“Uncle Henry,” said Ed, as the boys were enjoying themselves in the pleasant living room of the Thompson home, “what kind of a mound1 is that in front of Slater’s tavern2? It looks like a grave right there in front of the house. I noticed it when I was going to Lisbon after cranberry3 barrels last fall, and I started to ask Mr. Slater who had been buried there, but one of the teamsters stopping there for dinner with me looked scared, and hushed me up.”
“Ruth can tell you the story; it’s mighty4 sad,” replied Mr. Thompson.
“Yes, boys, it is indeed a sad story, but its lesson may do you good,” replied Mrs. Thompson.
And this is the story she related.
Among the pioneers of settlement in the great forest wilderness5 of northern Wisconsin, were Jared Slater, a middle-aged6 tavernkeeper, from Vermont, and his young wife. Margaret Strong had been left an orphan7 at an early age, and had gone into domestic service as her only available means of honest support. Of course her education was of the most meager8 sort, yet she combined a store of good sense, so often miscalled “common,” with a character of sterling9 worth.
[64]
Especially did she make known her abhorrence10 of the traffic in intoxicating11 liquors, common at that time to all hotels, or “taverns,” of the country. And, indeed, she had good cause to know and feel the evils of strong drink, as her father had gone by this path to the ruin of his own soul and body, and the destruction of his home.
When Margaret was wooed by Jared Slater, she told him that she would never link her life with one who was in any way bound with the chains of the demon12 alcohol, whether as a user or dispenser to others. Jared went away, but his love for the young woman was true, and again he sought her and proposed that he sell his tavern, and then they would marry and move to the great forests of Wisconsin, where they could begin life anew, unhampered by old surroundings. Margaret finally consented, and they moved west.
Jared spent the first year in clearing up a little field for the plow14, and in erecting15 the necessary farm buildings; and by the time the baby boy came, things about the place were taking on a comfortable, homelike appearance. The little family were not utterly16 alone in this far-away land, for the “tote-road,” over which supplies from the distant railroad station, for the farther away camps of the north, were hauled, ran past their door, and their home became a stopping place for teamsters and other travelers.
It was not long before Jared’s thrifty17, Yankee mind saw the opportunity for gain lying to his hand in
[65]
opening his place as a regular tavern, and he told his wife of his intention. But Margaret objected.
“Ye know, Jared,” said she, “I don’t mind the work. I’m able for that a-plenty; but ye well know I married ye and came here to get rid of the tavern. I will not have the rum about me.”
“But, Margaret,” replied Jared, “we’ll have no drink in the tavern; just lodging18 and the eating.”
Thus it was for a time; but the old habits of life were revived by the frequent demands of their guests for liquor, as they would come in from the long, cold drives, and Jared’s cupidity19 at length got the better of his honesty and his faith with his wife, and he began to keep and dispense13 liquor again.
At first he endeavored to keep his sin from the knowledge of his wife; but greed bred carelessness and indifference20, and before the third year of their wilderness home, Jared had his barroom open as a feature of the roadhouse.
Faithfully Margaret pleaded and earnestly did she warn her husband that “Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap,” but he refused to be moved. “I don’t drink it myself, ye know, an’ if these fools want to part with good money for the stuff, it’s their affair. Some one else will let them have it if I don’t, and I may as well have the money as any one else.”
It was not long before the effects of the stream of damnation that flowed out from Slater’s roadhouse began to show themselves. When John Pollard went home and beat his wife, so that the life of a soon-expected
[66]
little one was snuffed out, and the mother lingered long at death’s door, it was whispered that the blame lay in Jared Slater’s barroom. And when that winter a tote team arrived at a camp further north with the body of the driver stark21 and stiff, an empty bottle from Jared’s shelf told the story.
Not only did the tavernkeeper sell his liquid hell to white travelers, but his Indian neighbors, although especially protected by a law of the land, became his customers on the sly, and Jared’s eyes gloated over the piles of rich pelts22 stored in the back room, that represented to him but a paltry23 outlay24 in liquor.
“It’ll come on ye, Jared, it’ll come on ye. I’m afeared for ye. Ye know how the drink sets the red men wild. It’ll come back on ye, as sure as God lives,” solemnly protested Margaret.
“Ruth can tell you the story; it’s mighty4 sad,” replied Mr. Thompson.
“Yes, boys, it is indeed a sad story, but its lesson may do you good,” replied Mrs. Thompson.
And this is the story she related.
Among the pioneers of settlement in the great forest wilderness5 of northern Wisconsin, were Jared Slater, a middle-aged6 tavernkeeper, from Vermont, and his young wife. Margaret Strong had been left an orphan7 at an early age, and had gone into domestic service as her only available means of honest support. Of course her education was of the most meager8 sort, yet she combined a store of good sense, so often miscalled “common,” with a character of sterling9 worth.
[64]
Especially did she make known her abhorrence10 of the traffic in intoxicating11 liquors, common at that time to all hotels, or “taverns,” of the country. And, indeed, she had good cause to know and feel the evils of strong drink, as her father had gone by this path to the ruin of his own soul and body, and the destruction of his home.
When Margaret was wooed by Jared Slater, she told him that she would never link her life with one who was in any way bound with the chains of the demon12 alcohol, whether as a user or dispenser to others. Jared went away, but his love for the young woman was true, and again he sought her and proposed that he sell his tavern, and then they would marry and move to the great forests of Wisconsin, where they could begin life anew, unhampered by old surroundings. Margaret finally consented, and they moved west.
Jared spent the first year in clearing up a little field for the plow14, and in erecting15 the necessary farm buildings; and by the time the baby boy came, things about the place were taking on a comfortable, homelike appearance. The little family were not utterly16 alone in this far-away land, for the “tote-road,” over which supplies from the distant railroad station, for the farther away camps of the north, were hauled, ran past their door, and their home became a stopping place for teamsters and other travelers.
It was not long before Jared’s thrifty17, Yankee mind saw the opportunity for gain lying to his hand in
[65]
opening his place as a regular tavern, and he told his wife of his intention. But Margaret objected.
“Ye know, Jared,” said she, “I don’t mind the work. I’m able for that a-plenty; but ye well know I married ye and came here to get rid of the tavern. I will not have the rum about me.”
“But, Margaret,” replied Jared, “we’ll have no drink in the tavern; just lodging18 and the eating.”
Thus it was for a time; but the old habits of life were revived by the frequent demands of their guests for liquor, as they would come in from the long, cold drives, and Jared’s cupidity19 at length got the better of his honesty and his faith with his wife, and he began to keep and dispense13 liquor again.
At first he endeavored to keep his sin from the knowledge of his wife; but greed bred carelessness and indifference20, and before the third year of their wilderness home, Jared had his barroom open as a feature of the roadhouse.
Faithfully Margaret pleaded and earnestly did she warn her husband that “Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap,” but he refused to be moved. “I don’t drink it myself, ye know, an’ if these fools want to part with good money for the stuff, it’s their affair. Some one else will let them have it if I don’t, and I may as well have the money as any one else.”
It was not long before the effects of the stream of damnation that flowed out from Slater’s roadhouse began to show themselves. When John Pollard went home and beat his wife, so that the life of a soon-expected
[66]
little one was snuffed out, and the mother lingered long at death’s door, it was whispered that the blame lay in Jared Slater’s barroom. And when that winter a tote team arrived at a camp further north with the body of the driver stark21 and stiff, an empty bottle from Jared’s shelf told the story.
Not only did the tavernkeeper sell his liquid hell to white travelers, but his Indian neighbors, although especially protected by a law of the land, became his customers on the sly, and Jared’s eyes gloated over the piles of rich pelts22 stored in the back room, that represented to him but a paltry23 outlay24 in liquor.
“It’ll come on ye, Jared, it’ll come on ye. I’m afeared for ye. Ye know how the drink sets the red men wild. It’ll come back on ye, as sure as God lives,” solemnly protested Margaret.
It was one of those beautiful days in the late spring, when all nature seemed to be trying to show man a picture of heaven. The soft air was singing in the pine tops, the blackbirds were holding a song chorus nearby, and the open glade25 was brilliant with spring blossoms. The babe was making happy little noises in the sunshine, as it came through the open door. The shadow seemed for the moment to be lifted from the heart of Margaret, and she sang a hymn26 as she went about her work. Then suddenly she instinctively27 turned her eyes toward the door, with a feeling of fear. There stood three Indians silently watching. As they
[67]
saw the woman notice them, one spoke28 a single word, “Whisk!” Margaret stood as if turned to stone. The Indian again spoke, “Give whisk quick!”
The woman saw her danger, but never would she handle the accursed stuff. The Indians crowded into the room, and stalking past Margaret, proceeded to help themselves at the bar. Then Margaret turned upon them like a fury. For their own sakes, for her sake and the baby’s, they should not get the fiery29 liquor. Bravely she struggled; then came the flash of a tomahawk, one shrill30 scream, and the lifeless form of the young mother lay upon the floor.
The Indians drank their fill; they drank until escape for themselves was impossible, and they lay sprawled31 upon the floor in drunken stupor32.
At near sundown Jared Slater returned to his home. The baby, stained in his mother’s blood, crying upon her lifeless body, the three drunken Indians lying upon the floor, told the whole story. The brain of the man gave way. In the center of the road in front of the house he quickly dug a deep hole, and into that hole dragged the bodies of the three Indians—whether dead or alive, no one knows.
That grave in the middle of the road, and the tragic33 story connected with it, preached a temperance sermon more effective, perhaps, than could have been spoken by the faithful woman who gave her life in a protest against the fearful traffic.
The boys never forgot the story and its lesson, and it may be that its effect was felt when, in later life
[68]
one of them put the strength of his manhood into years of successful warfare34 against the liquor traffic.
Jared Slater lived many years, but he never sold another drop of liquor. His crazed mind seemed to connect both whiskey and Indians with his trouble, and never did he see a bottle or shelf of liquor, but that he made an attempt to destroy it; and when, as occasionally happened, an Indian would be found in the woods mysteriously killed, it would be whispered that Jared Slater had been again taking his revenge.
God’s law is certain: “Be sure your sin will find you out.”
[67]
saw the woman notice them, one spoke28 a single word, “Whisk!” Margaret stood as if turned to stone. The Indian again spoke, “Give whisk quick!”
The woman saw her danger, but never would she handle the accursed stuff. The Indians crowded into the room, and stalking past Margaret, proceeded to help themselves at the bar. Then Margaret turned upon them like a fury. For their own sakes, for her sake and the baby’s, they should not get the fiery29 liquor. Bravely she struggled; then came the flash of a tomahawk, one shrill30 scream, and the lifeless form of the young mother lay upon the floor.
The Indians drank their fill; they drank until escape for themselves was impossible, and they lay sprawled31 upon the floor in drunken stupor32.
At near sundown Jared Slater returned to his home. The baby, stained in his mother’s blood, crying upon her lifeless body, the three drunken Indians lying upon the floor, told the whole story. The brain of the man gave way. In the center of the road in front of the house he quickly dug a deep hole, and into that hole dragged the bodies of the three Indians—whether dead or alive, no one knows.
That grave in the middle of the road, and the tragic33 story connected with it, preached a temperance sermon more effective, perhaps, than could have been spoken by the faithful woman who gave her life in a protest against the fearful traffic.
The boys never forgot the story and its lesson, and it may be that its effect was felt when, in later life
[68]
one of them put the strength of his manhood into years of successful warfare34 against the liquor traffic.
Jared Slater lived many years, but he never sold another drop of liquor. His crazed mind seemed to connect both whiskey and Indians with his trouble, and never did he see a bottle or shelf of liquor, but that he made an attempt to destroy it; and when, as occasionally happened, an Indian would be found in the woods mysteriously killed, it would be whispered that Jared Slater had been again taking his revenge.
God’s law is certain: “Be sure your sin will find you out.”
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1
mound
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| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
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2
tavern
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| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
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3
cranberry
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| n.梅果 | |
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4
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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5
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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6
middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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7
orphan
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| n.孤儿；adj.无父母的 | |
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8
meager
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| adj.缺乏的，不足的，瘦的 | |
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9
sterling
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| adj.英币的(纯粹的，货真价实的)；n.英国货币(英镑) | |
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10
abhorrence
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| n.憎恶；可憎恶的事 | |
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11
intoxicating
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| a. 醉人的,使人兴奋的 | |
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12
demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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13
dispense
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| vt.分配，分发；配(药)，发(药)；实施 | |
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14
plow
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| n.犁，耕地，犁过的地；v.犁，费力地前进[英]plough | |
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15
erecting
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| v.使直立，竖起( erect的现在分词 )；建立 | |
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16
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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17
thrifty
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| adj.节俭的；兴旺的；健壮的 | |
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18
lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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19
cupidity
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| n.贪心，贪财 | |
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20
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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21
stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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22
pelts
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| n. 皮毛，投掷, 疾行 vt. 剥去皮毛，（连续）投掷 vi. 猛击，大步走 | |
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23
paltry
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| adj.无价值的，微不足道的 | |
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24
outlay
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| n.费用，经费，支出；v.花费 | |
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25
glade
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| n.林间空地，一片表面有草的沼泽低地 | |
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26
hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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27
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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28
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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29
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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30
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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31
sprawled
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| v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的过去式和过去分词)；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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32
stupor
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| v.昏迷；不省人事 | |
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33
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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34
warfare
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| n.战争(状态)；斗争；冲突 | |
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