LITMIR.BIZ

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will do but a quarter, Jane, and that I must have, if I steal it!" was the prompt and somewhat earnest reply.

      Mrs. Jarvis laid aside her work mechanically and, rising, went to a drawer, and from a cup containing a single dollar in small pieces, her little all, took out a quarter of a dollar, and turning to her husband, said, as she handed it to him—

      "Remember, that you are taking the bread out of your children's mouths!"

      "Not so bad as that, I hope, Jane," said the drunkard, as he clutched the money eagerly; something like a feeble smile flitting across his disfigured and distorted countenance.

      "Yes, and worse!" was the response, made in a sadder tone than that in which the wife had at first spoken.

      "How worse, Jane?"

      "John!" and the wife spoke with a sudden energy, while her countenance lighted up with a strange gleam. "John, I cannot bear this much longer! I feel myself sinking every day. And you—you who pledged yourself—"

      Here the voice of the poor woman gave way, and covering her face with her hands, she bent her head upon her bosom, and sobbed and wept hysterically.

      The drunkard looked at her for a moment, and then turning hurriedly, passed from the room. For some moments after the door had closed upon her husband, did Mrs. Jarvis stand, sobbing and weeping. Then slowly returning to her chair near the window, she resumed her, work, with an expression of countenance that was sad and hopeless.

      In the mean time, the poor wretch who had thus reduced his family to a state of painful destitution, after turning away from his door, walked slowly along the street with his head bowed down, as if engaged in, to him, altogether a new employment, that of self-communion. All at once a hand was laid familiarly upon his shoulders, and a well-known voice said—

      "Come, John, let's have a drink."

      "Jarvis looked up with a bewildered air, and the first thing that caught his eye, after it glanced away from the face of one of his drinking cronies, was a sign with bright gold letters, bearing the words, "EAGLE COFFEE-HOUSE." That sign was as familiar to him as the face of one of his children. At the same moment that his eyes rested upon this, creating an involuntary impulse to move towards the tavern-door, his old crony caught hold of his coat-collar and gave him a pull in the same direction. But much to the surprise of the latter, Jarvis resisted this attempt to give his steps a direction that would lead him into his old, accustomed haunt.

      "Won't you drink this morning, Jarvis?" asked the other, with a look of surprise.

      There was evidently a powerful struggle going on in the mind of the drunkard. This lasted only for a moment or two, when he said, loudly, and emphatically—

      "No!"

      And instantly broke from his old boon companion, and hurried on his way.

      A loud laugh followed him, but he heeded it not. Ten minutes' walk brought him to the store of a respectable tradesman.

      "Is Mr. R—in?" he asked, as he entered.

      "Back at the desk," was the answer of a clerk.

      And Jarvis walked back with a resolute air.

      "Mr. R—, I want to sign the pledge!"

      "You, Jarvis?" Mr. R—said, in tones of gratified surprise.

      "Yes, me, Mr. R—. It's almost a hopeless case; but here goes to do my best."

      "Are you fully sensible of what you are about doing, Jarvis?"

      "I think I am, Mr. R—. I've drunk nothing since yesterday morning, and with the help of Him above, I am determined never to drink another drop as long as I live! So read me the pledge and let me sign it."

      Mr. R—turned at once to the constitution of the Washington

      Temperance Society, and read the pledge thereunto annexed:

      "'We, the undersigned, do pledge ourselves to each other, as gentlemen, that we will not, hereafter, drink any spiritous liquors, wine, malt, or cider, unless in sickness, and under the prescription of a physician.'"

      Jarvis took the pen in his hand, that trembled so he. could scarcely make a straight mark on paper, and enrolled his name among the hundreds of those, who, like him, had resolved to be men once more. This done, he laid down the quarter of a dollar which he had obtained from his wife, the admission fee required of all who joined the society. As he turned from the tradesman's store, his step was firmer and his head more erect, than, in a sober state, he had carried it for many a day.

      From thence he proceeded to a hatter's-shop.

      "Well, Jarvis," was uttered in rather a cool, repulsive tone, as he entered.

      "Are you not in want of a journeyman, Mr. Warren?"

      "I don't want you, Jarvis."

      "If you will give me work, I'll never get drunk again, Mr. Warren."

      "You've said that too many times, Jarvis. The last time you went off when I was hurried with work, and caused me to disappoint a customer, I determined never to have any thing more to do with you."

      "But I'll never disappoint you again," urged the poor man earnestly.

      "It's no use for you to talk to me, Jarvis. You and I are done with each other. I have made up my mind never again to have a man in my shop who drinks rum."

      "But I've joined the temperance society, Mr. Warren."

      "I don't care if you have: in two weeks you'll be lying in the gutter."

      "I'll never drink liquor again if I die!" said Jarvis, solemnly.

      "Look here, you drunken vagabond!" returned the master hatter in angry tones, coming from behind the counter, and standing in front of the individual he was addressing—"if you are not out of this shop in two minutes by the watch, I'll kick you into the street! So there now—take your choice to go out, or be kicked out."

      Jarvis turned sadly away without a reply, and passed out of the door through which he had entered with a heart full of hope, now pained, and almost ready to recede from his earnest resolution and pledge to become a sober man and a better husband and father. He felt utterly discouraged. As he walked slowly along the street, the fumes of a coffee-house which he was passing, unconsciously, struck upon his sense, and immediately came an almost overpowering desire for his accustomed potation. He paused—

      "Now that I try to reform, they turn against me," he sighed bitterly. "It is no use; I am gone past hope!"

      One step was taken towards the tavern-door, when it seemed as if a strong hand held him back.

      "No—no!" he murmured, "I have taken the pledge, and I will stand by it, if I die!" Then moving resolutely onward, he soon found himself near the door of another hatter's-shop. Hope again kindled up in his bosom, and he entered.

      "Don't you want a hand, Mr. Mason?" he asked, in a hesitating tone.

      "Not a drunken one, Jarvis," was the repulsive answer.

      "But I've reformed, Mr. Mason."

      "So I should think from your looks."

      "But, indeed, Mr. Mason I have quit drinking, and taken the pledge."

      "To break it in three days. Perhaps three hours."

      "Won't you give me work, Mr. Mason, if I promise to be sober?"

      "No! For I would not give a copper for your promises."

      Poor Jarvis, turned away. When he had placed his hand to the pledge, he dreamed not of these repulses and difficulties. He was a good workman, and he thought that any one of his old employers would be glad to get him back again, so soon as they learned of his having signed the total-abstinence pledge. But he had so often promised amendment, and so often broken his promise and disappointed them, that they had lost all confidence in him; at least, the two to whom he had, thus far, made application.

      After leaving the shop of Mr. Mason, Jarvis seemed altogether irresolute. He would walk on a few steps, and then pause to commune with his troubled and bewildered thoughts.

      "I

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