"A little over half. I used to get ten dollars a week. Now I manage, by picking up odd jobs here and there, to make about six."
"Then you are better off than you were before."
"I hardly see how you can make that out."
"Your family have enough to live uponall they had beforeand you have a healthier body, a calmer mind, and a clearer conscience. Isn't here something gained?"
"I rather think there is," replied Gordon, smiling.
"And I rather think you are a good deal better off than you were before. Isn't your wife happier?"
"O! yes. She's as cheerful as a lark all the day."
"And doesn't murmur because of your light wages?"
"No, indeed! not she. I believe if I didn't earn more than three dollars a week, and kept sober, she would make it do, somehow or other, and keep a good heart. It's wonderful how much she is changed!"
"And yet you are no better off? Ain't you better off in having a happy wife and a pleasant home, what I am sure you hadn't before?"
"You are right in that. I certainly had neither of them before. Oh! yes. I am much better off all around. I only felt a little despondent, because I can't get regular employment as I used to, and good wages; for now, if I had these, I could do so well."
"Be patient, friend Gordon; time will make all right. There are three words that every reformed man should write on the walls of his chamber, that he may see them every morning. They are 'Time, Faith, Energy.' No matter how low he may have fallen; no matter how discouraging all things around him may appear; let him have energy, and faith in time, and all will come out well at last."
Gordon went home, feeling in better heart than when he met the temperance friend who had spoken to him these encouraging words.
Henry Gordon, when he married, had just commenced business for himself, and went on for several years doing very well. He laid by enough money to purchase himself a snug little house, and was in a good way for accumulating a comfortable property, when the habit of dram-drinking, which he had indulged for years, became an over-mastering passion. From that period he neglected his business, which steadily declined. In half the time it took to accumulate the property he possessed, all disappearedhis business was broken up, and he compelled to work at his trade as a journeyman to support his family. From a third to a half of the sum he earned weekly, he spent in gratifying the debasing appetite that had almost beggared his family and reduced him to a state of degradation little above that of the brute. The balance was given to his sad-hearted wife, to get food for the hungry, half-clothed children.
Nor was this all. Debts were contracted which Gordon was unable to pay. One or two of his creditors, more exacting than the rest, seized upon his furniture and sold it to satisfy their claims, leaving to the distressed family only the few articles exempt by law.
Things had reached this low condition, when Gordon came home from the shop, one day, some hours earlier than usual. Surprised at seeing him, his wife said
"What's the matter, Henry? Are you sick?"
"No!" he replied, sullenly, "I'm discharged."
"Discharged! For what, Henry?"
"For spoiling a job."
"How did that happen?" Mrs. Gordon spoke kindly, although she felt anxious and distressed.
"How has all my trouble happened?" asked Gordon, with unusual bitterness of tone. "I took a glass too much, andand"
"It made you spoil your job," said his wife, her voice still kind.
"Yes. Curse the day I ever saw a drop of liquor! It has been the cause of all my misfortunes."
"Why not abandon its use at once and for ever, Henry?"
"That is not so easily done."
"Hundreds have done it, and are doing it daily, and so may you. Only make the resolution, Henry. Only determine to break these fetters, and you are free. Let the time past, wherein you have wrought folly, and your family suffered more than words can express, suffice. Only will it, and there will be a bright future for all of us."
Tears came into the eyes of Mrs. Gordon while she made this appeal, although she strove hard to appear calm. Her husband felt a better spirit awaking within him. There was a brief struggle between appetite and the good resolution that was forming in his mind, and then the latter conquered.
"I will be free!" he said, turning towards the door through which he had a little while before entered, and hurriedly leaving the house.
The hour that passed from the time her husband went out until he returned, was one of most anxious suspense to Mrs. Gordon. Her hand trembled so that she could not hold her needle, and was obliged to lay aside the sewing upon which she was engaged, and go about some household employments.
"Mary, I have signed the pledge, if that will do any good," said Gordon, opening the door and coming in upon his wife with his pledge in his hand. "There," and he unrolled the paper and pointed to his name; "there is my signature, and here is the document."
He did not speak very cheerfully; but his wife's face was lit up with a sudden brightness, followed by a gush of tears.
"Do any good!" she replied, leaning her head upon his shoulder, and grasping one of his hands tightly in both of hers. "It will do all good!"
"But I have no work, Mary. I was discharged to-day, and it is the only shop in town. What are we to do?"
"Mr. Evenly will take you back, now that you have signed the pledge."
"Perhaps he will!" Gordon spoke more cheerfully. "I will go and see him to-morrow."
Mrs. Gordon prepared her husband a strong cup of coffee, and baked some nice hot cakes for his supper. She combed her hair, and made herself as tidy as possible. The children, too, were much improved in their looks by a little attention, which their mother felt encouraged to give. There was an air of comfort about the ill-furnished dwelling of Henry Gordon that it had not known for a long time, and he felt it.
On the next morning, after breakfast, Gordon went back to the shop from which he had been discharged only the day previous. Evenly, the owner of it, was a rough, unfeeling man, and had kept Gordon on, month after month, because he could not well do without him. But, on the very day he discharged him, a man from another town had applied for work, and the spoiled job was made an excuse for discharging a journeyman, whose habits of intoxication had always been offensive to the master-workman.
When Gordon entered the shop for the purpose of asking to be taken back, he met Evenly near the door, who said to him, in a rough manner
"And what do you want, pray?"
"I want you to take me back again," replied Gordon. "I have signed the pledge, and intend leading a sober life hereafter."
"The devil you have!"
"Yes sir. I signed it yesterday, after you discharged me."
"How long do you expect to keep it?" asked Evenly, with a sneer.
"Long enough to reach the next grogshop?"
"I have taken the pledge for life, I trust," returned the workman, seriously. He was hurt at the contemptuous manner of his old employer, but his dependent condition made him conceal his feelings. "You will have no more trouble with me."
"No, I am aware of that. I will have no more trouble with you, for I never intend to let you come ten feet inside the front door of my shop."
"But I have reformed my bad habit, Mr. Evenly. I will give you no more trouble with my drinking," said the poor man, alarmed at this language.
"It's no use for you to talk to me, Gordon," replied Evenly, in a rough manner. "I've long wanted to get rid of you, and I have finally succeeded. Your place is filled. So there is no more to say on that subject. Good morning."
And the man turned on his heel and left Gordon standing half stupified at what he had heard.
"Rum's done the business for you at last, my lark! I told you it would come to this!" said an old fellow workman, who heard what passed between Gordon and the employer. He spoke in a light, insulting voice.
Without replying, the unhappy man left the shop, feeling more wretched than he had ever felt in his life.
"And thus I am met at my first effort to reform!" he murmured, bitterly.
"Hallo, Gordon! Where are you going?" cried a voice as these words fell from his lips.
He looked up and found himself opposite to the door of one of his old haunts. It was the keeper of it who had called him.
"Come! Walk in and let us see your pleasant face this morning. Where were you last night? My company all complained about your absence. We were as dull as a funeral."
"Curse you and your company too!" ejaculated Gordon between his teeth, and moved on, letting his eyes fall again to the pavement.
"Hey-day! What's the matter?"
But Gordon did not stop to bandy words with one of the men who had helped to ruin him.
"It's all over with us, Mary. Evenly's got a man in my place," said Gordon, as he entered his house and threw himself despairingly into a chair. "But won't he give you work, too?" asked Mrs. Gordon, in a husky voice.
"No! He insulted me, and said I should never come ten feet inside of his shop."
"Did you tell him that you had signed the pledge?"
"Yes. But it was no use. He did not seem to care for me any more than he did for a dog."
The poor man's distress was so great that he covered his face with his hands, and sat swinging his body to and fro, and uttering half-suppressed moans.
"What are we to do, Mary? There is no other shop in town," he said, looking up, after growing a little calm. "Doesn't it seem hard, just as I am trying to do right?"
"Don't despair, Henry. Let us trust in Providence. It is only a dark moment; yet, dark as it is, it is brighter to me than any period has been for years. A clear head and ready hands will not go long unemployed. I do not despond, dear husband, neither should you. Keep fast anchored to your pledge, and we will outride the storm."
"But we shall starve, Mary. We cannot live upon air."
"No," replied Mrs. Gordon; "but we can live upon half what you have been earning at your trade, and quite as comfortably as we have been living. And it will be an extreme case, I think, if you can't get employment at five dollars a week, doing something or other. Don't you?"
"It appears so. Certainly I ought to be able to earn five dollars a week, if it is at sawing wood. I'll do thatI'll do any thing."
"Then we needn't be alarmed. I'll try and get some sewing at any rate, to help out. So brighten up, Henry. All will be well. It will take a little time to get things going right again; but time and industry will do all for us that we could ask."
Thus encouraged, Gordon started out to see if he could find something to do. It was a new thing for him to go in search of work; and rather hard, he felt, to be obliged almost to beg for it. Where to go, or to whom to apply, he did not know. After wandering about for several hours, and making several applications at out of the way places with no success, he turned his steps homeward, feeling utterly cast down. In this state, he was assailed by the temptation to drown all his trouble in the cup of confusion, and nearly drawn aside; but a thought of his wife, and the bright hope that had sprung up in her heart in the midst of darkness, held him back.
"It's no use to try, Mary," he said, despondingly, as he entered his poorly-furnished abode, and found his wife busy with her needle. "I can't get any work."
"I have been more successful than you have, Henry," Mrs. Gordon returned, speaking cheerfully. "I went to see if Mrs. Hewitt hadn't some sewing to give out, and she gave me a dozen shirts to make. So don't be discouraged. You can afford to wait for work even for two or three weeks, if it doesn't come sooner. Let us be thankful for what we have to-day, and trust in God for to-morrow. Depend upon it, we shall not want. Providence never forsakes the man who is trying to do right."
Thus Mrs. Gordon strove to keep up the spirits of her husband. After dinner, he went out again and called to see a well-known temperance man. After relating to him what he had done, and how unhappily he was situated in regard to work, the man said
"It won't do to be idle, Gordon; that's clear. An idle man is tempted ten times to another's once. You will never be able to keep the pledge unless you get something to do. We must assist you in this matter. What can you do besides your trade?"
"I have little skill beyond my regular calling; but then, I have health, strength, and willingness; and I think these might be made useful in something."
"So do I. Now to start with, I'll tell you what I'll do. If you will come and open my store for me every morning, make the fire and sweep out, and come and stay an hour for me every day while I go to dinner, I will give you three dollars a week. Two hours a day is all your time I shall want."
"Thank you from my heart! Of course I accept your offer. So far so good," said Gordon, brightening up.
"Very well. You may begin with to-morrow morning. No doubt you can make an equal sum by acting as a light porter for the various stores about. I can throw a little in your way; and I will speak to my neighbors to do the same." There was not a happier home in the whole town than was the home of Henry Gordon that night, poor as it was.
"I knew it would all come out right," said Mrs. Gordon. "I knew a better day was coming. We can live quite comfortably upon five or six dollars a week, and be happier than we have been for years."
When Gordon thought of the past, he did not wonder that tears fell over the face of his wife, even while her lips and eyes were bright with smiles. As the friend had supposed, Gordon was employed to do many errands by the storekeepers in the neighborhood. Some weeks he made five dollars and sometimes six or seven. This went on for a few months, when he began to feel discouraged. The recollection of other and brighter days returned frequently to his mind, and he began ardently to desire an improved external condition, as well for his wife and children as for himself. He wished to restore what had been lost; but saw no immediate prospect of being able to do so. Six dollars a week was the average of his earnings, and it took all this, besides what little his wife earned, to make things tolerably comfortable at home.
Gordon was in a more desponding mood than usual, when he indulged in the complaint with which our story opens. What was said to him changed the tone of his feelings, and inspired him with a spirit of cheerfulness and hope.
"Time, Faith, Energy!" he said to himself, as he walked with a more elastic step. "Yes, these must bring out all right in the end. I will not be so weak as to despond. All is much improved as it is. We are happier and better. Time, Faith, Energy! I will trust in these."
When Gordon opened the door of his humble abode, he found a lad waiting to see him, who arose, and presenting a small piece of paper, said
"Mr. Blake wishes to know when you can settle this?"
Mr. Blake was a grocer, to whom ten dollars had been owing for a year. He had dunned the poor drunkard for the money until he got tired of so profitless a business, and gave up the account for lost. By some means, it had recently come to his ears that Gordon had signed the pledge.
"Some chance for me yet," he said, and immediately had the bill made out anew, and sent in; not thinking or caring whether it might not be premature for him to do so, and have the effect to discourage the poor man and drive him back to his old habits. What he wanted was his money. It was his due; and he meant to have it if he could get it.