In the village in which Mary’s parents lived, the wretched condition of the family had often attracted attention; but the case of the parents seemed so hopeless, that little exertion was made to persuade them to abandon their ruinous habits, till Mr. Hall, an energetic agent of the temperance cause, visited the place. The husband and wife were then induced to attend the temperance meeting and listen to his address. Whispers and significant looks passed between the acquaintances when Thomas and his wife entered the church, and scarcely one among the number thought they could be at all benefited by what they might hear. But they did not see Thomas’ heart, or know what a wretched being he felt himself to be. Through necessity, neither he nor his wife had now tasted spirit for several days, as their means of obtaining it had failed. The cranberries were all gathered from the meadow, and persons of their character could not obtain employment. Thus situated, Thomas knew he must take a different course, or himself and family would be sent to the work-house. It was on account of these circumstances that he this evening consented with his wife to attend the meeting.
When the speaker commenced, Thomas, feeling himself uneasy, wished himself away. But by degrees he became more and more interested, until his eye fixed upon the speaker, and the tear, rolling down his bloated face, proved the depth of his feeling. He heard his own case so well described, the remedy so plainly pointed out, so affectionately urged, that new light seemed to break upon his mind, and he inwardly exclaimed, “I can do it—I will do it, if I die in the attempt;” and at the close of the service, going boldly up to a group of temperance men, he requested that his name and the name of his wife might be added to the temperance list. A murmur of approbation followed his request, and hand after hand was presented for a shake of congratulation. Nancy pulled her husband’s coat as she heard her name mentioned, and said, faintly, “Not mine, not mine, Thomas.” But the words were unheard or disregarded, and he bent steadily over the shoulder of the secretary, till he actually saw the names of Thomas and Nancy Millman among the names of those who pledged themselves to abstain from all use of ardent spirits.
As he turned to leave the church, William Stevens, a sober, industrious man, a friend of Thomas in his better days, but who had long abandoned the society of a drunkard, took him by the hand, and after expressing his satisfaction at the course he had pursued, invited him to call at his house on his way home. After some hesitation, Thomas and Nancy consented; the latter being exceedingly pleased at being invited again to call on Hannah Stevens.
As William opened the door, Hannah rose from her seat by the cradle, and glanced first at her husband, and then at his companions, with a look of astonishment and inquiry, which yielded, however, to one of kind welcome and glad surprise, when her husband said, “I have brought you some friends, Hannah.” “Yes,” said Thomas, “and may we henceforth merit the title.” Nancy hung down her head, as if ashamed of the thoughts that were passing through her mind. Hannah, noticing her appearance, feared she did not sympathize much in her husband’s feelings. “I must encourage the poor woman,” thought she, “or her husband will be undone. If Nancy does not encourage him by her example, all will be lost.”
The company then seated themselves round the cheerful fire, and while Thomas and William were engaged in conversation, Hannah threw aside the quilt to let Nancy see the baby. It was just the age of her own, but oh! how different. The rosy, healthy little creature before her, in its clean nightgown, sleeping so soundly, recalled to her mind her own pale, sickly, neglected child at home, in its ragged, dirty dress, so seldom changed, and tears started into her eyes at the recollection. Hannah saw the effect produced upon her feelings, and wishing to increase it still more, asked her to walk into her bed-room to see her other children. Hannah was a kind, careful mother, and knowing the strength of a mother’s love, she wished to make use of this strong principle to recall the wretched wanderer before her to a sense of duty.
Nor was she disappointed at the success of her experiment. Nancy was evidently affected at a view of the neat, comfortable appearance of her neighbor’s house, and Hannah seized this opportunity to point out to her her dreadful neglect of duty. It was a kind, but a faithful reproof, calculated to awaken in her bosom every feeling of a mother that yet remained. Nancy did not leave the room until she had promised, by her own example, to encourage her husband to return to the uniform practice of sobriety. Thomas and his wife then took leave of their kind neighbors.
We will leave this happy fireside, and accompany Thomas and Nancy to their desolate home. As they approached the house, the faint cries of the neglected baby first struck the parents’ ears. Poor Mary was endeavoring, as usual, to quiet the little sufferer. There was no fire upon the hearth, and no light upon the table, but the moonbeams through the changing clouds were sufficient to reveal the gloom and wretchedness of the drunkards’ home. Thomas and Nancy could not but perceive the contrast between the home they had just left and their own. It was a contrast most sad and humiliating.
Early the next morning, the first person the family saw coming down the lane was little William Stevens. He had in his hand a basket of potatoes, which his father had sent to Thomas Millman, with a request that he would call at his work-shop after he had eaten his breakfast. This unexpected present gave much joy to this destitute family, and Mary, with her little brothers, will not soon forget how acceptable were their roast potatoes that morning, though eaten without butter or salt.
Thomas called, as he was requested, at William Stevens’ work-shop, and found there a job which would employ him for a day or two. It was joyfully and speedily undertaken, and after an industrious day’s work, he received, at the close, a part of his wages to lay out in food for his family. Thomas had little to struggle with this day, and on the whole, it passed by easily and pleasantly. Not so with poor Nancy. Having less to employ her mind than her husband, she was sorely tempted, more than once, to send Mary to the Yellow Shop to exchange what remained of her kind neighbor’s gift for rum. But the thought of Hannah’s kindness, and her own promise, so solemnly made, restrained her.
At last, the day wore by, and it was time for Thomas to return. As soon as the children saw him enter the lane, they ran, as was their custom, to their hiding-place; for, knowing nothing of what had recently transpired, they expected to find him intoxicated, as usual.