The fountain and the bottle comprising thrilling examples of the opposite effects of temperance and intemperance |
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THE TEMPERANCE GROCER. |
 | The fountain and the bottle |  |
THE TEMPERANCE GROCER.
By Amerel.
In that portion of the Connecticut valley which
forms part of Massachusetts, is a town now one of
the most flourishing in the district, but no later than
years since, the largest store in the town was kept by
one Thomas Argall, a native of the place. As is
usual in village stores, he sold every thing—groceries,
drygoods, cutlery, medicines, liquors, farming implements,
fancy goods, confectionaries, and poultry. Argall
was a jolly fellow, and being known by every
body for miles around, his business thrived wonderfully.
Of course his store was a favourite resort of
the town people, especially after the postoffice for
the district had been established there. Old farmers,
from a distance of thirty or forty miles, who neither
received letters nor expected to receive them, called
at the postoffice whenever in town, and after lamenting
the neglect of their correspondents, sat down to
spend the day. When the labourers of the town were
released by the approach of night, they collected at
Argall's to smoke, chat, tell tales, and sing songs; so
that his establishment often resembled a tavern or
beer-shop, instead of a store for the sale of useful
articles.
Among the classes of articles that formed Argall's
stock, liquors occupied a conspicuous place. The
revenue derived from the sale of them was great, for
he supplied not only his own town, but most of the
villages for miles around. Always accommodating,
he sold small quantities as well as large; and this
rendered him a general favourite with those, who, on
numerous occasions, found their cash proper to
amount to no more than three or five cents.
Thus for many years the business of the “Grocery,
and its proprietor accumulated money. It is true,
there were many drunkards about the town; nor
could it escape the intelligence of the dullest person,
that they bought the liquor, which intoxicated them,
at Argall's. But in those days such matters were regarded
as matters of course. If a man choose to be
a sot or a brute, who had the right to hinder him?
Let each one mind his own business, and allow the
rest of mankind to get along through life as they
choose. If they ran the race without stumbling, well.
If half a dozen did stumble, let the hind ones pass
them. If a few like the drunkard fell, let no dunce
stop to pick him up, because it is plain to all, that
every body has a right to fall. Such was the reasoning
of that day; and its cruel sophistry crushed the
struggling hope of many a wretch from misery to
despair, and sheltered the rum-seller from the withering
indignation of his fellow-men.
The winter of 1833, was one of great severity
throughout the district in which the town was situated.
In January, Argall had occasion to visit a village
in Connecticut, at which time he was absent
more than a week. He returned late in the evening;
and on the following morning no small stir was
created among his neighbours by the discovery that
his sign was down. While various speculations
were advanced to explain this phenomenon, news was
circulated that another sign had been hoisted, bearing
the words “Temperance Grocery, and Variety Store.”
This threw the town into a ferment, or rather uproar.
ascertain if the rumour was true; and on their reporting
in the affirmative, a consultation was held, on
the propriety of repairing in a body to the store, and
inquiring into the cause. All were alarmed at the
idea of a Temperance store; but that Argall seriously
designed to stop selling liquor, nobody could believe.
In the evening the store was filled. All ages and
both sexes were represented, each clamouring to know
why the store had been changed to a Temperance
grocery. After the tumult had somewhat subsided, a
man named Warren, advanced before the counter,
and asked the storekeeper if he had actually intended
to sell no more liquor.
“I will neither sell nor buy another drop!” was
the answer.
A confused din of voices succeeded this announcement.
The passions of many in the crowd were
evidently rising.
“How do you expect to live?” asked another
“I will live by keeping a Temperance grocery
store,” Argall replied.
“Ha, ha!” exclaimed a third speaker. “A Temperance
grocery—ha, ha, ha! Won't sustain you a
year.”
“Then I'll lock up the store and go to farming,”
was the firm reply.
“What on earth put this notion in your head?”
exclaimed a disconsolate toper.
“He's a fool—that's it,” resumed another. “And
mean, low-principled little fellow.”
“You didn't think so last winter, when I helped
you out of that rent difficulty with old Benson,” answered
the storekeeper.
“Let's go and get liquor where we needn't thank
Tom Argall for it,” said a rough looking labourer, as
he turned towards the door; “and remember,” he
added, turning suddenly, and elbowing through the
crowd to shake his fist in the storekeeper's face, “you
get no more money from me!”
“No, nor from me either!” echoed another. Two
or three passed out; but the crowd remained, seemingly
for the purpose of bringing their refractory
storekeeper to a strict account. During the few
succeeding moments of confusion, Argall leaned forward
with his hands upon the counter; but when
the noise had somewhat abated, he drew himself into
an attitude favourable for speaking, and requested
the crowd to listen. Silence ensued, and he began.
“I will tell you, neighbours, why I have altered
my sign. You know I have been in Connecticut,
and during the week past have journeyed a good
deal among the towns and villages of that State. The
weather has been as cold there, and the snow as deep
as it is here to-day; and folks had hard work to
keep themselves warm, even with three coats on.
Last Thursday night, I had to walk three miles on
business which could not be postponed. It had
snowed hard since noon; and at seven o'clock, the
time I started, the ground was covered to the depth
the house, and transacted my business. To return
was more difficult. It was still snowing, softly but
fast; and while wading over the buried footpath, one
found it very difficult to keep himself warm. I took
a different route from the one I came by, which,
being sheltered by a ridge of hills, was not covered
so deeply as the others. After travelling about a mile,
I perceived a light at a distance, glimmering through
the snow. Glad of the prospect of warming my numb
limbs, I hurried on till I got near enough to distinguish
the building. It appeared to be a hut, rather
than a house, and the outward appearance was in a
more miserable condition than any house that I ever
saw in New England. I was now near enough to
hear loud cries, which increased to screams, and the
stamping of feet upon the floor. At first I was apprehensive
that either thieves had broken in, or that the
hut was a resort of gamblers; but this opinion was
contradicted by the voices of women and children.
As the screaming increased, I hurried, as fast as possible,
over the fence and up the yard, which stood
before the house. The noise was at its height when
I reached the door. `Should I go in?' I said to myself.
A child screamed murder. I placed my hand
on the latch. Suddenly the door was torn open, and
a woman, half naked, ran by me. I grasped my
crab-tree cane, and rushed in.
“And now, neighbours,” continued the storekeeper,
“listen. A man, all in rags, and in a beastly state
of drunkenness—the most disgusting spectacle I ever
As the little fellow leaped, screaming about, over
broken chairs and stools, the father—for such he
was—made terrible blows at him with a pair of tongs.
He had struck him on the arm, and disabled it; and,
just as I entered, he was aiming a blow at his head.
A girl, older than the boy, sat on her knees, crying
and wringing her hands.
“My sudden entrance stopped this fearful scene;
and while I demanded what was the matter, the children
infuriated father seemed preparing for an attack; but
in a few minutes he dropped the tongs, and sunk
helpless upon the floor. The wife came in soon after,
and sad, indeed, was the spectacle, when she and her
children gathered round to thank and bless me.
There was no stove in the room, nor any fire, except
a little tan in the chimney-place, which rather
smoked than burned. The boy had neither coat,
vest, nor shoes on, and the other two were clad in
garments thin enough for summer.
“After binding up the boy's arm as well as I could,
I prepared to depart. But they begged me to remain,
crying and exclaiming that they would be killed
when the drunken man awoke next day. But I promised
to return early the following morning, and
adopt some measures for removing them to the neighbouring
village. I did so; and through the kindness
of some friends, who cheerfully assisted me, the wife
and children of the drunkard were removed that day.
It drew tears from the eyes to see these hungry,
half-naked creatures, clapping their hands with joy,
at being delivered from the power of him who should
have been their protector. Before I left the village, I
learned that this woman is the daughter of a merchant,
who died some years ago in Boston, and that,
when married, she enjoyed all the luxuries which
wealth, beauty, and an apparently happy marriage
alliance could furnish. How exquisite must be her
feelings, when she reflects on the scenes of former
years, I leave you to imagine.”
“And what's that got to do with taking your sign
down?” growled a loafer, who with his back against
the wall and his hands in his pockets, had been listening
impatiently for the conclusion of the shopkeeper's
story.
“It has this much to do with it,” answered Argall.
“I believe the liquor which that man drank, came
from my store; for every one here, knows that I supply
both those villages, and many others still further
south. If you would have told me a month ago, that
I was pursuing a course which brutalizes men, impoverishes
families, and arms the father with insane
rage against his children, I would have thought or
cared little about it. But I have seen a spectacle of
wretchedness such as no words can portray. It has
haunted me ever since. I will no more spread the
seeds of wickedness. You may do as you please—
either patronize me, or patronize another; but rather
than have the fearful account to answer for of the
misery of my fellow-men, I will abandon my business.”
“And you may abandon it,” exclaimed half a dozen
voices.
“You are a mean, cowardly, chicken-hearted fellow!”
added a butcher, as he struck his fist upon the
counter.
“Call me what you please,” said the storekeeper,
“you'll never shake my resolution.”
“But we'll shake your custom.”
“My conscience is clear,” replied Argall. “Rum
is an evil, and I am done with it. Tell me,” he added
has been driven from her house by a drunken husband?”
There was a pause.
“And has no one here, been carried home beastly
drunk—dragged from under hedges, hauled out of
ditches, pulled through mud and rain, snow and
storm, until he had lost all semblance of a human
being. Has no one ruined his health by strong drink?
Has no one lost his property by strong drink? Has
no one run in debt, through strong drink? And did
drinking rum ever make a man rich, or wise, or
amiable, or dignified? Think over these questions,
before you condemn me for taking the step I have
taken.”
“Lecture a little longer, Tom,” said a toper.
“I'll drink when I please, and as much as I please,”
exclaimed another. “It's a free country. If a man
gets drunk, its nobody's business but his own.”
“But it's my business, not to sell liquor,” replied
the storekeeper.
“Mr. Argall is right,” said a woman, who had
listened attentively to all he had said. “Many a
time poor neighbour Smith ran into my house to hide
from her brute of a husband. I wish all liquor was
thrown in the Connecticut.”
“And I too,” exclaimed another woman. “I know
what it is to have a drunken son. Let men but gratify
their appetites, and they care not how much suffering
they bring on us women.”
The excitement had now increased to a fearful extent;
would have been pulled from behind the counter.
The company remained until nine o'clock, when perceiving
that they had effected nothing, they began to
disperse—most of them swearing that “all intercourse
between themselves and Tom Argall was at an end,
and for ever.”
Argall kept his resolution. For more than a
month, his store was daily beset by farmers and others
from adjoining districts, who, after standing in the
road to spell the new sign, rushed into the store with
loud exclamations of “what's the matter?” Indignation
generally succeeded astonishment; and they,
like Argall's neighbours, declared that their connection
with the store was at an end. The consequence
was, that in a very short time, Argall's sales were reduced,
more than fifty per cent. But he would
neither yield nor compromise; and after two months'
abstinence from the store, the people of the town discovered
that he could get along without them, much
better than they had anticipated. Gradually they
restored to him their custom; and before the expiration
of that year, the business of the Temperance
Grocery was as flourishing and profitable as that of
the former store had been. In due time Argall started
a Total Abstinence movement, which met with success,
beyond his hopes; so that he was soon able to
number among his friends, those who had once sworn
away all connection with him.
| The fountain and the bottle | |