"I told you it was all nonsense, Jim, about signing away your liberty!" Sally said, smiling through her tears of joy.
"Of course it was. I never was free before. But now I feel as free as air. I can go in and come out and care no more for the sight of a grog-shop, than for a hay-stack. I can take care of my wife and children, and be just as kind to them as I please. And that's what I couldn't do before. Huzza for the pledge, say I!
"Blister my feathers if ever I drink another drop of Alcohol, or anything that will make drunk come, sick or well, dead or alive!"
That evening Jim Braddock sat down to a good supper with a smiling wife, and three children, all cleanly dressed, and looking as happy as they could be. The husband and father had not felt so light a heart bounding in his bosom for years. He was free,—and felt that he was free to act as reason dictated,—to work for and care for his household treasures.
Nearly a year has passed, and Mr. James Braddock has built himself a neat little frame house, which is comfortably furnished, and has attached to it a well-cultivated garden. In his parlour, there hangs, over the mantelpiece, his original pledge, handsomely framed. Recently in writing to a friend, he says—
"You will ask, where did I get them?" (his new house, furniture, &c.) "I'll tell you, boy. These are part payment for my liberty, that I signed away. Didn't I sell it at a bargain? But this is not all. I've got my shop back again, with a good run of custom—am ten years younger than I was a year ago—have got the happiest wife and the smartest boy in all creation—and don't care a snap for anybody! So now, S. come down here; bring your wife, and all the responsibilities, and I'll tell you the whole story—but I can't write. Hurrah for slavery! Good bye!
JIM BRADDOCK."
THE FAIR TEMPTER
OR, WINE ON THE WEDDING-NIGHT.
"WHAT will you take, Haley?"