The fountain and the bottle comprising thrilling examples of the opposite effects of temperance and intemperance |
 |
|
|
THE MAN WHO ENJOYED HIMSELF. |
 | The fountain and the bottle |  |
THE MAN WHO ENJOYED HIMSELF.
By Henry Travers.
“I'm as dry as a fish, Harry,” said an acquaintance
who was visiting a young man named Marshall.
“Don't you keep any thing good to drink here?”
“Yes; we've a pump full of the purest water,” was
replied.
“Pah! water!” and the acquaintance manifested
disgust.
“There is not a sweeter nor better beverage in the
world, friend Lloyd,
`Water for me, bright water for me.”'
And he sung the line merrily.
“And have you become a cold water man?” said
Lloyd, with a look of surprise.
“Yes,” replied Marshall, “I'm for pure, cold
water.”
“Well, I'm sorry for you,” said Lloyd. “Right
down sorry for you! That's all I can say. Never
catch me cutting all the nice little comforts of life—
few enough there are at best. I go in for enjoying
myself”
“So do I; and I never find so much enjoyment as
when my mind is clear.”
“A good glass of whisky toddy makes the mind as
clear as a bell,” said Lloyd.
“It never was so in my case.”
“It's always so in mine. To night I'm as dull as
a deacon.”
“I hav'n't found you so.”
“I feel so, then.”
“Will you have a glass of water?”
“No.” Lloyd shook his head emphatically.
“A cup of coffee, then?”
“No—no.”
And the acquaintance made a motion to rise from
chess with Marshall.
“Don't go yet. Let's have another game,” said the
latter.
“Thank you, I've staid longer now than I intended;
I'll call in again some other evening.”
“I wish you'd stay,” urged Marshall.
But Lloyd could find enjoyment here no longer.
He wanted something to bring up his spirits. So he
left the pleasant parlour and companionship of his
friend, to enjoy himself in a bar-room where the air
was loaded to oppression with segar smoke and the
sickly fumes of liquor. Some men have strange ways
of enjoying themselves.
Marshall had a pleasant home in which was a
pleasant wife and a sweet child. He had once tried
to find pleasure in idle company, tavern lounging,
and brandy drinking; but the experience of a few
years satisfied him that he had somehow or other
gotten into the wrong road; and so he turned off into
a better way. He quit tippling, applied himself more
industriously to business and married a wife.
“Never catch me at this work,” said his friend
Lloyd, when the last mentioned event took place.
“I go in for enjoying myself.”
“So do I,” returned Marshall. “I never was so
happy in my life as I am now.”
“Wait a while,” retorted Lloyd, smiling. “Wait
a while, this is only the beginning.”
“You'd better follow my example,” laughingly answered
Marshall.
“Never. I go in for enjoying myself.”
And so the two men went on, each in his own way,
and both seeking to enjoy themselves. As for Lloyd,
he, somehow or other, did not always feel as happy as
he could wish. Tarrying long over the bottle at
night, generally produced morning sensations of no
very agreeable character; and the disarrangement of
business matters, and the marring of his prospects in
life, consequent upon wine drinking and “good fellowship,”
caused him often to be afflicted with the
blues.
“Oh dear! This is a hard world for a man to get
along in!” was a sentiment which often fell from
his lips. Daily, for all his efforts to enjoy himself,
the lines on the countenance of Lloyd evinced more
and more a downward tendency. In conversation a
light would go over it; but this soon faded, and he
looked as dull and miserable as before. Moreover a
perceptible change passed upon his outer man. The
neat, tidy, particular Mr. Lloyd, grew careless of his
person. Dress became an indifferent matter. He
found no longer any enjoyment here. All his pleasure
hovered around the cup that inebriates.
Some months after the incident mentioned in the
beginning, a person said to Marshall,
“Our old friend Lloyd is in trouble, I am told.”
“Ah! What's the matter?”
“The sheriff is on him.”
“Indeed! I'm sorry for that. How did it happen?”
“He likes to enjoy himself too well.”
“He's fond of company, I know,” said Marshall.
“And fond of something else. He drinks like a
fish.”
“If he only drank like a fish, it would be better
for him. A fish takes nothing but pure water, and
that in reasonable quantities.”
“True enough. He drinks like a beast then.”
“Don't slander the beast. I never yet saw a dumb
animal who would touch brandy.”
“Nor did I. Well, I'll get it by and by. He drinks
like a fool.”
“That's more like it. Poor fellow! I'm sorry
for him. He calls all this enjoyment. But, where
the enjoyment lies, it passes my wit to tell. He didn't
look very happy the last time I saw him.”
“Nor is he very happy now. Men seek out many
inventions by which to enjoy themselves, and this
drinking is one of them. But the whole system of
tippling is a miserable failure from beginning to end.
I never saw any true enjoyment among dram-drinkers
even while the stimulant was in its first exhilaration.
Afterwards we all know that, `it biteth like a serpent,
and stingeth like an adder.”'
“You say,” remarked Mr. Marshall, “that the
sheriff is on Lloyd?”
“Yes.”
“Is the matter serious?”
“I believe so. The debt is a thousand dollars, and
he couldn't squeeze this much from his business without
squeezing the very life out of it. I guess it's all
over with him.”
“I'm sorry, indeed. Lloyd has some good traits of
character.”
“Yes; but he is fast drowning them out.”
“I must go and see him. Perhaps I can suggest
something for his benefit,” said Marshall.
“If you would suggest sobriety and a better attention
to business, some good might come of it.
Though I fear me, he is too far gone to hope for a
favourable change.”
“I will see him at any rate,” returned Marshall.
“Perhaps I can do him some good. Men in trouble
are more inclined to hearken to the suggestion of
friends.”
Prompted by his kind feelings, Marshall went
immediately to Lloyd's place of business. He found
no one there but a boy. Every thing looked thriftless
and in disorder.
“Where is Mr. Lloyd?” he inquired.
“Hasn't been down since dinner,” was replied.
“Do you expect him here?”
“No, sir.”
“Doesn't he generally come down in the after
noon?”
“Not often.”
“He boards at the `Eagle,' I believe?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you think he is there now?”
“I can't tell, sir.”
Marshall stood and reflected for a little while.
Then he started off, and bent his steps towards the
Eagle Hotel.
“Is Mr. Lloyd in his room?” he inquired on
arriving at the house.
“I believe he is.”
“What is the number?”
“Room thirty-nine, third floor.”
“Marshall ascended to the third story, and examined
the numbers until he came to the one he
sought. The door stood ajar; without knocking, he
pushed it a little open, so that he could see within.
At a table, upon which was a bottle and a pitcher,
sat Lloyd, trying to forget his troubles and find enjoyment
in drinking. In his hand was a glass, half
full of brandy, which he was holding up and eyeing
with a look of stupid, half drunken interest, as if he
hoped to see some good angel arise therefrom and
rebuke the unhappy spirits, by which he was possessed.
For a moment or two, Marshall stood and contemplated
the picture.
“And this is enjoyment!” said he. “And this the
man who enjoys himself! Heaven keep me from
such enjoyment!”
Then he pushed the door wide open and entered.
“Marshall!” exclaimed Lloyd, setting down his
glass quickly, while a slight flush of confusion went
over his face. “How are you? This is an unexpected
visit. Take a chair.”
A chair was offered, which Marshall accepted.
The two men looked at each other inquiringly, for
some moments.
“I heard to day,” said Marshall, at length, “that
you were in trouble; is it so?”
“Oh, dear!” sighed Lloyd. “Trouble! I've had
nothing else for the last six months. Every thing has
gone wrong with me—every thing.”
“How has that happened?”
“I'm sure I don't know. Luck is against me, I
suppose.”
“Luck?”
“Yes. Ill-luck has dogged my steps for months;
and now, to cap the climax of trouble, I've got into
the sheriff's hands. He'll make a clean sweep.”
“Who has sued you?”
“Carpenter.”
“What's his claim?”
“A thousand dollars.”
“Can't you hold him off for a while?”
“I've been holding him off, and promising for a
year. Now, he says he wont be put off any longer.”
“Is there any prospect of your paying him?”
“If business were not so dull, and times so hard, I
could settle his claim in twelve months.”
“I don't find business dull,” said Marshall.
“I do, then. It has been a perfect drag with me
for the last six months, and things get worse and
worse, instead of better.”
“Perhaps it's your own fault,” suggested Marshall.
“How my own fault?”
“Do you attend to business properly?”
“I do all the business that comes to me. I can't
make business.”
“I don't know about that. I rather think you are
too fond of enjoying yourself.”
And Marshall smiled, as he glanced at the bottle
and half-filled tumbler.
“Oh!” ejaculated Lloyd, indifferently; “a man
must have some enjoyment in this life.”
“He may have a great deal if he will only seek it
in the right way. You, it strikes me, have been getting
into the wrong way.”
“There's something wrong, without doubt,” said
Lloyd, gloomily.
“Undoubtedly there is; and now, suppose you go
seriously to work to find where the wrong lies.”
“It's too late.”
“Why so?”
“The mischief is all done.”
“Perhaps not.”
“I'm on my back, without the power to rise.
Carpenter has got his foot on my neck—confound
him!”
“Perhaps he may be induced to take it off”
“Not he. He thinks it his last chance to get his
money.”
Marshall sat silent for some time. Then he said, in
a serious voice—
“You will bear the truth from a friend?”
“Oh, yes. I never was afraid of the truth.”
“I can point out the cause of your present difficulty,
and likewise the remedy.”
“Can, you, indeed? Then I wish, from my heart,
that you would do so.”
“There is the cause!” And Marshall pointed to the
bottle of brandy that stood on the table.
The eye of Lloyd followed his finger.
“What do you mean?” said he.
“There is the cause!” repeated Marshall; and this
time he laid his hand upon the bottle.
For some time Lloyd looked his friend in the face;
then his eyes drooped, gradually, and fell to the floor,
while a heavy sigh came up from his bosom.
“Do you wish to know the remedy?” inquired
Marshall.
“Of course I do,” said Lloyd.
“There it is!” And, with the words, he threw the
bottle from the window.
“What do you mean?” exclaimed Lloyd, springing
to his feet in surprise.
“I have shown you the cause and the remedy,”
replied the friend calmly. “Act wisely from the
knowledge now received, and all may yet be well.”
“It is too late,” said Lloyd, resuming his seat.
“No, it is never too late, while life remains, to retrace
the path of error. Give up this poison-bowl, in
which you have too long drowned your reason. Let
your best thoughts and your best efforts centre in
your business, and my word for it, all will come out
right in the end.”
But Lloyd shook his head.
“Believe that what I say is the truth,” urged
Marshall.
“How can I? Am I not in the clutches of the law,
which never relinquishes its grip while breath remains
in the body?”
“Promise me, on your word of honour as a man,”
said Marshall, “that you will change your manners
of life, and I will undertake to manage Carpenter.”
“How, change?”
“Give up drinking and idle company, and put
yourself down to business.”
“What is life worth, if a man is to have no enjoyment?”
“Not much, I grant. And pray, how much real
enjoyment have you had?”
Lloyd shrugged his shoulders.
“Enough to make life worth going over again?”
“No,” was the emphatic answer.
“And yet there is a great deal to enjoy in the
world. The only defect in your case is, your error in
the adoption of means to the end in view. No man
ever found real enjoyment in the bottle. And why?
It is not there! Its effect is unnatural excitement,
which is followed by depression, to say nothing of the
consequent evil results that must produce their measure
of unhappiness. This is your history, and the
history of every man who indulges in the pleasures
of the bottle.”
“Perhaps you are right,” said Lloyd, after a long
silence. He sighed heavily as he spoke.
“Try a new way to enjoyment; this has failed.”
“What would you have me do?”
“Give up, as I have said, drinking and idle company,
this amendment, and I will see that Carpenter is taken
care of.”
“I promise,” said Lloyd, after another long period
of silence.
“On your word as a gentleman?”
“Yes.”
“I will rely upon it. Good day. To-morrow
morning I will see you at your store.”
“Very well.”
And the two men parted.
Carpenter, by whom an execution had been issued
against Lloyd, was busy in his store when Marshall
came in, shortly after parting with his friend in
trouble.
“I want to say a word to you about Mr. Lloyd,”
said the latter.
The smile that lit up the countenance of Carpenter
faded.
“Do you mean to sell him out under the execution
that now lies against his property?”
“I do, certainly,” replied Carpenter.
“It will break him up, root and branch.”
“I suppose it will; but I can't help that. If not
pulled up by the root now, he will die down to the
root in a little while. If I don't take care to get my
own now, I will never get it; for he is going to the
dogs about as fast as a man ever went. Drink is
ruining him.”
“I am aware of that. But, I believe he will reform.”
Carpenter shook his head.
“If he should really reform, and attend properly to
business, how long would you give him to pay your
debt, provided his present amount of property were
not diminished, and your security in it were kept
good?”
“Five years,” replied Carpenter, emphatically.
“But I have no faith in his giving up the bottle, and
attending to business.”
“Will you give him a trial?”
“Certainly. So long as he keeps from drinking,
and attends to his business, I will let my execution
rest, provided no one else attempts to come in, and
get precedence over me.”
“He has just promised me that he will entirely reform
his life.
“Has he?”
“Yes.”
“Then, in heaven's name, let him have every
chance for his life. I will not put a straw in his way.
I saw that ruin was inevitable, and merely stepped
forward to save my own from the wreck; but, if there
is any hope for him, I will not interpose an obstacle.”
On the next morning, Mr. Marshall called early at
the store of his friend. He found him there, and busy
at work in restoring things to order. He looked pale
and anxious.
“I've seen Carpenter,” said Marshall, in a cheerful
voice.
“Have you?” Lloyd did not smile. There was
too heavy a pressure on his feelings.
“Yes.”
“Well, what does he say?”
“Just what I expected him to say. All he wants
is some security for his claim.”
“I have none to offer.”
“Oh, yes you have—at least, all that he desires.
Give up your brandy, and attend to business.”
“Did he say that?” A flush came to the face of
Lloyd. There was something indignant in his tone
of voice.
“He said what all your friends have been saying
for some time past, that drinking and idle company
were ruining you. He saw that, going on as you
were, your destruction was inevitable, and he merely
sought to save himself.”
Lloyd felt exceedingly humbled by all this.
“I am not a common drunkard,” said he.
“Yet you have been indulging so freely,” replied
Marshall, “that hundreds have observed it, and predicted
your ruin; and, what is more, the prediction
has been well nigh fulfilled.”
“So it seems.”
“But all may be recovered. Abide by your present
resolution and you need not fear for the future.”
“Am I to understand, then, that Carpenter will
not sell under this execution?”
“Certainly. The measure was only one of safety
to himself. Go on, as you are, and pay him as fast
as you can. He says that if the whole claim is recovered
in five years, he will be content. All the
security he asks is a change in your habits.”
“I will not disappoint him,” said Lloyd, emphatically.
And he did not.
“Five years have passed since the events briefly
described took place. Lloyd has remained true to his
promise, and is now free from his obligation to Carpenter.
Moreover, he has taken to himself a wife,
and in her society at home, where there is a sweet
little babe, he finds a far higher pleasure than he ever
knew while in search of the smiling companion in
drinking-houses and among idle company. As for
the brandy bottle, it has never visited his happy
home, and, we trust, never will.
Do you want to find the man who enjoys himself?
There he is; and his name is Hiram Lloyd.
| The fountain and the bottle | |