“I drink it,” said John, “at huskings and raisings, and when father gives it to me.”
“So do I,” said Fred; “but I don’t buy any to drink myself.”
“I,” said Charlie, “used to drink at home, when father gave it to me; but, after he was pressed, I promised my mother not to drink any, and I never have, of my own will; but when I was in the Albatross they used to make me drink, and poured it down my throat if I refused, in order that I might sing songs, and make sport for them when I was drunk.”
“Well, I want you, and John, and Frederick to agree, before I leave this spot that I am sitting on, that you will never taste another drop of liquor, without you are sick.”
“Why do you want us to promise that?”
“Because I remember the time when Yelf was as smart, iron-sided, and industrious a man as ever trod the Lord’s earth. It took a withy man to lay him on his back, or lift his load, I tell you. He had a farm of two hundred acres of the best of new land; his wife milked seven cows, made butter and cheese, and spun and wove all their cloth; they had enough of everything, and everybody was as welcome to it as they were themselves. He was as well thought of as any man in town, and bid fair to be a rich man. But he carried all that stock and land to the store (except one acre and a half) in a two-quart jug, and died drunk among the hogs. Now, that poor woman, who has counted her cheese by scores, and her butter by tubs, has not a drop of milk except what the neighbors give her, nor a stick of wood but what she picks up.”
Uncle Isaac’s voice was broken, and the tears ran down his cheeks. The boys were greatly affected; they had never seen the calm, resolute man moved before, and the tears stood in their eyes.
“There’s no telling,” continued he, “what a man, who drinks ever so little, may come to, and how it may grow upon him; but if he don’t drink at all he is safe.”
The proposition of their friend was, notwithstanding, so strange in that day, that the boys hesitated.