Natural History / Or, Uncle Philip's Conversations with the Children about Tools and Trades among Inferior Animals

by Francis L. Hawks

"Uncle Philip, as the day is fine, instead of sitting here, will you walk with us, this morning?"

"Yes, boys; let me get my cane and hat, and we will take a ramble; perhaps we may see something, if we will use our eyes. Where do you wish to go?"

"Oh, we do not care much, if you are with us, which way we walk; any course will be pleasant."

"Come on, then; we will cross the river, and go down on the other side beyond the old mill, where you found the wasp's paper. And now, such of you as will, may keep a look-out for curious things, while the rest of us will talk together.—Boys, do any of you know Tom Smith?" "Know him! Why, Uncle Philip, everybody in this part of the country knows him; he is such a shocking drunkard, and swears so horribly, that nobody can forget him; and what makes it worse, he is an old man, too. His hair is almost as white as yours, Uncle Philip."

"Yes; he is just about my age. We were both born here, and I have known him ever since we were boys; and when we played together as children, over this very field which we are now crossing, or caught fish in the river down yonder by the rocks, there was not a more decent, well-behaved, handsome boy among us than was Tom Smith. Poor Tom lost his father when he was about twelve years old, and his mother, having no other child, indulged him, until he was sent to the city to go into a store. But Tom then, boys, had good principles; he neither swore nor got drunk. In a little time he fell into bad company, and they led him astray by degrees. He was so good-natured (as they call it), boys, that he had never the firmness to say no to the proposals of his companions. He went with them to places of amusement; and instead of spending his evenings in his own room, reading, he was at the theatre, or dancing in some place, or at a supper with his young companions; and finally he began to play cards and billiards with them; while the inside of the church was a place which he never saw. He was cheated by his companions; and too honest he was then not to pay what he lost by gaming: he wrote to his poor mother, and told her the truth, as to his losses, and she sent him money to pay his debts, and told him to come home. He did come home; and even after all that had happened, poor Tom might have been respectable and happy; for his friends were all willing to forget the past, and encourage him for the future. For a time he went on pretty well, and married an affectionate and good young woman, and his prospects were bright enough: but one thing, boys—one single thing, ruined his comfort for ever. In the city he had learned to drink strong liquors.

"I remember, too, soon after he came home and married, that a man was hung not far from here for murdering his wife. The man was a drunkard, though he was quite sober when he killed the poor woman; and drunkenness had hardened his heart. I have no doubt, as it will the heart of any man. Tom was talking to me about that man, and I remember he said then that when a man began to drink, he could never say where it would end, nor what he would do: 'therefore,' said Tom, 'beware of the first drink.' But Tom, though he talked like a Christian and a man about it, did not act like one: for it was not long before he began to follow his bad habit, and he soon killed his poor mother; for she died of grief and sorrow, I think. His excellent wife speedily followed her to the grave; and Tom Smith left the village, a perfect vagabond, whom no one cared for. Where he went, or what he did for a long time, no person here knows. I went to other countries, and neither heard of nor saw Tom Smith until my return home, when I found him wandering about here, a gray-headed swearer and drunkard. He did not know me, and I never should have known him, had not some one told me who he was. And last night I received a letter from one of my nephews in the city, which informed me that Tom Smith had been tried in the court, and found guilty of stealing, and was sent to the state prison for ten years to hard work. There I suppose he will die for he is now old; and it is awful to think of what is then to become of his soul. Ah, my dear boys! I could not help thinking, when I read my letter, of what that man said to me years ago—and I have told you his story, hoping that you will remember his words, 'Beware of the first drink.' The man who does that will never be a drunkard. And when old Uncle Philip is laid in the grave, boys, which must be before many years, remember, as you look upon the place, that he told you the story of Tom Smith, and charged you to 'beware of the first drink.'

"But here come some of the boys, running towards us; I suppose they have found something."

"Oh, Uncle Philip! Uncle Philip! Do come with the boys this way. Under that fence yonder there are a great many beautiful wild flowers, and a number of bees are as busy as they can be about them; pray come and see them."

"Well, I will; but not so fast, boys; you forget that I am an old man, and cannot run as you do.—So, here are, indeed, a great many industrious little workmen."

"What are they doing, Uncle Philip?"