son as I am, takes the 
 alarm at any sign of danger in his way ; and she 
 sees danger now. It may not touch him ; but 
 she sees it coming and cannot repress the cry of 
 warning that is on her lips !" 
 
 " Don t be troubled for me." He kissed his 
 mother and was turning away, but she laid her 
 hand on his arm and detained him. 
 
 " Frank will be there ?" 
 
 Yes." 
 
 Both became more serious. 
 
 " Frank will be all right. Don t give your 
 self any concern about him." Horace let his eyes 
 turn away from his mother s face as he said this. 
 His tones were not quite as confident as his 
 words. 
 
 " You ll look after him, won t you ?" 
 
THE NEW HOTEL NOT A SUCCESS. 143 
 
 Koger Lyman, Esq., and Dennis Fithian. Mr. 
 Lyman was not satisfied with the management 
 of Andrew Hyer. There had been no intelligent 
 and careful administration of affairs; but waste 
 and reckless extravagance in every department. 
 The accounts of the hotel were found to be in 
 such confusion that it was impossible to gain 
 from them anything like a satisfactory estimate 
 of the actual cost of running the house from 
 the time it was opened until the end of the sea 
 son, lie advocated an immediate closing of the 
 hotel, and the removal of Ilyer from its manage 
 ment. 
 
 This was ppposed by Fithian, who took the 
 side of his friend Ilyer, and endeavored to make 
 it appear that in conducting the establishment, 
 he had shown rare fitness for the work, and an 
 energy and industry worthy of all praise. There 
 was a long and stormy contest in the board 
 of directors, ending in the triumph of Fithian s 
 side ; a majority voting not to close the hotel for 
 the winter and spring, and to retain Hyer as 
 
144 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 manager. It was conceded by those who voted 
 with Fithian, that the expense of keeping the 
 house open until the following summer could not 
 be made through the regular hotel business of 
 so out-of-the-way and unimportant a place as 
 Brantly ; but much was hoped for from the bar 
 and restaurant, to the allurements of which the 
 manager was to give his almost exclusive atten 
 tion. A series of balls and entertainments were 
 projected, and plans for interesting the young 
 people of the neighborhood for miles around dis 
 cussed and settled. The county papers were to 
 be used freely in keeping the house and its win 
 ter attractions before the people. 
 
 There was in these proposed winter attractions, 
 as Mr. Lyrnan looked at them soberly, a promise 
 of loss as well as gain. And the more he looked 
 at and considered them, the more did the loss 
 magnify itself above the gain. He might acquire 
 a few hundred dollars, but what might he not 
 lose ? What had he not already lost ? 
 
 The board of directors made their decision, 
 
THE NEW HOTEL NOT A SUCCESS. 145 
 
 and Roger Lyman returned in a sober and 
 thoughtful mood to his office. He was sitting 
 there in no very satisfactory condition of mind, 
 when Mr. Norman came in. Their relations, 
 once so friendly, had not been cordial for a long 
 time ; for Mr. Norman had not ceased, in season 
 and out of season, to oppose and denounce the evil 
 work to which Mr. Lyman had given his counte 
 nance and support; and on the other hand, Mr. 
 Lyman had shown neither courtesy nor consider 
 ation for the single-minded, true-hearted, blame 
 less old man, who, for the good of the people, did 
 not hesitate to brave obloquy, misrepresentation, 
 threats and persecution. 
 
 " Oh ! Mr. Norman." Mr. Lyman was sitting 
 in deep thought. He had not observed the 
 entrance of any one, until a hand was laid upon 
 his shoulder. There was a shade of surprise in 
 his voice, as he pronounced his visitor s name ; 
 but no unfriendliness. He arose as he spoke and 
 gave Mr. Norman his hand. Then pointing to a 
 chair requested him to be seated. A silence 
 10 
 
146 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 followed, Mr. Lyman waiting for his old friend 
 and neighbor to mention the object of his call. 
 
 " There was a time when you and I were warm 
 friends/ said Mr, Norman, breaking the silence. 
 His manner was kind, but serious, and his tone 
 regretful. 
 
 Mr. Lyman moved uneasily, and the color in 
 his face deepened ; but he did not reply. 
 
 " Was it a good thing that came in between 
 us?" 
 
 No answer. 
 
 " Are you happier or better off, my friend, for 
 this thing which wrought the alienation ? Which 
 has set neighbor against neighbor, friend against 
 friend and family against family ?" 
 
 Mr. Norman laid his hand on the lawyer s arm 
 and looked earnestly into his face. The sudden 
 flush which had come into it was fading out. 
 But Mr. Lyman made no response. 
 
 " In the light of things as you see them 
 to-day, does your heart blame me that I set 
 my face as steel against the introduction of bars 
 
THE NEW HOTEL NOT A SUCCESS. 147 
 
 and saloons, and did all in my power to prevent 
 it?" 
 
 " Whatever I might have felt, Mr. Norman, I 
 do not blame you now," was answered. 
 
 Mr. Norman extended his hand. Mr. Lyman 
 took it, and gave back its warm pressure. 
 
 "You were sincere in your opposition, and 
 may have been right," said the lawyer. " One 
 thing is certain. Scarcely any of our calcula 
 tions seem to be coming out according to the 
 programme." 
 
 " The reason is plain. Tares were sown, that 
 a harvest of grain might be reaped. But nature 
 does not reverse her laws. Men have never 
 gathered grapes of thorns, nor figs of thistles ; 
 and never will. As we sow, shall we always 
 reap." 
 
 A deep sigh was Mr. Lyman s only answer. 
 
 " The hotel is to be closed, I understand." 
 
 " No. It has been decided to keep it open." 
 
 "Ah! But is that wise or prudent? Can 
 
148 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 you possibly make expenses during the winter 
 and spring ?" 
 
 " Fithian is in favor of keeping it open, and 
 his influence is stronger than mine." 
 
 "Is Hyer to remain where he is?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Have you entire confidence in this man ?" 
 
 " Between you and me, no. The more I see 
 of him, the less do I like him. But Fithian 
 upholds him in everything." 
 
 " Fithian ! And so his influence dominates 
 yours ?" 
 
 " I am sor.ry to say that it does." 
 
 " Bad !" 
 
 " Why do you say so?" 
 
 " I know Fithian. Have studied him for 
 years." 
 
 " I have always regarded him as honest and 
 straightforward. A little coarse in quality ; but 
 he can t help that, I suppose. A fault of birth." 
 
 " If coarseness of quality were all that he has 
 inherited, the case might stand better." 
 
THE NEW HOTEL NOT A SUCCESS. 149 
 
 Mr. Lyman showed uneasiness and disturbance. 
 
 " How do you expect to meet the expenses 
 of the house until the next summer season ? If 
 it is kept open, there must be servants, light, 
 fuel, provisions. &c. ; and the income from travel 
 .along the Bedford road, if it all went to the 
 Brantly House, would not half pay for these." 
 
 " Hyer is very sanguine. * 
 
 " As to his ability to take care of himself, no 
 doubt ; especially if Fithian is on his side. But, 
 seriously, Mr. Lyman, how is something to be 
 made out of nothing ? If a hotel have no guests 
 worth talking about, where is the profit to come 
 from ?" 
 
 " There are to be a series of entertainments 
 in the great dining hall two or three in a 
 month." 
 
 "Of what character?" 
 
 " Balls ; musical and literary entertainments ; 
 private theatricals and the like. Any and every 
 thing by which to attract and interest the 
 people." 
 
150 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 " How is that going to pay ?" 
 
 " There will be suppers, of course ; and 
 and- 
 
 " And an open bar/ said Mr. Norman, finish 
 ing the sentence. 
 
 Yes." 
 
 " Does this meet with your approval ?" 
 
 " Not exactly." 
 
 Why ?" 
 
 ". I m afraid of it." 
 
 " On what account ?" 
 
 " It will not be good for our young men." 
 
 There came a troubled look into Mr. Ly man s 
 face, and an expression of pain about his mouth. 
 
 " No, Mr. Lyman, it will not be good for them ! 
 It is setting a snare for their feet, and every 
 man s son will be in danger. Your son ; Fith- 
 ian s; Irwin s ; Sylvester s; Griscomb s, and all 
 the rest !" 
 
 Mr. Norman saw the lawyer start as from a 
 sudden pang. His manner grew restless and 
 nervous. 
 
THE NEW HOTEL NOT A SUCCESS. 151 
 
 " As the old Spanish proverb has it, < Curses 
 like chickens come home to roost. Already this 
 evil day, so bright in its morning and noon, is 
 drawing to a cloudy ending, and the chickens are 
 coining home to roost. Happy will you be, my 
 friend, if some of them be not found in the goodly 
 tree that stands by your own door !" 
 
 Another start; a swift pallor flung across the 
 face ; a hard closing of the mouth. 
 
 At this moment the office door, which opened 
 into Mr. Lyman s dwelling, was pushed ajar. 
 Mr. Norman, who was sitting opposite this door, 
 saw the face of Mrs. Lyman for a single instant. 
 It was a long time before its haunting image faded 
 out of his mind. 
 
 Mr. Lyman arose, saying, "Excuse me for a 
 moment," and went out. It was several minutes 
 before he returned, his countenance still wearing 
 a very sober expression. Seating himself, he let 
 his eyes fall to the floor, and remained silent, as 
 one troubled and in perplexity of mind. Mr. 
 Norman waited for him to speak. The silence 
 
152 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 had become almost embarrassing, when Mr. Ly- 
 man lifted his eyes and said, with a bitter em 
 phasis on his words : 
 
 " The chickens are coming home, Mr. Norman." 
 
 "I know it, my friend; and my heart grieves 
 that it is so." 
 
 " What is to be done ?" The lawyer was los 
 ing his self-poised manner. He asked this ques 
 tion with the desperate air of a person at his wit s 
 end. His eyes, which were fixed upon Mr. Nor 
 man, had an appealing and almost helpless ex 
 pression. 
 
 " Prevention is always better than cure, Mr. 
 Lyman. It is easier to keep out an enemy than 
 to expel him; easier to make a dyke secure 
 against the encroaching sea, than to stop the rush 
 of waters after a breach is made and heal the 
 ruin which has been wrought by a desolating 
 flood. One thing is certain ; if you widen the 
 breach through which this flood of evil is now 
 pouring in upon us, as you propose doing, there 
 can be little hope for the young men of our town, 
 
THE NEW HOTEL NOT A SUCCESS. 153 
 
 too many of whom are already more than ankle 
 deep in the rising waters." 
 
 "I see! I see! But my views were disre 
 garded. I urged the dangerous effect of these 
 winter dissipations on our young people; but 
 Fithian swept the argument aside as of no rele 
 vancy whatever. That was something, he said, 
 with which we had nothing to do. Our business 
 was to take care of the interests of stockholders, 
 and see that their investment, made in good 
 faith, was rendered productive." 
 
 "Has he not seen, what every one else sees, 
 that his son Charles is drinking too much 
 already?" asked Mr. Norman. 
 
 " I don t know. He is blind if he does not 
 see it." 
 
 " Scarcely a day passes that he may not be 
 observed lounging about the door of some saloon. 
 A year ago his face was clear, ruddy and innocent 
 as a boy s ; but all that is gone now. Then he 
 bore himself modestly, as became his years. Now 
 he has a bold, jaunty, half-insolent manner that 
 
154 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 strikes you unpleasantly. The coarseness in 
 herited from his father, he is making his own by 
 living it out for himself. Was it a good thing, 
 Mr. Lynian, to give this young man an oppor 
 tunity for growth in this evil direction? Is no 
 one responsible for the enticements that have led 
 him out of a safe way ? If he goes to ruin, does 
 the sin thereof lie at no man s door ?" 
 
 Mr. Lyman put up his hand half-involun- 
 tarily, as if to defend himself against an accusa 
 tion. 
 
 " If Charley Fithian were the only young man 
 in danger of going to ruin," Mr. Norman con 
 tinued. 
 
 Just then the office door was again pushed 
 ajar, and Mrs. Lyman called her husband in a 
 low voice, in which Mr. Norman perceived an 
 anxious quiver. Mr. Lyman went out, closing 
 the door after him. In a few minutes he came 
 back and said : 
 
 " I shall have to ask you to excuse me, Mr. 
 Norman ; but call in again. I want to have a 
 
THE NEW HOTEL NOT A SUCCESS. 155 
 
 longer talk with you. Things, as I have said, are 
 not coming out right. There s an ugly drift that 
 I m afraid of; and it must be checked if possible. 
 I wonder that I could have been so blind." 
 
 "All may not be ruined, though much has 
 been lost, my friend ; and lost, because your 
 influence, which is large, has been cast upon the 
 wrong side. I take heart once more in what you 
 have just said. Yes; I will see you again. 
 Good-evening." 
 
156 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 BITTER FRUIT. 
 
 A S Mr. Norman left the office by the street 
 
 door, Mr. Lyman passed through the door 
 
 opening into his dwelling. His wife met him in 
 
 the lower hall. Her face had a distressed look, 
 
 and about her eyes were signs of weeping. 
 
 " Oh, dear ! Isn t it dreadful !" she said, as 
 she placed her hands on her husband s shoulder, 
 and laid her face down upon them, a shiver run 
 ning through her frame. 
 
 " He s asleep ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And Marie?" 
 
 " She s sitting in her room, as cold and impas 
 sive as stone. I wish you would go up to her. 
 She frightens me." 
 
BITTER FRUIT. 157 
 
 "What does she say?" 
 
 66 Nothing. My words make no more impres 
 sion on her than if she were marble." 
 
 Mr. Lyman went slowly up to his daughter s 
 room. He felt as if a mountain were on his 
 shoulders, and the weight bearing him down. 
 As his wife had said, he found Marie sitting in a 
 chair, her eyes set in a stony gaze, and her lips 
 drawn so tightly back against her teeth that all 
 color and roundness were pressed out of them. 
 He laid his hand upon her and called her name ; 
 but she neither stirred nor answered ; and it was 
 all in vain that he tried by loving words and acts 
 of tenderness to break the spell which had almost 
 closed her senses to outward impressions. 
 
 Half an hour before, as Mrs. Lyman and her 
 daughter were sitting together, they were startled 
 by a noise in the hall, as of some one entering 
 from the street, and stumbling about in an uncer 
 tain kind of a way. The two women looked at 
 each other, and Mrs. Lyman saw her daughter s 
 face grow deadly pale. Both started up and 
 
158 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 made their way into the hall. The truth was 
 revealed in an instant. Confronting them stood 
 Frank Sylvester, trying to steady himself with 
 one hand borne against the wall. His face was 
 red and his eyes watery and glistening. A glance 
 told that he was so badly intoxicated as to be 
 scarcely conscious of what he was doing. 
 
 " Good-evening !" he said, trying to be gay and 
 at his ease. Then seeing by the shocked and 
 distressed expression in the two women s faces 
 that they were aware of his condition he was 
 too drunk to know for himself just how bad it 
 was he made an effort to appear self-possessed 
 as well as surprised at his reception. 
 
 " Why bless me, Marie ! What s the matter ? 
 Nobody sick or dead, I hope !" 
 
 The girl, recovering herself by a strong effort 
 of will, passed quickly to the young man s side, 
 and drawing an arm through one of his, was lead 
 ing him towards the parlor door when her mother 
 interposed, and said, with much severity of man 
 ner : 
 
BITTER FRUIT. 159 
 
 "No; we don t want your visit this evening, 
 Frank. Go home ! That s the best place for 
 you." 
 
 But Marie, without heeding what her mother 
 was saying, drew her arm strongly on that of 
 young Sylvester and led him into the parlor, 
 where she seated him in one of the easy-chairs. 
 The color was still absent from her face. 
 
 " Well, this is comfortable !" ejaculated the 
 young man, in a maudlin way, as he laid him 
 self back against the cushions. " But, blame it 
 all! What s the matter ? What s up? You look 
 as if you d both seen a ghost/ 
 
 Marie did not answer. 
 
 " Where s Horace ? Is he jolly ? Had a splen 
 did time this afternoon !" 
 
 " Where is Horace ?" asked Mrs. Lyman ? 
 steadying her voice as she spoke, that she might 
 not betray the keen anxiety Sylvester s remark 
 had occasioned. 
 
 "Who? What?" 
 
160 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 "Horace? Were you and he together this 
 afternoon ?" 
 
 Something in Mrs. Lyman s voice had reached 
 the young man s dull perception and put him on 
 his guard. 
 
 " Not as I know. Horace ? Let me see. 
 Isn t he at home ?" 
 
 No." 
 
 " Isn t at home ? ha ! That s odd." And he 
 shook his head in a doubtful way. 
 
 66 Frank Sylvester !" Mrs. Lyman placed her 
 hand on him, and spoke in a tone of authority. 
 " Answer me in a plain way !" 
 
 " Certainly, ma am, certainly. What is it you 
 Would know ?" 
 
 " Where were you this afternoon ?" 
 
 "Me?" 
 
 "Yes, you!" 
 
 "Well, let me see. Where was I? Now 
 that s curious, Mrs. Lyman ; but blamed if I can 
 remember." 
 
 And the young man laughed in a silly way, as 
 
BITTER FRUIT. 161 
 
 he settled himself back into his chair, and shut 
 his eyes. Press him with questions as she would, 
 Mrs. Lyman was not able to draw from him any 
 thing about her son. 
 
 Marie was as one who had lost the power of 
 speech. She had moved a chair close to that in 
 which her lover was seated they were engaged, 
 and only waiting for the consent of the girl s pa 
 rents to fix an early wedding-day and was bend 
 ing towards him and watching him with a strange 
 intentness. There was more of sorrow and pain, 
 than of disgust and repulsion in her face. 
 
 A dead, oppressive silence followed. This 
 was broken in a few minutes by the young man s 
 heavy breathing. lie had fallen asleep. 
 
 " Marie !" Mrs Lyman spoke to her daughter, 
 who, with closed eyes and a grieving, almost 
 ashen face, was resting her head against the chair 
 in which Sylvester was sitting. 
 
 She saw her eyelids quiver, and then shut 
 down more closely. It was the girl s only 
 response. 
 11 
 
162 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRAXTLY. 
 
 " Marie, dear !" The mother laid her hand on 
 her daughter s arm. " Come !" 
 
 As she spoke she made an effort to induce her 
 to rise. Marie yielded, and going with her 
 mother, went up-stairs to her own room, where 
 Mrs. Lyman left her, and returned to the parlor. 
 She found Sylvester sleeping heavily. It was 
 then that she first beckoned her husband from 
 the office, and made him acquainted with the 
 state of affairs. When she returned to Marie s 
 room, she found her sitting just as she had left 
 her, still and motionless as though but a lifeless 
 image. After vainly trying to arouse her to 
 some response, Mrs. Lyman grew alarmed, and 
 called her husband again. 
 
 The father s efforts, as we have seen, were no 
 more availing. Mrs. Lyman now endeavored to 
 remove her clothing, and get her upon the bed. 
 But at this she made resistance, saying, 
 
 "Won t you let me alone, mother?" Her 
 voice was dull and low. 
 
 Distressed and bewildered, Mrs. Lyman stood 
 
BITTER FRUIT. 163 
 
 irresolute for awhile, and then went from the 
 room. She had scarcely closed the door behind 
 her, when she heard the key turned on the inner 
 side. 
 
 For over two hours the young man slept 
 heavily. At the end of this time he awoke, the 
 effect of what he had been drinking nearly gone, 
 lie saw no one but Mr. Lyman, who talked to 
 him with great plainness and severity ; ending 
 with the declaration, that until there was an 
 entire change in his habits, he must consider his 
 engagement with Marie suspended. 
 
 Deeply humiliated, Sylvester returned home, 
 resolving to be more upon his guard in future. 
 In a day or two he called to see Marie ; but, 
 under instruction from Mr. and Mrs. Lyman, 
 the servant refused to admit him. These things 
 were soon noised abroad, and became a staple of 
 gossip in all the town. 
 
 Marie Lyman was not a weak girl. After the 
 first shock of this humiliating affair was over, 
 and she had time to recover, she drew about 
 
164 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 herself so close a veil of silence and reserve that 
 even her mother was in some doubt as to the 
 real state of her feelings. To no remarks about 
 her lover that occurred in the home circle did 
 she make any response ; and her trials on this 
 ecore were not a few. Her brother, who knew 
 more about the habits of Sylvester than any one 
 else in the family, took part with his father 
 and mother against him, and let no opportunity 
 for dropping a word, which he thought might 
 prejudice his sister s mind, pass without improve 
 ment. 
 
 Two weeks went by, during which time 
 Frank had called several times without being 
 admitted. It had been his habit to meet Marie 
 at church every Sunday, and accompany her 
 home. When the next Sunday came, he was 
 at church as usual and fully resolved to make 
 good the opportunity for getting a word with her 
 after the services were over. But, to his great 
 disappointment, she was absent from the family 
 pew. The second week passed, as we have said, 
 
BITTER FRUIT. 165 
 
 without his being able to get an interview. On 
 the Sunday following Marie was in church. At 
 the close of the services, as she walked down the 
 aisle in company with her mother, Sylvester 
 made his way to her side, and kept his pluce 
 there until they reached the vestibule, when the 
 brother of Marie attempted, in a quiet way, to 
 come in between them ; but Marie, in a way as 
 seemingly unintentional as his own, drew close 
 to her lover, thus baffling his purpose. It was 
 no place for a scene. Marie s action gave to all 
 who were interested an index to her feelings. 
 For a part of the way home her brother walked 
 with them ; and then, not feeling entirely satis 
 fied of his right to interfere with his sister, drop 
 ped behind and joined his father and mother. 
 
 As far as could be observed, but few words 
 passed between Frank and Marie. On arriving 
 at home, they separated with scarcely a pause, 
 the young man walking on without turning to 
 speak to Mr. and Mrs. Lyman, who were close 
 behind, and Marie passing into the house with 
 
1G6 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 an almost hurried movement. There was little 
 doubt in the mind of either the father or mother 
 that an understanding had been established 
 between their daughter and her lover ; and this 
 was confirmed by an indefinable something in the 
 girl s face when she met them at the dinner 
 table. 
 
 In the afternoon Marie came from her room, 
 dressed to go out. 
 
 " Where are you going ?" asked her mother, 
 who met her on her way down-stairs. 
 
 i/ 
 
 " To see Fanny Stewart," was answered. This 
 girl was one of Marie s most intimate friends. 
 
 Mrs. Lyman looked at her daughter steadily 
 for some moments. " Only to see Fanny?" 
 There was doubt in her troubled eyes as well as 
 in her voice. Marie s gaze fell away from that 
 of her mother s. Mrs. Lyman laid her hand on 
 the girl s arm and drew her into her own cham 
 ber, -near the door of which they were standing. 
 
 "Sit down, my child." The mother s voice 
 was low and tender ; and Marie saw that her 
 
BITTEIl FRUIT. 167 
 
 eyes were glistening. " You are going to meet 
 Frank." 
 
 Marie was silent. 
 
 " Against the wish of your mother, and against 
 your father s positive command." 
 
 There was no reply. 
 
 " Is this well, my daughter ?" 
 
 "Was it well for father to lay this command 
 upon me ?" answered the girl, drawing herself 
 more erectly. " He should have thought first, 
 whether it were possible for me to keep it. I 
 have tried; but it is riot possible. I must see 
 Frank. Are we not engaged ? Am I not to be 
 his wife ? Do I not love him ?" She spoke 
 quickly and with increasing excitement of man 
 ner. 
 
 " Oh, Marie ! Marie !" rejoined Mrs. Lyman, 
 her distress increasing. " Djn t talk in that way. 
 No woman truly loves a man whom she cannot 
 respect. Frank must show himself worthy of 
 your love." 
 
 " When I gave him my love, I gave it freely, 
 
168 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 and for life. He was worthy then, and I hold 
 him to be worthy now. For better or for worse/ 
 mother ! The marriage rite cannot make the 
 promise already given more binding than it is 
 now. A woman s love for a man is of little 
 worth if it fall away from him at the first sign 
 of human frailty. Who is perfect? Is Horace 
 so much better than Frank, that he sets himself 
 in judgment upon him ? Is he my master, that 
 he presumes to order my ways and to control 
 my actions ?" 
 
 There was a flash in Marie s wide-open eyes 
 and a curve of contempt about her lips that 
 were setting themselves into an expression of 
 defiance. 
 
 " Oh, Marie !" was all that the surprised 
 mother could say. 
 
 " If father were in nothing to blame " 
 
 "Don t! my daughter." 
 
 " If father were in nothing to blame," Marie 
 went on, speaking with a bitter emphasis, "for 
 what has happened to Frank, and to other young 
 
BITTER FRUIT. 169 
 
 men in Brantly besides, there might be some 
 excuse for his setting himself so bitterly against 
 him. . It was only after a stumbling-block was 
 put in Frank s way that he fell; and you know 
 how much father had to do with setting up this 
 stumbling-block. The way I ve heard it talked 
 about has set my cheeks on fire scores and scores 
 of times ! Because he has fallen once, shall I 
 turn away from him ? Is love of no more 
 worth ! Shall I not, rather, draw closer, that 
 I may protect and save him ?" 
 
 "My poor child!" fell, sobbing, from the 
 mother s lips. 
 
 " You are making too much of all this. Frank 
 has had a lesson that he will not soon forget. 
 He told me so this morning. I don t believe 
 he ll ever touch a glass of liquor again." 
 
 But the heart of Mrs. Lyman was not assured. 
 For months she had been watching this young 
 man, and with a carefulness of observation that 
 was not to be deceived. She had noticed a 
 gradual change in the expression of his face. 
 
170 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 The eyes, once so clear and bright, were often 
 dull and heavy. His mouth was growing coarser; 
 and sometimes she noted a dark congestion of 
 the skin that was usually so fair and ruddy. 
 His manner was not always the same; now 
 there was an unwonted gayety in his humor, 
 occasionally verging on to silliness ; and now he 
 was quiet almost to sluggishness. Many times, 
 on coining near him, had she detected on his 
 breath the fumes of liquor. The downward 
 drag of the appetite he was indulging had 
 become too apparent to Mrs. Lyman to leave 
 her any room for confidence in the young man s 
 future. She knew that against any good reso 
 lutions he might form, this appetite would set 
 itself, and grow stronger and stronger under 
 allurement, until all obstructions were swept 
 away. 
 
 " If Frank had a different temperament ; if 
 he were not so fond of eating and drinking; if 
 he had acquired habits of self-control, there 
 would be room for confidence," said Mrs. Lyman ; 
 
BITTER FRUIT. 171 
 
 " but he is weak of purpose and self-indulgent, 
 and his good resolutions, when opposed to appe 
 tite will, I sadly fear, be as flax in the flame." 
 
 Marie made no reply. She was sitting with 
 her face turned a little away, so that her mother 
 could not see its expression. 
 
 " Think, my child. Your whole future is 
 involved in the momentous present. A drunk 
 ard s wife ! Have you any conception of what 
 that means ?" 
 
 Marie turned swiftly upon her mother, her 
 eyes flashing. 
 
 " There has been enough of this," she an 
 swered, with an angry thrill in her voice. " He 
 is in no more danger than the rest." And rising 
 from her chair as she spoke, she was moving 
 away, when her steps were arrested by the 
 sound of her father s voice, calling to her from 
 the adjoining chamber, the door of which had, 
 unnoticed, been standing ajar. 
 
 A sudden pallor struck across Marie s face, as 
 she turned and saw her father enter. 
 
172 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 " My daughter !" Pain and sorrow and tender 
 remonstrance were in his voice, as he uttered 
 her name. She stepped hack from the door 
 through which she was about to pass, into a 
 chair. As Mr. Lyman came forward and laid 
 his hand upon Marie, Mrs. Lyman retired from 
 the room, leaving them alone. 
 
 " I heard all, my daughter," he said, as he sat 
 down beside her, "all about my responsibility 
 for the stumbling-blocks over which not only 
 Frank, but too many more in Brantly have 
 fallen." 
 
 Marie covered her face with her hands. Pier 
 father saw that she was trembling violently. 
 
 " I am not angry with you, my child. I am 
 too much concerned and troubled to be angry," 
 he continued, his voice growing softer. 
 
 But she did not withdraw her hands, nor lift 
 her face. 
 
 " What is past is past, and cannot be recalled," 
 Mr. Lyman went on. " It is to the future that 
 we must look now ; and against the evil threat- 
 
BITTER FRUIT. ITS 
 
 ening us in the future that we must be on guard. 
 It is not a question as to responsibility, but a 
 question as to facts. No matter who may have 
 been to blame for putting temptation in Frank s 
 way, the fact that he is becoming intemperate is 
 something we cannot ignore." 
 
 Marie raised her head with a quick motion, 
 and Mr. Lyman saw an almost indignant light in 
 her eyes. 
 
 " You are mistaken, father ! He has not 
 become intemperate. No one ever saw hirn 
 under the influence of liquor until the night he 
 came here. Is a man to be utterly condemned 
 and cast off for a single fault ? He was exposed to 
 unusual temptation, and taken off his guard. 
 Others were more to blame than he !" 
 
 I am in the way of learning a great deal more 
 than you about his habits and associations ; and I 
 know that he is drifting steadily out upon dan 
 gerous waters." 
 
 " The greater reason, then, why my hand 
 should keep fast hold upon him and draw him 
 
174 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 back." The girl s excitement was only momen 
 tary. She spoke now, in calm, but very decided 
 tone. " Does love abandon its object at the first 
 sign of danger ?" 
 
 " My dear, dear child ! You know nothing 
 of the dreadful risk you are taking. If it were 
 a danger from which your love could shield him, 
 the case might be different. But a depraved 
 appetite is stronger to impel than love is to 
 .restrain; and in my observation, there is no 
 appetite so overmastering as the appetite for 
 liquor. When a young man of Frank s peculiar 
 temperament comes fairly under its influence, 
 the case is well nigh hopeless." 
 
 " It is from this danger that I would save 
 him," Marie answered, with a decision of manner 
 that showed her purpose to be unshaken. And 
 because the danger is at hand, shall I fall away 
 from him, and so make the peril greater ? No, 
 father ! My heart says No ! My reason says 
 No ! All that is in me rises up and says No ! 
 No ! Never !" 
 
BITTER FRUIT. 175 
 
 Mr. Lyman looked at his daughter in mute sur 
 prise. She had drawn herself to an erect bear 
 ing. Her large eyes were intense in their 
 expression. A fixed resolve was on every fea 
 ture. He saw a reflection of his own strong will 
 in her face. Suddenly the latent forces of her 
 character had been roused into life and were 
 bearing her onward. Should he set his strong 
 will against hers? Grapple with the child here 
 tofore passive and compliant bending or break 
 ing, as the case might be ? 
 
 To set himself in an attitude of resistance and 
 bear down what opposed him, was ever Mr. Ly- 
 man s first impulse ; and only the self-mastery 
 of reason saved him now from a repetition of the 
 command which Marie was about breaking. But 
 the clearer his thoughts grew, as reason held his 
 natural impulses in check, and the more closely 
 he looked at the new aspect of things, the deeper 
 became his conviction that, for good or ill, his 
 daughter s future was bound up with the future 
 of Frank Sylvester ; and that in his attitude 
 
176 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 towards her, now and hereafter, this would have 
 to be kept steadily in view. A sense of weakness 
 came upon him. He felt as one borne helplessly 
 along by a suddenly rising flood. 
 
 "Will you not wait for a single day longer?" 
 he asked. 
 
 " To what good purpose ?" Marie s firmness 
 was in strong contrast with her father s indeter 
 minate manner. " Waiting can change noth 
 ing." Then, in a lower voice, in which a slight 
 tremor was apparent : " Except it be my influ 
 ence over Frank." 
 
 She arose as she said this, and stood looking 
 steadily at her father. 
 
 " What am I to do, rny child ? I cannot see 
 you walk blindly over a precipice, or into a pit 
 fall, and not make an effort to save you 1" 
 
 " It would have been better if no pit-fall had 
 been dug in my way. But I cannot turn aside 
 because it is there !" 
 
 She stood for a moment longer, and then turn 
 ing from her father, went slowly from the room, 
 
BITTER FRUIT. 177 
 
 shutting the door behind her. As she did so, 
 Mr. Lyrnan s head sank upon his breast. 
 
 "Better if no pit-fall had been dug in my 
 way I" How the sentence hurt him, with its 
 covert accusation ! 
 
 12 
 
178 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE REACTION. 
 
 S, they were coming home to roost, these 
 curses which Mr. Lyman had sent forth 
 upon his neighbors, not caring who might lose if 
 only the gain were his. 
 
 Not within the memory of any one had there 
 been such dull and unsatisfactory times as came 
 upon Brantly in the winter that followed. To 
 this was added a new thing for the quiet and 
 comfortable town destitution, suffering and 
 many acts of violence. And another new 
 thing the loud voices of young men and 
 maidens ringing often through the still air, as 
 the gay assemblages at the Brantly House broke 
 up and the revellers went home at midnight. 
 
THE REACTION. 179 
 
 Everything had been stimulated by the freer 
 circulation of money as the building of the great 
 hotel progressed ; and catching the spirit of the 
 new public sentiments that prevailed, people of 
 all stations and all conditions, with only rare 
 exceptions, took it for granted that a new era 
 of prosperity had dawned, and that henceforth 
 the town would grow rapidly and everybody s 
 income have proportionate increase. To drift 
 into larger expenditures was the most natural 
 thing in the world. Furniture began to look old- 
 fashioned and dingy ; carpets faded suddenly ; 
 houses which had been all well enough, stood 
 now sadly in need of paint, repairs, additions and 
 improvements. Mrs. Jones bought new carpets, 
 and Mrs. Smith followed suit. Jackson gave his 
 house a fresh coat of paint, which made Robin 
 son s look so rusty and weather-stained that his 
 wife gave him no rest until their house stood 
 forth in as clear and bright a dress as their 
 neighbor s. So it went on, until Brantiy fur 
 bished itself up, and looked new and fresh and 
 
180 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 wide awake. If this had been all. But it was 
 not all. Every one began living a little more 
 freely and a little more ostentatiously. Neigh 
 bors observed their neighbors more closely ; and 
 the gossip of the town ran chiefly in the direction 
 of housekeeping affairs ; and made itself felt as a 
 stimulant to extravagant emulation. Naturally, 
 the cost of living was increased ; the rich as well 
 as the poor sharing in the common sentiment, 
 and taking part in the common life of the place. 
 Where the ready cash was not in hand for the 
 things desired, and that "could be afforded," a 
 resort was had in too many cases to credit at the 
 stores, and many who in times past never knew 
 what it was to be in debt, began to run up bills 
 which, when the pay-day came, were found in 
 nearly every case to be twice as large as ex 
 pected. 
 
 A sudden inflation ; and then almost as sud 
 den a collapse. The winter brought a chilling 
 shrinkage in everything. There having been 
 unusually large sales during the spring and 
 
THE REACTION. 181 
 
 summer, storekeepers, in anticipation of an in 
 creasing demand for goods, bad laid in heavily 
 fur the fall trade, which proved to be unusually 
 light. The consequence was that, in addition 
 to the many uncollected accounts on their books, 
 they had shelves full of unsold merchandise to 
 carry over until the next season. These had to 
 be paid for; and as a considerable part of the 
 sums required for this purpose was still in the 
 shape of unpaid accounts, urgent requests for 
 settlements began to be made. Then followed 
 a general state of annoyance, irritation, trouble 
 or humiliation, according to the temperament or 
 condition of the various debtors. Old family 
 horses were sold, in half a dozen cases, in order 
 to get money to pay for the new carpets or new 
 furniture that were no longer enjoyed. More 
 than twenty houses were burdened with mort 
 gages, that their owners might free themselves 
 from the burden of debts incurred during the 
 brief period in which Brantly felt herself mov- 
 
182 THE BAB-ROOMS AT BBANTLY. 
 
 ing swiftly forward in the way of distinction 
 and prosperity. 
 
 The result of all this was a pinching system 
 of economy that became general through the 
 town, and in consequence of which matters grew 
 worse. Even those who were best off and 
 easiest in money-matters were influenced by the 
 common feeling, and began cutting down here 
 and lopping off there some from a spirit of 
 saving, and some to set a good example to their 
 neighbors. Many women who lived by domestic 
 service lost their places and were thrown for 
 support upon friends and relatives, who felt the 
 burden sorely. Work of nearly all kinds was 
 suspended, except in the few establishments 
 which had a market out of town for their goods; 
 and in one or two of these wages were cut down 
 and the number of workmen reduced, because 
 capital had been diverted to the new hotel and 
 locked up there so closely as to be entirely out 
 of reach. Even the drinking and billiard 
 saloons, which had multiplied as the locusts of 
 
THE EEACTION. 183 
 
 Egypt, and flourished for a time, were affected 
 by the general depression and scarcity of 
 money, and one after another put out their red 
 lights and shut their doors, until nearly half 
 their number had disappeared. But enough 
 remained to curse the town with an eating and 
 malignant cancer. 
 
 In spite of all this, from December to March 
 the Brantly house had its enticing entertain 
 ments; and every week the young people for 
 miles around were gathered in its parlors and 
 spacious dining hall. Music and dancing, tab 
 leaux and private theatricals, readings and reci 
 tations, and then a supper. Always the supper 
 and wine. And what of the result? Did it 
 pay ? 
 
 The stormiest meeting the directors of the 
 hotel company had yet known was the one held 
 at the close of this season, when the manager, 
 Andrew Hyer, submitted his accounts, and it 
 became known that in three months the expense 
 of keeping up the hotel had exceeded the receipts 
 
184 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 by nearly five thousand dollars ! Mr. Lyman, 
 whose pecuniary losses, heavy as they promised 
 to be, were light in comparison with other disas 
 ters that now threatened him, made so strong 
 an argument in favor of closing the hotel at 
 once, that he carried with him a majority of the 
 directors. 
 
 A week afterwards, Jacob Grover stood in the 
 little porch of his hotel, and looked across at 
 the grand and imposing rival which had for so 
 many months stared down upon the Fountain 
 Inn with a kind of supercilious contempt. All 
 the shutters were closed. The great ornamented 
 door and all the smaller doors were shut. Deser 
 tion was written all over it. Even Jacob Grover 
 felt the shadow its desolation cast, and a feeling 
 of loss, as though something had gone out of his 
 life. 
 
 " What are they going to do with it ?" asked a 
 man who was standing near Grover. 
 
 The tavern-keeper merely shrugged his shouL 
 ders. 
 
THE REACTION. 185 
 
 " They say that Hyer has managed to feather 
 his own nest." 
 
 " Ah !" 
 
 " Yes ; and that he s bought out a billiard 
 saloon in New York." 
 
 " What s that ?" asked Mr. Lyman, who came 
 up at the moment. "Were you speaking of 
 Hyer?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Bought out a billiard saloon in New York, 
 did you say ?" 
 
 "So I hear." 
 
 " Is there any truth in it ?" 
 
 " I presume so. Had it from Charley Fithian." 
 
 Mr. Lyman knit his brows and shut his mouth 
 hard. 
 
 " They say that Charley is going in with 
 Hyer, and that it s a splendid opening." 
 
 " Into the way that leads to destruction," 
 remarked one of the little group of men who 
 had drawn together on Grover s porch. 
 
 " His feet have already entered that down- 
 
186 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 ward way, I fear," said another. " It is really 
 sad to see the change a few months have 
 wrought in this young man. I shall be sorry 
 for him, if it be true that he is going to New 
 York; but glad for the young men of our 
 place, for his influence over them is getting 
 to be very hurtful." 
 
 " There are two or three others whose absence 
 would be good for our town," was answered in 
 a low voice and with a glance at Roger Lyman. 
 
 "Yes; his son is rather fast, and his example 
 and influence are even more hurtful than Char 
 ley Fithian s." 
 
 Mr. Lyman drew his arm within that of the 
 person who had spoken about Andrew Hyer as 
 having purchased a billiard saloon in New York, 
 and the two men walked away. 
 
 " You had this from young Fithian ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Do you think it is really so?" 
 
 " I see no reason to doubt it. You ve thrown 
 him overboard here ; and what is more natural 
 
THE REACTION. 187 
 
 than that he should endeavor to get a foothold 
 somewhere else ?" 
 
 " Rather a come down." 
 
 " How ?" 
 
 " From a great hotel to a billiard saloon." 
 
 " Water always finds its level. The bar and 
 the billiard saloon mark the level of this man ; 
 he finds it the moment he is left to himself." 
 
 " Then you do not regard him as competent to 
 manage a large hotel like the Brantly House ?" 
 
 The other smiled as he remarked, 
 
 " Facts are stubborn things." 
 
 "They are, certainly ; and in this case do not 
 say much for Hyer s ability. Still, I had thought 
 him capable enough ; my question has been as 
 to his integrity." 
 
 " Is he capable ? Is he honest ?" There was 
 a twitching at the corners of the man s mouth, 
 and a slight dash of humor in his eyes. 
 
 " Exactly so. Capable, but not honest, I 
 fear!" 
 
 Neither honest nor capable. A specious fraud ! 
 
188 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRAXTLY. 
 
 A shameless pretender !" said the man, in down 
 right speech and emphasis. " I wonder you did 
 not read it in his face !" 
 
 " Fithian endorsed him so strongly that I was 
 deceived." 
 
 " Fithian ! Birds of a feather !" 
 
 " No ; you must not say that. Fithian will 
 look after his own interests, and take care of 
 Number One; but a charge of dishonesty will 
 hardly lie against him." 
 
 " No, for you ll never catch him. He s too 
 wary a fox for that. But, as I was just saying, 
 6 Birds of a feather you know the rest. He and 
 Fithian have been as thick as pickpockets ; and 
 I fancy that no one in Brantly knows the fellow s 
 antecedents better than he." 
 
 " What are his antecedents ?" 
 
 " I ve understood that he kept bar in New 
 York. And a guest here last summer recognised 
 him as a waiter who had served at one of the 
 Saratoga hotels during the previous season/ 
 
 "Are you sure of that ?" 
 
THE KEACTION. 189 
 
 " I m not sure of anything. I only give you 
 what I ve heard." 
 
 " Where is Hyer ? I haven t seen hirn for sev 
 eral days/ 
 
 " Gone to New York, I presume, to take charge 
 of his new business. But, changing the subject, 
 Mr. Lyman : what are you going to do with 
 this elephant ?" Waving a hand towards the 
 hotel. 
 
 The lawyer made no response to the question. 
 
 " I ll tell you what to do with it." 
 
 A glance of inquiry. 
 
 " Offer it to the state for an insane asylum." 
 There was a half-serious, half-comic expression 
 on the man s face. " The choicest rooms could be 
 reserved for the directors," was added, with a 
 twinkle and a smile that could not be kept 
 back. 
 
 " Too grave a matter for jest," returned Mr. 
 Lyman, looking very serious. 
 
 " You do not think of opening it again ?" 
 
 " Under a new management something may 
 
190 THE BAH-TIOOMS AT BHANTLY. 
 
 be done. But I shall oppose any plan for run 
 ning the hotel ourselves. That was our great 
 mistake. We should have rented it to responsi 
 ble parties." 
 
 u If such are to be found," 
 
 " There are responsible people." 
 
 " Of course. How much has this whole thing 
 cost, Mr. Lyman?" 
 
 "Sixty thousand dollars had been expended 
 when the building was ready for guests." 
 
 " How much have you sunk since that time ?" 
 
 "Nearly eight thousand dollars. 
 
 "Besides the interest?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "A miserable showing on which to allure 
 responsible parties to undertake what, in your 
 hands, has proved so lamentable a failure." 
 
 " It will be easy to make the cause of failure 
 clear." 
 
 " In Hyer s incompetency or rascality, which 
 soever you please to call it." 
 
 Yes." 
 
THE REACTION. 191 
 
 " I hope you may succeed. No, I don t, either. 
 I d rather see a good, wholesome fire take hold 
 of the building than anything else ; for it has 
 cursed our town from the beginning and will 
 curse it to the end. There is not a man, or a 
 woman, or a child in Brantly on whom its baleful 
 shadow has not fallen." The speaker had 
 become strongly excited. " You must pardon 
 me, Mr. Lyman. But I have reason to feel 
 strongly on this subject. I am a father !" 
 
 The man s brow had darkened sternly ; and 
 there was a nervous tremor about his lips. For 
 a little while the two men looked at each other 
 in silence. 
 
 " It was an evil hour for us, Mr. Lyman, when 
 you and Fithian concocted this grand hotel 
 scheme. Brantly was prosperous and happy. 
 Scarcely eighteen months have passed since its 
 inception; and how fares it with Brantly to-day ? 
 Can you find me the man who counts himself 
 better off, or a home in which the light is not 
 dimmer than it was before ? In the last six 
 
192 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 months ten poor wretches have been taken from 
 Brantly to the county almshouse, and twice as 
 many to the county jail ! Look this fact steadily 
 in the face ; and then remember, that until now 
 neither the jail nor the poorhouse has had, in ten 
 years, a single representation from our town. If 
 this be growth, prosperity, advancement taking 
 step with the onward movement of a progressive 
 age I pray God that the old, sleepy, dead-and- 
 alive time of which we heard so much a year 
 ago, may settle down again, with all its torpors 
 and sluggishness, upon our people !" 
 
 Mr. Lyman, who was looking into the speaker s 
 face, noticed that it changed suddenly ; the eyes 
 fixing themselves on something across the street. 
 Turning, he saw two young men coming out of 
 a saloon which stood nearly opposite. Their move 
 ments were quick and excited, and it became in 
 stantly apparent that they had quarrelled. One 
 was threatening the other drawing back his 
 clenched fist as if about to strike. 
 
 " More of this accursed fruit !" exclaimed the 
 
THE REACTION. 193 
 
 man, as he started across the street. He was in 
 time to catch the uplifted hand and prevent a 
 blow that would have disfigured the face of his 
 own boy, a stripling scarcely nineteen, who had 
 been drinking so freely that he was in no condi 
 tion to defend himself. The unhappy father took 
 his son by the arm and led him away, his manly 
 form bent a little forward as if a heavy weight 
 were on his shoulders. 
 
 " Is that Overman s son ?" asked a neighbor, 
 addressing Mr. Lyman, who was standing as 
 one half dazed, his eyes following the man who 
 had just left him. 
 
 "I think so." 
 
 " Sorry work for Brantly !" 
 
 No reply. 
 
 "Who s the other?" 
 
 " I don t know." 
 
 " Oh ! I see. It s Grubb s son ; Philip Grubb ! 
 And he such a good-hearted, peaceable fellow ! 
 Ah ! drink, drink ! Isn t it a dreadful thing, 
 Mr. Lyman ?" 
 13 
 
194 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 But the lawyer was dumb. 
 
 " If this thing isn t stopped, the whole town 
 will go to rack and ruin. Instead of that rail 
 road to the metropolis, and I don t know where 
 else, that we ve heard so much about, we shall 
 have a fast line to the city of Destruction. It s 
 about time that we called a halt, sir !" 
 
 " That s easier said than done," remarked a 
 townsman who had joined them. " To open a 
 crevasse is one thing, and to stop it, after the 
 rush of waters has commenced, is quite another." 
 
 " For all that, the crevasse must be stopped," 
 was the emphatic answer. 
 
 66 Who s hand is strong enough ?" 
 
 " All of our hands must be set to the work. 
 We are in the face of a common danger. Sor 
 row and suffering and, it may be, death, are 
 rising against every man s door-stone, and none 
 can tell how soon the flood may sweep over." 
 
 " There will be hands as ready to break as to 
 mend." 
 
 Who s hands ?" 
 
THE REACTION. 
 
 195 
 
 " There are those who make gain out of the 
 common loss. Have you never heard of them ? 
 Look ! As we stand here we can count one, 
 two, three, four, five, six, seven drinking-places ; 
 and you may find twice as many more, if you 
 care to seek for them." 
 
 " They must be closed." 
 
 "How will you close them? Their right 
 to be open is as clearly guaranteed by law 
 as the right of the baker shop and the pro 
 vision store." 
 
 " Public sentiment will do it." 
 
 " Public sentiment may restrain this evil ; 
 but the instance is hardly on record where 
 it was strong enough to extirpate it after the 
 vigorous roots had struck themselves fairly into 
 the ground. Only the law is potent enough ; 
 but, unhappily, the law is on the side of the 
 debasing dram-seller, and not against him." 
 
 "I cannot take your disheartening view. 
 There is a power in the will of a whole com- 
 
196 THE BAK-KOOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 munity that must be felt. Let us have the will, 
 and the work is done." 
 
 " Of the whole community ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 * Something that you cannot have." 
 
 " Why not ?" 
 
 " Did you never hear of a divided will ? Re 
 member that our Brantly of to-day has a will of 
 evil as well as a will of good. It is a house 
 divided against itself. It has tasted of forbidden 
 fruit, the subtle juices of which have carried 
 fever-heats through its blood, bewildered its 
 brain, and bent its life away from health and 
 order. We have men among us who, for gain, 
 would rob or steal or murder, but for the 
 restraints of law. The state has legalized a 
 traffic which is based on the indulgence of an 
 appetite that grows with its indulgence stead 
 ily weakening the moral sense and lowering the 
 physical health an appetite that is ever a 
 curser and a destroyer. No good citizen no one 
 who regards his neighbor s well-being no man 
 
THE REACTION. 197 
 
 but he who cares not who loses so that he gains, 
 who dies in poverty and wretchedness so that he 
 lives and prospers, can or will accept the state s 
 license to make paupers and criminals, and to 
 scatter sorrow, disease, suffering and death among 
 the people. What influence do you think public 
 sentiment is going to have on these men ? None 
 whatever! They will laugh at the soft touch 
 of your hand and mine. It is only the iron 
 hand of the law of which they are afraid ; arid 
 in that they see no menace. It is their friend 
 and their protector. The will of this commu 
 nity, as I have just said, is a divided will. The 
 people have been robbed of their strength." 
 
 "Not all of them. There are stout hearts 
 and strong hands left. The doors of our citadel 
 were left open, and an enemy rushed in. He 
 has bound some, and wounded others, and slain a 
 few. But the days of weakness and submission 
 are over. There is an arming for battle and a 
 gathering of forces. He will be driven out !" 
 
 " We shall see," was the incredulous answer. 
 
THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 LOSS AND GAIN. 
 
 PT was a delusive dream into which Brantly 
 had fallen. For a time all the movements 
 of this dream were easy and all its fancies pleas 
 ant. But, as often happens in dreams, there 
 came a sudden change. Beauty faded; skies 
 grew dark and threatening; shapes of fairy love 
 liness were all at once transformed into wild 
 beasts, serpents or demons. Struck with a sense 
 of terror, she made an effort to turn and flee ; 
 when, lo ! a leaden torpor held her fast. Her 
 limbs were heavy. A dreadful weight, that 
 seemed crushing out her very life, was lying on 
 her panting chest. A palsying nightmare had 
 seized her. It was in vain that she struggled to 
 
LOSS AND GAIN. 199 
 
 free herself. The power of the demon was not 
 to be easily broken. 
 
 All at once, as if there had flowed into the 
 common thought a perception of danger, the 
 people of Brantly took the alarm ; and then the 
 struggle began. Day by day the necessity for 
 this struggle grew more and more apparent. 
 Reasons multiplied themselves with a painful 
 and often a startling rapidity. Until the people 
 opened their eyes and looked fairly over the 
 ground, scarcely any of them knew how widely 
 the plague of intemperance had spread, nor to 
 what fatal results its course, in too many sad 
 instances, was already running. Nor was it 
 confined to the town proper alone. The terrible 
 disease was in the atmosphere that drifted cir 
 cling away, and for miles and miles around were 
 seen its victims. Brantly had become a pest- 
 house ; and there was none to order its isolation. 
 
 The closing of the new hotel, and the unset 
 tled question as to the future course of the 
 directors, gave occasion for the free discussion of 
 
200 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 affairs that immediately followed, and for bringing 
 clearly into view the loss and gain to the people 
 of Brantly which had come as a result of the 
 great scheme. There were two parties to this 
 discussion, of course, and they stood bitterly and 
 resolutely antagonized. The party in favor of 
 every man s liberty to pursue whatever calling 
 best served his own interests, so that he did not 
 infringe a law of the state, was in a strongly 
 contrasting minority ; but it was resolute, and 
 safely entrenched behind its bulwark of legal 
 privilege. The most prominent man in this 
 party was Dennis Fithian. For a while Mr. 
 Lyman hesitated about giving the weight of his 
 influence to either side. In the board of hotel 
 directors he was in opposition to all plans for 
 re-opening the Brantly House that made stock 
 holders in any way responsible for losses in the 
 management. But when a man came up from 
 New York and offered to take the house for the 
 summer at a rent of three thousand dollars, he 
 gave a half-constrained acquiescence, but insisted 
 
LOSS AND GAIN. . 201 
 
 that adequate security for the rent must be had. 
 He wanted no risks nor contingencies. Whether 
 the season were profitable or not, the company 
 must have its rent. There had been losses and 
 disappointments enough already. To this he 
 was able to hold a majority of the directors. 
 The security not proving satisfactory to Mr. 
 Lyman, his correspondent in New York making 
 an unfavorable report on the parties offered as 
 bondsmen, he was able to carry a vote against 
 the proposed lessee. Fithian had strongly advo 
 cated the other side, and after the vote was 
 taken lost his temper and uttered many offensive 
 things. Warming in his indignation, he turned 
 to the lawyer and said, in half-bravado, 
 
 " Will you take me as security ?" 
 
 " Yes ; so far as I am concerned. But I can 
 not speak for the others. Do you agree to sign 
 the bond ?" 
 
 Fithian s manner changed. The anger went 
 out of his face, and he had the air of one who 
 felt himself baffled in a purpose. He dropped 
 
202 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 his eyes to the floor and sat thinking for a few 
 moments. 
 
 " I ll tell you what I will do," he said, looking 
 up. 
 
 "-What?" 
 
 " Take the lease myself." 
 
 " You !" The word came in surprise from 
 more lips than one. 
 
 " I have not lost faith in the Brantly House. 
 The result of last season was no fair test. There 
 is money in it for somebody ; and as you are not 
 disposed to get it out yourselves, I ll try my 
 hand at the business. So, make out the lease ; 
 and if you want security, it shall be forth 
 coming." 
 
 " But you are not really in earnest ?" said one 
 and another. 
 
 " Entirely so." 
 
 " What do you know about keeping a hotel ?" 
 
 " I know that two and two make four ; and 
 also that, if you take eight from ten, two remain. 
 The trouble with our late manager was, that he 
 
LOSS AND GAIN. 203 
 
 tried to take ten from eight, and the sum didn t 
 come out right. You understand ?" 
 
 " You ll make a great mistake/ said Mr. 
 Lyman. 
 
 " It will be my own loss. The only question 
 you have to decide is, whether I can have the 
 lease or not." 
 
 " There will be scarcely an objection, I pre 
 
 sume." 
 
 And there was none. Three thousand dollars 
 would be something to the weary, waiting and, 
 in more than one instance, embarrassed stock 
 holders. It would come as a check to the tide 
 which had been steadily running out for so long 
 and long a time. There would be slack water 
 a little turning back, and then ? might not the 
 waters rise higher and higher, and the harvest- 
 moon of their hopes give the long-waited-for flood- 
 tide of prosperity ? Some took heart again ; but 
 Mr. Lyman was not one of these. From before 
 his eyes the vain illusions and self-deceptions 
 from which he had been so long acting were 
 
204 THE BAR-BOOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 passing away, and his clearer vision saw little to 
 inspire either hope or confidence. He had over 
 twenty thousand dollars locked up in this showy 
 and not very substantial pile of unfinished build 
 ings, the very sight of which was now an annoy 
 ance, if not an offence. Safe investments, which 
 had long paid him from seven to eight per cent, 
 a year, had been changed into Brantly House 
 stock. On this, instalment after instalment had 
 been called, but no dividend declared; and for 
 all the lease to Fithian, he saw little prospect of 
 any dividend in the future. In fact, he had lost 
 faith in Fithian ; but whether as to his judgment 
 or his integrity was not a clearly settled thing. 
 
 If the pecuniary loss had been all that con 
 cerned Roger Lyman, he might have seen a way 
 out of his trouble. Bat his mistake had wrought 
 a far deeper mischief and threatened a more 
 ruinous disaster. His own son had been caught 
 in the flood that was sweeping through the town, 
 and he saw him slowly borne away on its dark 
 and treacherous waters. What was the gain or 
 
LOSS AND GAIN. 205 
 
 loss of money to this ! He had not stopped to 
 consider his neighbor s weal or woe when he threw 
 the weight of his influence on the side of bar 
 rooms and drinking-houses, and in favor of lift 
 ing quiet, contented Brantly out of the safe and 
 prosperous way in which she had been going for so 
 many years. Back of all the specious arguments, 
 the glowing statements and confident prophesies 
 with which he had excited the people and drawn 
 them over to his side, was the end that influ 
 enced him. It was not his neighbor s good, but 
 his own that lay nearest his heart. Not Brant 
 ly s prosperity, but Roger Lyman s. A grand 
 hotel, and the customs and vices of social life in 
 great cities, would attract hundreds to the town 
 during the summer time so he reasoned. New 
 elements would come in ; new blood flow into the 
 veins of the people ; a new era of prosperity 
 would dawn. Besides large yearly dividends on 
 the hotel investment, increased demands for pro 
 fessional service would swell the lawyer s in 
 come, and give him an influence, power and 
 
206 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 prestige far beyond anything possible under the 
 old order of things. All benefits to himself were 
 magnified ; all loss or injury to his neighbor made 
 of little or no account. What had he to do with 
 his neighbor s welfare ! Let his neighbor take 
 care of that. Because there were fine hotels and 
 beer-gardens and drinking-houses all over the 
 land, were the whole people besotted and going 
 to destruction? It was a libel on humanity. 
 And, moreover, it was a poor compliment 
 to Brantly to say that she was not able to 
 control herself and let her moderation be 
 seen of all the world. He would be sponsor for 
 Brantly. 
 
 But all of Mr. Ly man s fine enthusiasm, so 
 much of which had gone in this direction, was 
 dying out. He had reached a new standpoint, 
 from which everything was seen in a new posi 
 tion. Nothing had come out according to his 
 forecast. His sagacity had failed him ; and he 
 saw that the failure was a most miserable one 
 chiefly in this, that upon his own heart and home 
 
LOSS AND GAIN. 207 
 
 was fulling the curse he had not cared to hold 
 back from his neighbor s heart and home. 
 
 If the plague had not smitten his own house 
 hold, it is doubtful whether Roger Lyman would 
 have gone back upon his record. But this fact 
 left him without excuse. For a while he hesi 
 tated. Mr. Norman tried, but vainly, to draw him 
 into the ranks of those who by effort, by speech 
 and by example, set themselves to the work of re 
 stricting, breaking down, and finally extirpating 
 the evil of intemperance. An occurrence, the 
 pain and humiliation of which were felt for years 
 afterward, settled whatever debate had been 
 going on in his mind. 
 
 As we have seen, the effort made by Mr. and 
 Mrs. Lyman to break off the engagement between 
 their daughter and Frank Sylvester, had failed 
 of its purpose. Their opposition, based on the 
 young man s danger, not only tended to increase 
 the girl s devotion to her lover, but inspired her 
 with a sentiment of self-sacrificing heroism. 
 With unusual strength of will, she had a warm 
 
208 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 imagination, and great confidence in her power 
 over Frank, who had a weaker nature than hers. 
 Where others saw in this very weakness his 
 greatest danger, she saw in it the element by 
 which she felt confident of being able to influ 
 ence and save him. 
 
 Mr. Fithian did not recede from his suddenly- 
 formed determination to lease the new hotel. 
 That he was in earnest about the matter became 
 apparent in the work of renovating and setting 
 in order which soon began. He was not com 
 municative about his plans ; but it gradually 
 came out that he had engaged the services of a 
 man experienced in hotel-keeping, to whom the 
 business of catering and managing the internal 
 affairs of the establishment were to be committed. 
 He would have nothing to do with the finances. 
 These were to be in his own hands. His son 
 Charley would take the position of cashier, and 
 as all money must pass through him, Mr. Fithi 
 an felt that, under this arrangement, he would 
 be secure from loss by peculation. 
 
LOSS AND GAIN. 209 
 
 People shook their heads doubtfully, or prophe 
 sied success, when all this became known, accord 
 ing to their various feelings and sentiments. But 
 there was a pretty general agreement in one 
 opinion, and this was, that Mr. Fithian would 
 run a great risk if he placed his son, still little 
 more than a boy, in so responsible a position, and 
 one in which he would be exposed to so many 
 temptations. " It will be his ruin," said one and 
 another ; and there were few to question the 
 prediction. 
 
 As summer drew near, the stir of preparation 
 for re-opening the hotel began. Advertisements 
 were sent to the papers in most of the large sea 
 board towns, wherein the Brantly House and the 
 attractive region in which it was located were 
 described in glowing terms. Particular stress 
 was laid on the modern style and modern im 
 provements appertaining to the new hotel. The 
 table was to be furnished with all the luxuries 
 and delicacies of the season, and the cellars with 
 
 the choicest wines and liquors. 
 14 
 
210 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 By the 1st of July over half the rooms were 
 taken, and guests began to arrive. The most 
 self-important man in town, and the one who 
 held his head the highest, was Dennis Fithian, 
 who gave two hours of his time to his new 
 enterprise, where one was devoted to his regular 
 business a fact not at all pleasing to Mr. 
 Grubb, who was growing more and more dissat 
 isfied with his partner every day. For some 
 time their relations had not been of the most 
 agreeable character, and the expediency of a dis 
 solution had more than once been thought of by 
 both of them. 
 
 At the first rising flow in the tide of business, 
 men are apt to grow confident, and to see the 
 coming of large success. A favorable look in 
 affairs, where a pet scheme is concerned, has 
 turned many a man s head, and betrayed him to 
 his ruin. As letter after letter came in answer 
 to his advertisements, and room after room was 
 engaged, Mr. Fithian s confidence in the hotel 
 business grew larger, and his faith in himself 
 
LOSS AND GAIN. 211 
 
 stronger. Here was, at last, a man who knew 
 something at the head of affairs ; not a set of 
 timid old fogies who were afraid of their shadows. 
 He had always believed in this hotel project, and 
 now that he had a clear field before him, would 
 show Brantly and the world what enterprise 
 could do. 
 
 How largely did this man carry himself as 
 guests began to arrive freely, and the halls and 
 porches of the great hotel became alive with 
 gayly-dressed ladies ! His self-importance in 
 creased until it was an offence to many. But 
 there is no unmixed good. Into his confidence 
 for the future crept an annoying regret. He had 
 made a great mistake in his lease. It should 
 have been for a year, or, better, for five years, 
 instead of for only a few months. His successful 
 season would give the stockholders a true idea 
 of the value of their property, and prevent him 
 from obtaining a renewal of his lease except at 
 greatly-advanced figures. The more he thought 
 of this, the more it worried him. It was in his 
 
212 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 mind night and day. What a fool he had been ! 
 How to rectify this error became his absorbing 
 idea. If he asked to have the lease extended 
 now, when every one saw the tide of success 
 flowing in, it would be equivalent to a notifica 
 tion to advance the rent to figures that would 
 seriously reduce in value the rich harvest he saw 
 ripening before him. 
 
 " "Wouldn t you like to have some more of the 
 stock ?" asked Mr. Lyman, one day. " I ll sell 
 out at a bargain." 
 
 Fithian had been talking to him rather more 
 freely than usual about his hotel enterprise. 
 His anxiety in regard to the renewal of his lease 
 had made him more circumspect of late. 
 
 " Will you ?" There was an effort on the part 
 of Fithian to seem indifferent. 
 
 " Yes. Do you wish to buy ?" 
 
 Fithian drew his coarse lips hard together, 
 looked a resolute " No," and shook his head. 
 
 " I didn t know. You seem so confident about 
 making things pay." 
 
LOSS AND GAIN. 213 
 
 " Under proper management, I think, as I 
 have always thought, that a fair business can be 
 done. If my hands were entirely free from other 
 business, I wouldn t hesitate, provided I could 
 secure a lease on moderately good terms, to 
 undertake it myself." 
 
 " Why not buy up the stock, and get the 
 whole thing into your own hands ? I ll sell out 
 cheap." 
 
 " How cheap ?" 
 
 " What will you give ?" 
 
 " Twenty-five dollars a share." 
 
 No." 
 
 Thirty." 
 
 "No." 
 
 " All right. Don t care to pay even that. I 
 only bid on the spur of the moment, and had 
 just as lief you wouldn t take me up." 
 
 But the ice was broken, and the men under 
 stood each other. One was ready to sell and 
 the other to buy, if only a price could be agreed 
 upon. Before the end of a week this was settled, 
 
214 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 and the stock which had cost Roger Lyman 
 twenty thousand dollars was transferred to 
 Dennis Fithian, and in lieu thereof he held the 
 latter s note of hand, secured by mortgage on 
 real estate, for the sum of seven thousand five 
 hundred dollars. 
 
 As Mr. Lyman thus washed his hands clean 
 of this whole disastrous business, he drew a 
 deep sigh of relief. Clear of it all, did we say ? 
 Alas, no ! That was, in fact, impossible. The 
 wrong we do, can never be wholly repaired ; the 
 evils we draw upon ourselves, through crime or 
 folly, can never be wholly removed. Modified, 
 mitigated, atoned for they may be, but in some 
 form their effect will remain, and cast a shadow, 
 faint or sombre, over the brightest sunshine that 
 in after years throws its pleasant warmth and 
 golden beauty across our way. 
 
 There were other stockholders quite as ready 
 to sell as Mr. Lyman; and Fithian was, ere 
 long, the owner of more than eighty per cent, 
 of the shares, which gave him as much control 
 
LOSS AND GAIN. 215 
 
 as he desired. But, outside of his interest in 
 the canning establishment of Grubb & Fithian, 
 he had no property that could be made available 
 for these additional purchases, and so, in order 
 to make them, he sold out this interest; giving 
 up a sure profit for the uncertain gains of a busi 
 ness about which he knew nothing, and on which 
 failure had been written from the day of its 
 inception. 
 
 Brantly lifted herself once more, and looked 
 bright and hopeful, as the influx of strangers 
 set in and business began to move a little, and 
 money to find its way more freely than for many 
 months past into the hands of the people. After 
 all, was not this hotel enterprise a good thing? 
 What would poor Brantly have done this summer 
 without it ? 
 
 Dennis Fithian was the man of mark now. 
 How loftily he carried himself! He was taller 
 and larger than before, unless people s eyes were 
 deceived. Cigar-shops and drinking-saloons be 
 gan to increase again ; and the young men of 
 
216 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 the town, with many of whom Mr. Norman had 
 revived his old influence, began drifting away 
 from the safe places into which they had been 
 drawn through the increase of a better public 
 sentiment. 
 
 By the first or second week in August the tide 
 was at its full flood. More than a hundred 
 guests had registered their names at the hotel. 
 Among these were a few notables, of both sexes ; 
 men and women who, in art, literature, politics, 
 religion, trade or finance, had lifted themselves 
 above the common level and found public recog 
 nition. This was quite a feather in the cap of 
 Brantly ; and her best people, of whom Mr. 
 Lyman was the leading representative, made it 
 their business to show distinguished attentions 
 to these eminent personages, some of whom were 
 in no way disinclined to accept them. To dine 
 at the hotel with one and another of these was an 
 often accepted courtesy on his part, and he as 
 frequently entertained at his own house in 
 return. 
 
LOSS AND GAIN. 217 
 
 "When Mr. Lyman sold his stock in the hotel 
 company, and turned his back, under a bitter 
 sense of loss and humiliation, on the whole order 
 of things which he had done so much to create, 
 it was with the determination to join hands with 
 Mr. Norman in an uncompromising warfare 
 against the evils it had wrought in the commu 
 nity. To banish from his table and his house 
 all that could intoxicate, was among the first 
 results of this determination. Personal absti 
 nence came next. But the aggressive attitude 
 was delayed. He was not yet quite ready for 
 this. He must have time for consideration; 
 must look over the whole ground, and take no 
 step that he might hereafter be compelled to 
 retrace. Interest, reputation, consistency, the 
 good opinion of his neighbors all these had to 
 be considered. How would Roger Lyman be 
 affected should he become a leading man in this 
 reform ? Not, how much good would come to 
 the people? It was himself, not his neighbor, 
 who must be considered. 
 
218 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 So he hesitated about committing himself to 
 the movement which was taking form and force 
 under the leadership of Mr. Norman ; content 
 to speak well of it and to refrain from putting 
 any impediments in its way. 
 
 The opening of the season at the hotel found 
 him in this half-hearted attitude. All that he 
 had yet done was in a quiet, unostentatious, 
 non-committal way. But now came the trial 
 that was to prove him. An eminent lawyer 
 named Dalton had come up with his family from 
 New York to spend the summer. Soon after it 
 became known that he was at the hotel, Mr. 
 Lyman called on him, and the two men took a 
 fancy to each other. An invitation to dine at 
 the hotel was accepted. Mr. Dalton had his 
 wine, and Mr. Lyman was not strong enough to 
 refuse when his glass was filled. To return the 
 compliment of a dinner was a matter of course ; 
 and wine also a matter of course. Mr. Lyman 
 drank with his guest ; and his son, and also his 
 
LOSS AND GAIN. 219 
 
 son-in-law soon to be, and others who sat with 
 them at the table, drank also. 
 
 This was only the beginning. Mr. Dalton 
 introduced Mr. Lyra an to various prominent 
 personages who were at the hotel, and a series 
 of reciprocal dinings and winings followed, 
 greatly to the demoralization of life and senti 
 ment both with Mr. Lyman and those who felt 
 the more immediate influence of his example. 
 There were many pleasant and cultivated people 
 at the hotel, and some whose society was much 
 enjoyed by Mrs. Lyman, who was herself a woman 
 of fine culture. 
 
 The marriage of their daughter with Frank 
 Sylvester was to take place early in September. 
 The parents, seeing the utter uselessness of oppo 
 sition, had given a reluctant consent, and active 
 preparations for the event were going on as the 
 summer drew to a close. Invitations to the 
 wedding had been extended to a number of Mr. 
 and Mrs. Lyman s new friends, some of whom 
 expected to remain at the hotel during the month 
 
220 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 of September. Others promised to come up from 
 the city to grace the occasion by their presence. 
 As the time drew near, the heart of Mrs. 
 Lyman became heavier instead of lighter. For 
 awhile, after the sorrowful scene we have de 
 scribed, young Sylvester abstained from all in 
 toxicating drinks. Marie was very watchful 
 over him, and did all in her power to strengthen 
 his good purpose. But after the new season at 
 the hotel began, and he made the acquaintance 
 of several young men from the city, temptation 
 became too strong. And when Mr. Lyman him 
 self, at his own table, sent the bottle around, he 
 cast denial aside, and on more than one occasion 
 filled his glass so often that his flushed face and 
 thickening speech told, alas, too plainly of excess. 
 No wonder that Mrs. Lyman s heart grew heavier 
 instead of lighter, as Marie s wedding-day came 
 nearer and nearer. 
 
MARIE S WEDDING. 221 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 MARIE S WEDDING. 
 
 TUST a week, and then the wedding-day. 
 Let us look in upon the Lymans, and see 
 how it is with them as the coming event ap 
 proaches. It had been the mother s wish to 
 have as little eclat as possible ; but the more 
 ambitious father saw in the occasion an oppor 
 tunity for display ; and the weaker side of his 
 character led him into doing what neither his 
 good sense nor his good judgment really approved. 
 His daughter s marriage was not an event to be 
 passed over as if it were an ordinary occurrence. 
 It must be made an occasion of rejoicing, as 
 befitted so important a ceremonial. There must 
 be a feast ; some fashionable display ; 110 little 
 
222 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 pretension and show. And for what ? If there 
 had been no new friends from one or two of the 
 great centres of ostentatious social life, Mr. 
 Lyman would have felt differently. It was not 
 so much in honor of the occasion ; not so much 
 to impress Brantly, that he decided to give his 
 daughter a brilliant wedding ; but that he might 
 dazzle, so to speak, his city friends with an en 
 tertainment as notable for its pretension and dis 
 play as for its lack of fitness and good taste. 
 
 It was in vain that Mrs. Lyman opposed all 
 this. Her husband had set his heart on it, and 
 would have his way. In order that everything 
 might be done in the most approved style, he 
 had engaged the services of the head waiter at 
 the hotel, and given him instructions to provide 
 an entertainment for not less than a hundred 
 guests, and to do it on a liberal scale. Wine 
 of course ; of the choicest brands and in ample 
 quantity. 
 
 " Don t do it, Koger," Mrs. Lyman said, with 
 a husky choking in her voice, as she held up a 
 
MARIE S WEDDING. 223 
 
 wine list which had been marked by the head 
 waiter. 
 
 " Don t have wine !" answered her husband, 
 surprise and impatience mingling in his voice. 
 " We might as well give up the entertainment 
 altogether." 
 
 " It would be better than to have all this." 
 And Mrs. Lyman put her finger here and there 
 upon the slip of paper, whereon baskets of Yellow 
 Seal, Pale Sherry, Amontillado, Piper Heidsieck, 
 Veuve Clicquot, Mumrn s Dry Verzenay and Ro- 
 derer s Carte Blanche were set down to be or 
 dered. 
 
 "Don t be foolish, dear. There is only one 
 way to do this thing. Remember, that it is our 
 daughter s wedding." 
 
 " There is no danger of my forgetting that," 
 answered Mrs. Lyman, the misery not dying out 
 of her tones. 
 
 "If I could help it. But I cannot. We ve 
 invited all these people from the city ; and to 
 have a wedding-feast and no wine would be to 
 
224 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 make ourselves ridiculous. They would feel it 
 as something akin to an insult." 
 
 "I do not think so." 
 
 "I am sure of it. But there is no use in 
 talking now. Things have gone too far. The 
 invitations are out, and cannot be recalled." 
 
 With this Mr. Lyman closed the discussion; 
 and his wife, knowing how fruitless would be 
 all opposition, gave herself up to the work of 
 preparation with as much external cheerfulness 
 as it was possible for her to assume. Marie, as 
 all who observed her closely could see, was not 
 approaching the altar with a glad, free step. 
 Not that there was any evidence of change or 
 repentance ; for nothing of that was in her 
 heart. She was looking forward with desire to 
 her wedding-day ; for after that she hoped to 
 obtain a better influence over Frank, so that she 
 might hold him away from the sphere of temp 
 tation which, all through the summer, had been 
 steadily breaking down his self-control. There 
 had been too much pleasant company, and too 
 
MARIE S WEDDING. 225 
 
 much dissipation at the hotel ; too many suppers 
 and drinking parties among the fast young men 
 from New York who were spending a few weeks 
 in the country for health and recreation. Ah ! 
 how many times had the maiden s heart grown 
 faint and afraid, as she met her lover, and saw 
 "by indications which it was impossible for her to 
 mistake, that he had been tarrying too long at 
 the wine ! But she held to her faith, that when 
 she became his wife she would be able to lead 
 him back into safe ways, and to keep his feet 
 from wandering. 
 
 Not alone on Frank s account was Marie con 
 cerned. Her anxiety for her brother was even 
 greater than for her lover. Horace would take 
 no hint or remonstrance from his sister. The 
 slightest intimation on her part that she thought 
 him in danger roused a feeling of anger. He 
 had grown irritable and moody, and seemed to 
 be losing both his interest in and love for Marie, 
 to whom he had always been warmly attached. 
 Frank she hoped to restrain through her per- 
 15 
 
226 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 petual love and care; but Horace was going 
 farther and farther away, and out of the reach 
 of her influence ; and this threw over her heart 
 a perpetual shadow. 
 
 The wedding-day arrived. " Happy is the 
 bride that the sun shines on." Not with any 
 fair promise did the morning open. There 
 was a dull, leaden sky and slow-falling rain. 
 If there had been a rushing sound of wind, 
 and gusty intermissions, and the sweep of 
 cloudy chariots across the heavens, to break 
 the silence and oppression and stir the pulses, 
 the gloom and vague foreboding that settled 
 over the household might have been dispelled. 
 But nature herself was against them. As for 
 Mrs. Lyrnan, the tears that filled her eyes, as, 
 after an almost sleepless night, she saw in the 
 east only a dull gray light instead of the purple 
 rays that heralded a cloudless sunrise, were in 
 in them all the day long. 
 
 The ceremony was to be at twelve o clock; the 
 grand collation at one ; and at three the bride 
 
MARIE S WEDDING. 227 
 
 and groom were to start on their wedding- 
 tour. 
 
 Frank, in parting with Marie on the evening 
 before, had promised to come round in the morn 
 ing and see her, if it was but for a moment; but 
 this promise he had not kept a circumstance 
 that left a feeling of disappointment and uneasi 
 ness in the mind of the bride-to-be. Her brother 
 had not come home until very late, and his ap 
 pearance at breakfast-time indicated too plainly 
 that the night had been spent in dissipation. 
 Had Frank been with him ? Ah ! if her faith 
 in Frank could have given the undoubting an 
 swer, "No!" 
 
 On leaving Marie, at an earlier hour than 
 usual on the night before, young Sylvester had 
 gone directly to the Brantly House, where a 
 party of friends awaited him. Among these 
 were two or three rather wild and reckless 
 fellows from New York, who had planned to 
 make him drunk, if possible, on the eve of his 
 wedding-day ; it would be such rare sport ! In 
 
228 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 this wicked purpose they were too successful. 
 At two o clock he w r as taken home by a waiter, 
 so badly intoxicated that he could neither walk 
 nor stand without support. 
 
 It was nearly ten o clock, on the dark and to 
 him wretched morning that followed, before 
 Frank, with all the disgraceful signs of his last 
 night s debauch visible in his face, came down 
 from his room, and swallowed a cup of strong 
 coffee in order to steady his nerves. For food 
 he had no appetite. He did not forget his 
 promise to call on Marie, just for a minute; 
 but how could he do this ? And, indeed, the 
 morning was too far gone. She was in the 
 hands of those who were to prepare her for the 
 bridal, and he had none too much time left in 
 which to make himself ready. 
 
 In her white dress and veil and sweet orange 
 
 O 
 
 blossoms, as she stood among her bridesmaids, 
 Marie was a picture of loveliness. But all the 
 color had gone out of her face. A few minutes, 
 and the hands on the dial, towards which her 
 
MARIE S WEDDING. 229 
 
 eyes kept turning restlessly every moment, would 
 point to the hour of twelve ; and up to this time 
 Frank had not made his appearance, nor had 
 any word come from him. 
 
 Waiting and silence ; a brooding sense of fear. 
 What does it mean ? The hands move on. 
 Moments seem like hours. Hark ! a sound of 
 carriage-wheels in rapid motion. The clock is 
 striking the hour as the laggard bridegroom 
 enters. Marie lifts her eyes to his face ; and 
 then like a leaden weight her heart sinks down 
 in her bosom. 
 
 Had he been drinking? Nothing stronger 
 than a cup of coffee ! But Marie read in his pale 
 and nerveless face, and in the shame in his eyes 
 that gave her no glad greeting, all the truth she 
 had feared. There had been a night of folly and 
 disgrace. For an instant the thought of stepping 
 back swept through her mind ; but it was for an 
 instant only. A moment after, and one hand 
 was drawn within his arm and clasped by the 
 other. Her head bent a little forward, her eyes 
 
230 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 resting on the floor. A deep hush ; a waiting 
 stillness ; and then the bridal party went down 
 and stood before the clergyman. 
 
 As Mr. Lyman, who had heard about the revel 
 of the night before, in which his own son had 
 taken a part, looked at his daughter s colorless 
 face as she was about giving her irrevocable pro 
 mise to become the wife of a man who had so 
 miserably debauched himself with drink on the 
 very eve of his wedding-day, he could hardly 
 restrain an impulse that rose in his heart to for 
 bid the banns. He might have done this had 
 not the eyes of so many been upon him. But, 
 in his weak pride and foolish love of eclat, he 
 had lifted a ceremonial so peculiarly sacred to the 
 heart and home into the region of display. New 
 friends, invited to the exhibition, were there, and 
 it would never do to mar the scene and make 
 them witnesses of his family s disgrace. Dis 
 grace ! That was the swift thought that flashed 
 across his mind. The skeleton must not be cast 
 
MARIE S WEDDING. 281 
 
 forth to be seen of all, but hidden away from 
 sight. 
 
 Not so far out of sight as Mr. Lyman imagined 
 was hidden the ghastly thing. Was it the dark 
 and dreary day ; or the penetrating sphere of a 
 troubled household ; or the presence in every 
 guest s mind of the truth about Sylvester, which 
 all Brantly knew before the day was three hours 
 old, that cast a shadow and a restraint upon the 
 whole company, and which was not dispelled 
 until the wine of the lavish entertainment that 
 followed the marriage ceremony gave its exhil 
 aration to heart and brain ? All had their influ 
 ence, chiefly the last. 
 
 The nervous exhaustion from which Frank 
 was suffering in consequence of the last night s 
 excess, became so great by the time the collation 
 was ready, that cold beads of sweat stood on his 
 forehead ; and his pale face drew the notice of 
 many eyes. He did not look the happy bride 
 groom. But it was not long after the popping 
 of corks and the clinking of glasses were heard, 
 
232 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 before a change became visible. A warmer color 
 flushed his cheeks ; his eyes regained their bright 
 ness; his form drew itself to a firmer bearing; 
 his voice had a more confident tone. Soon the 
 old gayety and freedom; the pleasant jest and 
 merry laughter. This was not so noticeable to 
 the many as to the few, in whose hearts fear and 
 pain and a sense of humiliation held anxious 
 counsel; for in the general hilarity that came 
 with the feast the spirits of all had their measure 
 of exaltation. 
 
 There had never been seen in Brantly an 
 entertainment on so lavish a scale, and in a style 
 of such elegance, as this one. It was a real sen 
 sation. Town s peqple took note of its novel 
 peculiarities and specially attractive features, in 
 order to describe them to those who were not so 
 fortunate as themselves in being numbered with 
 the invited guests. The abundance of wine was 
 among its noticeable features ; and especially the 
 freedom with which it was taken by the younger 
 portion of the company. And there was still 
 
MARIE S WEDDING. 233 
 
 another noticeable thing new to Brantly s ex 
 perience in social life and that was a wild, noisy, 
 almost uproarious freedom of speech and manner, 
 especially with the young men and girls who had 
 come over from the hotel, and which gradually 
 communicated itself to the young people of the 
 town. 
 
 Among the guests was Mr. Norman, an old 
 and valued friend of the family he was there of 
 course. His serious face and quiet but keenly 
 observant eyes gave to Mr. Lyman an uneasy 
 impression, whenever he happened to encounter 
 him. He had no need to ask the grave old man 
 what he thought of his elegant entertainment. 
 He knew that there was no approval in his 
 heart. 
 
 Gradually, as the hilarity became more and 
 more pronounced among those who were indulg 
 ing themselves too freely in champagne, the older, 
 more prudent, and more thoughtful of the com 
 pany, began separating themselves from the gay 
 and noisy portion, and to regard the latter with 
 
234 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 sober looks and questioning glances. Festivity 
 was losing itself in revelry. There were fathers 
 and mothers there who began to feel ashamed for 
 the wild, free conduct of their sons arid daugh 
 ters ; and more than one of these saw, with alarm 
 and deep mortification, their boys passing over 
 into partial inebriation. 
 
 Mr. Norman had withdrawn himself from the 
 crowded rooms in which the collation was spread, 
 and was standing near a window, that opened out 
 upon the piazza, when a gentleman whom he 
 had met a few times at the new hotel said to 
 him, with a shrug of his shoulders, 
 
 "Is this the way you do things in Brantly?" 
 
 " It was never before so seen," replied Mr. 
 Norman. 
 
 " Indeed!" 
 
 " These are city ways." 
 
 " Beg pardon. Not city ways ; but rude, dis 
 orderly, and vulgar ways, let them be seen where 
 they may." 
 
 " Until the city element came in, and affected 
 
MARIE S WEDDING. 235 
 
 our young men and women with its license and 
 its excess, we had nothing of this." 
 
 " The city element, or the wine and brandy ele 
 ment ?" queried the gentleman, with a steady 
 look at Mr. Norman. 
 
 "You have said it," answered the old man. 
 
 " Given the abundance of wine we have here 
 to-night and you will be likely to have a similar 
 scene, whether the entertainment be in city or 
 country," returned the other. " I have seen it 
 over and over again. It is a great mistake, sir ; 
 a great mistake I might call it by some harder 
 name to set a temptation like this in the way 
 of young people. I am the more surprised at 
 Mr. Lyman, because, as I have heard, both his 
 son and the young man who has just married his 
 daughter, are inclined to use liquors rather too 
 freely. Is this really so ?" 
 
 Before Mr. Norman could reply, a wild burst 
 of laughter, mingled witli a confusion of voices, 
 drew their attention, and they saw Frank Sylves 
 ter with a glass in one hand and his arm about 
 
236 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 the waist of a madcap girl almost as much under 
 the influence of wine as himself, trying, with un 
 certain steps, to execute a waltz ; while a score 
 of young people closed about them, and cheered 
 their unsteady movements. It was a sad sight, 
 hurting the eyes of many, and casting a painful 
 restraint over nearly the whole company. Even 
 a portion of the reckless and excited young peo 
 ple, who had caught the infection of the hour, 
 were brought back into a soberer state of mind. 
 
 A chill seemed to creep down into the heart 
 of nearly every one, and the light of the sombre 
 day to grow darker, as if heavier clouds had come 
 sweeping across the sky. 
 
 How natural that all eyes, as they turned from 
 the hot, excited countenance of the more than 
 half-intoxicated young man, should go searching 
 after his bride! Her face, out of which the un 
 usual pallor that all had noticed did not pass 
 with the passing ceremony, was nowhere to be 
 seen in the banqueting room ; nor in the parlors. 
 Long ere this she had gone quietly up to her 
 
MARIE S WEDDING. 237 
 
 chamber and was there, alone with her mother, her 
 face wet with tears and hidden on her breast. It 
 was well for both that they were not witnesses of 
 the scene we have described, nor of another still 
 more painful, that followed soon afterwards, when 
 Marie s brother, attracted by the laughter and 
 outcry, carne forward to see what was going on. 
 He, too, had been drinking freely ; but his tem 
 perament being different from that of Sylvester, 
 the effect on his brain was different. Instead of 
 becoming gay and reckless under the influence 
 of wine, he grew moody, suspicious and ill-na 
 tured. He knew, of course, in what condition 
 Frank had been taken home on the night before, 
 and felt keenly the wrong to his sister involved 
 in this marriage. Though not setting any guard 
 upon himself, he had watched Sylvester and seen 
 with a growing sense of irritation the dangerous 
 freedom with which he was filling and emptying 
 glass after glass ; and as his own brain became 
 more and more confused, his feeling of displeasure 
 grew stronger. On seeing what was passing, he 
 
238 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 lost his self-control entirely. Breaking through 
 the crowd, he cried angrily, 
 
 " Don t make a fool of yourself, Frank Syl 
 vester ! There s heen more than enough of this !" 
 
 Instantly there fell a dead silence upon the 
 company. Mr. Lyman, who stood near, sprang 
 forward and between the two young men, and 
 putting his arm within that of his son drew him 
 from the room. He had no difficulty in doing 
 this, for Horace saw in an instant the folly of his 
 act, and the disgrace it had brought upon himself 
 and his family. The madcap young girl who 
 had a moment before been whirling about in the 
 waltz, dropped her hold on Sylvester s arm and 
 shrank away from him abashed ; as did many of 
 the rioisest and most reckless of the gay young 
 men and women who had gathered about them. 
 
 What after that, but for the guests to take their 
 departure ? One and another went drifting out, 
 silent and with thoughtful faces, until only a few 
 of the nearer friends remained. Among these 
 was Mr. Norman. He was sitting alone with 
 
MARIE S WEDDING. 239 
 
 Mr. Lyman in his office, to which they had retired, 
 when Mr. Fithian carne in hastily. There was a 
 frightened look in the man s face, which showed 
 a great deal of repressed agitation. 
 
 "Is your son Horace here?" he asked, his 
 voice shaking as he spoke. 
 
 "Yes," replied Mr. Lyman. "Do you wish 
 to see him particularly ?" 
 
 " I do." 
 
 " Take a chair." Mr. Fithian took the offered 
 seat. Large drops of perspiration were standing 
 on his forehead. 
 
 " I hope there s nothing wrong," said Mr. Nor 
 man, as Mr. Lyman went from the office to call 
 his son. 
 
 " I don t know, but there s a had look about 
 things," replied Fithian. 
 
 " You ve had a good season." 
 
 "That s to be seen." 
 
 Mr. Lyman came in with his son, whose face 
 wore a sullen aspect. Fithian started up as soon 
 as he saw him and asked eagerly 
 
240 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 "Did you see my son Charley last night?" 
 
 " I did." 
 
 "At what time?" 
 
 Horace reflected for a moment and then an 
 swered 
 
 " I met him and Floyd walking down the street 
 together. Floyd had a satchel in his hand." 
 
 " At what time ?" 
 
 " About nine o clock, I think." 
 
 " Was Charley carrying anything?" 
 
 " Not that I observed. Yes, now that I think 
 of it, he had a package of something under his 
 
 arm." 
 
 " And you saw nothing of him afterwards ?" 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 Fithian was silent for some moments, as he 
 stood with his eyes cast down. His hands were 
 moving nervously, while the agitation of his face 
 visibly increased. 
 
 "Have you ever heard anything about this 
 Floyd ?" he asked, lifting his eyes to the young 
 man s face. 
 
MARIE S WEDDING. 
 " Yes ; considerable." 
 
 " I heard a gentleman from New York say 
 that he was a dangerous fellow; and another, 
 that he had the reputation of being a gambler." 
 
 Mr. Fithian drew his handkerchief from his 
 pocket and wiped the perspiration from his face. 
 
 " Anything else ?" 
 
 "Yes. That he had once been indicted for 
 forgery, and narrowly escaped going to the state s 
 prison. The only thing that saved him, it is 
 said, was the fact that a young man, the son of 
 a wealthy merchant, was implicated in the crime, 
 and to hush up a family disgrace the suit was 
 abandoned." 
 
 A groan came from Fithian s lips. 
 
 " There is nothing wrong with Charley, I 
 hope," said Mr. Lyman. 
 
 66 1 don t know. It was about nine o clock 
 that you saw them ?" addressing Horace. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " Which way were they going ?" 
 16 
 
242 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 " Down the road." 
 
 " The train passes Hope well station about ten 
 o clock?" 
 
 "I think it does." 
 
 " And they were going in that direction ?" 
 
 " Yes/ 
 
 Another groan ; a restless turning of the hands 
 one within the other ; a stride or two across the 
 office floor, and then back again. The man was 
 unable to control his agitation. 
 
 "May I speak with you alone, Mr. Lyman ?" 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 Mr. Norman and Horace retired from the office. 
 Fithian s agitation was growing stronger. 
 
 " I m afraid there s been some awfully bad 
 work going on, Mr. Lyman." The man s voice 
 shook as he spoke. 
 
 "Why do you think so? What kind of bad 
 work?" 
 
 " 0, dear ! I don t know. But there s some 
 thing wrong. A man came up by the train from 
 New York to-day with a bill of over a thousand 
 
MARIE S WEDDING. 243 
 
 dollars for wines and liquors ; and I didn t know 
 that there was a single outstanding account. lie 
 says that the firm has written half a dozen times 
 asking for a settlement, but could get no answer. 
 I ve been hunting all over for Charley. But no 
 one has seen him since last night." 
 
 " Is Mr. Fithian here ?" asked a man, as he 
 opened the office door. On seeing the object of 
 his search, he said 
 
 " There are two or three people waiting to see 
 you over at the hotel, sir." 
 
 " Who are they ?" inquired Fithian. 
 
 " One of them s the butcher, sir; and he s very 
 particular about seeing you right away." 
 
 " Very well. I ll be along in a little while." 
 
 As the man went out, Fithian turned to the 
 lawyer, his face still more anxious and troubled. 
 
 " I don t know what Hardy wants with me in 
 such a hurry. He s been paid his bills every 
 week." 
 
 " Are you sure of that ?" asked Mr. Lyman. 
 
244 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 His question sent a ghastly pallor across the 
 other s face. 
 
 " They must have been paid. I was particular 
 about this. There were to be no bills. It was 
 to be cash for everything." 
 
 " Did you examine the accounts regularly ?" 
 
 " I looked over them now and then ; and they 
 seemed to be all right. I trusted Charley as you 
 would have trusted your son." 
 
 " You d better see Mr. Hardy, and find out 
 what he wants. If you wish to consult ine about 
 anything, I will be in my office after four o clock." 
 
 As Fithian went out, Mr. Lyman sat down, 
 his chin dropping upon his breast, and his form 
 shrinking in his chair. Then a low murmer, 
 
 "God help us all!" came sighing from his 
 lips. 
 
MORE BITTER FRUIT. 245 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 MORE BITTER FRUIT. 
 
 A HAND on Mr. Lyman s shoulder aroused 
 him from the painful reverie into which he 
 had fallen. 
 
 " They are going," said his wife. The lawyer 
 started to his feet. For a few moments the hus 
 band and wife looked at each other; doubt, 
 anxiety and fear in their eyes. 
 
 " You will accompany them to the station ?" 
 The voice of Mrs. Lyman trembled. 
 
 " If you think I had better do so." 
 
 " yes. Go ! I want you to go." 
 
 " Where is Horace ?" 
 
 " With Mr. Norman, in the parlor." 
 
 " Is he going over to the train ?" 
 
246 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 "No, he s changed his mind about it. I don t 
 know what s the matter with him." There was 
 a choking sound in Mrs. Lyman s throat. 
 
 " Do you think it right to let them go off alone ?" 
 she asked in the next moment, all her face quiv 
 ering with the repressed anxiety that was in her 
 heart. 
 
 Mr. Lyman looked at his wife in silent bewil 
 derment. 
 
 " To trust our daughter with a man in his 
 condition? Oh, it is an awful thing! You must 
 not let them go, Roger ! Say that they cannot 
 go!" 
 
 " And so publish our disgrace to the world ! 
 No, no ! I can t do that !" 
 
 " It is published already ; and nothing that we 
 can do is going to make it any the less. What 
 most concerns us now is our daughter. Can we 
 let her go from us, on her bridal tour, alone with 
 this half-intoxicated man ?" 
 
 Mrs. Lyman shivered as she spoke. 
 
 "You put the case too strongly. It is not 
 
MORE BITTER FRUIT. 247 
 
 really so bad. The champagne went to his head, 
 as it did, I am sorry to say, to that of too many 
 others. But the effect is passing off; and before 
 he reaches the city he will be all over it, and 
 deeply ashamed of what has happened. It would 
 not help the matter at all if we were to interfere 
 with their going away ; and might do harm. 
 The mortification to Marie would be dreadful ; 
 and there is no telling what effect it would have 
 on Frank. There is danger in too great humilia- 
 
 tion." 
 
 Time was passing. In order to reach the sta 
 tion early enough to meet the down-going train, 
 the bridal party must start at once. Carriages 
 were waiting at the door. As Mr. and Mrs. Ly- 
 man stood hesitating, steps and voices were heard 
 on the stairs. Coming out into the hall, they 
 found their daughter there in her travelling dress ; 
 she was leaning on the arm of her young husband, 
 in whose dull face and heavy eyes could be seen 
 the sad evidences of his late free indulgence. 
 Her face still held the pallor which had been in 
 
248 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 it all the day ; and there was about her a weary 
 air and a half absent manner. It was noticed 
 that she did not look any one steadily in the eyes. 
 
 As Mrs. Lyman came from the office into the 
 hall and stood fronting her daughter, Marie put 
 her arms about her neck and laid her head down 
 upon her bosom. A few moments of perfect still 
 ness then two or three sobs, and as many re 
 pressed spasms, felt only by the mother then a 
 lifting up of her face, and a long, long look into 
 the tender eyes that gazed into hers ; and then 
 a quick movement towards the door, a hurried 
 passing into the carriages, and the sound of strik 
 ing hoofs and rasping wheels as the bridal party 
 drove away. 
 
 No one spoke to Mrs. Lyman, as, shrinking 
 back from the door, she went with hurrying feet 
 along the hall and up to her chamber, to be alone 
 with her aching heart and with God. 
 
 Mr. Lyman was in the carriage with his daugh 
 ter and Frank. He had hoped to find the young 
 man so far recovered from the influence of drink 
 
MORE BITTER FRUIT. 249 
 
 as to be in a condition to take a few words of 
 advice or warning ; but his stupor seemed to be 
 growing heavier all the while, instead of passing 
 off. Almost in silence was the distance made 
 from the town to the railroad station. The 
 whistle of the coming train was heard as the car 
 riages drew up, and Mr. Lyman had actually to 
 arouse Sylvester, with a vigorous shake, from the 
 sleepy torpor into which he had fallen. 
 
 Was it right to let his daughter go off alone, 
 on her bridal tour, with a half-intoxicated bride 
 groom ? " No, no, no !" answered his heart and 
 his judgment. But weak pride, and a fear that 
 hesitated over thoughts of social disgrace, held 
 him from the right action until it was too late 
 until he saw the train move off and go rushing 
 out of sight, while he stood on the platform at 
 the station, looking after it with sad and troubled 
 feelings. 
 
 On returning to his office Mr. Lyman found 
 Fithian waiting to see him. The man s face 
 looked pinched and worn as from long suffering. 
 
250 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 In its expression he saw a hard, unpitying stern 
 ness, and something almost like despair. He was 
 walking the floor as Mr. Lyman entered. 
 
 " Have you heard anything from Charley ?" 
 asked the lawyer. 
 
 A bitter imprecation on the head of his boy, 
 a clenching of his hands, and a cruel flashing of 
 his eyes, was the only answer. 
 
 " Sit down, and tell me just what this means," 
 said Mr. Lyman. 
 
 " Just what it means ? It means disgrace and 
 ruin ! It means betrayal and robbery !" and 
 Fithiari threw out his clenched fists and ground 
 his teeth. 
 
 "What have you heard?" asked Mr. Lyman. 
 " Calm yourself. Passion will do no good." 
 
 Fithian sat down, panting in his excitement. 
 
 " Enough to drive a man mad !" 
 
 " Did you see Hardy ?" 
 
 Yes." 
 
 "Well, what did he want?" 
 
 " He wanted six hundred dollars. And I never 
 
MORE BITTER FRUIT. 251 
 
 dreamed for a moment that his bills were not 
 paid dollar for dollar every week !" 
 
 " I am sorry to hear that. Have you been 
 over Charley s cash-book ? There may have been 
 payments that will offset all, or a part, of this 
 large account." 
 
 " Yes ; I have been over his cash-book." 
 There was a snarl in Fithian s voice, and a mo 
 mentary gleam from his white teeth. 
 
 " And what did you find there ?" 
 
 " Lying, and cheating, and wholesale robbery ! 
 Not half the daily receipts entered; fictitious 
 charges made, and false balances struck. Wages 
 due to everybody from the head waiter down 
 to the knife-scourer. The rascal must have made 
 way with from ten to fifteen thousand dollars !" 
 
 " Charley would never have done that of him 
 self," said Mr. Lyman. " How long has this man 
 Floyd been about ?" 
 
 66 Off and on during the whole season. But I 
 saw nothing to awaken my suspicions. He was an 
 agreeable man ; always polite and social. Of late 
 
252 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 I noticed that he and Charley were together more 
 than usual ; and once or twice I fancied that I saw 
 a signal passing between them as I came into the 
 office. But I did not think of anything wrong." 
 
 " This villain Floyd has been too strong for him. 
 I don t believe the boy ever meant, in the begin 
 ning, to rob you of a single dollar." 
 
 "I don t care what he meant, one way or 
 another, the young scoundrel ! He has robbed, 
 and ruined me into the bargain, I am afraid. 
 And now, what is to be done, Mr. Lyman ? That s 
 the question. That s what I want to know." 
 
 Fithian grew calm ; and his mouth was set 
 sternly. 
 
 " About what ?" 
 
 " About catching them. They must be caught. 
 I must get back my money." 
 
 " Catching them will not bring it back, I m 
 afraid." 
 
 " Why not ?" 
 
 " Do you think Charley took any large amount 
 of money away with him ?" 
 
MORE BITTER FRUIT. 253 
 
 "I do." 
 
 " In this I imagine you to be in error." 
 
 " Why ?" 
 
 " As I have said, I don t believe your son set 
 out in the beginning with the intent to rob you. 
 Floyd must have insinuated himself into his con 
 fidence and gradually led him out of the path of 
 safety most probably through the door of a stake 
 at cards. He is charged with being a professional 
 gambler. Charley was no match for so cool and 
 wary a scoundrel ; did not see in the specious 
 friend who flattered and cajoled him, a selfish 
 and cruel enemy, until it was too late to denounce 
 and flee from him. I pity the poor boy !" 
 
 " Pity him ! Ho!" Fithian threw out the last 
 word with a cruel rejection in his voice. " Pity 
 him !" The tones were changed into an expres 
 sion of angry contempt. " Pity is no word for 
 the boy who has robbed his father !" 
 
 "You may feel differently when you know 
 all." 
 
 " Never ! I would smite him down at my 
 
254 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 feet if he were here. Base wretch ! To rob and 
 ruin his own father !" 
 
 The man s face grew white in the intense heat 
 of his anger against his son. 
 
 " All this is fruitless," said Mr. Lyrnan. " If 
 you purpose doing anything you must act with 
 coolness and judgment. Passion will be sure to 
 lead you into some imprudence, and most likely 
 defeat the end you have in view. Let us come 
 to business. If you wish to consult me, I am at 
 your service." 
 
 " Very well. To business then. I shall go to 
 New York by to-night s train. What can I do 
 when I get there ? Suppose I find Charley and 
 Floyd. Can I have them arrested ?" 
 
 " Have you any evidence against Floyd ?" 
 
 "Evidence of what ?" 
 
 " That he has committed a crime." 
 
 " Not yet. But after I get Charley, there ll be 
 evidence enough, I ll warrant you." 
 
 " There may, or there may not be. These old 
 villains are shrewd and cunning, and know all 
 
MORE BITTEH FRUIT. 255 
 
 the ways of escape. The hawk has strong wings, 
 and flies afar off into the safe regions of the upper 
 air; while the poor, plucked pigeon lies fluttering 
 on the ground. You may get your son back here 
 again ; but I have my doubts in regard to Floyd. 
 He knows the law much better than you, and 
 will take care to keep as closely on its safe side 
 as possible. If you can find your son with money 
 in his possession, you may be able to recover the 
 amount he has in hand. Beyond this your 
 chances are small. I think you will be doing 
 right to follow him to New York, and that with 
 as little delay as possible. Something may be 
 saved, but it will not be much, I fear." 
 
 As Fithian left the lawyer s office, Mr. Nor 
 man came in. The two men looked into each 
 other s eyes for a few moments with serious, ques 
 tioning glances. 
 
 " I am not intruding, I hope ?" said the old 
 man. 
 
 " No, you can never intrude. At any and all 
 times I shall be glad to see you." 
 
256 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 And Mr. Lyman drew a chair up to his office 
 table. The two men sat down close together, 
 and, face to face. 
 
 u Is it not full time to call a halt, my friend ?" 
 Good-will and gentle persuasion were in Mr. Nor 
 man s voice. " To turn back on your course ; 
 to make an effort to regain a portion of what has 
 been lost, even if that portion be very small ?" 
 
 He looked to see the lawyer s brows darken 
 and his eyes give a signal flash of warning. But 
 instead of anger, he saw trouble, perplexity, and 
 shame. 
 
 " Yes, it is full time/ was the earnest response. 
 "But, as to regaining what has been lost, that I 
 fear is beyond the reach of human effort. All 
 loss is in some sense a loss forever. Ah, sir ! 
 Who knows anything about the bitterness of the 
 words, Too late ! until they pass through his 
 own lips?" 
 
 " Where no effort is made nothing is rescued," 
 said Mr. Norman in reply. " But where hearts 
 and hands go into the work, much that seems 
 
MORE BITTER FRUIT. 257 
 
 hopelessly in peril may be saved. Let us not sit 
 down with folded hands, weak and despairing, 
 because so much has been lost ; but be up and 
 doing and save what we can. Will you not come 
 clear over to our side, and stand in face of all the 
 people as a leader ? A great battle is to be fought 
 here in Brantly, and fought it must be to the 
 bitter end. It was your hand I say it not to 
 wound or censure, but that it may stir you to a 
 swift resolve it was your hand that helped to 
 throw down the gate through which a pitiless 
 enemy came in. And now, let it be your hand 
 that draws the sword that shall carry confusion 
 into his ranks and drive his robber-hoards from 
 among us ! What say you, Mr. Lyman ?" 
 
 " Count me on your side," answered the lawyer; 
 but there was no enthusiasm in his voice. He 
 was thinking more about his own loss and shame 
 than of the greater loss and shame which had 
 fallen upon his neighbors. How was his leadership 
 in the battle going to heal the hurt of his own 
 household ? This was his chief concern. The 
 17 
 
258 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 answer came as he pondered the question. He 
 saw that in the safety of all lay the safety of each ; 
 and that in beating back the enemy that was des 
 olating other households, he made his own the 
 more secure. 
 
 " Yes, count me on your side/ he said, with 
 a stronger purpose in his voice. " From this day 
 I set my face as steel against the traffic in every 
 form; and against all the drinking usages that 
 curse the people. But," he added, with a change 
 in his voice, " we shall find it no easy task to 
 undo what has been done. The curse of a de 
 praved appetite is on too many of our people, 
 young and old; and so long as appetite demands, 
 there will be found no lack of those who are 
 ready to supply." 
 
 " Yes, the task will, indeed, be a difficult one/ 
 replied Mr. Norman. " Unhappily the law, in 
 stead of protecting us against an enemy that drinks 
 the very life-blood of the people, not only holds 
 open the door for him to rush in upon us, but 
 throws its protecting arms about him while he 
 
MOKE BITTER FRUIT. 259 
 
 desolates the land. We have the law and the 
 enemy both against us." 
 
 i: All too true. And with the law against us, 
 Mr. Norman, where is the hope of success ?" 
 
 " Bad as the law is, in that it opens the door 
 for this robber and protects him while he exhausts 
 the people, it lays upon him a few restraints. 
 It says, that the minor shall not be hurt ; and it 
 says also, that after a man has been so often plun 
 dered and beaten down, that will and strength 
 are nearly gone, his heart-broken wife or next of 
 kin, may demand his exemption. And it says 
 further, that if any poor victim grows mad under 
 the tortures of the fiend of intemperance, let loose 
 upon him by this robber, and in his wild fury 
 hurts or destroys anything, then the licensed rob 
 ber shall be held accountable for the loss, and give 
 up some of his ill-gotten gains, in order to make it 
 good. So you see that we have three entrenched 
 points from which to wage our warfare." 
 
 " You have had these from the beginning," said 
 Mr. Lyman. 
 
260 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 "But, unhappily, men like you were against 
 
 us." 
 
 " I do not understand you, Mr. Norman." 
 
 " Think for a moment." 
 
 The color began rising into Mr. Lyman s face. 
 
 " Ah, yes, I see. But I had to protect my 
 clients." 
 
 " Though you knew that they had broken the 
 law, and in breaking it, hurt your neighbor s chil 
 dren ; that in securing their freedom from its 
 penalties, you gave them a larger power to do 
 evil. Even the little that the law conceded, you 
 helped to take away. What wonder that Brantly 
 is beneath the heel of this unsparing enemy to 
 day ! With the law in all its main features against 
 us; and with lawyers, judges and juries against 
 us even in the few saving clauses left us by the 
 law, what chance had we ? And you were not 
 generous towards us. Because we set ourselves 
 in the way of wrongdoing, and sought to protect 
 the people, you turned upon us the weapons 
 of ridicule ; called us by names that were designed 
 
MORE BITTER FRUIT. 261 
 
 to bring us into contempt with the people and 
 weaken our influence. And you were too success 
 ful, I am sorry to say. Duty to a client does 
 not, I am sure, warrant all this. Does a man, 
 because he is a lawyer, cease to be a good citizen ; 
 cease to be a gentleman, and a man of honor ? I 
 speak plainly because I feel strongly." 
 
 At another time offence would have been 
 taken ; but the lawyer was in too sore distress of 
 mind to let the plain speech of Mr. Norman wound 
 his self-esteem. 
 
 "It was not fair, I admit," he returned, " though 
 justified by the usages of the profession." 
 
 "Usage cannot make right out of wrong; but 
 it can, and does often, give to wrong an increase 
 of power to do evil. But we will let this pass. 
 All we now ask is, that the law shall not be ob 
 structed in its course ; so that we may say to 
 those to whom it has given power to hurt the 
 people : Thus far and no farther ! This, at 
 least, in common right, we should have." 
 
 " And this we will have," said Mr. Lyman, as 
 
262 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 he struck his hand upon the table. " I say we, 
 for now and henceforth I am on your side of the 
 question. Whatever of power to limit and re 
 strain the law gives us, we will take hold upon 
 and use against this wretched traffic. You see, 
 Mr. Norman, that I am in earnest !" 
 
 ."Ah, if you had only been with us and as 
 earnest when our fight began !" 
 
 O C 
 
 " I was against you, God forgive me ! I helped 
 to open the door for this vile and venomous thing 
 to enter, and when it was open, set myself against 
 those who tried to save the weak and helpless 
 from the stroke of its deadly fang. But I am 
 with you now, and not only I, but others I might 
 name, who were against you a year ago. Men 
 may be indifferent to a social evil that passes by 
 their own doors ; but let its blight once fall upon 
 them, and they are roused to antagonism. So it 
 is to-day in Brantly. The rum-seller, if he is 
 brought into court now, will not have the standing- 
 he once enjoyed with bench, bar and juries. If 
 he has violated the strict letter of the statute he 
 
MORE BITTER FRUIT. 263 
 
 will be punished. No lawyer of respectability 
 will advocate his cause." 
 
 "Is Mr. Norman here?" The office door had 
 opened so quietly that neither of the men was 
 aware of the presence of a visitor. A woman, 
 past middle life, stood just inside of the door. 
 Her dress was poor and faded ; and there was 
 a look of sore trouble on her face. 
 
 "Yes, I am here," said Mr. Norman, as he 
 turned and saw the woman. " Oh, it s you, Mrs. 
 McAlister!" 
 
 " Yes, sir. It s me. They said I d most likely 
 find you here." 
 
 " Sit down, Mrs. McAlister," and Mr. Lyman 
 handed the visitor a chair. But she only thanked 
 him and remained standing. 
 
 " You wish to see me ?" said Mr. Norman. 
 
 " Yes, sir, if you please. I m in sore trouble, 
 sir, and driven most beside myself." 
 
 " What about, Mrs. McAlister?" 
 
 The woman hesitated, glancing at the same 
 
264 THE BAR-BOOMS AT BKANTLY. 
 
 time towards Mr. Lyman, who said, as he made 
 a movement to retire from the room, 
 
 " I ll leave you to talk with her alone, Mr. 
 Norman. Make use of my office as long as you 
 please." 
 
 " No, I d rather have you remain. I can guess 
 pretty nearly what Mrs. McAlister wishes to see 
 me about, and I want you to hear what she has 
 to say." 
 
 " Just as you please," and Mr. Lyman, after 
 again offering the woman a chair, resumed his 
 seat. 
 
 " And now, Mrs. McAlister, what is it ? Talk 
 out just as freely as if you and I were alone," 
 said Mr. Norman. 
 
 " Well, sir, you see" the voice, shaky at 
 first, but gaining firmness as the speaker went 
 on " things is gettin worse and worse. My man 
 isn t workin more n half his time, and he s bring- 
 in little or nothin home." 
 
 " What does he do with his money ?" 
 
 " It s drink, drink, drink, Mr. Norman ! Drink 
 
MORE BITTER FRUIT. 265 
 
 all the time; and he was such a sober, indus 
 trious man before they got these saloons in 
 Brantly." 
 
 " Never drank before ?" 
 
 " I can t just say that, sir," in a half-hesitating 
 manner, a slight flush corning into her sallow 
 face. " John s weak, like other men, and takes 
 to company, you see. Before we came to Brantly 
 he d go off on little sprees sometimes ; but was 
 always sorry when he got over em, and would 
 keep straight for a long while afterwards. It 
 was through me that we came here. I d heard 
 about there being no saloons in Brantly, and so 
 I set myself to gettin him to move here ; and 
 worked at him until it was done. And you 
 know how nice we got along until after the dram 
 shops were opened. It s been nothin but trouble 
 and down hill ever since. And there s my boy, 
 Andy, goin to ruin as fast as he can go ; and I 
 can t stop him !" 
 
 The poor woman broke down here, weeping, 
 moaning and wringing her hands. 
 
266. THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 " Is your son under age ?" asked Mr. Lyman. 
 
 " He s only turned of seventeen, sir," sobbed 
 Mrs. McAlister. " And he was such a good boy." 
 
 " The law prohibits the selling of liquor to 
 minors." 
 
 " They don t mind the law, sir. It s no good. 
 I ve been and warned em, and only got swore at 
 for my trouble. I ve warned ern about my man 
 John, and warned em about Andy ; and I ve 
 begged em over and over again not to sell them 
 liquor ; but it s no good. They don t care so they 
 get the money. Oh, sir ! Isn t it awful ?" 
 
 The woman pushed her hair away with both 
 hands from her temples, and leaned towards Mr. 
 Lyman, her eyes dilated and fixed with a half- 
 crazed, half-despairing look upon his face. lie 
 drew a little back, a creeping fear going along 
 his nerves the eyes of the woman were so 
 wild. 
 
 " It is awful, ma am ; and the thing must be 
 stopped," he answered. 
 
 "Oh, sir! if you could only stop it!" There 
 
MORE BITTER FRUIT. 267 
 
 was a sudden eagerness in the woman s manner, 
 all her frame trembling. 
 
 " Who sells your boy liquor ?" 
 
 " He gets it at Green s saloon, and at Mc- 
 Laughlin s, and at Mike Kelly s, and I don t 
 know where." 
 
 " You are sure of Mike Kelly s and Green s ?" 
 
 " Just as sure as that I see your face, Mr. 
 Lyman." 
 
 " Can you bring witnesses to swear that you 
 saw him drinking in any of these places?" 
 
 " I can swear to it myself, sir. Only last 
 night I went lookin after him, and found him at 
 Mike Kelly s, standin at the bar and drinkin ." 
 
 " Very well, Mrs. McAlister, Mike Kelly shall 
 answer in court for this. Let me write out an 
 affidavit. It was last night, you say ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "At what hour?" 
 
 " Nine by the strikin of the clock, sir." 
 
 Mr. Lyman took a piece of paper and wrote 
 the form of an affidavit, setting forth the fact 
 
268 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 that Mrs. McAlister s son Andy was a minor, 
 and that, against the law, and after repeated 
 warnings, Mike Kelly had sold intoxicating 
 liquor to this boy, all of which the mother stood 
 ready to prove in a court of justice. After this 
 had been signed and duly sworn to by the 
 woman, Mr. Lyman assured her that, if what 
 she had charged could be proved against Kelly, 
 he would not only be fined and imprisoned, but 
 have his license taken away. 
 
 " And surely ye don t mean that, Mr. Lyman !" 
 exclaimed Mrs. McAlister, her face lighting up 
 with a glow as warm as if a ray of sunshine 
 had fallen over it, 
 
 "It s the law, ma am." 
 
 " But what s the use of the law, sir ? It s 
 made for them, and not for us ;" the light fading 
 slowly out of the woman s face. " And then 
 they ve got the money to pay lawyers. And 
 they do say maybe it isn t true, but the people 
 says it that they sends bottles and bottles of 
 wine to the judges !" 
 
MORE BITTER FRUIT. 269 
 
 u No, no, no ! Mrs. McAlister. There s not a 
 word of truth in that !" answered Mr. Lyrnan. 
 " Oar judges are true and honorable men!" 
 
 " Maybe they are ; but, somehow, they always 
 favors the rum-sellers ; and it doesn t have a 
 good look. It s what the people says. I don t 
 know about it." 
 
 The old dreary, almost hopeless expression, 
 had come back into her face. For a moment or 
 two Mr. Norman and the lawyer looked at each 
 other. Before either could reply, the opening 
 of the office door gave notice of another visitor. 
 
270 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 FIRE. 
 
 A WOMAN, having a veil drawn closely about 
 her face, came in with the strong, hasty 
 step of one under the pressure of some over 
 mastering impulse. As she shut the door behind 
 her, she swept back her veil with a swift motion 
 of the hand, and came a few paces forward. 
 She was tall and erect ; her bearing that of one 
 who had been roused by some wrong or indig 
 nity into a desperate resolve. An intense light 
 burned in her large, black eyes, as she fixed 
 them upon Mr. Lyman, who started to his feet 
 with the exclamation, 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Irwin ! what has happened !" 
 " Happened P A quiver and curve of the 
 
FIRE. 
 
 271 
 
 woman s lips. " Happened !" A gurgling laugh 
 in her throat that sent a chill through the law 
 yer s nerves. " Happened ? You may well ask 
 what has happened ! Wasn t it enough, Roger 
 Lyrnan, that our poor town was cursed with 
 bar-rooms and taverns in every street and at 
 every corner? But you must open a free saloon 
 in your own house, and invite our sons and 
 daughters to come and drink at will! Wasn t 
 it enough that our boys were enticed into dram 
 shops by wicked men who sought to make gain 
 out of their debaucheries, that you must debauch 
 them for nothing ? I kissed the lips of my son 
 as he left me to-day, and his breath was pure 
 and wholesome. I looked into his eyes and 
 face, and they were bright and clear. How did 
 you send him home? Dead? It had been better 
 so!" 
 
 Her voice had kept rising as her excitement 
 increased, until it rang out so strong that it 
 could be heard through the house, though the 
 door opening into the hall of the dwelling was 
 
272 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 closed. It startled Mrs. Lyman, who was sitting 
 alone, with wet, sad eyes, in her chamber, and 
 brought her hurrying down stairs. Mrs. Irwin 
 saw her white, alarmed face at the door, just as 
 the closing words of this bitter charge against 
 her husband fell from her lips. 
 
 " Yes ; how did you send my boy home ?" she 
 cried out, even more vehemently, as she saw 
 Mrs. Lyman. Striding forward, she confronted 
 the frightened woman with her fiery eyes. Mr. 
 Lyman was just in time to catch the arm of 
 Mrs. Irwin, as it was raised in a threatening 
 attitude, and prevent the blow which, a moment 
 after, would have smitten the face of his wife. 
 As he took hold of her, she struggled and 
 screamed, trying to break away from him. The 
 wild outcry brought in two or three persons 
 from the street, and with their assistance he 
 was able to restrain her. Unhappy mother ! 
 Intense in her love; passionate by nature; and 
 not too evenly balanced, the incidents of that 
 day had been more than she could bear. She 
 
FIRE. 273 
 
 had seen, with a fear and anguish of spirit that 
 only a mother can comprehend, her son, in the 
 prime of his young manhood, drifting away on 
 treacherous waters, from which her hand strove 
 vainly to hold him back ; and dread had in 
 creased until peace and comfort were strangers 
 to her soul. But not until this day had she 
 seen her son stupefied and besotted with drink. 
 This was more than she could bear. For awhile 
 she was as one who had been paralyzed ; but 
 coming out of this state, her mind began brood 
 ing over the fact that Mr. and Mrs. Lyman had 
 this day put temptation in the w r ay of her son, 
 and been the cause of his fall. As she dwelt 
 on this, her anger against them grew, until it 
 impelled her to an act, in the excitement of 
 w r hich her reason lost for a time its balance 
 wholly. 
 
 Only by absolute force could Mrs. Irwin be 
 restrained. After quiet came as the result of 
 exhaustion, her husband was sent for, and she 
 
 was taken home. 
 
 18 
 
274 THE LAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 There had been, during the past two years, 
 more than one memorable day in the history of 
 Brantly; but none more memorable than this. 
 The night that followed closed down upon many 
 sad and anxious and troubled hearts; but in all 
 the town were none sadder or more troubled than 
 in the home of Koger Lyman ; for, besides the 
 evil which had come upon himself and his house 
 hold, he had brought evil upon his neighbors ; 
 and the stern accusation thereof was in his ears. 
 Little sleep came to his eyes. How was sleep 
 possible, with his thoughts going after his child, 
 adrift with a drunken man at the helm of the 
 vessel which had borne her out to sea and away 
 from his sight ! 
 
 A dark, black night it was ; rain falling slowly 
 through the dull and sultry air with now and 
 then a lifting of the blackness by a far-off light 
 ning flash, the jar of whose distant reverberations 
 came shuddering through the air. Eestless and 
 wide awake, Mr. Lyman was startled at mid 
 night by the glare of a strong light falling sud- 
 
FIRE. 275 
 
 denly into his room. Springing from his bed to 
 the window, he saw great flames breaking out 
 from the roof of the new hotel, and streaming 
 far up into the air. A deep silence reigned over 
 the sleeping town. There was no one in the 
 streets, and no sign of life about the hotel, though 
 in the increasing illumination, every object had 
 become visible. In the space of a few moments, 
 a dozen windows in the great building were 
 aflame with an intense light, and out of some of 
 them tongues of fire came leaping, while from 
 others rolled volumes of black smoke, as if driven 
 forth by some strong pressure from within. 
 
 The first startling cry of " Fire ! Fire !" which 
 rent the stillness of the night came from Mr. Ly- 
 man. It was so loud and clear, and full of wild 
 alarm, that it thrilled through the shut ears of 
 almost a hundred sleepers ; and ere he had 
 repeated the cry, almost as many voices had sent 
 it forth again. 
 
 By the time the people were gathered around 
 the burning hotel, the flames had gained such 
 
276 THE BAB-KOOMS AT BKANTLY. 
 
 headway that its rescue from destruction was 
 impossible ; there being no means in the town 
 for the control or extinguishment of a fire like 
 this. In the erection of the building, tanks had 
 been placed beneath the roof, and large pipes, 
 leading therefrom with many openings for hose 
 attachments, laid through the house. But, 
 strange to say, no supply of hose had ever been 
 provided. So, nothing could be done by the 
 towns-people except to see that all the frightened 
 guests were safely removed, and then to draw 
 away from the glowing structure, and stand 
 silent and awe-stricken as the flames wrapped it 
 around and held it in their consuming arms until 
 nothing but a charred and ashen heap remained. 
 It was after midnight when Dennis Fithian 
 arrived in the city of New York ; too late, of 
 course, for any steps to be taken towards the 
 discovery of his fugitive son. He had ordered 
 his breakfast on the next morning, and was sit 
 ting at the table with a newspaper in his hands, 
 when his eyes rested on the words : " GREAT FIRE 
 
FIRE. 277 
 
 AT BRANTLY !" His breath was suspended as he 
 read : " The new hotel at this place is on fire 
 and burning rapidly. It cannot possibly be 
 saved. LATER. The hotel at Brantly is a heap 
 of ruins." 
 
 The waiter brought Fithian s breakfast and 
 placed it before him, but he did not lift his eyes 
 from the paper, nor stir. li Anything else, sir ?" 
 There was no response, nor movement ; and the 
 waiter passed to another guest. When after a 
 time Fithian laid his newspaper on the table, and 
 made an attempt to raise a cup of coffee to his 
 mouth, his hand shook so that he was obliged to 
 set it down untasted. He waited for several 
 moments, and then tried to lift the cup again, 
 spilling a portion of the contents in the effort, but 
 succeeding in getting it to his lips and swallow 
 ing several mouthfuls. Then he sat motionless 
 for awhile longer, and then, lifting the cup with 
 a steadier hand, drank what remained. For the 
 third or fourth time he read over the dispatch, 
 and then folding the paper and crushing it into 
 
278 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 his pocket, left the table without taking any 
 thing besides his cup of coffee. In less than an 
 hour he was in the cars and on his way home 
 ward ; no attempt having been made to find his 
 son. 
 
 A fervent " Thank God !" went up from many 
 hearts as the great hotel stood out in solemn 
 grandeur against the midnight sky in its winding 
 sheet of flame. That it would perish for ever 
 from the earth all who saw the fire upon it knew. 
 It had cursed the town from the day of its incep 
 tion. Would the curse ever be removed ? Ah, 
 is any curse ever wholly removed ! 
 
 The " Fountain Inn," standing just over the 
 way from the " Brantly House," had been 
 scorched by the intense heat of the fire, and for 
 a time it was in imminent peril; but there were 
 hundreds of hands to bring water, and spread wet 
 cloths on the roof, and extinguish the kindling 
 flames that would take hold where the burning 
 brands struck in falling. But, safe from harm 
 stood the plain old-fashioned hotel, to which the 
 
FIRE. 279 
 
 new ways were impossible, and looked across in 
 the dreary morning at the black and shapeless 
 ruin which lay heaped on the spot where, when 
 the sun went down, its imposing rival stood. 
 
 From daylight until long after the sun went 
 down, the office, and parlor, and porches of the 
 little " Fountain Inn," were crowded with towns 
 people, who eagerly discussed the situation. 
 Little or no business was done, except by the 
 saloon-keepers ; for men grew thirsty as they 
 talked over the exciting events of the past 
 twenty-four hours, and made their way into bar 
 rooms to drink and talk over affairs and wonder 
 about what was going to happen next. 
 
 A great many wild stories were in circulation ; 
 and it w r as remarkable with what confidence 
 they were related, and with what readiness be 
 lieved. Before night, many drunken men of the 
 lower order were seen in the street ; and some, 
 who were of the better class, in not much more 
 creditable condition than these. The very Hood- 
 
280 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 gates of evil seemed to have been opened on the 
 unhappy town. 
 
 Among the stories in circulation was one to the 
 effect that Mr. Lyman had received a telegram 
 from his daughter, begging him to come to her, 
 and that her brother Horace had driven over to 
 the Hopewell station and taken the cars for New 
 York. Another, that one of the waiters at the 
 hotel had seen Mr. Fithian go into an upper room 
 of the building just before he started for New 
 York, acting, as he thought, in a very mysterious 
 way. Could it be possible that the house had 
 been set on fire in order to obtain the insurance ! 
 People looked at each other in blank amazement ; 
 but with too ready a credence in their eyes. As 
 for Charley Fithian s misdoings, they were mag 
 nified into twice their real dimensions, bad as 
 they were in fact. Everybody wondered that 
 his father had been so blind ; and everybody 
 could have told him but they didn t that the 
 young man was robbing him. Then it went from 
 lip to lip that Mrs. Irwin had become a raving 
 
FIRE. 281 
 
 maniac, and that she would have to be sent to a 
 lunatic asylum ; that Frank Sylvester s mother 
 had gone to bed sick, and was in a dangerous 
 condition ; and that Mrs. Fithian had been lying 
 in a dead faint ever since the dreadful news of 
 her son s robbery of his father had come to her 
 ears. 
 
 When the two o clock stage from Hopewell 
 station drew up at the Fountain Inn, Dennis 
 Fithian, greatly to the astonishment of not a few 
 who had actually believed him guilty of setting 
 the hotel on fire, stepped out among his neigh 
 bors, and turned his haggard face towards the 
 smoking ruins, beneath which so much, if not 
 all, of his fortune lay buried. Some of them 
 drew a little away from him, with that instinct 
 which causes men to shrink from those upon 
 whom disaster or misfortune falls. 
 
 " Bad business, Fithian, " said one, trying to 
 put a little sympathy in his voice. 
 
 " Hope it s well insured," said another. 
 
 "Went off just like a flash; as if there d 
 
282 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 been benzine poured all about !" remarked a 
 third. <; Never saw anything like it." 
 
 And the speaker cast a meaning glance on the 
 group of people that stood around. But Fithian 
 did not see the glance ; nor would he have 
 understood its significance had he noticed the 
 man s expression. He stood looking at the 
 smouldering heap for only a few moments ; and 
 then turning around with scarcely a word or 
 sign to any one, strode away, not taking the 
 direction of his own house, but going towards 
 the residence of Mr. Lyman. The lawyer was 
 standing at the door of his office as Fithian 
 came up ; and read suspense and fear in his 
 nervous face. 
 
 " You have the policies of insurance, Mr. 
 Lyman ! They are all right ?" He tried to 
 keep his voice steady and assured ; but his face 
 grew paler every moment. 
 
 " Yes, they are in my fire-proof; but I haven t 
 looked at them for some time." 
 
 " Didn t Charley have them renewed ? I 
 
FIRE. 283 
 
 charged him particularly to see you and have it 
 done. They expired in July !" 
 
 "He never said anything to me about it!" 
 
 Fitliian dropped into a chair, a ghastly white 
 ness overspreading his face. 
 
 " You are sure, Mr. Lyman ?" There was a 
 pitiful appeal in his husky, quivering voice. 
 
 " Very sure. The policies have not been out 
 of my fire-proof for a year !" 
 
 u Then I m ruined! ruined! ruined !" And he 
 shook like one in a strong ague fit; while the 
 perspiration fell in great drops from his fore 
 head. 
 
 " Did you find your son ?" Mr. Lyman asked. 
 
 " No ! Curse him !" A gleam of fierce anger 
 burned across the face of the wretched man, as 
 he arose and went out with slow, uncertain steps. 
 He stood for a little while on the pavement in 
 front of the lawyer s office, in a helpless maze, 
 and then came back, 
 
 " This is awful, Mr. Lyman ! Awful !" There 
 was a wild look in his eyes, and he caught at his 
 
284 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 throat as if to loosen his collar and prevent suf 
 focation. " Let me see the policies." 
 
 They were brought forth and examined. 
 
 " Worth just so much blank paper !" And he 
 dashed them upon the floor. 
 
A MOVEMENT AGAINST THE ENEMY. 285 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A MOVEMENT AGAINST THE ENEMY. 
 
 T)RANTLY turned over a new leaf, and there 
 was to be a new writing thereon ; and many 
 good and influential citizens said that the writing 
 should be so and so. This liquor curse must be 
 removed swept off so completely that not a ves 
 tige of it remained to hurt and afflict the people. 
 Mr. Lyman was prompt to act in the case of 
 Mike Kelly, charged with selling liquor to a 
 minor. The court was in session, and as two of 
 the judges knew by this time, from sad experi 
 ence, that few households had immunity from 
 the serpent s bite and the adder s sting, but small 
 delay in bringing forward the case was permitted. 
 As no lawyer of standing would have anything 
 
286 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 to do in defending the suit, Kelly was rep 
 resented by a young man of considerable shrewd 
 ness, named Perkins, who had already an ex 
 tensive practice at the bar ; but in the lower 
 courts of the district, where such men as Mike 
 Kelly, Green, and McLaughlin presided. Mr. 
 Lyman, representing the prosecution, felt that 
 he had everything on his side. The charge 
 made by Mrs. McAlister was clearly proved by 
 several witnesses, and the presiding judge, in 
 giving the case to the jury, told them that if 
 they were satisfied from the evidence, which had 
 not been broken down at a single point, that 
 Kelly was guilty of selling liquor to a minor, 
 they must find for the prosecution. 
 
 One, two, three hours the jury remained out 
 and yet there was no verdict. People became 
 uneasy and impatient. Perkins was confident 
 of winning the case, and Kelly evinced no great 
 concern. The strong point made by the defence 
 was that none of the witnesses had sworn posi 
 tively as to the kind of liquor they had seen young 
 
A MOVEMENT AGAINST THE ENEMY. 287 
 
 McAlister drink. It might have been soda-water, 
 or lemonade, or coffee, or tea, for all they knew ; 
 unless it were shown, Perkins had argued, that 
 the liquor drank on Kelly s premises was beer or 
 wine, or spirits, a verdict of Not Guilty must be 
 rendered. The charge of the judge had been 
 adverse to this. He told the jury, that, as it was 
 the business of Kelly to sell intoxicating bev 
 erages, the fact that minors were seen drinking 
 at his bar, must be taken as prima facie evidence 
 that what he had sold them was an intoxicating 
 beverage. 
 
 There had been considerable difficulty in 
 getting a jury. The defence not only objected 
 to some of the best men in the town, but succeeded 
 in having them set aside on one technical point 
 or another. The prosecution, though wary, failed 
 in its efforts to keep out two or three men in 
 regard to whom serious doubts were felt. In the 
 trial of the case, Perkins did not exhibit half the 
 interest he had shown in the formation of the 
 
 J UI 7- 
 
288 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 Night came and still there was no verdict. 
 The court adjourned until the next day at ten 
 o clock and the people were left in a state of 
 feverish suspense. Nine-tenths of the whole 
 population were on the side of the prosecution. 
 Even the men who were in favor of liberty for 
 themselves, wanted security for their boys, and 
 looked anxiously for a verdict that would break 
 up the practice of selling liquor to minors. 
 
 Ten o clock saw a crowded court-room. The 
 judges took their seats and after the crier had 
 announced the opening of the court, the jury were 
 informed that, if ready, their verdict would be 
 received. There was a breathless silence as the 
 men came slowly filing in, followed by murmurs 
 of disappointment and disapprobation, when the 
 announcement was made that the jury were not 
 agreed ten being for conviction and two for 
 acquittal. A request to be discharged was made, 
 as there was no hope of an agreement. After a 
 brief conference the judges sent the jury back, 
 and ordered them to find a verdict. It was of 
 
A MOVEMENT AGAINST THE ENEMY. 289 
 
 no use. At ten o clock on the next morning they 
 again appeared in court the room was densely 
 crowded and gave the same answer as on the- 
 day before " Not agreed." The numbers for 
 conviction and acquittal were unchanged in their 
 relations to each other. Disapprobation was now 
 so strongly expressed as to call out a rebuke from 
 the judges. Again the jury was remanded; but 
 with no change in the result. Nothing could, 
 turn the two men from their purpose to acquit; 
 and the court had at last to give an order of dis 
 missal. 
 
 There followed a great deal of indignation 
 among the people ; and a great deal of hard talk. 
 None doubted the guilt of Mike Kelly, against 
 whom and the two jurymen, who had obstructed 
 the course of justice, some of the less prudent 
 made threats of violence. The blood of Brantly 
 was at fever heat. 
 
 As for Mike Kelly, his narrow escape did not 
 come with the force of a warning. He had 
 triumphed and was jubilant grew bolder and 
 19 
 
290 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 more confident in his disregard of the law under 
 which he held his license ; and openly boasted 
 that no jury could be found that would convict 
 him. In this he was in error, as he discovered 
 in less than two months, when he was arrested 
 for an offence similar to the one on which he was 
 first arraigned, and after a swift trial, found guilty. 
 The court gave him the full penalty of the law 
 forfeiture of license ; a fine of one thousand 
 dollars, and a year s imprisonment. 
 
 " It all amounts to nothing," said one who did 
 not share in the general feeling of triumph. 
 
 "It amounts to a great deal," was the answer. 
 " It is a vindication of the law, and a warning to 
 law-breakers." 
 
 " A warning to be more circumspect in their 
 violations ; that is all. A warning to plunder in 
 the dark and in places hidden from public obser 
 vation, instead of on the highway, boldly. A 
 good citizen obeys the law because it is made for 
 the common welfare ; but these men are not good 
 citizens; are without conscience; and care no- 
 
A MOVEMENT AGAINST THE ENEMY. 291 
 
 thing for their neighbor. So long as gain is to be 
 had they will sell to all who come openly where 
 the law permits; secretly where the law forbids. 
 I see little for congratulation." 
 
 " Not in a changed public sentiment, and a 
 resolute purpose on the part of nearly all the best 
 people in Brantly to rid the town of this curse 
 of drinkiiiff saloons ?" 
 
 O 
 
 " It is easier to keep well than to get well. 
 Brantly is sick of a disease that is difficult, if not 
 impossible, to cure. She was well ; wished to be 
 better, took physic, and " 
 
 " No, sir; Brantly is not dead yet, nor in any 
 mortal extremity. She is sick, as we all know ; 
 but nature is strong in her, and she will throw 
 off this disease cast out this devil that is 
 afflicting her; throwing her now into the water, 
 and now into the fire. e This kind goeth not 
 out but by prayer and fasting ; and, my word 
 for it, the days of her humiliation and suffering 
 will be long, if they ever come to an end." 
 
 As predicted, the feeling of triumph and hope 
 
292 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 in the future that came with the conviction and 
 speedy sentence of Mike Kelly, was not of long 
 duration. All who wanted liquor, young or old 
 sober or drunken found little difficulty in ob 
 taining it, as the wives of intemperate husbands 
 and the parents of weak or profligate boys too 
 often discovered to their sorrow. But proof as to 
 where and by whom the liquor was furnished 
 could rarely if ever be found. The evil was 
 hiding itself, like a poison in the blood, but 
 working none the less virulently because unseen. 
 Poor Mrs. McAlister saw her boy going down 
 step by step on the road to ruin, and all power to 
 hold him back taken away from her. A woman 
 of strong feelings, and apt to grow blindly des 
 perate under a sense of wrong, she did not fold 
 her hands and sit down to weep and mourn in 
 helpless abandonment. Her deep mother-love 
 kept her ever alert and watchful; and though 
 her son had grown ill-tempered and sullen, and 
 impatient of the slightest remonstrance or attempt 
 
A MOVEMENT AGAINST THE ENEMY. 293 
 
 to bar his freedom, she did not give him up nor 
 cease in her efforts to save him. 
 
 "You re wanted round at the magistrate s," 
 said a man, as he came one morning into the 
 office of Mr. Lyman. 
 
 " Who wants rne ?" 
 
 " Mrs. McAlister." 
 
 " For what ?" 
 
 " To go her bail. 1 
 
 " Her bail ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. She made an assault and battery 
 last night on a tavern-keeper, spoiling his face 
 and smashing up his bottles ; and she s got to go 
 to court about it." 
 
 "Bad business. And she wants me to stand 
 bail?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Very well, I ll be round in a few moments." 
 
 The man departed, and Mr. Lyman soon fol 
 lowed him. At the magistrate s office he found 
 an ill-favored fellow with his head tied up, and 
 one or two long patches on his face. lie was 
 
294 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BllANTLY. 
 
 looking angry and revengeful. Mrs. McAlister, 
 like an animal at bay, had a defiant aspect. The 
 lawyer asked to have the facts in the case re 
 hearsed, and to hear the testimony ; but before 
 the magistrate had time to respond the woman 
 had rehearsed them in a single brief sentence. 
 
 " He sold my boy whiskey ; and I smashed him 
 and his bottles, Mr. Lyman." 
 
 " That was all wrong, Mrs. McAlister. The 
 law takes care " 
 
 " The law !" intense scorn in the woman s 
 voice. " The law is for whiskey-sellers, not poor, 
 heart- brokin mothers ! The law ! I m done 
 with the law." 
 
 The magistrate ordered silence, and Mrs. Mc 
 Alister dropped back into the seat from which she 
 had arisen ; but the fierce defiance did not go out 
 of her face. 
 
 " Will you enter into recognisance for this 
 woman s appearance in court ?" asked the magis 
 trate. 
 
A MOVEMENT AGAINST THE ENEMY. 295 
 
 " Yes; and defend her case into the bargain." 
 replied the lawyer. 
 
 The bail-bond signed, Mrs. McAlister was 
 permitted to retire ; which she did w ? ith head 
 erect and a firm step first, however, taking a 
 long look at the man whose face she had disfig 
 ured with one of his own bottles ; a look in which 
 a keen sense of satisfaction was visible. 
 
 " It s done and I m glad of it, if I go to jail to 
 morrow !" was heard falling from her lips, even 
 by the magistrate, as she left his office. 
 
 Here was a new excitement for Brantly, and 
 there was not a mansion or hovel no human 
 habitation in the town three years before could 
 have been called a " hovel" in which the assault 
 of Mrs. McAlister on the tavern-keeper was not 
 discussed ; and the general verdict \vas " Served 
 him right I" 
 
 In due course the trial came on. The assault 
 was proved by half a dozen witnesses ; and as 
 the defence had nothing to offer, except the plea 
 of great provocation, the case \vent against Mrs. 
 
296 THE BAR-KOOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 McAlister; the jury, however, recommending as 
 light a sentence as the court could give. 
 
 " One dollar and costs." 
 
 The court had to repress the outbreak of ap 
 plause that followed. The fine and costs were 
 made up at once by voluntary contributions, and 
 Mrs. McAlister retired from the court-room sur 
 rounded by more friends who were interested in 
 her welfare than she had known for years. 
 
 Thoughtful, conservative people, who saw dan 
 ger in the public sanction of any open disregard 
 of law, were concerned about this matter. The 
 tide of sympathy ran strongly with Mrs. McAlis 
 ter; and encouragement was given to a sugges 
 tion that looked to an organized raid of some des 
 perate women upon the worst of the drinking 
 saloons. 
 
 Meantime, there was with nearly all a state 
 of unrest, uncertainty, foreboding, or dread of 
 coming evil. The whole moral atmosphere was 
 cloudy, disturbed, and vaguely portentous. The 
 town had fallen upon evil days ; and none were 
 
A MOVEMENT AGAINST THE ENEMY. 297 
 
 wise enough to see the end. Brantly was sick 
 with a disease that was baffling the skill of her 
 best physicians; and the hearts of many were 
 growing faint with fear. 
 
 We go back a little. Not for three days after 
 Mrs. Lyman parted from her daughter did any 
 word come from the bride. Then a brief letter 
 was received from New York, in which Marie 
 said that they would leave on the next morning 
 for Saratoga. Now, it had been understood that 
 a single day only was to be ppent in the city. 
 No explanation of this delay was given ; nor, in 
 deed, any allusion made to it whatever. To the 
 mother s heart, nothing could have been more un 
 satisfactory than this letter. It was as the closer 
 drawing of a veil, when there was a looking and 
 a longing to have it pushed aside. " Your loving 
 daughter, MARIE." What was it that held the 
 mother s eyes with such a fixed gaze ? Just below 
 the name on which they had rested fondly, a 
 small clouded spot seemed all at once to make 
 itself visible. What was it? A tear-mark? 
 
298 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 For a moment or two there was a catching of the 
 breath, and a pause in the heart s contractions. 
 A tear-mark ! 
 
 Marie ! My child ! My child !" A low, 
 helpless cry broke from the mother s lips, as 
 blinding drops hid the mark from her gaze. 
 
 Two days of anxious waiting and then another 
 letter ; brief almost as the first, but, like the first, 
 a veil. Were any tear-stains upon it ? None 
 that the closely-scanning eyes of the mother could 
 find. Two days more, and then a single hurried 
 line. It was from Saratoga : 
 
 " Only time to say that we are just leaving for 
 the Falls." 
 
 From Niagara, Marie wrote more at length, 
 and spoke of the magnificent falls, and the im 
 pression they had made upon her ; but without 
 any enthusiasm, or evidence of real enjoyment. 
 She said little in regard to herself, and not a word 
 about her husband, to whom she had made no 
 allusion in either of her former letters. In closing 
 she said : 
 
A MOVEMENT AGAIXST THE ENEMY. 299 
 
 "To-morrow we shall leave for Montreal, by 
 way of Lake Ontario, and through the Thousand 
 Islands and rapids of St. Lawrence." 
 
 Still closely veiled. What would Mrs. Lyman 
 not have given for a lifting of the veil, so that she 
 could look into her daughter s real life ! Was it 
 well with her ? If so, would the sweet assurance 
 have been kept back from the mother s heart ? 
 No no it was not well with her ; and the 
 mother knew it. But, was not silence harder for 
 the mother than the truth; let that be what it 
 might ? Do not our fears always go farther than 
 the truth ? Against what is, we fortify ourselves, 
 and gather up our reserve of strength fronting 
 the evil or the danger and measuring its quality 
 and force but against the unknown, when only 
 its coming shadows are visible, we lift feeble and 
 uncertain hands, and take counsel of our fears 
 instead of keeping the heart calm and brave. 
 
 A whole week of waiting and then a letter 
 bearing the post-mark " New York." With hand 
 that trembled Mrs. Lyman cut the envelope. 
 
300 THE BAR-BOOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 " Home to-morrow, mother dear." That was 
 all. 
 
 And to-morrow came at last. It had tarried 
 on its way longer than any to-morrow in all the 
 mother s life. And the veil was lifted? No, it 
 was drawn more closely, if that were possible. 
 Was it Marie s face into which she looked for an 
 instant, ere it was hidden on her bosom ? Marie s 
 form trembled like that of a frightened bird as 
 she held it tightly in her arms. What had she 
 seen in the dear face for whose return she had 
 been longing with such a heart-hungry desire, 
 even though an aching dread of what might be 
 seen there was never absent? What had gone 
 out of it ? What had come into it ? The old, 
 dear face ; but not the same never to be the 
 same! 
 
 Scarcely three weeks gone, and a change 
 greater than as many years should have made. 
 The shadow that lay in Marie s eyes not seen 
 there before what was casting it into them ? 
 Gentler and more quiet in manner than when she 
 
A MOVEMENT AGAINST THE ENEMY. 301 
 
 went away ; more subdued and silent ; and with a 
 t hough tfulness and consideration for others more 
 apparent than ever before, she made upon all 
 her friends a new impression. 
 
 Her attitude towards Frank, her young hus 
 band, was something noticeable. It was as if an 
 attractive force, never broken for an instant, were 
 drawing and turning her towards him. The 
 earnest, questioning glance she was seen to throw 
 upon him when he came in, and the peculiar 
 way her eyes followed him when he went out, 
 were things observed by many, and spoken of 
 frequently. They had a meaning that soon found 
 an easy interpretation. Frank was not strong; 
 many temptations were in his way ; and some 
 times there was a slipping of his unwary feet. 
 
 How it had been with him in all the days of 
 that brief wedding-journey, none but himself and 
 Marie ever knew. It was their own secret, the 
 first skeleton which had found its way into the 
 house of their life, and they shut it away in a 
 
THE BAll-KOOMS AT BKANTLY. 
 
 dark closet, locking the door and hiding the key 
 so that none might enter and look upon the 
 ghastly sight. 
 
 Neither of them came home the same as when 
 they went away. That was patent to all. And 
 it was still more patent that in giving her promise 
 to love and cherish her husband, Marie had 
 spoken no idle words. She loved this man, and 
 she meant to cling to him, and care for him, and 
 be his true and faithful wife, come what might. 
 Before her marriage, she held so strong a faith 
 in the power she would be able to exercise when 
 she became his wife, that she scarcely doubted 
 her ability soon to win him away from unsafe 
 companions and from the dangerous habit that 
 was too surely growing and gaining strength. 
 Did she come home from her bridal tour with 
 that faith the same ? We think not. There 
 \vere signs that the old confidence had received 
 a shock ; but none that her love had been weak 
 ened. To this her heart was true, and come 
 
A MOVEMENT AGAINST THE ENEMY. 303 
 
 what would of suffering, and shame, and humil 
 iation, she meant that it should be true to the 
 end. 
 
 Ah, for love to turn its eyes into the future, 
 and see no surer hope nor fairer promise ! 
 
304 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE ENEMY GAINING STRENGTH. 
 
 rf^HE ruin of Dennis Fithian was complete. 
 Not from neglect or forgetful ness had his son 
 failed to renew the insurance ; but because at 
 the last moment he was unable to command the 
 five or six hundred dollars it would require to 
 keep the policies good. He had meant to do right 
 about this matter, but he was in the hands of 
 the subtle tempter, Floyd, who had gained an 
 almost unlimited power over him. The money 
 which should have kept the property safe had 
 been drained away, either at cards with one of 
 his false friend s accomplices, or for some foolish 
 investment, through which Floyd managed to get 
 gain, while the loss fell upon the boy. 
 
THE ENEMY GAINING STRENGTH. 305 
 
 Of the sixty or seventy thousand dollars which 
 had gone into the Braritly House, all was lost. 
 There remained only the ground, with its desolate 
 heap of blackened stones, over which the wind- 
 scattered ashes lay like a garment of sackcloth. 
 Beyond his interest in this property Fithian s 
 possessions were small; consisting of three or four 
 pieces of real estate, every one of them heavily 
 mortgaged. The debts against the hotel would 
 consume all that he had left, and still be unsatis 
 fied. All the carefully gathered wealth of years 
 -gathered through work that served his neighbor 
 lost in a reckless speculation by which he had 
 hoped for great gain ; not caring who lost or who 
 was injured. 
 
 None walk in safety who walk as he walked. 
 It never has been ; and it never will be. The 
 green bay-tree may stretch out its lusty limbs 
 and flourish for awhile ; but some day when you 
 look for it, out of the waste where it once stood, 
 the cry of " Lo ! it is not," will be heard on the 
 desolate air. The road to wealth that men build 
 20 
 
306 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 across their neighbors rights, infirmities, weak 
 nesses arid passions, is strewn from end to end, 
 with wreck and ruin. It is full of covered pit- 
 holes ; and hidden quicksands ; and sudden de 
 clivities. The mountains that lift themselves 
 above it are dangerous with impending land 
 slides. It sweeps around jutting crags, and close 
 to the unguarded edge of fatal precipices. Out 
 of summer skies fall sudden storms upon it. 
 Winter obstructs it in the mountain passes ; and 
 makes its steep place slippery with ice. They 
 who travel this road are in fear of each other; 
 are alert and ever on guard ; for the strong over 
 ride or trample down the weak ; and among them 
 there is no pity and no love. No wonder that 
 all who take this way in their journey of life, 
 find it a hard and an evil way, leading sooner 
 or later to disaster. 
 
 Let us move forward in our record of events in 
 Brantly for a year, and see how the case stands 
 after the lapse of this period. There have been 
 some changes and readjustments. The war upon 
 
THE ENEMY GAINING STRENGTH. SOT 
 
 the drinking- saloons has been steady and unre 
 lenting; but the enemy, entrenching itself behind 
 the law, cannot be driven out. Its numbers are 
 reduced ; but it is wary and circumspect, keeping 
 so close to safe limitations that few charges of 
 transgression can be found. 
 
 There was a time when it looked as if a full 
 surrender would be made. Bar after bar was 
 closed, because so many had signed the pledge, 
 and public sentiment, which w r as running strong, 
 held so many more away from the saloons, that 
 the business did not pay. 
 
 Mr. Norrnan found employment for three or 
 four men, whose alleged necessity had driven them 
 to tavern-keeping, as a means of supporting their 
 families ; lessening in so far the number of drink- 
 ing-places. The people took heart. Step by 
 step they were gaining ground ; and the promise 
 of an early and complete victory was strong. 
 
 But congratulation was premature. There 
 came into the ranks of the enemy a new recruit. 
 Driven to the wall and desperate in his extremity, 
 
308 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 Dennis Fithian, with a remnant of only a few 
 thousand dollars left of the comfortable fortune 
 he had accumulated, turned his face to the world 
 again, with a kind of bitter defiance in his heart, 
 resolved to wrest from it a living, and another 
 fortune, if possible, and this by any means that 
 came to his hands, fair or foul, reputable or dis 
 reputable. What could he do ? How best use 
 this poor remnant ? Over the ground he looked 
 weighed all the chances kept his own counsel 
 settled his plans and went to work. 
 
 " What are you going to do here ?" asked Mr. 
 Norman of a carpenter, whom he found one morn 
 ing in a building which had been vacant for sev 
 eral months. 
 
 " Follow instructions. That s about all I can 
 tell, Mr. Norman," was the carpenter s answer. 
 
 " Who are you at work for?" 
 
 " Dennis Fithian." 
 
 " Indeed !" A serious look crept into the old 
 gentleman s face. 
 
 " Yes. He s taken a five years lease so the 
 
THE ENEMY GAINING STRENGTH. 309 
 
 owner tells me. But he s keeping his mouth 
 shut about what he s going to do. 
 
 " Have you the plans for fitting up ?" 
 
 " Not yet. I m to take out this window and 
 door, and make the openings larger; and clear 
 away the little back buildings and sheds. Then 
 he s to tell me what I am to do next." 
 
 At this moment Fithian himself made his ap 
 pearance on the ground. There was an unpleas 
 ant look in his face, and his manner was anything 
 but cordial. 
 
 " Good-morning," said the old gentleman. 
 
 "Good-morning." The response was more a 
 growl than a salutation. 
 
 " I didn t know that you thought of going into 
 business." 
 
 " And I didn t know that you cared whether I 
 did or not," was gruffly replied. 
 
 " I care for whatever goes on in Brantly," said 
 Mr. Norman. 
 
 " Indeed !" with an undisguised sneer in his 
 voice. " That s your way; but I ve got enough 
 
310 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 to do to mind my own business. I ll let Brantly 
 alone, and Brantly must let me alone !" 
 
 li What is the nature of the business you pur 
 pose starting ?" asked Mr. Norman. 
 
 " I m not ready to speak of that yet. Time 
 will show." And Fithian turned away arid 
 walked into the building, followed by the car 
 penter. 
 
 " No good ! No good !" Was the old man s 
 ejaculation, as he moved away, with his head 
 bent down and his face clouded. In his confer 
 ence with the owner of the property on which 
 Fithian had taken a five years lease, he was able 
 to glean but little that was satisfactory. Fithian 
 had agreed to make certain improvements on 
 this property, which the owner was willing to 
 accept in lieu of security for the payment of rent. 
 
 " Are the papers signed?" asked Mr. Norman. 
 
 " Yes," was the reply. 
 
 "And you do not know for what purpose the 
 property has been taken ?" 
 
 " I never thought about that. I ve known 
 
THE ENEMY GAINING STRENGTH. 311 
 
 Fithian for over twenty years. He s honest. He 
 wanted to rent my house, and I let him have it. 
 That s the whole story, Mr Norman." 
 
 " I m afraid not." 
 
 " What are you afraid of? Why isn t it the* 
 whole story ?" 
 
 " I don t like this secrecy. It has a bad look. 
 You know, and I know, that Fithian isn t a man 
 who cares much who loses so he makes. Suppose 
 he were to open a new and more attractive saloon 
 and restaurant in Brantly than the town has 
 ever seen ? Would that be for our good or ill ; our 
 loss or our gain ? Would your son be in greater 
 safety, or the son of your neighbor?" 
 
 " Nothing of that kind ! Nothing ! Don t be 
 in the least afraid. Saloon keeping isn t paying 
 so well in Brantly that he should take a hand in 
 it. The business is dying out, and he knows it 
 as well as you or I. It is my thought, that he s 
 going to get a stock of fresh goods from New 
 York." 
 
 " Likely ; but not of the kind you imagine." 
 
312 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 " You are too easily scared, Mr. Norman. 
 Dennis Fithian isn t fool enough to open a saloon 
 here when he knows that the tide is setting so 
 strongly against them." 
 
 But Mr. Norman was right in his apprehen 
 sions. In a few weeks it became apparent to all 
 that Brantly must have a fresh struggle with the 
 enemy and one in which the hope of victory was 
 not strong. The changes made in the exterior 
 of the house which Fithian had leased, and the 
 character of the fittings up, that grew into shapely 
 forms within, would have left no doubt in the 
 minds of any in regard to the use to which it was 
 destined, even if Fithian had not openly declared 
 his intention to establish in Brantly a house of 
 entertainment on a more elegant and attractive 
 scale than had yet been seen in the town. Gilt 
 and bright colors, and great strong letters, covered 
 the w r hole front of the renovated building ; while 
 above the roof, a sign in black and gold, twenty 
 fee t long by five wide, bore the single word 
 " FITHIAN S." A tall bronze and gilt post, sur- 
 
THE ENEMY GAINING STRENGTH. 313 
 
 mounted by a lamp in stained glass of gorgeous 
 colorings, stood on the pavement in front of the 
 building ; and at the side of the door, held up by 
 a projecting bracket, was another and smaller 
 lamp, but equally rich in its ornamentations. 
 Inside was a walnut counter, with brass-bar 
 mountings ; and behind this, mirrors with walnut 
 and gilt mouldings, and brackets on which stood 
 bronzed plaster figures, which had been selected, 
 not by a refined, but by a low and grossly sensu 
 ous taste. The walls were covered with rich 
 crimson and gilt paper; and there were hung 
 thereon nearly a dozen pictures. Of these, half 
 were poor and commonplace. As to the other 
 half, it would have been better if their artists had 
 never drawn them forth from the chambers of 
 imagery. 
 
 Besides the large bar-room, with its many 
 tables and movable screens for the partial privacy 
 of individuals or groups of friends, there were 
 half a dozen rooms nicely fitted up for those who 
 ordered suppers, or had wine parties; or who, 
 
314 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 for any cause, wished for complete retirement. 
 Then, over a portion of the large garden in the 
 rear of the house, a wide roof had been built, 
 under which w r as a music stand, seats and tables ; 
 and there was to be music here every evening in 
 the summer weather, and a supply of ice cream. 
 Flowering plants and green shrubbery made this 
 garden an attractive place ; and there was a 
 fancy gate opening into it, through which all who 
 chose could enter without going through the bar 
 room. 
 
 To crown all, high above the building floated 
 the national flag, its stars and stripes half hidden 
 by the word " Fithian s," as the symbol of its 
 desecration. Ah, if our eyes could lift themselves 
 to this beautiful flag and see upon it no disgrace 
 ful symbols ! When will they be removed ? 
 When will it cease to throw its protecting folds 
 over the enemies of our people, who are wasting 
 their substance with an unpitying greed that con 
 sumes as the fire and the sword ? 
 
 There was scarcely a household throughout 
 
THE ENEMY GAINING STRENGTH. 315 
 
 the township into which Fithian did not manage 
 to convey a beautifully illuminated circular adver 
 tisement of his " Opening ;" in which his attrac 
 tive fancy drinks, his pure wines direct from the 
 importers, his ale and beer and fine spirits, and 
 his bill of fare, in which every delicacy that could 
 quicken the appetite, were temptingly displayed. 
 Not content with this, he had his half column 
 advertisement in each of the county papers ; and 
 in one of them at least succeeded in getting a 
 long descriptive notice of his new establishment. 
 
 The immediate result of Fithian s " Opening," 
 was the closing of two of the largest and most 
 popular saloons popular with the better class 
 we mean. For some time the tide had been 
 running against them, and now a swifter ebb was 
 felt. The flow set strongly toward Fithian s; 
 and the ebb threatening to ground them, their 
 ships were abandoned. 
 
 Some found hope in this, and prophesied failure 
 for the new enterprise ; but the shrewder saw 
 only an element of success. It was giving to 
 
316 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 Fithian a clearer field. This man, coarse, hard, 
 and unscrupulous, was yet cunning and politic. 
 He had staked the little all which had been 
 gathered out of the wreck of his fortunes, on this 
 venture, and he was resolved to succeed. He 
 knew Brantly and the forces against which he 
 had to contend, knew the strong points in his 
 position, and the weak ones as well, knew all the 
 radicals and all the conservatives ; and also the 
 half-hearted, the weak, and the many with whom 
 appetite was stronger than resolution. 
 
 In the outset, he had meant to assume an in 
 dependent attitude, and, while acting circum 
 spectly, to give no pledges to the community. 
 What the law gave him of privileges, he would 
 take to the uttermost limit; and if, with safety 
 to himself, he could get anything more, why, he 
 would take it. The law, in this regard, was an 
 outrage at best. It did not hedge the merchant, 
 the butcher or the baker about with restrictions, 
 and say to them, you may sell to this one and 
 not to the other. He did not force men to come 
 
THE ENEMY GAINING STRENGTH. 317. 
 
 into his house and buy what he had to sell. They 
 were free to come in or to stay out. But when 
 they came in of their own accord, what right had 
 the law to say to him, any more than to the 
 baker or grocer, that he should not sell his goods 
 when he had paid for the right to traffic in them ? 
 
 So he thought and reasoned. But there was 
 no use in setting himself against what had been 
 established. His wiser course would be to make 
 the best of things, and this he proceeded to do ; 
 and he did it so shrewdly and so plausibly, that 
 it was not long before a gradual change in senti 
 ment took place with many who at first saw only 
 evil in what he was doing. 
 
 His business was perfectly legitimate, being 
 based on a common want of the people, and one 
 that had existed from time immemorial. This 
 was his first assumption. His next, that it was 
 fully sanctioned under laws made by the wisest 
 men of the country, and that it was therefore as 
 fair and reputable a pursuit as any other. If 
 these wise law-makers saw best to burden it with 
 
S18 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 large license-fees and hamper it with restrictions, 
 all right. It was his duty as a good citizen to 
 pay the license-fees and keep strictly to all the 
 requirements of the law ; and he would do it to 
 the very letter. 
 
 This was his declaration ; made with ostenta 
 tion, with suave plausibility, with an affectation 
 of concern for the fallen, and with lavish protes 
 tations of an earnest desire to restrain the weak 
 from excesses, just as he read the people with 
 whom he talked. There was to be no encour 
 agement of drunkenness in his place. No minor, 
 no habitual hard-drinker, no man the worse for 
 liquor, could get anything at his bar. These 
 might be served at his restaurant with any deli 
 cacy on the bill of fare ; and with soda-water, 
 coffee, tea, or milk but with nothing that could 
 intoxicate. 
 
 Thus, from the very start, did Fithian entrench 
 himself, and make his position secure ; boldly 
 claiming that he was in favor of temperance, and 
 as much opposed as any one to the piratical crew 
 
THE ENEMY GAINING STRENGTH. 319 
 
 of drunkard-makers, who disregarded the law, 
 debased the young, and dragged down the besotted 
 into lower deeps of degradation. 
 
 Men like Mr. Norman were not deceived. 
 They saw the greater danger that threatened the 
 people ; and the firmer hold which the enemy 
 had gained. There was so much at Fithian s to 
 attract the people, young and old ! The summer- 
 garden, with its music, its pretty fountain, its cool 
 arbors, and its refreshing ices, drew scores in the 
 warm evenings to its pleasant retreats, who could 
 not from sex, or would not from shame or prin 
 ciple, enter the bar-room. But there were some 
 too many, alas ! who found the way through 
 this summer-garden a most convenient one, and 
 doors out of the common observation opening 
 therefrom into places where things more exhil 
 arating than ices and sherbet could be obtained. 
 
 Fithiun was making himself popular. From 
 the very opening day the tide of a prosperous 
 business set in. The sullen, defiant look lately 
 seen in his face had given way to a new expres- 
 
320 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 sion, in which you saw confidence and self-satis 
 faction. He carried himself more firmly, and 
 walked with a more assured step. A public man 
 now, he gave more attention to his personal ap 
 pearance ; looked more carefully to the white 
 ness of his linen, the fineness of his broadcloth 
 and the graciousness of his manner. He learned 
 to bow and to smile ; to utter compliments ; to 
 assume an interest in the affairs of his neighbors; 
 to write his name on subscription papers ; and to 
 make a show of charity. Too many were deceived, 
 or drawn over by all this ; and it was not long 
 ere one and Another began to speak of him as a 
 great deal better man, and one who had the good 
 of the people more truly at heart than many of 
 those who were bitterly opposed to him, and who 
 were doing all in their power to break down both 
 his influence and his business. 
 
 " If you want a subscription for anything but a 
 church he doesn t take much stock in churches 
 go to Dennis Fithian ; you ll always find him 
 
THE ENEMY GAINING STRENGTH. 321 
 
 ready and willing to help in any good cause." 
 Or 
 
 They may say what they will about Dennis 
 Fithian ; but there isn t a better-hearted man in 
 the town." Or 
 
 " I ve changed my mind about him. He isn t 
 the public enemy they try to make him out. 
 People will have liquor, and it s no use trying to 
 keep it away from them. What we want, is to 
 have its sale in the hands of men who are ready 
 to do all in their power to keep it within safe 
 limits ; who will not tempt the young, nor en 
 courage the weak or intemperate. Such a man 
 we have in Fithian. What looked like a great 
 evil in the beginning, is going to prove a great 
 good." 
 
 So men began to say, and to confirm themselves 
 by one specious argument after another in this 
 view of the case. The green bay-tree was strik 
 ing its roots deep into the rich soil ; stretching 
 out its limbs ; growing and flourishing. And 
 good men saw with heavy hearts its increase, the 
 21 
 
322 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 widening spread of its poison-dropping leaves, and 
 the blight of the verdure that lay beneath. 
 
 The enemy, so broken and discomfited a little 
 while before, had become under this new rally 
 and re-enforcement more surely established in its 
 occupancy, and all that Brantly had gained in 
 its late vigorous onslaught seemed lost. 
 
THE BLIGHT ON BRANTLY. 323 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE BLIGHT ON BRANTLY. 
 
 bay-tree went on growing and stretching 
 out its branches, and increasing the spread 
 of its noxious leaves. That it was an accursed 
 thing, not a few who had rejoiced in its planting 
 had sorrowful evidence ere a year had closed its 
 cycle. 
 
 Had Fithian kept faith with the people ? Had 
 he lived up to the letter and spirit of his license ? 
 Will he who scruples not to break faith with 
 humanity be very tender of conscience in his 
 dealings with the individual ? This man had 
 proposed nothing to himself but gain. There had 
 not been in his heart a single movement of will 
 or desire that did not regard himself; and the 
 
324 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 more self-regard grew the less cared he for his 
 neighbor. Openly, he had kept to his faith; 
 covertly, when violation was possible without 
 danger of discovery and proof, never ! Boy or 
 man ; strong or weak ; sober or intemperate it 
 mattered not to Dennis Fithian. The minor, 
 flatly refused at the bar, gained knowledge of 
 other ways of the house ; and it was the same 
 with men to whom it might not be prudent openly 
 to supply the maddening poison for which appe 
 tite craved with a desire that grew stronger with 
 each new gratification. 
 
 As a hurt, or maimed, or diseased human body 
 calls into action all its reserve of vital force, and 
 goes on with its life-work, even while it struggles 
 with an enemy that is perpetually seeking to bind 
 or destroy, so Brantly, wounded and greatly 
 shorn of her strength, lifted herself and began to 
 move forward in the hope of recovering a measure 
 of what she had lost. How changed in almost 
 everything ! So few the years since old, plodding, 
 contented Brantly tried, in a spasm of ambition, 
 
THE BLIGHT ON BRANTLY. 625 
 
 to wheel into line with modern progress, and in 
 a half-blind, half-halting way to keep step in the 
 perilous march ; and here she was, thrown back 
 upon herself, crippled, exhausted and with a ter 
 rible disease entrenched in the very citadel of 
 her life. You scarcely saw, in all the town, a 
 single face that wore the former restful, con 
 tented expression. Men and women had grown 
 older by twice or thrice the years which had 
 actually passed ; and you wondered, as you looked 
 on one friend and another, at the gray hairs which 
 you did not remember to have noticed until now. 
 Foreheads, smooth and placid a few years before, 
 had deep lines cut into them ; and eyes that then 
 smiled back every pleasant greeting, rested in 
 yours with a dull, or dreary, or sad and troubled 
 expression. Where you once saw thrift, neglect 
 and decay were too often visible. Many gardens 
 in which fair hands had loved to train blossoming 
 vines, had lost their beauty, and run to waste ; 
 and in homes, once bright and joyous, the sounds 
 of singing and laughter were no longer heard. 
 
326 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 But, for all this, Brantly did not fold her arms 
 in weak despair, but went on with her work, 
 sadly and wearily bending her neck to a yoke 
 she was unable to throw off. 
 
 One man in the town prospered more than all 
 the rest, but prospered as a varnpire, or a para 
 site ; giving service to none, but drawing from 
 all upon whom he could fasten fang or rootlet. 
 Year by year he gathered what other men strewed, 
 and reaped in fields that other men planted ; 
 growing richer at the cost of many who grew 
 poorer. Not a dollar in his coffers represented 
 good to any ; but always evil. For every coin 
 he took in, he gave back a curse. And there he 
 held himself firmly garrisoned, setting at defiance 
 open assault or covert stratagem ; for the law 
 gave him succor and defence, and the symbol of 
 this powerful ally was ever seen in the stars and 
 stripes that floated in the air above the place into 
 which he enticed the weak and unwary to their 
 loss and to his gain. 
 
 Did the people lose all heart ? Did they give 
 
THE BLIGHT ON BRANTLY. 327 
 
 up in despair? Not so. There was a faithful 
 band, ever watchful, ever on the alert, ever lifting 
 up a warning cry , ever seeking to guard the weak 
 and the innocent, to raise up the fallen, and to 
 draw many back from the dangerous ground 
 toward which their feet were moving. Guards 
 were thrown about the young. Boys and girls 
 were organized into associations, pledged to absti 
 nence and opposition to intemperance. A Good 
 Templar lodge was formed by some of the young 
 men and women. A full supply of temperance 
 books was placed in the town library ; and tracts 
 were procured and liberally circulated. Frequent 
 public addresses were made on the evil of drinking, 
 and all the clergymen, to their honor be it said, 
 were outspoken against the enemy, though some 
 took offence and staid away from public worship ; 
 expressing pious dissatisfaction at the ministers 
 " intemperate harangues against rum-sellers," 
 when they had gone to church hungry for spir 
 itual food. 
 
 There was gain in all this ; for by it a public 
 
THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 sentiment adverse to drinking, and that of a most 
 decided character, was formed and maintained ; 
 and large numbers not only kept away from the 
 saloons, but from even tasting liquor. The un 
 tiring leader in all this was Mr. Norman. Others 
 grew weary ; but with him heart and courage 
 never failed. His watchful eyes were over all 
 the town ; and he knew from week to week, and 
 from month to month, the gain or loss. Always 
 he took hope and encouragement in what was 
 saved. 
 
 "If we cannot drive out this enemy, let us 
 hold him to his citadel and force him back when 
 ever he ventures beyond its moat or draw." 
 
 So the faithful old man held to his duty, and 
 with a vigilance that nothing could tire. Others 
 might be on terms of social intimacy with Fithian, 
 who was gathering back his thousands again, 
 and gradually rising in the estimation of those 
 who are always ready to make friends with the 
 unrighteous Mammon ; but Mr. Norman main 
 tained such coldness and reserve towards him, 
 
THE BLIGHT ON BRANTLY. 329 
 
 that his attitude was taken as an insult, and re 
 sented. Many called them enemies; and in 
 truth that was their real attitude for he who 
 was a foe to the people, Percy Norman treated 
 as such. As for Dennis Fithian, he looked upon 
 all who were opposed to him as enemies, and 
 hated them in his heart. He had many grudges 
 against Mr. Norman, who from the beginning 
 had stood in his way, and in more than one 
 instance turned him out of it. To be able to 
 repay him by injury he would have regarded as 
 a sweet revenge. But Mr. Norman was out of 
 the reach of any evil he might plot against him. 
 And now we move on again. It is five years 
 from the time when unhappy Brantly, just as she 
 thought to achieve a victory, found herself driven 
 back and overcome by a new and more subtle foe. 
 How has she fared in all these years ? Let us 
 gather up a few of the loose threads of her history 
 with which our readers are familiar, and tie them 
 together. They have not lost interest in Mrs. 
 Lyman, nor in her daughter Marie. What of 
 
330 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 unhappy Mrs. Irwin and her son; of Frank 
 Sylvester and Horace Lyman; of Mrs. McAlister, 
 arid a few others with whom the reader has had 
 brief acquaintance? Is it as well with them all 
 as when we saw them last, or have the blight 
 and the shadow that were then falling upon their 
 lives grown darker and deadlier ? 
 
 A bleak November day had closed, and as the 
 night came down, the wind grew r and sent its 
 sorrowful wail through the chilly air. It had 
 not been a cheerful day for Brantly, and, in fact, 
 her red-letter days were now few and far between ; 
 but this one had a drearier sky than usual. 
 There had been a great deal of bad seed sown in 
 her fields, and it had sprung up and been growing 
 and growing, the fruit ripening toward harvest, 
 until the day for the reapers was close at hand. 
 About ten o clock in the morning, as Mr. Norman 
 sat in the plainly-furnished parlor of the " Foun 
 tain-Inn," Mr. Lyman entered the apartment. 
 His face was clouded. On seeing Mr. Norman, 
 he said 
 
THE BLIGHT ON BRANTLY. 331 
 
 "Ah, I m glad to find you here. I want to 
 have a talk with you." 
 
 The two men sat down together ; the lawyer s 
 mariner growing more serious. Speaking out his 
 thought quickly with much feeling, Mr. Lyman 
 said 
 
 " Something must be done about this place of 
 Fithian s ! It is ruining our young men. A 
 cancer in a human body is not a more destructive 
 or deadly thing !" 
 
 " What more than we are doing can be done ?" 
 
 " I don t know. But is it not an awful thing 
 to have a moral pest house in our midst, and our 
 hands so tied by the law that we cannot remove 
 it ? To have an open door into hell and we 
 powerless to close it ! I grow desperate some 
 times ! You may thank God, Mr. Norman, that 
 you have neither sons nor daughters !" 
 
 " I grieve for those who have. I pity them in 
 my heart of hearts. No new trouble I hope?" 
 
 " A trouble that is always as fresh and sharp 
 as a new made wound. My poor, poor Marie !" 
 
332 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 Mr. Lyman s voice broke and quivered. Re 
 covering himself, he added 
 
 " And she is so patient and silent ; so true and 
 devoted ; hiding always as best she can the pain 
 that is whitening her face and consuming her 
 flesh. Oh sir ; this, for me, is a most bitter, bit 
 ter thing !" 
 
 " Frank has many good qualities. He is not 
 unkind to Marie." 
 
 " He does not strike her by words or blows ; 
 but he is breaking her heart for all that !" 
 
 " If he were not so weak not so easily led 
 away. He tries to do better, I know. But he 
 has so little force of will; and appetite is so 
 strong." 
 
 "And temptation always so close at hand," 
 Mr. Lyman answered with a sigh. Then, with 
 indignation 
 
 " I charge it all on Fithian ! Frank had reco 
 vered himself, an d was doing as well as I could 
 ask; and Marie was so happy. We had the 
 enemy at bay. He stood disgraced in the eyes 
 
THE BLIGHT ON BRANTLY. 333 
 
 of all, had lost caste and respectability, was being 
 driven into the lowest and most degraded of 
 places; and there was a good prospect of our 
 being able to drive him out altogether; when 
 Fithian came to the front. What followed I 
 need not rehearse. The people, almost freed from 
 a terrible thraldom, were bound again, and with 
 cords of seven-fold thickness. Is it always to be 
 so, Mr. Norman ? For desperate diseases are 
 there not desperate remedies ? the knife and the 
 cautery ? Some of us are growing desperate. I 
 have just been talking with Mr. Irwin." 
 " Did he say anything about his wife ?" 
 " He saw her at the asylum last week." 
 "How is she?" 
 " No better. It is so sad." 
 " Does her insanity still keep on its old form ?" 
 "Yes. Fithian is the haunting spectre of her 
 diseased fancy. She sees his hand on the throat 
 of her son, and begs for her freedom that she 
 may fly to his rescue. If she were my wife, I 
 would bring her home, and give her the liberty 
 
334 THE BAR-KOOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 of the town. Desperate diseases, you know. A 
 second aim might hit the mark." 
 
 "No no. Don t say that." 
 
 Men are hung for killing the body. Is soul- 
 murder a lighter offence against humanity ?" 
 
 " Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord, and I will 
 repay it. The good and the evil that men do 
 work to inevitable compensations. Let us be 
 patient." 
 
 " The hand of an insane mother may fill the 
 . measure of compensation here. I am desperate 
 enough to wish that it might be so ; and some 
 thing tells me that it will be so." 
 
 There is a mental atmosphere. Thought pen 
 etrates it, passion stirs it ; mind by this medium 
 communicates with mind in unseen and hidden 
 ways but none the less surely giving and taking 
 ideas, images, and suggestions that seem inborn, 
 but which really flow into the soul. Even as Mr. 
 Lyrnan spoke, the tragedy his thought portended 
 had well-nigh been consummated. 
 
 Five years in the new life to which he had 
 
THE BLIGHT ON BRANTLY. 335 
 
 given himself had not been without their marring 
 effects on Dennis Fithian. He was no stronger 
 than some of his customers in the direction of 
 appetite, and with him, as with them, appetite 
 grew under indulgence until it assumed the con 
 trol of a master. He became in time plethoric 
 and ruddy ; being a good feeder and an easy 
 drinker. 
 
 But two or three years passed before the signs 
 of partial inebriation began to show themselves 
 from day to day. His capacity for drinking had 
 kept on growing until he could imbibe enough to 
 confuse the heads of two or three ordinary men, 
 without any visible effect; but with him, as with 
 others, there was a point beyond which physical 
 resistance could not go, and when this point was 
 reached, will-power failed also, and the man s 
 rapid descent began. Up to this period, Fithian 
 had held himself master of his business ; pros 
 pering, because his eyes saw the working of its 
 machinery in every smallest part, and his hand 
 controlled its every movement. But now, circum- 
 
336 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 spection began to fail, and indifference to creep 
 in. His brain lost its clearness, and the old alert 
 bearing gave place to heaviness. Gradually the 
 subordinates whom he had held in strict order, 
 and under the closest surveillance, began to have 
 more freedom, and a larger control and discretion ; 
 and to have better opportunities for intercepting 
 some of the golden streams that were flowing into 
 his coffers. All the fast men of the township, 
 and others from a greater distance, who scented 
 the decaying carcass from afar off, drew close 
 about him, with their flatteries and their insin 
 uating confidences. With some of these he joined 
 in money-making schemes which in nearly all 
 cases proved disastrous. To some he made loans 
 which were never repaid ; and with most of them 
 he played at cards luck in the long run going 
 nearly always against him. 
 
 These things did not at first greatly trouble 
 Fithian. In his prosperous establishment had he 
 not a mine of wealth ? What were a few dollars 
 lost to the many that were constantly coming in ! 
 
THE BLIGHT ON BRANTLY. 337 
 
 Had all gone smoothly in this business of 
 gathering where others had strewn ? Not entirely. 
 Unpleasant incidents were of too frequent occur 
 rence. Men excited by liquor are not always 
 under complete self-control ; and passions set on 
 fire of hell blazed out sometimes into violence. 
 There were assaults now and then, of so serious 
 a nature as to bring the participants into court ; 
 and demands for liquor from half-intoxicated men 
 who, on denial, became angry and vicious, and 
 sometimes murderous in their fury. Many times 
 in these years had Fithian been assailed, both by 
 ton true and hand. Bitter denunciations, and 
 glasses and bottles as well, had been hurled at 
 him. Knives had been drawn ; pistols snapped 
 in his face ; and once a bullet lifted the hair that 
 lay against his temple. 
 
 This last happened about two years after he 
 had opened his saloon, and the hand that held 
 the weapon from which the bullet came was that 
 of Mrs. Irwin. The partial derangement of mind 
 into which this lady was thrown after Marie Ly- 
 22 
 
338 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 man s wedding, so shocked and alarmed her son 
 Henry, who was very fond of her, that he gave 
 her the most solemn assurances that he would 
 never again, in all his life, touch or taste intox 
 icating drinks of any kind ; and for over a year 
 he kept so true to this promise that his mother s 
 heart regained, in a large measure, its old confi 
 dence, and her mind its even balance. Still, the 
 fear which had once been an overmastering terror 
 haunted her from a distance. Fithian s new 
 drinking saloon was the cloud in her sky that 
 diminished its brightness. Mothers whom she 
 knew were troubled about their sons. This 
 young man and that were spoken of in her pres 
 ence as going there too often ; and her own eyes 
 saw in the faces of many who had grown up with 
 her own boy the sad signs of increasing dissipa 
 tion. What if he should fall again ! Ever 
 present with her was the sad conviction that if 
 this should occur it would be more than she could 
 bear. She grew jealous and watchful ; fear be- 
 
THE BLIGHT ON BRANTLY. 339 
 
 coming morbid, until it began again to disturb 
 the balance of reason. 
 
 Whether there was ground for her first sus 
 picion or not, it became impressed on the mind 
 of Mrs. Irwin that her son, who often went to 
 Fithian s ice-cream garden in company with 
 young lady friends during the warm summer 
 season, did not confine his visits to the garden. 
 Having once got a lodgment in her brain, this 
 idea held its place there. She observed him with 
 a more careful scrutiny. Her eyes were upon 
 him in his goings out and his comings in. She 
 noted when he spoke of his companions or friends, 
 and if she were not familiar with the character 
 and habits of any of them, made early inquiry, 
 and possessed herself of all that could be learned 
 about them. Henry Irwin grew restless, and 
 being quick-tempered, often impatient, and some 
 times angry, under this perpetual watchfulness 
 of his mother ; and the more so when, as hap 
 pened after the lapse of a year, there was ground 
 for her suspicions and her fears. 
 
340 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 Dreading the effect upon his mother, should 
 she discover the fact that even in a single in 
 stance he had broken the solemn pledges given 
 her. the young man, in yielding to the perpetual 
 enticements and solicitations to which he was 
 subjected in his association with friends, indulged 
 at first with great prudence, and only when the 
 pressure on him was stronger than usual. But 
 the ice once broken, his feet began to sink into 
 the treacherous waters that lay beneath. 
 
 One night, on coming home rather later than 
 usual he had been at Fithian s with some 
 young friends his mother met him at his cham 
 ber door, and gave him a kiss. By the light 
 of the hall lamp he could see her face, as she 
 drew back her lips and fixed her eyes upon him. 
 In all his after life he never forgot their ex 
 pression, though, at the moment, his confused 
 brain and annoyed feelings prevented him from 
 taking in their full meaning. She did not speak, 
 nor lay her hand upon him, nor make any sign; 
 only looked at him for a moment, and then turn- 
 
THE BLIGHT ON BRANTLY. 341 
 
 ing away, went swiftly and silently to her own 
 room, vanishing like a ghost. 
 
 Mrs. Irwin was absent from the breakfast-table 
 on the next morning. She was not sick did 
 not complain of anything only lay very still, 
 with shut eyes, answering no questions. The 
 meaning of this none knew except her son. But 
 in his knowledge lay no suggestion of a remedy. 
 When breakfast was over he went away without 
 going up to see his mother. On returning at din 
 ner-time, he learned that she had not yet risen, 
 nor taken food, nor answered any questions that 
 had been addressed to her. All the family were 
 in trouble about her strange condition ; the more 
 especially so because of the mental aberration 
 into which she had once fallen. The young 
 man s anxiety and distress of mind were very 
 great. On him lay the responsibility of all this ; 
 though none knew it but himself and his heart- 
 stricken mother. Going to her room, he found 
 her lying with her face so hidden among the pil 
 lows that only one of her white temples, with its 
 
342 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 network of blue veins, was visible. He sat down 
 beside her; but she did not stir, nor seem to ob 
 serve his presence. He touched his lips, with a 
 loving pressure, to the fair, uncovered temple, 
 and said 
 
 " Mother ! Mother dear !" speaking with all 
 the tenderness he could gather into his voice. 
 Slowly the face was turned ; slowly the eyes 
 were opened. He read an infinite, sorrow in the 
 long, long look that was fixed upon him. He 
 kissed her again, with a passionate fervor ; and 
 again uttered her name in tones of the tenderest 
 pathos. But the aspect of her face did not change, 
 nor the sorrow go out of her eyes. "0 mother, 
 mother !" he cried in a voice full of anguish and 
 self-reproach. " Why don t you speak? This 
 will kill me ! Mother ! Dear, dear mother !" 
 
 Slowly she lifted her arms, and closing them 
 about her son s neck, drew his head down until 
 his face rested against hers. For the space of 
 many seconds she held him tightly. On releas 
 ing her hold, she pushed him a little way off, so 
 
THE BLIGHT ON BRANTLY. 343 
 
 that she could look into his face. Tears were 
 now flowing into her eyes and blinding her ; and 
 she was beginning to tremble violently. Then 
 came a paroxysm of sobbing and weeping, and 
 then a calmer state, in which a measure of self- 
 control was reached. 
 
 In the evening, Mrs. Irwin was with her family 
 again ; but all could see that something had gone 
 out of her life. 
 
 For two or three months after this, Henry 
 Irwin, whose love for his mother was very strong, 
 did not once go to Fithian s, though many times 
 invited by his young friends to join them there 
 in oyster or game suppers. As time wore on, 
 the restraints to which he was subjecting him 
 self became more and more distasteful; while 
 the resolutions he had made, and the solemn 
 assurances he had given to his mother, were 
 steadily losing their binding force. At last he 
 yielded to the perpetual drawing attraction, and 
 let his feet pass over the threshold he had vowed 
 never again to cross. But he was very careful 
 
344 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 about drinking, and confined himself to a single 
 glass of beer or light wine. Not that he was in 
 any fear ; for he felt strong in his ability to keep 
 .within the bounds of a safe moderation. He was 
 only concerned for his mother ; and in dread of 
 what might follow if she learned the truth. The 
 first step taken, and without discovery, it was 
 not a great while before Henry Irwin was once 
 more a frequent visitor at Fithian s, though 
 rarely, if ever, in the daytime ; and several more 
 months passed ere the mother s suspicions were 
 again aroused. This would not have been the 
 case had she not fallen into a dull, dreamy and 
 almost listless state of mind, verging on to indif 
 ference. She would keep her room for days some 
 times, sitting with idle hands, her eyes heavy 
 and absent in their expression, and then come 
 back again into the common sphere of the house 
 hold with a degree of her old earnest life but 
 with each lapse and return there was a percepti 
 ble failure in the force of this degree. 
 
 Strange as it may seem, when we consider the 
 
THE BLIGHT ON BRANTLY. 345 
 
 strong affection borne by Henry Irwin for his 
 mother and when we consider also the fact 
 that a discovery by her of his broken promise 
 must almost surely destroy the trembling balance 
 of her reason the young man had not the 
 strength of will required to resist the temptations 
 that met him in the way. 
 
 But his mother could not always remain in 
 ignorance. The time must come when the veil 
 would drop away and that which her heart most 
 dreaded stand before her. At any moment it 
 might fall: a word, a breath, a careless hand 
 anything might do the work. And in this wise 
 it was done : 
 
 Three or four mothers sat together mothers 
 with grown-up sons. Their faces were serious. 
 Said one, speaking with a strong pulse of feeling 
 in her voice : 
 
 " If I were a man, and that miserable wretch 
 Fithian sold liquor to my son, I d warn him first, 
 and if he took no heed of my warning, I d " 
 
 She did not finish the sentence. But there 
 
346 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 was a burning fire in her face, and a gleam in 
 her eyes. Something had wrought her into a 
 fierce and desperate passion. 
 
 Said another : 
 
 " None of our boys are safe. Yours nor mine." 
 
 She was looking towards Mrs. Irwin as she 
 spoke, for this lady made one of the company. 
 
 " My son never goes there/ said the latter, a 
 faint smile touching her lips. 
 
 " I m glad you think so," was remarked, with 
 a doubt in the speaker s voice. 
 
 " Who says he goes there ?" cried Mrs. Irwin, 
 her manner becoming instantly disturbed. 
 
 " I m afraid that most of our sons are in the 
 habit of going to Fithian s ; there is so much to 
 entice them," said the other. 
 
 An effort was now made to change the subject ; 
 for the weak condition of Mrs. Irwin s mind was 
 known to each of the little company; and also 
 the causes originally leading thereto. But it was 
 too late. All at once, the mother s feeling of 
 security was lost; and with a persistence that 
 
THE BLIGHT ON BRANTLY. 347 
 
 could not be evaded or set aside, she put question 
 after question, and extorted answers that left her 
 in no doubt that her son had broken the promise 
 on which her happiness, if not her reason, hung. 
 
 " Henry is in no danger/ said one, trying to 
 assure her. " I ve heard him spoken of as among 
 those who drink very sparingly." 
 
 " His clear eyes and clear complexion tell all 
 that we want to know about him, Mrs. Irwin," 
 spoke up another. 
 
 " All are in danger while that door to death 
 and hell stands open !" said the lady who had 
 in the beginning denounced Fithian. 
 
 The heat of her indignation burned once more 
 in her face. 
 
 " While he lives and prospers," she went on, 
 " there is no safety for our sons. I wonder that 
 God does not strike him dead !" A fierce gleam 
 was in her eyes again. 
 
 It was noticed that Mrs. Irwin, who was bend 
 ing eagerly toward the speaker, grew calmer, and 
 that the expression of her face changed rapidly. 
 
348 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 " That one man should have the power to 
 blight and blast ; to ruin our boys and break our 
 hearts !" continued the speaker, her indignation 
 still rising. " But what cares he for ruined lives., 
 or the breaking of mothers hearts ? He crushes 
 them under his feet with as little concern as if 
 they were dead leaves ! Is there no remedy ; no 
 redress ? Must we stand still and let this awful 
 thing go on ? Is no hand strong enough to stay 
 the curse, or srnite the destroyer ? If men will 
 not meet the issue, if they are too weak or too 
 cowardly to take this wretch by the throat, then 
 some woman s hand must do the work !" 
 
 Dennis Fithian stood just in front of the coun 
 ter in his bar-room, talking with two or three 
 men, one of whom was Henry Irwin. It was an 
 unusual thing for this young man to visit the 
 saloon except in the evening ; and even then he 
 was rarely to be seen in the public bar-room. On 
 the present occasion he had gone in on the invi 
 tation of a friend. He was not feeling just right 
 about it, for the dread was always on his mind 
 
THE BLIGHT OX BRANTLY. 349 
 
 lest his mother should see him if he ventured to 
 go in or out of the saloon in the daytime. He 
 was standing with his back toward the door, 
 when he heard it open and shut; at the same 
 moment he saw a look of surprise and alarm in 
 Fithian s face. An instant more and the sharp 
 report of a pistol rang through the room, the ball 
 just grazing the saloon-keeper s head and shat 
 tering one of the mirrors that lined the bar. 
 
 Before the young man could turn to see who 
 had fired this shot, he heard the name of his 
 mother in a startled cry. For an instant only 
 did he see her wild face. The pistol dropped 
 from her hand, and she fied back through the 
 door by which she had entered. Following, he 
 saw her, as he gained the street, flying homeward 
 with the swiftness of a hunted animal. 
 
 Of what came after, the intimation has already 
 been given. The mother s reason had been dis 
 turbed, and her aberration was of a nature that 
 made personal restraint absolutely necessary. As 
 
350 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 this could not be secured at home, no alternative 
 but her removal to an asylum remained. Always 
 present to her diseased imagination was the peril 
 of her son. She saw him in the hands of a rob 
 ber, who was threatening his life ; and she was 
 ever trying to get away in order that she might 
 go to his rescue. It required the utmost vigi 
 lance to prevent her escape. Whenever an op 
 portunity occurred, she would take a knife from 
 the table and conceal it in her bed or about her 
 person. If a pair of scissors were missed from 
 the work-room, search was usually made in the 
 apartments of Mrs. Irwin, and the article in 
 nearly all cases would be found there. 
 
 The months went by, and made themselves 
 up into years. Still the mother s shattered rea 
 son was not restored ; and still insanity held to 
 the original form. The visits of her son were 
 always followed by such violent paroxysms that 
 the physician in charge of the institution in which 
 she was confined had, at last, to interdict them 
 
THE BLIGHT ON BRANTLY. 351 
 
 altogether. The joy of his presence would be 
 turned into the wildest fear and anguish when 
 he left her ; for she saw him going back into the 
 power of a cruel enemy who was seeking his 
 life. 
 
352 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 RETRIBUTION. 
 
 the bleak November day mentioned in our 
 last chapter one of the days, not of the red- 
 letter kind, which made themselves memorable 
 in Brantly Dennis Fithian, on whom five years 
 had left many unsightly marks, passed from his 
 residence and walked, with head bent and eyes 
 upon the ground, slowly along the street in the 
 direction of his saloon. The old confident swag 
 ger and firm tread were gone. Intemperate eat 
 ing and drinking had produced their sure result 
 disease ; and gambling, neglect of business, and 
 the treachery of parasites and false friends, had 
 wrought quite as disastrously on his fortunes. 
 And what of the home-life of this man, whose 
 
RETRIBUTION. 353 
 
 baleful shadow rested like a pall of death on 
 many homes that but for him might have been 
 full of sunshine? He had just parted from his 
 daughter once he had been very proud of her 
 beauty ; and taking the usual capacity of such 
 men for loving anything out of themselves, al 
 ways fond of her. More than three years before 
 this time she was married to a young man of 
 good family, then a clerk in one of the largest 
 stores in town. Her father gave the young couple 
 a house, neatly furnished, and they began life 
 with a pleasant outlook. But the temptation set 
 by Fithian in the way of other young men was 
 as close to the feet of his son-in-law as to theirs, 
 and the danger was as great for him as for them ; 
 nay, even greater than in many cases. That he 
 was .not strong enough to resist the influences to 
 which he was exposed is hardly a matter of sur 
 prise. 
 
 He had, as we have said, just parted from his 
 daughter. What was the image held in his mind 
 as he walked, with stooping shoulders and eyes 
 23 
 
354 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 cast down ? That of a pale, sad-faced woman, 
 with wet, hopeless eyes, bending over a baby 
 which lay across her lap. She had left her own 
 home and returned to her father s house, be 
 cause of personal violence at the hands of her 
 husband, in his nightly fits of drunken insanity, 
 of which none knew but herself. And there was 
 another image that of a woman on whose face 
 there had not been a smile for years, and in 
 whose eyes he could read only sorrow and rebuke. 
 Where was her son ? Had she looked upon him 
 in all the long weary years since that day when 
 a knowledge of his errors and his crimes came so 
 near breaking her heart ? Once, and once only 
 whether in a dream or in full wakefulness 
 whether in vision of bodily presence, it was more 
 than she could sometimes tell. But whatever 
 the doubt, the scene her memory held never lost 
 its painful distinctness. She remembered the 
 opening of the door, and the pitiful object that 
 stood therein ; the sick, wan face ; the haggard 
 eyes; the outstretched, appealing hands. And 
 
RETRIBUTION. 355 
 
 she remembered, also, the storm of execration 
 that fell upon this object; arid how it vanished 
 from her sight as suddenly as it had appeared, 
 and was never seen again ! Poor mother ! 
 
 Dennis Fithian walked on, with form stooping 
 and eyes upon the ground. He was feeling more 
 wretched than usual. Wretched ? Yes ; for the 
 time of his sowing was past, arid he was now 
 reaping his field and gathering in his harvest 
 of tares. Health was broken by excesses ; the 
 sunshine had long since gone out of his life and 
 his home ; and the fortune he had been building 
 in the past five years out of the waste of other 
 men s substance, was crumbling like a house 
 whose foundations had been laid in the sand. 
 
 He had walked nearly two-thirds of the distance 
 from his residence to his saloon, when the sudden 
 cry of voices in the street caused him to lift his 
 eyes from the ground. As he did so, he saw a 
 woman advancing rapidly from the direction of 
 his bar-room, at the door of which two or three 
 men stood looking after her in much apparent 
 
356 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 excitement. Before he had time to think, or 
 question as to the meaning of all this, the woman 
 had reached him, and he saw with a sudden sense 
 of weak terror, a face he knew too well that of 
 Mrs. Irwin. Ere he could lift his arm in defence 
 she had struck at him with a knife which she 
 carried in one hand, and which until now had 
 been concealed under her shawl. Fortunately, 
 the blade only penetrated his clothing, and before 
 she could repeat the blow, he had time to catch 
 the hand upraised a second time, and hold it 
 firmly until help came. 
 
 An incident like this could not happen without 
 the knowledge thereof passing through the town 
 with an almost electric quickness. Mrs. Irwin, 
 who had escaped from the asylum and made her 
 way to Brantly, none knew how, was taken to 
 her home ; and Fithian, in a tremor of agitation 
 which he could not repress, made a hurried retreat 
 to his bar-room, where he steadied his nerves 
 with large draughts of brandy and water. A 
 crowd of people carne pressing into the saloon, 
 
RETRIBUTION. 357 
 
 for a hundred rumors were in the air ; it being 
 said, among other things, that Fithian had been 
 severely and fatally wounded. 
 
 Mr. Norman and Mr. Lyman were still talking 
 when a man rushed into the "Fountain Inn," 
 crying out that Dennis Fithian had been stabbed 
 by a woman. As they gained the street, they 
 saw people running from all directions men 
 and women as well, the crowd moving toward 
 Fithian s saloon. There was loud talking and 
 eager questions and great excitement. 
 
 "What s the matter?" cried a woman, who 
 came running with the crowd. " Who s killed ?" 
 
 " I don t know that any one is killed, Mrs. 
 McAlister. But they say Fithian s been stabbed 
 by Mrs. Irwin," answered Mr. Lyrnan. 
 
 " No !" breathed out in a tone of strong sur 
 prise, as the woman drew back a step. 
 
 u That s what they say." 
 
 The face of Mrs. McAlister underwent rapid 
 changes. 
 
 u And it was for her boy !" Her breath came 
 
358 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 stronger still. Her hands and arms worked ner 
 vously, her eyes dilated. " Just for her boy !" 
 
 Then she caught hold of the lawyer, and put 
 ting her face close to him said, in a low, hoarse 
 whisper 
 
 " She isn t right in her head, ye know, Mr. 
 Lyman. And and there s some of the rest of 
 us poor mothers as isn t right in our heads with 
 the shame and sorrow of these saloons !" 
 
 There was that in the woman s face which gave 
 Mr. Lyman a feeling of alarm. He knew some 
 thing of her desperate character. Not alone in 
 the case we have already recited had he been 
 called upon .to defend Mrs. McAlister in court. 
 In the years which had gone since then, she had 
 been in the hands of the law for assault and 
 battery on one tavern-keeper, and another who 
 sold liquor to her son and her husband for nearly 
 a score of times; and as her husband had become 
 a common drunkard, and she bad given warning 
 in person to every saloon-keeper in town not to 
 sell him drink, and as her son, though now of 
 
RETRIBUTION. 359 
 
 age, was following too closely in his father s 
 footsteps, she usually came off with a " Not 
 guilty " from the jury, or with a small fine from 
 the court where the case was unusually aggra 
 vated. The fine was always promptly made up ; 
 so that she had really no punishment for her 
 breach of the peace. 
 
 Mrs. McAlister Had become, as will be seen 
 from this, a terror to most of the saloon-keepers, 
 many of whom, to be rid of her, refused to sell 
 liquor to either her husband or her son. But for 
 all that, they both came home too often sadly 
 under its influence ; whenever this occurred, she 
 would set to work to discover the place where 
 drink was obtained, and if the proof were satis 
 factory a visitation was sure to follow. 
 
 Efforts were often made by Mr. Norman and 
 others to lead her son into a better life. But the 
 young man had inherited from his father a de 
 praved taste, and this had gained so .great power 
 over him by early indulgence that his poor, half 
 hearted resolutions were not strong enough to 
 
360 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 keep him away from the dram-shops. This life 
 of trouble, and grief and inordinate excitement, 
 was making a wreck of the unhappy mother 
 and when she said to Mr. Lyman ; " There s 
 some of the rest of us poor mothers as isn t right 
 in our heads, with the shame and the sorrow of 
 these saloons," and he saw the wild look in her 
 eyes, and the strong fierce purpose that was 
 quivering in her face, he felt alarmed and anxious 
 lest a thought of murder had been thrown into 
 her mind. 
 
 " You d better go home, Mrs. McAllister," he 
 said. " These things excite and worry you too 
 much." 
 
 " He isn t hurt," remarked a man, who came 
 up at this moment. " He made a narrow escape. 
 The knife struck on one of his ribs, but didn t 
 even break the skin." 
 
 " Was it Mrs. Irwin, true and sure ?" asked 
 Mrs. McAlister eagerly. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And she missed him again ? Poor thing ! If 
 
RETRIBUTION. 361 
 
 she d only had my arm !" Arid the woman lifted 
 her hand and struck it down with violence. 
 
 " And they ll take her back to the mad-house 
 again, poor thing! Poor thing !" her voice sink 
 ing to a pitiful tone. Then with a stronger and 
 more impulsive utterance, " There s some of us 
 not in the mad-house yet !" As she said this 
 she broke away, and went rapidly down the 
 street, taking the direction of Fithian s. Pressing 
 through the crowd, and pushing men this way 
 and that with a sudden force that few resisted, 
 she made her way into the saloon. 
 
 But whatever might have been her purpose, 
 she did not find the saloon-keeper there, he having 
 left the bar-room and gone up stairs. Her sudden 
 appearance and strange manner occasioned great 
 surprise among those who were present, nearly 
 all of whom knew Mrs. McAlister well, from her 
 various exploits in bar-rooms, and trials for 
 assaults upon liquor sellers. She had become a 
 noted character in Brantly. As she pressed 
 forward toward the bar, men drew back, looking 
 
362 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 with eager curiosity to see what new excitement 
 was at hand. 
 
 " She didn t do it, they say," stepping a pace 
 or two from the counter. She was breathing 
 rapidly. 
 
 "No, she missed him/ answered one who 
 caught the drift of her question. 
 
 "Poor thing! Her hand was too weak. If 
 she d only had this!" Raising her hand as she 
 spoke, the sleeve of her gown fell back, and 
 revealed the grimy skin and tensely-corded mus 
 cles of her arm, into which passion could throw 
 the strength of a giant. " If she d only had 
 this !" And her hand went plunging down with 
 the motion of a thrust. "But she ll have it out 
 with him yet, poor thing ! It s for her boy, poor 
 mother ! Poor mother ! And for all our boys. 
 It s coming ! We ll all have it out with them, 
 for our boys ! Who cares for mad-houses and 
 jails, and the law, and judges and courts, I say? 
 Who cares, when they re killin our boys, body 
 and soul ? Who cares ? Not Katy McAlister. 
 
RETRIBUTION. 3Go 
 
 The law doesn t help us ; and the court and 
 judges don t help us; and the jails and the mad 
 houses don t help us. Nothing will help us if we 
 don t help ourselves !" 
 
 The woman had wrought herself into a frenzy. 
 Her voice was pitched to a high key, and she 
 was gesticulating madly. The inmates of the 
 bar-room drew still farther away from her, some 
 laughing; but most of them looking on with 
 serious faces. 
 
 " No, she didn t do it; more s the pity ! Poor 
 thing ! And they ll shut her up in the mad-house 
 again. And ye ll all stand by and see it done, 
 and not lift a hand to help her, poor thing ! with 
 her heart broke ! But ye ll stand up for Fitbian, 
 and his devilish crew ! yes ! Fithian s your 
 man. Fitbian ! Fithian ! ! Fithian ! ! !" Her 
 voice rising on each repetition of the name until 
 it rang forth in a delirious scream. A tempest 
 of feeling had swept across the woman s soul, arid 
 there were lightning flashes in her eyes. With 
 her form lifted to its utmost height and her arms 
 
364 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 extended above her head, she looked a very pro 
 phetess of evil. Little wonder that the inmates 
 of the bar-room made wider the open space 
 around her. 
 
 " All you men against us poor mothers !" A 
 mingling of contempt and pleading accusation, 
 and weak self-pity in the changing voice, which 
 she dropped to a lower key. " And when we 
 try to help ourselves; to right our wrongs; it s 
 the jail and the mad-house! Ah me !" A deep, 
 shivering sigh following the ejaculation. " There 
 are worse things then jails and mad-houses ; and 
 we ll go there if we must !" 
 
 Then breaking through the crowd of men that 
 instantly gathered about her, she took her way 
 along the principal street for a short distance and 
 then turned off, running as she went. A portion 
 of the crowd followed. At the low^er end of the 
 street down which she had gone were some of 
 the vilest drinking dens in the place ; and their 
 keepers knew her well, for she had troubled them 
 often by her unwelcome visitations. There was 
 
RETRIBUTION. 365 
 
 a butcher s shop in her way. Into this she passed 
 swiftly and was reaching for a knife that lay 
 on his block, when the butcher caught it up, and 
 held it above her reach. An attempt to seize 
 upon a cleaver was as little successful. Baffled in 
 her effort to get hold of a murderous weapon, 
 the now infuriated woman left the shop and kept 
 on down the street. Attracted by the noise with 
 out, the inmates of the several bar-rooms made 
 their way to the doors. The keeper of the first 
 saloon that came in Mrs. McAlister s path, seeing 
 her swift approach, and the crowd that was com 
 ing close after her, took counsel of prudence, and 
 stepping back shut and locked his door. He 
 knew something about Mrs. McAlister, and did 
 not care to have any repetition of his unsatisfac 
 tory experiences. 
 
 The keeper of the second bar-room that came 
 in this woman s course did not have as much 
 presence of mind as the first, nor act with a like 
 discretion. Unfortunately for this man, as Mrs. 
 McAlister confronted him, and he set his small, 
 
366 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 light figure in the door, in the effort to bar her 
 entrance, she saw her son standing just inside. 
 As a hawk striking some poor little bird, or a 
 wild beast leaping on its prey, did Mrs. McAlister 
 spring upon the tavern-keeper. But ere she 
 could do him any hurt she was in the grasp of 
 two or three men, who held her firmly. From 
 the saloon she was taken home, struggling and 
 raving all the way like an insane woman, and 
 stirring the people with an excitement deeper 
 still than that which was already agitating the 
 town. 
 
BRANTLY AROUSED. 367 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 BRANTLY AROUSED. 
 
 and trade were suspended in Brantly 
 for the day. There was a halt in the com 
 mon march of events; a pause for observation. 
 Men took counsel one of another ; compared past 
 times with the present ; counted the gains and 
 losses; hearkened to reason and the pleadings 
 of humanity ; and considered questions of respon 
 sibility, and the moral and spiritual interests of 
 the whole people as compared with the right 
 claimed under the law by a few bad men to make 
 gain out of their destruction. 
 
 The conference between Mr. Lyman and Mr. 
 Norman, interrupted by the incidents just de 
 scribed, was resumed at a later hour in the day, 
 
368 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 and after these arid other incidents had given a 
 graver cast to their feelings. 
 
 - Brantly must call a halt!" said Mr. Lyrnan, 
 as the two men met again in the mid-afternoon, u no 
 matter who or what is hurt in the sudden check. 
 We must be rid of these saloon-keepers ; by fair 
 means if possible if not, then by foul. They 
 are a blot and a curse an eating cancer, as I 
 said this morning. Their keepers are human 
 vampires, living on, and exhausting the blood of 
 the people. Would I have had a single regret, 
 sir, if Mrs. Irwin had made a surer aim to-day? 
 No, sir ! You need not look dissent or reproof, 
 Mr. Norman. You are not a father. If some 
 hell-fiend had his knee on the breast of your 
 child, and his hand on his throat, would you 
 stand off and w r ait until life was nearly gone be 
 cause the law gave this hell-fiend immunity in 
 his devilish work ? I think not ! Humanity is 
 higher than law human law, I mean ; and 
 when the law tramples on humanity it is a curse 
 and not a blessing, and to resist becomes a duty." 
 
BRANTLY AROUSED. 369 
 
 " But we must not, in our resistance to bad 
 laws, do violence to persons or property. We 
 may obstruct, in order to lessen their evil influ 
 ence. Beyond this, action is doubtful, and dan 
 gerous to social order. Murder is the highest 
 crime against humanity, and cannot be justified 
 on any plea." 
 
 "I do not justify crime in any form, Mr. Nor- 
 man. But if the law gives power to bad men to 
 afflict the people with such direful evils that some 
 are driven to desperation, and some to madness; 
 and if in the blindness of desperation, or in the 
 fury of madness, some agonized creature a crazed 
 arid heart-broken mother, if you will should 
 strike a death-dealing blow at one of these, where 
 is the responsibility, and with whom lies the 
 crime ? To evil-doers retributions come in many 
 ways ; and punishment is oftener without than 
 within the rulings of the law. There is no safety 
 in wrong. It stands under a perpetual menace. 
 Is always in danger; and, sooner or later, gets 
 a death-wound and dies. I care but little how 
 24 
 
360 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 keep him away from the dram-shops. This life 
 of trouble, and grief and inordinate excitement, 
 was making a wreck of the unhappy mother ; 
 and when she said to Mr. Lyman ; " There s 
 some of the rest of us poor mothers as isn t right 
 in our heads, with the shame and the sorrow of 
 these saloons," and he saw the wild look in her 
 eyes, and the strong fierce purpose that was 
 quivering in her face, he felt alarmed and anxious 
 lest a thought of murder had been thrown into 
 her mind. 
 
 " You d better go home, Mrs. McAllister," he 
 said. " These things excite and worry you too 
 much." 
 
 " He isn t hurt," remarked a man, who came 
 up at this moment. " He made a narrow escape. 
 The knife struck on one of his ribs, but didn t 
 even break the skin." 
 
 " Was it Mrs. Irwin, true and sure ?" asked 
 Mrs. McAlister eagerly. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And she missed him again ? Poor thing ! If 
 
RETRIBUTION. 357 
 
 for a hundred rumors were in the air ; it being 
 said, among other things, that Fithian had been 
 severely and fatally wounded. 
 
 Mr. Norman and Mr. Lyman were still talking 
 when a man rushed into the " Fountain Inn," 
 crying out that Dennis Fithian had been stabbed 
 by a woman. As they gained the street, they 
 saw people running from all directions men 
 and women as well, the crowd moving toward 
 Fithian s saloon. There was loud talking and 
 eager questions and great excitement. 
 
 " What s the matter?" cried a woman, who 
 came running with the crowd. " Who s killed ?" 
 
 " I don t know that any one is killed, Mrs. 
 McAlister. But they say Fithian s been stabbed 
 by Mrs. Irwin," answered Mr. Lyrnan. 
 
 " No !" breathed out in a tone of strong sur 
 prise, as the woman drew back a step. 
 
 u That s what they say." 
 
 The face of Mrs. McAlister underwent rapid 
 changes. 
 
 u And it was for her boy !" Her breath came 
 
372 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 or bend her arm,, it remains just as you place it; 
 and so of any part of her body." 
 
 66 Does the doctor give any opinion as to the 
 duration of this state ?" 
 
 " It may continue for days or weeks. He can 
 not speak with any certainty." 
 
 " Did she go into it immediately on reaching 
 home ?" 
 
 " Almost immediately. I knew nothing of her 
 escape from the asylum until I saw her flying 
 along the street with a crowd in pursuit. It was 
 a dreadful shock. She threw herself into my 
 arms with a frightened cry, and I carried her into 
 the house her form shaking as if she were in a 
 strong ague. As I laid her down she looked up 
 at me and said : f I ve done it at last, and my 
 poor boy is saved! Then she shut her eyes arid 
 grew calm and still. The deep lines in her fore 
 head gradually smoothed themselves out, and a 
 soft and peaceful expression began stealing over 
 her face. A strange quiet fell upon her, sense 
 and motion grew, less and less, until, except for 
 
BRANTLY AROUSED. 373 
 
 the almost imperceptible rising and falling of 
 her bosom, she lay as still as death." 
 
 w; And there has been no change since ?" 
 
 "None." Then after a moment, "I ve been 
 talking with three or four of our townsmen 
 about this liquor curse, and we all agree that it 
 must come to an end, and that at once." 
 
 " If not by fair means, then by foul," said Mr. 
 Lyman. 
 
 " By any means, fair or foul," answered Mr. 
 Irwin. " And I for one am ready to take my 
 share of whatever consequences may come. But 
 we hope to prevail by fair means ; or in other 
 words, by such a show of force and determination 
 as will compel a retreat, and so give us the victory 
 without a battle. If it were not for Dennis 
 Fithian " 
 
 " There s been more trouble down at Fithian s," 
 said Horace Lyman, entering his father s office 
 at this moment. He was flushed and excited. 
 Five years had made sad changes in this young 
 man ; or to speak more correctly, the life he had 
 
356 THE BAR-KOOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 excitement. Before he had time to think, or 
 question as to the meaning of all this, the woman 
 had reached him, and he saw with a sudden sense 
 of weak terror, a face he knew too well that of 
 Mrs. Irwin. Ere he could lift his arm in defence 
 she had struck at him with a knife which she 
 carried in one hand, and which until now had 
 been concealed under her shawl. Fortunately, 
 the blade only penetrated his clothing, and before 
 she could repeat the blow, he had time to catch 
 the hand upraised a second time, and hold it 
 firmly until help came. 
 
 An incident like this could not happen without 
 the knowledge thereof passing through the town 
 with an almost electric quickness. Mrs. Irwin, 
 who had escaped from the asylum and made her 
 way to Brantly, none knew how, was taken to 
 her home ; and Fithian, in a tremor of agitation 
 which he could not repress, made a hurried retreat 
 to his bar-room, w T here he steadied his nerves 
 with large draughts of brandy and water. A 
 crowd of people came pressing into the saloon, 
 
RETRIBUTION. 353 
 
 baleful shadow rested like a pall of death on 
 many homes that but for him might have been 
 full of sunshine? He had just parted from his 
 daughter once he had been very proud of her 
 beauty; and taking the usual capacity of such 
 men for loving anything out of themselves, al 
 ways fond of her. More than three years before 
 this time she was married to a young man of 
 good family, then a clerk in one of the largest 
 stores in town. Her father gave the young couple 
 a house, neatly furnished, and they began life 
 with a pleasant outlook. But the temptation set 
 by Fithian in the way of other young men was 
 as close to the feet of his son-in-law as to theirs, 
 and the danger was as great for him as for them ; 
 nay, even greater than in many cases. That he 
 was not strong enough to resist the influences to 
 which he was exposed is hardly a matter of sur 
 prise. 
 
 He had, as we have said, just parted from his 
 daughter. What was the image held in his mind 
 as he walked, with stooping shoulders and eyes 
 23 
 
376 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 know? said Fithian. It s none of your busi 
 ness. 
 
 " Maybe not/ answered Joe, with a sneer 
 curling his lips. But if I choose to make it 
 iny business, who s going to hinder me ? 
 
 " At this Fithian came towards him, and cried 
 out as he drew back his hand, Get out of here ! 
 He was fairly foaming at the mouth. But Joe 
 didn t stir an inch. He was cool and completely 
 on his guard, ( Don t touch me ! he said, in a 
 low stern voice; but the words had scarcely passed 
 his lips before Fithian struck him on the breast, 
 the blow staggering him back for two or three 
 paces. The gleam of Joe Thompson s knife was 
 like the sudden swift quiver of a lightning flash ; 
 but before he could use the weapon it was struck 
 from his hand. As it fell to the floor a fierce growl 
 came from his lips, and he leaped on Fithian 
 with the savage spring of a tiger. It was some 
 time before we could separate them. As we did 
 so, two or three of us holding Joe back, Fithian 
 was lifted from the floor. His face was purple, 
 
BRANTLY AROUSED. 377 
 
 and his eyes had a strange stare in them. I saw 
 him reach out his hands suddenly as if trying to 
 catch hold of something, and then slip from the 
 hands of the two men who were trying to hold 
 hirn up, and fall like a dead and nerveless mass 
 upon the floor. The doctor, who was sent for 
 immediately, says it s a case of apoplexy, and 
 that there s not the slightest chance of his 
 recovery." 
 
 " For which God be praised," said Mr. Lyman, 
 as his son closed the last sentence. " Our deli 
 verance is nearer at hand than we thought." 
 
 The silence that fell upon the little company 
 was broken by a tumult in the street ; the noise 
 of which came from a distance. 
 
 As Mr. Lyman and his friends started from the 
 office to see what this meant, they saw an excited 
 crowd in front of a drinking-house, known as one 
 of the worst in the city ; a vile den in which 
 temptation to all manner of debasement and 
 wickedness met the weak and the strong who 
 passed within its doors. 
 
368 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 and after these arid other incidents had given a 
 graver cast to their feelings. 
 
 " Brantly must call a halt!" said Mr. Lyrnan, 
 as the two men met again in the mid- afternoon, fc< no 
 matter who or what is hurt in the sudden check. 
 We must be rid of these saloon-keepers ; by fair 
 means if possible if not, then by foul. They 
 are a blot and a curse an eating cancer, as I 
 said this morning. Their keepers are human 
 vampires, living on, and exhausting the blood of 
 the people. Would I have had a single regret, 
 sir, if Mrs. Irwin had made a surer aim to-day? 
 No, sir ! You need not look dissent or reproof, 
 Mr. Norman. You are not a father. If some 
 hell-fiend had his knee on the breast of your 
 child, and his hand on his throat, would you 
 stand off and wait until life was nearly gone be 
 cause the law gave this hell-fiend immunity in 
 his devilish work ? I think not ! Humanity is 
 higher than law human law, I mean ; and 
 when the law tramples on humanity it is a curse 
 and not a blessing, and to resist becomes a duty." 
 
RETKIBUTION. 365 
 
 a butcher s shop in her way. Into this she passed 
 swiftly and was reaching for a knife that lay 
 on his block, when the butcher caught it up, and 
 held it above her reach. An attempt to seize 
 upon a cleaver was as little successful. Baffled in 
 her effort to get hold of a murderous weapon, 
 the now infuriated woman left the shop and kept 
 on down the street. Attracted by the noise with 
 out, the inmates of the several bar-rooms made 
 their way to the doors. The keeper of the first 
 saloon that came in Mrs. McAlister s path, seeing 
 her swift approach, and the crowd that was com 
 ing close after her, took counsel of prudence, and 
 stepping back shut and locked his door. He 
 knew something about Mrs. McAlister, and did 
 not care to have any repetition of his unsatisfac 
 tory experiences. 
 
 The keeper of the second bar-room that came 
 in this woman s course did not have as much 
 presence of mind as the first, nor act with a like 
 discretion. Unfortunately for this man, as Mrs. 
 McAlister confronted him, and he set his small, 
 
366 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 light figure in the door, in the effort to bar her 
 entrance, she saw her son standing just inside. 
 As a hawk striking some poor little bird, or a 
 wild beast leaping on its prey, did Mrs. McAlister 
 spring upon the tavern-keeper. But ere she 
 could do him any hurt she was in the grasp of 
 two or three men, who held her firmly. From 
 the saloon she was taken home, struggling and 
 raving all the way like an insane woman, and 
 stirring the people with an excitement deeper 
 still than that which was already agitating the 
 town. 
 
BRANTLY AROUSED. 367 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 BRANTLY AROUSED. 
 
 and trade were suspended in Brantly 
 for the day. There was a halt in the com 
 mon march of events; a pause for observation. 
 Men took counsel one of another ; compared past 
 times with the present ; counted the gains and 
 losses; hearkened to reason and the pleadings 
 of humanity ; and considered questions of respon 
 sibility, and the moral and spiritual interests of 
 the whole people as compared with the right 
 claimed under the law by a few bad men to make 
 gain out of their destruction. 
 
 The conference between Mr. Lyrnan and Mr. 
 Norman, interrupted by the incidents just de 
 scribed, was resumed at a later hour in the day, 
 
368 THE BAK-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 and after these arid other incidents had given a 
 graver cast to their feelings. 
 
 " Brantly must call a halt!" said Mr. Lyrnan, 
 as the two men met again in the mid-afternoon, " no 
 matter who or what is hurt in the sudden check. 
 We must be rid of these saloon-keepers ; by fair 
 means if possible if not, then by foul. They 
 are a blot and a curse an eating cancer, as I 
 said this morning. Their keepers are human 
 vampires, living on, and exhausting the blood of 
 the people. Would I have had a single regret, 
 sir, if Mrs. Irwin had made a surer aim to-day? 
 No, sir ! You need not look dissent or reproof, 
 Mr. Norman. You are not a father. If some 
 hell-fiend had his knee on the breast of your 
 child, and his hand on his throat, would you 
 stand off and wait until life was nearly gone be 
 cause the law gave this hell-fiend immunity in 
 his devilish work ? I think not ! Humanity is 
 higher than law human law, I mean ; and 
 when the law tramples on humanity it is a curse 
 and not a blessing, and to resist becomes a duty." 
 
BRANTLY AROUSED. 369 
 
 " But we must not, in our resistance to bad 
 laws, do violence to persons or property. We 
 may obstruct, in order to lessen their evil influ 
 ence. Beyond this, action is doubtful, and dan 
 gerous to social order. Murder is the highest 
 crime against humanity, and cannot be justified 
 on any plea." 
 
 "I do not justify crime in any form, Mr. Nor 
 man. But if the law gives power to bad men to 
 afflict the people with such direful evils that some 
 are driven to desperation, and some to madness; 
 and if in the blindness of desperation, or in the 
 fury of madness, some agonized creature a crazed 
 and heart-broken mother, if you will should 
 strike a death-dealing blow at one of these, where 
 is the responsibility, and with whom lies the 
 crime ? To evil-doers retributions come in many 
 ways ; and punishment is oftener without than 
 within the rulings of the law. There is no safety 
 in wrong. It stands under a perpetual menace. 
 Is always in danger; and, sooner or later, gets 
 a death-wound and dies. I care but little how 
 24 
 
360 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 keep him away from the dram-shops. This life 
 of trouble, and grief and inordinate excitement, 
 was making a wreck of the unhappy mother ; 
 and when she said to Mr. Lyman ; " There s 
 some of the rest of us poor mothers as isn t right 
 in our heads, with the shame and the sorrow of 
 these saloons," and he saw the wild look in her 
 eyes, and the strong fierce purpose that was 
 quivering in her face, he felt alarmed and anxious 
 lest a thought of murder had been thrown into 
 her mind. 
 
 " You d better go home, Mrs. McAllister," he 
 said. " These things excite and worry you too 
 much." 
 
 " He isn t hurt," remarked a man, who came 
 up at this moment. " He made a narrow escape. 
 The knife struck on one of his ribs, but didn t 
 even break the skin." 
 
 " Was it Mrs. Irwin, true and sure ?" asked 
 Mrs. McAlister eagerly. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And she missed him again ? Poor thing ! If 
 
RETRIBUTION. 357 
 
 for a hundred rumors were in the air ; it being 
 said, among other things, that Fithian had been 
 severely and fatally wounded. 
 
 Mr. Norman and Mr. Lyman were still talking 
 when a man rushed into the " Fountain Inn," 
 crying out that Dennis Fithian had been stabbed 
 by a woman. As they gained the street, they 
 saw people running from all directions men 
 and women as well, the crowd moving toward 
 Fithian s saloon. There was loud talking and 
 eager questions and great excitement. 
 
 " What s the matter?" cried a woman, who 
 came running with the crowd. " Who s killed ?" 
 
 " I don t know that any one is killed, Mrs. 
 McAlister. But they say Fithian s been stabbed 
 by Mrs. Irwin," answered Mr. Lyrnan. 
 
 " No !" breathed out in a tone of strong sur 
 prise, as the woman drew back a step. 
 
 u That s what they say." 
 
 The face of Mrs. McAlister underwent rapid 
 changes. 
 
 li And it was for her boy !" Her breath came 
 
372 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 or bend her arm, it remains just as you place it; 
 and so of any part of her body." 
 
 " Does the doctor give any opinion as to the 
 duration of this state ?" 
 
 " It may continue for days or weeks. He can 
 not speak with any certainty." 
 
 " Did she go into it immediately on reaching 
 home ?" 
 
 " Almost immediately. I knew nothing of her 
 escape from the asylum until I saw her flying 
 along the street with a crowd in pursuit. It was 
 a dreadful shock. She threw herself into my 
 arms with a frightened cry, and I carried her into 
 the house her form shaking as if she were in a 
 strong ague. As I laid her down she looked up 
 at me and said : I ve done it at last, and my 
 poor boy is saved ! Then she shut her eyes and 
 grew calm and still. The deep lines in her fore 
 head gradually smoothed themselves out, and a 
 soft and peaceful expression began stealing over 
 her face. A strange quiet fell upon her, sense 
 and motion grew, less and less, until, except for 
 
BRANTLY AROUSED. 373 
 
 the almost imperceptible rising and falling of 
 her bosom, she lay as still as death." 
 
 " And there has been no change since ?" 
 
 "None." Then after a moment, "I ve been 
 talking with three or four of our townsmen 
 about this liquor curse, and we all agree that it 
 must come to an end, and that at once." 
 
 " If not by fair means, then by foul," said Mr. 
 Lyman. 
 
 " By any means, fair or foul," answered Mr. 
 Irwin. " And I for one am ready to take my 
 share of whatever consequences may come. But 
 we hope to prevail by fair means ; or in other 
 words, by such a show of force and determination 
 as will compel a retreat, and so give us the victory 
 without a battle. If it were not for Dennis 
 Fithian " 
 
 "There s been more trouble down at Fithian s," 
 said Horace Lyman, entering his father s office 
 at this moment. He was flushed and excited. 
 Five years had made sad changes in this young 
 man ; or to speak more correctly, the life he had 
 
356 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 excitement. Before he had time to think, or 
 question as to the meaning of all this, the woman 
 had reached him, and he saw with a sudden sense 
 of weak terror, a face he knew too well that of 
 Mrs. Irwin. Ere he could lift his arm in defence 
 she had struck at him with a knife which she 
 carried in one hand, and which until now had 
 been concealed under her shawl. Fortunately, 
 the blade only penetrated his clothing, and before 
 she could repeat the blow, he had time to catch 
 the hand upraised a second time, and hold it 
 firmly until help came. 
 
 An incident like this could not happen without 
 the knowledge thereof passing through the town 
 with an almost electric quickness. Mrs. Irwin, 
 who had escaped from the asylum and made her 
 way to Brantly, none knew how, was taken to 
 her home ; and Fithian, in a tremor of agitation 
 which he could not repress, made a hurried retreat 
 to his bar-room, where he steadied his nerves 
 with large draughts of brandy and water. A 
 crowd of people came pressing into the saloon, 
 
RETRIBUTION. 353 
 
 baleful shadow rested like a pall of death on 
 many homes that but for him might have been 
 full of sunshine? He had just parted from his 
 daughter once he had been very proud of her 
 beauty; and taking the usual capacity of such 
 men for loving anything out of themselves, al 
 ways fond of her. More than three years before 
 this time she was married to a young man of 
 good family, then a clerk in one of the largest 
 stores in town. Her father gave the young couple 
 a house, neatly furnished, and they began life 
 with a pleasant outlook. But the temptation set 
 by Fithian in the way of other young men was 
 as close to the feet of his son-in-law as to theirs, 
 and the danger was as great for him as for them ; 
 nay, even greater than in many cases. That he 
 was not strong enough to resist the influences to 
 which he was exposed is hardly a matter of sur 
 prise. 
 
 He had, as we have said, just parted from his 
 daughter. What was the image held in his mind 
 as he walked, with stooping shoulders and eyes 
 23 
 
376 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 know? said Fithian. It s none of your busi 
 ness. 
 
 " Maybe not/ answered Joe, with a sneer 
 curling his lips. But if I choose to make it 
 iny business, who s going to hinder me ? 
 
 " At this Fithian came towards him, and cried 
 out as he drew back his hand, ; Get out of here ! 
 He was fairly foaming at the mouth. But Joe 
 didn t stir an inch. He was cool and completely 
 on his guard, Don t touch me ! he said, in a 
 low stern voice; but the words had scarcely passed 
 his lips before Fithian struck him on the breast, 
 the blow staggering him back for two or three 
 paces. The gleam of Joe Thompson s knife was 
 like the sudden swift quiver of a lightning flash ; 
 but before he could use the weapon it was struck 
 from his hand. As it fell to the floor a fierce growl 
 came from his lips, and he leaped on Fithian 
 with the savage spring of a tiger. It was some 
 time before we could separate them. As we did 
 so, two or three of us holding Joe back, Fithian 
 was lifted from the floor. His face was purple, 
 
BEANTLY AROUSED. 377 
 
 and his eyes had a strange stare in them. I saw 
 him reach out his hands suddenly as if trying to 
 catch hold of something, and then slip from the 
 hands of the two men who were trying to hold 
 him up, and fall like a dead and nerveless mass 
 upon the floor. The doctor, who was sent for 
 immediately, says it s a case of apoplexy, and 
 that there s not the slightest chance of his 
 recovery." 
 
 "For which God be praised," said Mr. Lyman, 
 as his son closed the last sentence. " Our deli 
 verance is nearer at hand than we thought." 
 
 The silence that fell upon the little company 
 was broken by a tumult in the street; the noise 
 of which came from a distance. 
 
 As Mr. Lyman and his friends started from the 
 office to see what this meant, they saw an excited 
 crowd in front of a drinking-house, known as one 
 of the worst in the city ; a vile den in which 
 temptation to all manner of debasement and 
 wickedness met the weak and the strong who 
 passed within its doors. 
 
THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 and after these and other incidents had given a 
 graver cast to their feelings. 
 
 " Brantly must call a halt !" said Mr. Lyrnan, 
 as the two men met again in the mid-afternoon, k no 
 matter who or what is hurt in the sudden check. 
 We must be rid of these saloon-keepers ; by fair 
 means if possible if not, then by foul. They 
 are a blot and a curse an eating cancer, as I 
 said this morning. Their keepers are human 
 vampires, living on, and exhausting the blood of 
 the people. Would I have had a single regret, 
 sir, if Mrs. Irwin had made a surer aim to-day? 
 No, sir! You need not look dissent or reproof, 
 Mr. Norman. You are not a father. If some 
 hell-fiend had his knee on the breast of your 
 child, and his hand on his throat, would you 
 stand off and wait until life was nearly gone be 
 cause the law gave this hell-fiend immunity in 
 his devilish work ? I think not ! Humanity is 
 higher than law human law, I mean ; and 
 when the law tramples on humanity it is a curse 
 and not a blessing, and to resist becomes a duty." 
 
RETRIBUTION. 365 
 
 a butcher s shop in her way. Into this she passed 
 swiftly and was reaching for a knife that lay 
 on his block, when the butcher caught it up, and 
 held it above her reach. An attempt to seize 
 upon a cleaver was as little successful. Baffled in 
 her effort to get hold of a murderous weapon, 
 the now infuriated woman left the shop and kept 
 on down the street. Attracted by the noise with 
 out, the inmates of the several bar-rooms made 
 their way to the doors. The keeper of the first 
 saloon that came in Mrs. McAlister s path, seeing 
 her swift approach, and the crowd that was com 
 ing close after her, took counsel of prudence, and 
 stepping back shut and locked his door. He 
 knew something about Mrs. McAlister, and did 
 not care to have any repetition of his unsatisfac 
 tory experiences. 
 
 The keeper of the second bar-room that came 
 in this woman s course did not have as much 
 presence of mind as the first, nor act with a like 
 discretion. Unfortunately for this man, as Mrs. 
 McAlister confronted him, and he set his small, 
 
380 THE BAK-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 the blood carrying the poison of that disease to 
 every other part, and the nerves transmitting the 
 pain of one member to a perception of all the rest ; 
 so, in any organized society a body politic 
 disease and pain in one member must be felt in 
 a measure by the whole. 
 
 In sackcloth and ashes poor sick Brantly bowed 
 herself in sorrow and repentance. But suffering 
 and despair had quickened the springs of a new life 
 a new life in a new will; for the old, weak, pliant 
 will which the serpent of sensuality had beguiled 
 and enticed, had lost its true perceptions and 
 power. In her understanding, which could see 
 now in the very truth of things made clear by a 
 sorrowful life, a new will was forming, and already 
 beginning to feel the movement of an intense 
 desire for action ; a wall with deaf ears for every 
 sensuous charmer, but quick to hear the voice 
 of truth and reason. So, her regeneration was 
 possible. 
 
 A common thought pervaded the whole town ; 
 and there were the motions of this new will in all 
 
BRANTLY AROUSED. 381 
 
 the common thought. The mind of the store 
 keeper dwelt not on his business ; nor that of the 
 lawyer on his briefs and cases. The artisan, the 
 manufacturer, the clerk, the laborer all the 
 people were lifted above their narrow personal 
 interests, and each, with rare exceptions, felt the 
 movement of a common purpose. The day had 
 come for resolute action ; for a close, hand to hand 
 struggle with the enemy in this crisis that was 
 upon them. 
 
 At another time Mr. Lyman might have con 
 sidered the flesh-wound in his hand a serious 
 matter, but he made it of small account now. 
 After it was properly attended to by a surgeon, 
 he dismissed it as far as possible from his thoughts, 
 and gave himself up to the work of organizing 
 into an effective force the sentiment adverse to 
 saloons in Brantly, which the events of the day 
 had so rapidly developed. 
 
 Before midnight, he had the names of over a 
 hundred of the most influential men of the town, 
 some of whom had been among Fithian s best 
 
364 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 extended above her head, she looked a very pro 
 phetess of evil. Little wonder that the inmates 
 of the bar-room made wider the open space 
 around her. 
 
 " All you men against us poor mothers !" A 
 mingling of contempt and pleading accusation, 
 and weak self-pity in the changing voice, which 
 she dropped to a lower key. " And when we 
 try to help ourselves ; to right our wrongs ; it s 
 the jail and the mad-house! Ah me !" A deep, 
 shivering sigh following the ejaculation. " There 
 are worse things then jails and mad-houses ; and 
 we ll go there if we must !" 
 
 Then breaking through the crowd of men that 
 instantly gathered about her, she took her way 
 along the principal street for a short distance and 
 then turned off, running as she went. A portion 
 of the crowd followed. At the lower end of the 
 street down which she had gone were some of 
 the vilest drinking dens in the place ; and their 
 keepers knew her well, for she had troubled them 
 often by her unwelcome visitations. There was 
 
KETRIBUTION. 361 
 
 she d only had my arm !" And the woman lifted 
 her hand and struck it down with violence. 
 
 " And they ll take her back to the mad-house 
 again, poor thing! Poor thing!" her voice sink 
 ing to a pitiful tone. Then with a stronger and 
 lore impulsive utterance, " There s some of us 
 not in the mad-house yet !" As she said this 
 she broke away, and went rapidly down the 
 street, taking the direction of Fithian s. Pressing 
 through the crowd, and pushing men this way 
 and that with a sudden force that few resisted, 
 she made her way into the saloon. 
 
 But whatever might have been her purpose, 
 she did not find the saloon-keeper there, he having 
 left the bar-room and gone up stairs. Her sudden 
 appearance and strange manner occasioned great 
 surprise among those who were present, nearly 
 all of whom knew Mrs. McAlister well, from her 
 various exploits in bar-rooms, and trials for 
 assaults upon liquor sellers. She had become a 
 noted character in Brantly. As she pressed 
 forward toward the bar, men drew back, looking 
 
384 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 an early hour a great concourse of the people, 
 men and women, gathered about the Town Hall. 
 Among the first who addressed them was Roger 
 Lyman ; his wounded hand, as it lay across his 
 breast suspended in a sling, giving a certain force 
 to the arguments and appeals which he made to 
 the people. 
 
 "I take blame to myself, fellow townsmen," 
 he said, " for the great calamities that have fallen 
 upon us; for I, to my sorrow and shame be it 
 said, was among those who favored the new order 
 of things which has cursed us so terribly. How 
 I could have been so blind, is a cause of the 
 deepest astonishment to myself. That the curse 
 my hand helped to drag down has fallen upon 
 my own household as well as upon those of my 
 neighbors, is but a just retribution bitter as the 
 dispensation may be. As I have been an agent 
 in this wrong, I here solemnly pledge myself to 
 give all I have and am to the work of reparation. 
 And now, fellow townsmen, what of this work, 
 and where shall it begin. It is to the considera- 
 
BRANTLY AROUSED. 385 
 
 tion of this question that we are giving ourselves 
 to-day ; and until that is settled, Brantly does 
 well to suspend her traffic and her labor. 
 
 " How stands the case ? We are a community 
 of three thousand souls. Seven years ago the 
 census gave us, and truly, a population of three 
 thousand six hundred. Then the county alms- 
 house held not a single inmate from our whole 
 township ; there are over twenty-five there now. 
 In every case, drunkenness has led to poverty 
 and pauperism. Before that time, criminal cases 
 were of rare occurrence in our courts ; our jail 
 was almost empty. But in the past seven years 
 the court calendar shows the trial of over a 
 hundred and twenty of such cases, every one of 
 them traceable to drink ; and the jail is full. 
 Before that time no father or mother in Brantly 
 had known the bitter grief of an intemperate 
 son ; no wife the hopeless sorrow of an intem 
 perate husband ; and on no child had been laid 
 the shame of a drunken father ! The wasting 
 
 of property and the beggary of families were 
 25 
 
386 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 unknown. We were prosperous, peaceful and 
 happy. 
 
 " Shall we keep on in the way we are going, 
 my friends ? Is it a good way ?" 
 
 " No ! No ! No !" rang out as with a single 
 
 voice. 
 
 " There are in Brantly," the speaker resumed, 
 as the voices which answered his appeal died into 
 silence ; he spoke slowly, but with a penetrating 
 earnestness. " There are in Brantly, with its 
 population of three thousand immortal souls, just 
 twenty men, who, under protection of our state 
 laws, have been, and are now, sowing among the 
 people the seeds of all the crimes, distresses, 
 poverty and untold miseries from which we are 
 suffering. Twenty, did I say ? No ; there is one 
 less this morning, thank God ! Do I rejoice in 
 the death of this man from whom Brantly has 
 suffered most of all ? Yea, I do rejoice ! I thank 
 God, and as deeply as for any blessing that ever 
 came from his hand?. Nineteen men sowing 
 death and destruction among three thousand 
 
BRANTLY AROUSED. 387 
 
 people. Ever taking and consuming ; but never 
 giving or producing. Tumors, abscesses, cancers 
 in our body politic; exhausting until the whole 
 head is sick and the whole heart faint ! 
 
 " Are nineteen men more potent to destroy 
 than three thousand to save ? Is there no hope ? 
 no remedy ? Are we enslaved to them body and 
 soul? What think you? Would it be well or 
 ill for Brantly if these men were driven out ? Is 
 the sheepfold safer with the wolf on the outer 
 side ? Are we the true shepherds of the people ; 
 or only base hirelings that flee when the wolf 
 cometh ? 
 
 " My friends, there is no hope for Brantly 
 until we settle the great question that is before 
 us to-day. Until we decide that three thousand 
 men are stronger than nineteen ; and have a right 
 to say to these nineteen, i You may get gain 
 through any work or service to the people, but 
 not in hurting them/ Their property we have 
 no right to destroy, unless it threatens the lives 
 or health of the people, and they refuse to take 
 
388 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 it away. I counsel no violence. We are strong 
 enough to have our will in this matter without 
 violence. But our will we must have ! 
 
 u Now, what I propose as our first action, is 
 the appointment of a committee of ten men, who 
 shall first of all wait on each saloon-keeper in 
 town, with a request from the citizens to close 
 up his business at once, and an offer to pay him 
 in cash the value of his stock and fixtures, pro 
 vided he sign a bond with penalties never to sell 
 liquor in the township again." 
 
 t( No no no ! We ll not pay them a dollar !" 
 cried one in the crowd. 
 
 "Nay, my friend," answered the speaker, " let 
 us be wise and just. The law gives a mercantile 
 value to the goods in which these men deal. 
 There is proprety in a keg of beer or a barrel of 
 whiskey. We have too much at stake to run 
 any risk of failure. Suppose it cost us two, or 
 three, or even five thousand dollars to purchase 
 and destroy all the liquor contained in these bar 
 rooms, would not the gain to us be incalculable ? 
 
BRANTLY AROUSED. 389 
 
 We ask these men to give up their living for the 
 public good. Are we ready to do nothing for our 
 own good ? We, the people the three thousand 
 against the nineteen ! What are five, or ten, or 
 twenty, or a hundred thousand dollars to the 
 curse that lies upon Brantly. Let us throw it 
 off, be the cost great or small. 
 
 " I offer you," the speaker said in closing, " the 
 easiest and the plainest way. The way without 
 violence. If our overtures are refused, then we 
 will seek another way." 
 
390 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE ENEMY CAST OUT. 
 
 A S Mr. Lyman sat down, Mr. Norman arose. 
 The shouts of approval that were rending 
 the air died slowly away, until a waiting hush 
 rested upon the vast assembly. Before them was 
 the old man whom many loved and all respected. 
 For forty years he had lived among this people ; 
 and all knew that, toward his neighbor, his life 
 had been blameless. As he stood before them 
 now, with the marks of age on his pale, finely- 
 cut face the wind pushing back the white hair 
 from his clear forehead a feeling akin to rever 
 ence came into their hearts. How beautiful, and 
 as one lifted above and away from them, he looked 
 in the eyes of all ; and the people waited for him 
 
THE ENEMY CAST OUT. 391 
 
 to speak, and held their hearts in consent as for 
 the voice of a leader. As he advised, they would 
 do ; for they had faith in him, and knew that 
 he would counsel wisely. Every head was bent 
 forward to catch the first words that came from 
 his lips. 
 
 " What Brantly was, and what Brantly is, we 
 all know," he said in simple form of speech. 
 " Ah. what a difference between the was and the 
 is! between the old way and the new way! 
 Is any man wiser or better or happier for the 
 new way ? Is Brantly more prosperous ? I need 
 not answer these questions ; for even as I ask 
 them the answer is in every man s heart. What 
 then ? Shall Brantly keep on in this new way, 
 or return to the old ? Men and brethren ! 
 What say you ? Shall we return to the old 
 
 0" 
 
 way ? 
 
 The shout that went up w r as as the voice of a 
 single man, strong, clear and resonant ; corning 
 back upon the multitude in responsive echoes 
 from the distant hills. 
 
392 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 " We shall return. Thank God for the hope 
 and the promise. But we must return as one 
 man ; there must be no laggards or traitors in 
 our camp." 
 
 " None ! None !" answered the great assembly. 
 
 " Let the will of the people be for the good of 
 the people, and then the voice of the people will 
 be the voice of God, coming with a power that 
 nothing can resist. Is it good for the people to 
 have bar-rooms and drinking saloons in Brantly !" 
 The speaker paused, and the answer " No ! No !" 
 was given with no uncertain sound. 
 
 " There may be one, or two, or three who 
 think differently," he said, bending toward the 
 multitude as the silence fell on them again 
 " who believe that bars and saloons are not un 
 mixed evils, and that Brantly will suffer loss if 
 she close them altogether. If any such be pre 
 sent, let them speak." 
 
 The silence grew deeper. 
 
 " Not a word for the bars and saloons ! I see 
 the faces of one. two, three, four, five, six, seven 
 
THE ENEMY CAST OUT. 393 
 
 men/ and Mr. Norman, as he counted, looked 
 from point to point in the assembly, " who are 
 keepers of saloons. If there be any good for the 
 people in such places, these men know of it and 
 can point it out. They are citizens, with the 
 common rights of their fellow citizens ; the com 
 mon right to work and serve, and receive the 
 reward of their work and service , but with no 
 common right to injure and destroy for no such 
 right exists. Will one of their number corne up 
 here and show the people the good of his calling ? 
 How it helps, and serves, and blesses ? We will lis 
 ten to him patiently, and give heed to what he 
 says, for we are going to decide this question on 
 its merits to-day." 
 
 He stood still and waited for almost a minute, 
 but no man came forward or uttered a word. 
 
 " If Brantly is of one mind and heart, it is well. 
 Let us see ; I must not talk to you any longer. 
 After what Mr. Lyman has said, no further argu 
 ments are needed. The time for doing has come. 
 And now what shall we do ?" 
 
394 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 " Shut up the saloons !" cried a thousand 
 voices. 
 
 "How shall it be done?" 
 
 " Peaceably if we may ! Forcibly if we must !" 
 cried Mr. Lyman, springing to his feet and com 
 ing forward in face of the whole multitude, 
 which responded in loud and prolonged shouts, 
 of assent. He was going on to address the people 
 when Mr. Norman laid his hand on hirn and 
 said, " One moment if you please." 
 
 The lawyer moved back, and the old man 
 stood until all was quiet again. 
 
 " No good thing was ever done through pas 
 sion or violence, which might not have been done 
 in a better and safer way. Passion is blind. Rea 
 son, clear-seeing. Let us act with justice and 
 judgment. Brantly must be free from the curse 
 that is on her. It is her right to be free; and 
 all who stand in the way of that right must go 
 down. But in the assertion of our rights let us 
 be careful that we do no wrong. If it were pos 
 sible to induce every man and boy in town to set 
 
THE ENEMY CAST OUT. 395 
 
 his name to a pledge not to visit a drinking-saloon 
 all the bars would soon be closed. And, might 
 not this be done ? 
 
 He turned to Mr. Lyman, as if appealing to 
 him. 
 
 "Possibly," answered the lawyer, stepping to 
 the front again. Then to the people : 
 
 "We must not lose sight of one fact. Appetite 
 for drink when it has once been formed, is strong 
 and treacherous. It springs upon a man in un 
 guarded moments, and bears him down before 
 he can rally his forces for resistance. Seven years 
 of open bar-rooms in Brantly, have wrought a 
 sad change in the condition of large numbers of 
 our people. Appetite has been formed ; and with 
 many appetite in the face of temptation is stronger 
 than reason, stronger than love ; and bears them 
 away as with the sudden sweep of an impetuous 
 flood. Better no dram-shops than pledges not to 
 visit them. Let us have no dram-shops in our 
 town. Let us shut up the ways leading to death 
 and hell ; doing it at all cost and at all hazards ; 
 
396 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 first using peaceable means ; and should these 
 prove unavailing, then more stringent measures. 
 But why delay ? As Mr. Norman says, the time 
 for doing has come. Let us act now ; and with 
 a quick and resolute action." 
 
 There was little need of further appeals to the 
 people, who were in no mood for temporizing. 
 They had pushed aside all other questions and 
 interests but this one of Brantly s freedom from 
 the curse that lay upon her, and they were going 
 to settle it before the day was done. And they 
 did settle it. How ? Two committees were 
 appointed, each consisting of five of the most 
 trusted and influential men of the town one a 
 committee of conference with the tavern-keepers, 
 and the other a committee on subscriptions. 
 
 Three hours later the people came together in 
 one great multitude to hear the report of these 
 committees. Mr. Lyman stood up, and in the 
 profound silence that reigned, said, with a thrill 
 of triumph in his voice : 
 
 " The victory is near at hand ! Out of nineteen 
 
THE ENEMY CAST OUT. 397 
 
 tavern-keepers, fifteen have agreed to close their 
 bar-rooms." 
 
 At this announcement the people rent the air 
 with cries of rejoicing. 
 
 " Four are defiant. They claim protection 
 under the law, and say that no man shall interfere 
 with their vested rights." 
 
 A low sullen murmur ran through the great 
 multitude. 
 
 " We shall not lack for the sinews of war in 
 this fight," said the speaker, as the murmur died 
 away. " All the money that can possibly be 
 needed, has been pledged." 
 
 Another jubilant shout. 
 
 " We shall pay for and destroy the liquor of 
 those who abandon its sale. But what shall be 
 done with those who will not ?" 
 
 Mr. Lyman paused; and the sullen murmur, 
 as the sound of troubled waters was heard again. 
 
 " If the enemy be not utterly overthrown, we 
 cannot dwell in safety." 
 
398 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 "Cast him out! Cast him out!" The cry 
 rang from a hundred voices. 
 
 " He must be cast out," said the speaker. 
 " We will again offer him terms ; but if he still 
 refuse capitulations, then we will drive him out, 
 and let him take his remedy at law. He can 
 appeal to the law ; for we will have done him 
 violence, and the law will give him damages. 
 What then ? What are the damages involved 
 in the payment of a few hundred or a few 
 thousand dollars to the curse of this liquor traffic ? 
 If, during the last seven years, Brantly had paid 
 ten thousand dollars a year for immunities from 
 this curse, would she not be a richer town to-day ? 
 I speak not of the greater and sadder loss, which 
 has no money valuation." 
 
 " Cast him out ! Drive him out !" Not from 
 a hundred, but now from more than a thousand 
 voices. 
 
 And it was done. A cloudless November sky 
 bent over the town that night; and the clear 
 shining moon, and multitude of stars that looked 
 
THE ENEMY CAST OUT. 399 
 
 from the deep expanse had in them, to many 
 eyes, an expression of almost human sympathy ; 
 and the peace and cairn of nature fell into many 
 hearts which had long been tossing on troubled 
 waters. 
 
 Yes, it was done. The enemy was cast out; 
 and that with violence, for three men refused all 
 overtures, and held to their right under the law, 
 in evidence of which they displayed their licenses 
 to degrade the people and make paupers and 
 criminals out of sober and law-abiding men. 
 The dealing with them was summary. Their 
 stock of beer and spirits was poured into the street 
 and warning given that if a new supply were 
 obtained, it would share the same fate. They 
 could appeal from the people to the law, and get 
 what damages the law might award ; but their 
 trade in Brantly was at an end ! 
 
 What a beautiful day was that which broke 
 next morning on the people! Was there ever 
 so bright a sky ? Ever such peace in the atmo 
 sphere ? Neighbor met neighbor with hand-clasp 
 
400 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 ai?d congratulation. The very crape that hung 
 on the door of the dead Fithian had a smile for 
 the people. Who mourned for him ? There 
 might be gloom in the dwelling where his presence 
 had long since failed to bring joy, but no mourn 
 ing. There might be trouble, but no sorrow. 
 
 Was it well or ill that the people did this 
 thing did it with violence did it against the 
 law, w 7 hich gave to the three men, whose goods 
 they had destroyed, the right to sell intoxicating 
 drinks in Brantly ? Had three thousand men, 
 women and children, every one of whom might 
 be hurt by the traffic of these three, no common 
 right to restrain them ? to cast them out as evil 
 doers whose work was corrupting and debasing 
 the people ? Should they have waited long years 
 for better legislation and a better law ; respectful 
 and tender of the right to curse ? Were perishing 
 souls of no account in comparison with the legal 
 right of a few bad men to compass their destruc 
 tion ? Of no account the mother s anguish, the 
 father s sorrow and humiliation, the heart-break 
 
THE ENEMY CAST OUT. 401 
 
 of the stricken wife, or the beggary of chil 
 dren? 
 
 Answer as you will. As for Brantly, in her 
 extremity and her desperation she ignored all 
 laws but the law of safety. There was a death- 
 grip at her throat arid she must be free of that 
 grip while strength enough to break its strangling 
 hold remained. And with a struggle that was 
 born half of indignation and half of despair, she 
 threw her enemy and set her foot upon him 
 drawing herself erect as she did so, and shaking 
 her limbs with the strength like that of a young 
 Hercules, which came flowing into them. 
 
 Well or ill for Brantly that she did this thing ? 
 Let us see. She had broken the law, and to the 
 law an appeal was made against her. Some of 
 her most prominent citizens were arraigned for 
 assault, and for conspiracy, arid for other crimes 
 alleged in the indictment and the prosecution was 
 conducted with vigor and ability. Even while 
 her case was on trial an attempt was made to 
 open a bar-room ; but she waited for no decision 
 26 
 
402 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 of court or jury. A committee of citizens gave 
 immediate warning to the offender, and on no 
 heed being taken, his liquor was destroyed ere a 
 single glass could be sold. Brantly had shut the 
 door against an enemy from which she had 
 suffered most grievous things ; and, cost what it 
 might, she meant to keep it shut. In any event 
 this cost would be small in comparison with the 
 loss that must surely come if the enemy were 
 again permitted to enter. 
 
 The law was clear, and in the trial of the case 
 against Brantly, the law was sustained, and 
 damages awarded. Two saloons were opened 
 within a week after this decision, but not a glass 
 of liquor was permitted to be sold in either of 
 them. A warning, promptly made, an hour s 
 notice given, and then summary proceedings. 
 
 Brantly was in earnest and sternly resolute. 
 She had counted the cost, weighed all the con 
 sequences ; estimated the loss and the gain. She 
 had put her hand to the plough and did not mean 
 to look back until she had cut her furrow to the 
 
THE ENEMY CAST OUT. 403 
 
 end. The efforts of her enemy to regain a foot 
 hold, only made her the more determined to keep 
 him out. The anguish of her wounding was 
 yet too deep ; the halting of her hurt limbs too 
 manifest for forgetfnlness. She was learning to 
 know what the old saying involved, " Eternal 
 vigilance is the price of safety." 
 
 For awhile the battle was fierce ; but no breach 
 was made in her lines. For defence she was 
 ready to pay her thousands, and her tens of 
 thousands, if needed; but nothing as tribute to 
 her cruel foe, whose debasing emissaries and ex 
 hausting tax-gatherers she had driven from among 
 her people. 
 
 Six months of conflict and then there was 
 peace in the land. The men whose bar-rooms 
 had been closed w r ith violence and whose property 
 had been destroyed, did not in any case get the 
 amount of damages claimed. Neither judges nor 
 juries leaned to their side. If the law had its 
 course, that law might be vindicated, its meager 
 awards brought no true victory, but real discom- 
 
404 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 fiture to those who appealed to it for immunity 
 and protection. A ten thousand dollar damage 
 case gave the prosecutor three hundred, scarcely 
 enough to pay his lawyer s fees ; and the claim 
 for a thousand dollars, after months of litigation 
 and the expenditure of nearly four hundred, was 
 settled by the payment of fifty dollars. So of 
 all the suits brought against the town through 
 its representative men, it had the real victory 
 in every instance. 
 
 After six months, as we have said, there was 
 rest and safety for Brantly. And what had it 
 cost in money for this rest and safety ? Just 
 three thousand dollars. One thousand for dam 
 ages to property and as penalties for violence 
 done to the legal rights of citizens, and two 
 thousand for court charges and counsel fees. 
 That was all. But the gain? It is beyond the 
 reach of human computation. 
 
BRANTLY REDEEMED. 405 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 BRANTLY REDEEMED. 
 
 A FTER a long winter, with its desolate fields, 
 and leafless trees, and ice-bound streams 
 and rivers, what transformations follow swiftly 
 on the approach of Spring! The moment the 
 ice-king s reign is broken, and the South sends 
 her sweet warm breath into the air, the tender 
 grass comes " creeping, creeping," and covering 
 the brown fields and bare wayside places with 
 its soft green, carpet. Buds swell on the hard 
 and seemingly lifeless branches, and the leaves, 
 which had lain in them hidden and potential for 
 months, unfold in the caressing wind. Flowers 
 breathe out their delicious odors, and song birds 
 fill the air with melody. So steady and rapid 
 
406 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 these transformations, that they are accomplished 
 almost before we have time to note the changes, 
 or follow their beautiful progression. 
 
 Thus it was in Brantly after the breaking of 
 her long and desolate winter. How quickly were 
 changes visible. You saw them not only in the 
 firmer bearing, and more uplifted countenances 
 of the people; but in the improving aspect of 
 every thing about them. As the grass is seen in 
 all places where it can strike its roots ; as well 
 in nooks, and corners, and by-ways, as out in the 
 broad meadows covering bare places and mak 
 ing attractive what was before unsightly so the 
 first signs of new life that was coming to Brantly 
 were visible everywhere in the restoration of 
 order and neatness and beauty to hundreds of 
 places where neglect had long been visible. 
 
 The people were taking heart again. There 
 was hope in building up the waste places, for 
 the destroyer had been driven from the land, 
 and the fear of his consuming breath and iron 
 heel was gone. Let us open the doors of some 
 
BRANTLY REDEEMED. 407 
 
 of the homes of those people, and go in and see 
 how it is really faring with them. It is a year 
 after the struggle and victory we have recorded- 
 and judging from the aspect of the town, and the 
 quiet movements and untroubled countenances 
 of those who are abroad and in places of busi 
 ness, we should say that " All is well !" But the 
 verdure that covers the earth often only conceals 
 some deeper desolation of the winter which the 
 summer may hide but not restore. 
 
 Drear November without, and the dripping 
 of rain and moaning of troubled winds. Just 
 such a night as fell on Brantly a year before, 
 when she covered her head in her sorrow and 
 shame arid sat down in sackcloth and ashes. 
 
 We enter a room in which we find four persons. 
 It is well furnished and has an aspect of comfort. 
 There is a book-case well filled with books, while 
 a few good pictures and engravings hang on the 
 walls warmth and light pervading the whole 
 atmosphere. The inmates are a gentleman and 
 lady past the prime of life, and their son and 
 
408 THE BAR-BOOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 daughter. The young man is twenty-two and 
 the girl not over sixteen. In the face of the 
 elderly woman, whose hair is almost like snow, 
 is an expression that causes you to look into it 
 more closely. You do not quite understand the 
 meaning of what you see in this face. It is 
 handsome, and there is a freshness of complexion 
 and a smoothness of skin that indicates fewer 
 years than the snowy hair. She sits a little way 
 from the centre-table on which a shaded lamp is 
 burning, with some light work in her hand; and 
 takes no part in the conversation that is going 
 on. But when the young man rises, and moves 
 towards the door of the room, she lifts her head 
 quickly, and says : 
 
 " You re not going out, Henry ? 
 
 There is a shade of anxiety on her gentle face 
 and large sad eyes. The young man turns back 
 from the door, and crossing the room to where 
 his mother is sitting, lays his hand affectionately 
 upon her. 
 
 "Yes, mother," he answers, smiling as he 
 
BRANTLY REDEEMED. 409 
 
 speaks, and without any sign of annoyance in his 
 manner. " Mr. Lyman is going to examine me 
 on several points to-night. Next week, you 
 know, I am to be admitted to the bar; that is if 
 I can meet the requirements." 
 
 "Oh, there s no fear of that. You ll be all 
 right in the examination." A flush of pride comes 
 into the mother s face and takes a shade of sadness 
 from her beautiful eyes, which are fixed lovingly 
 upon her son. Then, as the light goes slowly 
 out of them she says, while the troubled expres 
 sion creeps back into her voice 
 
 " I m afraid to let you go out to-night, Henry." 
 
 "There s no more danger, you know," he 
 answers in assuring tones. "That is all past; I 
 wonder you ve forgotten it." 
 
 "Oh yes! 1 the light striking into her face 
 again. " So it is ! So it is ! Fithian is dead 
 dead. I had forgotten. He can t hurt you now." 
 
 She bends again over the light work in her 
 hands. Her son lingers for a moment or two, 
 gazing at her with love and pity in his eyes, and 
 
410 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 then goes out, shutting the door softly. As it 
 closes, Mrs. Irwin, whom the reader has recog 
 nised, looks up, and listens to her son s retreating 
 
 x 
 
 footsteps, until the sound is lost. Then her hands 
 fall idly upon her lap, and she sits motionless. 
 Her husband raises his eyes from the book he 
 has been reading and lets them rest upon her. 
 She is not at first aware that he is observing her 
 closely. But in a few moments his steady gaze 
 draws her eyes towards him. There is a smile 
 on his face now that is quickly reflected from 
 hers. 
 
 "I was talking with Judge Ly on to-day about 
 Henry ; would you like to know what he said ?" 
 
 The whole aspect of the mother changes ; she 
 is all alive with interest. 
 
 " He considers him the most promising young 
 man in the county, and says that he is bound 
 to make his mark." 
 
 " Dear boy! And Fithian is dead; and 
 there s no more danger. What an awful man 
 he was !" 
 
BEANTLY REDEEMED. 411 
 
 " No more danger from him, thank God !" 
 responds Mr. Irwin, bending to his wife s fancy. 
 
 " There is no doubt of his being admitted to 
 the bar?" Henry s sister speaks. 
 
 "None whatever. He s been a close stu 
 dent." 
 
 "I saw Marie Sylvester to-day; and she says 
 that Frank is going into business with his 
 father." 
 
 " The best thing he can do. Hasn t the stuff 
 in him from which successful lawyers are made. 
 What does Marie think of it ?" 
 
 "Oh, she s satisfied. Anything for her, so its 
 all right with Frank. She s so fond of him." 
 
 " Dear child ! How I did pity her ! And she 
 was so true, and patient, and hopeful." 
 
 "Fithian s dead! It s all right now!" Mrs. 
 Irwin leans toward her husband, and speaks in 
 a low, confidential tone. "It was Fithian who 
 had them all down you know; and he d have mur 
 dered them every one, if God hadn t killed him 
 " hushing her voice to a whisper on the last 
 
412 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 words of the sentence. " It was God who killed 
 him, thej- say ; and that makes it all right. I m 
 glad it was God." 
 
 " Yes, that makes it all right. And none of 
 us need be afraid any more/ Mr. Irwin says, 
 with an assuring smile. "And now, dear," he 
 added, with a more serious air, " isn t it time for 
 us to be done with the wretched past? The 
 night is over, and a new day has broken upon 
 us. There are no more wild beasts in our land. 
 We are dwelling in safety ; going out and coming 
 in, with none to hurt or make us afraid. Let us 
 show our thankfulness to God for this great 
 deliverance by accepting it with happy hearts." 
 
 The eyes of Mrs. Irwin are fixed intently on 
 her husband as he speaks. First a look of doubt 
 and wonder; then a swift flash of intelligent 
 surprise ; then an eager reaching out of the arms 
 as she throws herself sobbing and trembling on 
 his bosom. Until this agitation subsides Mr. 
 Irwin holds his wife closely to his breast, not 
 speaking. When she is calm, he pushes her back 
 
BRANTLY EEDEEMED. 413 
 
 gently, farther and farther away until he can see 
 her face. One long look, and then, with a new 
 light corning into his own, he draws her down 
 again, saying in a low voice, 
 
 " All is well. God is very good to us ; and 
 we will bless His holy name." 
 
 She does not answer. Mr. Irwin looks towards 
 his daughter, who comes and stands near him, 
 pale and agitated. 
 
 " Here is Helen," he says in a quiet tone. 
 Mrs. Irwin reached out her hand, but does not 
 lift her face. 
 
 " Mother dear !" Her hand tightens on that 
 of her daughter. Helen lays her lips on the cheek 
 of her mother, pressing them down with loving 
 fervor. 
 
 As one awaking from a dream, Mrs. Irwin 
 lifts herself slowly and looks first at her husband, 
 then at her daughter, and then around the room. 
 There is a puzzled air about her. In a little while 
 her countenance grows serious. 
 
414 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 " Henry. Where is Henry ?" Her eyes come 
 back to her husband. 
 
 " Henry s all right. You know that he s to 
 be admitted to the bar to-morrow." 
 
 h! Id forgotten! Admitted to the 
 bar?" 
 
 " Yes. He s been studying hard for a year, 
 and Mr. Lyman says that he s one of the most 
 promising students he ever had in his office. 
 I m right proud of him." 
 
 "For a year !" Mr. Irwin sees bewilderment 
 in his wife s face. 
 
 " Yes for a whole year, and he s done splen 
 didly." 
 
 " I don t know. For a whole year ? studying 
 law ?" Mrs. Irwin places both hands to her 
 temples. 
 
 " Yes. And to-morrow he will be admitted to 
 the bar." 
 
 Mrs. Irwin drops her eyes to the floor and sits 
 still for almost the space of a minute. When she 
 
BRANTLY REDEEMED. 415 
 
 raises them and looks at her husband, they are 
 full of tears. 
 
 " Such a long, long night !" she murmurs. 
 
 " But morning at last, blessed be God !" ex 
 claims Mr. Irvvin, with joy in his tones. 
 
 " Will you tell me of the morning ?" 
 
 " Yes, and in almost a single sentence. Brantly 
 is the good old Brantly again. No saloons no 
 intemperance, no paupers, no criminals!" 
 
 "I had a dream that it was so; and that 
 Fithian was dead." 
 
 " Ail true." 
 
 t; No more saloons in dear old Brantly ! My 
 heart is singing for joy." 
 
 Mrs. Irwin s face is rippling now with excite 
 ment; and she is trembling all over. But the 
 light in her eyes is clearer; the far away look 
 of mystery is going out of them ; and in its stead 
 is coming back the old intelligence. 
 
 Not far away is a poorer home than this. In 
 the small, meagerly furnished, but clean and 
 tidy living room, we find Mrs. McAlister, her 
 
41G THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 man and her boy the boy taller and stouter 
 than the man. The latter is smoking his pipe, 
 and the former sits by the table reading. Mrs. 
 McAlister is at work mending some worn gar 
 ments. 
 
 " I m right glad about Charley Fithian," Mrs. 
 McAlister says, as she looks up from her work 
 and across the table towards her son. "He s 
 book-keeper now !" 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Grubb took him out of the factory 
 to-day." 
 
 " Who s going to have his place?" asks the 
 mother. 
 
 " I don t know ; but Charley says he ll speak 
 a good word for me, and that ll go a great ways 
 with Mr. Grubb; for you see he s taken to Char 
 ley, who s just as smart as he can be." 
 
 "Smarter than his father; and has in him 
 the makin of a great deal better man," says Mr. 
 McAlister, as he draws his pipe from his month 
 and blows out a great puff of smoke. 
 
 " He d like to have been the ruination of him," 
 
BRANTLY REDEEMED. 417 
 
 rejoins his wife, a sharper quality coming into 
 her voice. 
 
 " Deed, and ye may say that ! And the 
 ruination of plenty besides !" 
 
 A knock is heard at the door. " Come in," 
 calls out Mrs. McAlister ; and a young man, in 
 ordinary working clothes, enters. 
 
 " Going to the hall, to-night, Andy?" he asks. 
 
 "Yes," and young McAlister shuts his book 
 and rises. 
 
 "Is this the lecture night?" inquired Mrs. 
 McAlister, in an interested voice, as she throws 
 a pleasant glance at the young man who had 
 called for her son. 
 
 " Yes, ma am ; and we are to have philosophi 
 cal experiments." 
 
 The two young men go out, and Mrs. McAlis 
 ter is left alone with her husband. 
 
 " That Tom Glover s a right down nice kind 
 of a chap, isn t he ?" remarks the latter. 
 
 "It s just a wonder to see how he s coming 
 out; and he was one of the wildest. Doesn t 
 27 
 
418 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 seem as if it could all be true," is answered. 
 " Dear ! dear ! Where there s rum there s ruin, 
 sure." 
 
 The old man draws his breath strongly ; sighs ; 
 replaces his pipe and goes on smoking. 
 
 " Ram and ruin ; rum and ruin," Mrs. Mc- 
 Alister s thoughts are busy, and she talks on as 
 she thinks " they always go together. When 
 you see one, you may be sure the other isn t far 
 off. If my Andy d gone out with Tom Glover a 
 year ago, d ye think I d be sittin here feelin as 
 unconcerned as I do now ? I guess not ! Well, 
 well! it s something to be thankful for. And 
 to see him goin to church on Sundays, dressed 
 respectable and not ashamed to look any body 
 in the face." 
 
 " And to be gettin good wages, and never 
 idlin a day," says the father, drawing out his 
 pipe again. " Mr. Grubb told me only a week 
 ago, that he hadn t a fault to find with him ; and 
 he s a pretty exactin man, you know. If you 
 can satisfy Grubb it s a feather in your cap." 
 
BEANTLY REDEEMED. 419 
 
 The old " Fountain Inn," Jacob Grover, land 
 lord, has changed bub little in the seven or eight 
 years that have passed since the reader met Mr. 
 Norman for the first time in its plain little parlor. 
 It has still the reputation of being the best tavern 
 on the Bedford pike. The only noticeable change 
 is in the brighter and fresher appearance of things, 
 inside and out. Andrew McPherson, the painter, 
 had almost beggared his family through intem 
 perance. To give him a helping hand, after the 
 saloons were all closed and temptation out of his 
 way, Grover set him to work to do some painting 
 on his house. The pure white of the doors and 
 windows of the first room which came from the 
 painter s hand, made the next room look so dingy 
 and shabby in the landlord s eyes that McPherson 
 was ordered to renovate this one also; thus 
 putting its neighbor beyond to shame. Then the . 
 painter was told to extend his work a little 
 farther. So from room to room he passed, and 
 through halls and passages, until the whole inte 
 rior was fresh and bright. Outside shutters, and 
 
420 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 doors, and window frames came next in order. 
 Of course porches, clapboards and palings looked 
 go stained and weatherworn after this, that 
 nothing was left for Grover but to order the 
 painter to keep on with his work, which was not 
 completed until the Fountain Inn stood out in 
 new attire from basement to attic. 
 
 Long before McPherson was through with his 
 job at the hotel he had orders for work that 
 would keep him busy for several months. People 
 who hadn t cared much how their houses and 
 fences looked, were beginning to take interest in 
 these things again, as business revived, and money 
 passed from hand to hand more freely. The 
 dreadful waste of drinking and loss of income 
 that ever attend this curse, being over now, 
 something to spend for beauty and taste was left 
 with almost every one. Turn where you would 
 and signs of thrift and comfort met your eyes. 
 No idlers were seen at the street corners, nor 
 loungers in front of public houses. The people 
 were all busy again, and each in his sphere and 
 
BRANTLY REDEEMED. 421 
 
 measure prosperous ; but the old peace of mind 
 and sense of security were never fully restored 
 to Brantly. In every loss of good, something is 
 lost for ever. With every inroad of an enemy 
 something is destroyed that is never rebuilt. 
 There were those in town who would gladly have 
 given all their worldly possessions, if some of the 
 records of the past few years could have been 
 blotted out of their memories. 
 
 The "Fountain Inn," as we have said, has 
 changed but little, except in the freshness of its 
 paint, and in a general improvement in the ap 
 pearance of things, inside and out. The land 
 lord has grown something greyer ; but does not 
 seem to have lost any of his good qualities. The 
 guests that come are greeted with the same old 
 heartiness, and passed out with the same old 
 pleasant smile and hand-shake when they go; 
 not one of them the worse for his stay at the 
 Fountain Inn. 
 
 A little way from the fire, which has been 
 kindled in the parlor on this chill November 
 
422 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 evening, sits Mr. Norman. His home is still at 
 the Fountain Inn. He looks considerably older 
 than when we first met him in the parlor where 
 we find him to-night. For seven years he had 
 stood in the front of the battle that raged in 
 Brantly; at times almost deserted, but never 
 dismayed ; and he had come out of it, through 
 victory, greatly shorn of strength, and with a 
 loss of vitality which peace had not fully re 
 stored. 
 
 He is sitting alone, with his head bent forward 
 and his chin touching his breast, so absent in 
 thought, that he does not, at first, notice the 
 entrance of a man, who comes in from the office 
 with a quiet, almost stealthy step, and takes a 
 chair just in front of the fire. There is some 
 thing crouching and abject, but at the same time 
 alert, about this man. His clothes are old and 
 partly worn ; looking as if they were cast off 
 garments of a fashion years gone by. His face 
 is mean in quality ; the eyes small, restless and 
 sinister; the hair cropped short. His recently- 
 
BRANTLY EEDEEMED. 423 
 
 shaven beard is just beginning to grow and 
 darken his chin and cheeks. He has scarcely 
 taken his place in front of the fire, before the 
 landlord comes in; and after looking at him for 
 a moment or two, glances towards Mr. Norman 
 with a sign that he has something to communi 
 cate. Grover goes back to the office where he 
 is soon joined by Mr. Norman. 
 
 " Did you notice that fellow ?" he asked of the 
 latter. 
 
 " Not particularly." 
 
 " He s just come over in the stage, and regis 
 ters his name as Jesse Haight. Now it s my 
 guess that he s a jail bird, and that his real name 
 is Andrew Hyer." 
 
 " I never heard of Hyer s being sent to jail." 
 
 " Nor I. But fellows like him pull up in 
 state s prison now and then. His cropped head 
 and newly-sprouting beard look very suspicious. 
 Ha ! ha ! I can t help thinking of his swaggering 
 self-importance the first time he came here ; and 
 how I cut his comb. He looks shockingly the 
 
424 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 worse for wear ; and is as humble as a dog. But 
 what on earth brings the foul bird here ? There 
 is no carrion in Brantly for him to feed on." 
 
 "And you really think this is Hyer?" 
 
 " I don t think anything about it. When I 
 once take the guage of a man, I ve got it always. 
 As for Hyer, I d know him in the disguise of a 
 Turk or a wild Indian. I made him out the 
 instant I put my eyes on him. He didn t come 
 for any good the first time he set his foot in our 
 place, and you may be sure he s after no good 
 now. Fellows like him are never after any 
 good." 
 
 Mr. Norman s face grows clouded ; but it clears 
 again in a few moments. He turns from the 
 landlord and goes back to the parlor. As he 
 enters, the man sitting by the fire gives him a 
 quick, uneasy glance, and then drops his eyes. 
 
 " A raw, unpleasant evening," Mr. Norman 
 remarked. 
 
 " Yes, sir. Very disagreeable." 
 
 There is no mistaking the voice. 
 
BRANTLY REDEEMED. 425 
 
 " From New York T Now the man on regis 
 tering his name, had given no place of residence. 
 He does not answer this inquiry ; but makes an 
 uneasy movement, and turns his face from Mr. 
 Norman s keenly-searching eyes. 
 
 "This is Andrew Hyer, I believe?" Mr. 
 Norman speaks calmly, and with neither doubt 
 nor question in his voice, which has in it a tone 
 of severity. 
 
 The man is on his feet instantly; and Mr. 
 Norman sees a red gleam in his eyes as from a 
 hidden and smoldering fire. There is a nervous 
 twitching at one side of his upper lip, and the 
 glitter of white teeth, giving a cruel expression 
 to his mouth. But he controls himself; and the 
 abject manner returns. 
 
 " Mr. Hyer ?" His name is repeated, and with 
 a question now in the voice of the speaker. 
 
 " Yes ; that is my name." He speaks dog 
 gedly. 
 
 " What is your business here ?" 
 
426 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 He is annoyed at the question hesitates and 
 then replies, 
 
 " I have some business with Mr c Fithian." 
 
 " With Charley Fithian ?" 
 
 No with his father !" 
 
 " Dennis Fithian has been dead for a year !" 
 
 The man catches his breath, and there is a 
 dash of pallor in his face. 
 
 "Dead!" His mouth falls apart. His form 
 shrinks. He looks abject and helpless. 
 
 " Yes ; and for a year. I wonder you have 
 not heard of it." 
 
 The man drops back again into the chair from 
 which he has risen. 
 
 " Is his son Charley in town ?" he asks. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Will you tell me where I can find him ?" 
 
 " What do you want with Charley Fithian ?" 
 
 There is a momentary gleam of the man s 
 white teeth as his upper lip twitches nervously. 
 He would bite if he dared. 
 
 "I wish to see him," he answers. 
 
BRANTLY REDEEMED. 427 
 
 " I have my doubts. Mr. Hyer, as to his caring 
 very much about seeing you." 
 
 " Why do you say that ?" 
 
 There is a flash of anger in the man s eyes, 
 but weakness and dismay about his mouth. 
 
 " For the simple reason, that Charley Fithian 
 and you are not walking in the same ways." 
 
 " I don t understand you." 
 
 " The case is plain. Charley is a sober, honest, 
 industrious young man." 
 
 As Mr. Norman says this, he looks Hyer all 
 over, from head to foot, two or three times, with 
 a meaning expression in his face, wherein is no 
 sign of courtesy, but sternness and rebuke in 
 stead. 
 
 " Once, sir/ he continued, with increasing 
 severity, "you helped to lead him astray; but 
 this cannot be again. He knows you, and I 
 know you, and all Brantly knows you. Men 
 like you we have cast out and utterly rej .v.ted." 
 The man seems as one beaten down by heavy 
 blows. 
 
428 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 " I must get a word with Charley," he says, 
 looking up almost piteously at Mr. Norman. 
 " You see, sir, I ve been sick ; and I m all played 
 out ; all broken to pieces. Truth to tell, Mr. 
 Norman, I havn t a dollar to bless myself with. 
 Took the last cent I had to get here." 
 
 " I m sorry for you, but evil ways are never 
 safe ways ; sooner or later they end in disaster. 
 I have my doubts if a word with Charley will 
 do you any good. He s only getting moderate 
 wages at the old canning establishment, and out 
 of this he is helping his mother. His father ran 
 through with nearly every thing before he died 
 got drunken and worthless, as might have been 
 expected and all his widow has left is the house 
 she lives in, and a few hundreds a year. So you 
 can see that there is little or no chance for help 
 in that quarter, even if there were any will to 
 extend it, of which I have serious doubts. At 
 your first coming, you brought a curse to this 
 family and a curse to this town, the memory 
 
BRANTLY REDEEMED. 429 
 
 whereof is very bitter; and your name has been 
 cast out as evil !" 
 
 " What am I to do, Mr. Norman ?" Hyer is 
 utterly broken down. His voice trembles. All 
 manliness of spirit has gone out of him. 
 
 " Get away from here as quickly as possible. 
 It is no place for a man like you. Brantly is to 
 day what you found it over seven years ago 
 without a bar-roorn or dram-shop in any of its 
 quiet streets and the people stand sternly 
 pledged to maintain this order of things." 
 
 " But how am I to get away, Mr. Norman ? 
 My last dollar was spent in coming here." 
 
 Mr. Norman draws out his watch and looks at 
 the time. 
 
 " In an hour," he says, "the stage leaves here 
 
 for the station, with passengers for the down 
 
 train. I give you the chance of returning to 
 New York, to-night. Will you accept of it ?" 
 
 " I will, sir; I will, most gladly, and thank 
 you a hundred times." 
 
430 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 Still abject in manner, and now almost cring 
 ing. 
 
 " Very well. Supper will be ready in a few 
 minutes. I ll settle for it, and pay your fare to 
 the city. In the mean time, take my advice, 
 and draw as little observation upon yourself as 
 possible. If it should become known that you 
 are here, I m afraid that some unpleasant inci 
 dents might attend on your departure." 
 
 Hyer turns a little pale. 
 
 " Not any attempt at personal violence. I 
 don t mean that/ Mr. Norman says. " Brantly 
 would never forget herself so far. But a crowd 
 might gather ; and in that case, your going away 
 might not be as quiet and orderly as either you 
 or I would like to have it. Better return as you 
 came, without observation." 
 
 When the stage drove out of town on that 
 dreary, dripping November night, it carried a 
 solitary passenger, who sat miserably crouching 
 in a corner of the back seat. His name was 
 Andrew Hyer. This was his last appearance in 
 
BRANTLY REDEEMED. 431 
 
 the town. And, in the homely, but expressive 
 language of an old couplet 
 
 " Whither he went, and how he fared, 
 Nobody knew, and nobody cared !" 
 
 There was no carcass in Brantly for the gath 
 ering of eagles; arid, so, lighting for a moment, 
 our bird of prey, scared from his brief resting- 
 place, took up his flight again and passed to 
 other regions. 
 
432 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 /~\NE scene more, and then we drop the curtain. 
 A young mother sitting with a baby in her 
 arms, its head a mass of golden curls lying close 
 against her bosom. She is singing a low " hush- 
 a-bye," and her voice has in it an undertone of 
 sweet content. Now and then her song is inter 
 mitted, and she lifts her head and hearkens as 
 the wind takes a deeper tone, or the rain drops 
 strike against the windows ; but no shade of 
 anxiety comes into her fair young face. 
 
 A sound of approaching feet is heard, and by 
 the brightening eyes and happy look you know 
 that it is the husband and father who is coming. 
 His step is firm and quick. Love is drawing him 
 
CONCLUSION. 433 
 
 homeward with strong and steady hands. A 
 little three-year-old girl, who has been lying 
 half a sleep on the floor, waiting for her papa s 
 good-night hug and kiss, starts up and is at the 
 door when it opens. A leap and she is in her 
 father s arms, clasping his neck, and covering his 
 face with the warm impression of her rosy lips. 
 
 How full of love and tender confidence are the 
 bright blue eyes that meet his own, as he looks 
 at the young wife who has been waiting for his 
 return. 
 
 " You are late, Frank, dear." Not with any 
 doubt or complaint in the voice. 
 
 " Yes. Several large orders were shipped to 
 day, and the bills had to go by to-night s mail. 
 I promised father to see them off; and it took 
 longer than I expected." 
 
 " It s all arranged about your going into the 
 business ?" 
 
 " yes ; and father seems so pleased about it ; 
 and to tell the truth, Marie, I m glad the thing s 
 settled. Law is up-hill work, and you ve got to 
 28 
 
434 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 wait for half a lifetime before you can make a 
 name or get a decently-paying practice. But 
 father s business is all made, and I ve only to step 
 into it and move along with the steady-going 
 machinery. And there s another thing, Marie, 
 dear, which I should have taken into the account 
 before " 
 
 The young man is sitting now close beside his 
 wife, bending over the sleeping baby in her arms. 
 
 " What is that ?" she asks in a tone of interest. 
 
 " It didn t strike me as it has done in the last 
 few weeks ; but I can see that father s health is 
 failing. He s getting on in years, and the strain 
 of the business is becoming too great. It was a 
 great loss to him when poor Hargrove died. 
 He d been in the factory for ten or fifteen years, 
 and knew the run of everything. His death 
 was a great shock to father. You know he took 
 to drinking, and that killed him." 
 
 Marie s only response is an involuntary, half 
 repressed sigh. 
 
 " I ought to have seen this before, and taken 
 
CONCLUSION. 435 
 
 hold with father in downright earnest, as I m 
 going to do now." 
 
 Since the reader s first introduction to Frank 
 Sylvester, he has changed considerably. For a 
 long time this change was for the worse, the 
 lower animal nature of the young man, stimu 
 lated by drink, ruling in his life and steadily de 
 basing him. Against this debasement he strug 
 gled feebly ; sometimes with partial success, but 
 with a downward drift more rapid in its move 
 ment after every brief checking of the current 
 that seeming bearing him to certain ruin. He 
 had no strength of resistance in the face of temp 
 tation. Knowing his weakness, he would endea 
 vor to keep out of the reach of enticement, and so 
 stand firm for awhile. But with twenty or more 
 saloons in Brantly, and the proffered wine cup 
 in the hands of many friends and neighbors, 
 what chance was there for one so weak ? Hardly 
 the ghost of a chance. Falling and rising, and 
 with every new fall the struggle up more diffi 
 cult, and the footing less secure. 
 
436 THE BAR-ROOMS AT BRANTLY. 
 
 What a change in aspect and character a 
 single year of freedom from drink has wrought 
 in this young man. You note it in the fair and 
 healthy skin, and in the clear bright eyes and 
 more flexible mouth, and in the erect and earn 
 est bearing. And now, as you hear him say 
 " I ought to have seen this before, and taken 
 hold with father in downright earnest, as I m 
 going to do 
 
 Your hand moves to grasp his hand, and words 
 of cheer are trembling on your lips. 
 
 " I m glad you feel so," Marie answers, softly, 
 as she looks into his face with a new expression 
 in her eyes, which Frank is quick to interpret. 
 Pride is blending with love. She is feeling the 
 stronger pulse-beat of his manlier life, and her 
 own heart is giving back stroke for stroke. 
 
 Tea is over ; the babies are in bed, and Frank 
 Sylvester and his wife are sitting alone in their 
 bright little parlor. Marie is sewing, while her 
 husband reads aloud. 
 
 "Why, mother!" The door has opened, and 
 
CONCLUSION. 437 
 
 Marie is on her feet. "I m so glad you ve come 
 round." She puts her arms about her mother, 
 and lays her face down upon her bosom for a 
 moment or two, and then looks up into Mrs. 
 Lyman s dear, sweet face, with eyes that are 
 brimful of tears. There are answering tears in 
 the mother s tender eyes ; and rainbows in the 
 vision of both. 
 
 Drop the curtain. In all Brantly, there is not, 
 to-night, a more beautiful or touching tableau 
 than this. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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