But my advice to Tom was from day to day, “tackle the old Deacon.”
And finally Tom tackled him; and the old Deacon was madder than a hen.
“A pious hen,” says I coldly, for I was a beginnin’ to not bear the old Deacon.
“Yes,” says he, “bein’ so darned good, he said Molly shouldn’t marry any feller that laughed and played dominoes and danced—and Tom had danced once or twice to one of our neighbors, and the old Deacon had heerd of it—so he turned Tom out doors, and forbid Molly’s speakin’ to him again; Molly, they say, took it bad, and it come powerful hard on Tom. He is a soft hearted feller Tom is, and he fairly worshipped her; but his ma and I brought him up to meet trials bravely, and it is a pattern to anybody to see how brave, and calm, and patient he is, with his trouble makin’ him as poor as a snail. Stiddy to work as a clock, cheerful, and growin’ poor all the time; awful good to babys, and childern Tom is, sense it took place, and growin’ pale, and poor as a rat. I tell you it comes pretty tough on his ma and me to see it go on; but Tom wont be underhanded, and he’ll have to grin and bear it, for the Deacon says he never changes his mind, and he is so tarnal good I s’pose he can’t.
“He talked powerful to me the day he rode with me; I don’t know when I ever felt wickeder and meaner than I did then; I can truly say that when the old Deacon got out of the buggy, and for several hours after that, I could have been bought cheap—probable from 25 to 30 cents—he give it to me so for lettin’ Tom play games, and playin’ with him myself. He said I was doin’ the devil’s work; a immortal soul left to my charge, and I a fillin’ it up with dominoes and checkers.
“‘But,’ says I, ‘Tom got to runnin’ to the tarven; he got into bad company; I did it to stop him; factorum Deacon, honor bright.’
“And then the Deacon give it to me for swearin’; he was so good, he thought honor bright and factorum was swearin’, and says he:
“‘S’posen Tom did git to runnin’ to the tarven and other places of ruination; then was the time for you to do your duty. Preach his wickedness to him; keep at it every time he come into the house day and night, down suller, and up stairs, to the table and the altar. I s’posed you was a prayin’ man, and prayed in your family.’
“‘I haint missed a night nor mornin’ sense I joined the meetin’-house,’ says I.
“‘Well, what a weapon that family altar might be, if you handled it right, to pierce Tom to the heart; to show him how gloomy his sins made you; to make him see your goodness, and his sinfulness; to make a pattern of yourself before him; and then evenin’s you ort to be stern and gloomy, and awful dignified, and spend ’em, every one of ’em, in readin’ religious tracts to him; warnin’s to sinners, and the perils of the ungodly. I would lend you half a bushel that I have used in bringin’ up my own family; and if you took this course, what a happyfyin’ thought it would be, that, whatever course he took, whether he went to ruin or not, you had done your duty, set him a pattern of righteousness, and his wickedness couldn’t be laid to your charge; and you could have a clear conscience, and be happy, even if you looked down from the shinin’ shore, and see him a wreathin’ in torment.’