The funeral services of George Doughty1 were as largely attended as the great temperance meeting had been, and the attendants admitted—although the admission was not, logically, of particular force—that they received the worth of their money. The pall-bearers, twelve in number, were all young men who had been in the habit of drinking, but who had signed the pledge, some of them having appended signatures to special pledges privately2 prepared on the evening before the service. The funeral anthem3 was as doleful as the most sincere mourner could have wished, the music having been composed especially for the occasion by the chorister of Mr. Wedgewell’s church. As for the sermon, it was universally voted the most powerful effort that Parson Wedgewell had ever made. Day and night had the good man striven with Doughty’s parting injunction, determined4 to transmit the exact spirit of it, but horrified5 at its verbal[84] form. At last he honestly made George’s own words the basis of his whole sermon; his method being, first, to show what would have been naturally the last words of a young man of good birth and Christian6 breeding, and then presenting George’s moral legacy7 by way of contrast. To point the moral without offending Squire8 Tomple’s pride, and without inflicting9 useless pain upon the Squire’s sufficiently10 wounded heart, was no easy task; but the parson was not lacking in tact11 and tenderness, so he succeeded in making of his sermon an appeal so powerful and all-applicable that none of the hearers found themselves at liberty to search out those to whom the sermon might seem personally addressed.
Among the hearers was Mr. Crupp, and no one seemed more deeply interested and affected12. He followed the funeral cortege to the cemetery13; but, arrived there, he halted at the gate, instead of following the example of the multitude by crowding as closely as possible to the grave. The final services were no sooner concluded, however, than the object of Mr. Crupp’s unusual conduct became apparent to one person after another, the disclosure being made to people in the order of their earthly[85] possessions. The parson was shocked at learning that Mr. Crupp was importuning14 every man of means to take stock in a woolen15 mill, to be established at Barton; but a whispered word or two from Crupp caused the parson to abate16 his displeasure, and finally to stand near Crupp’s side and express his own hearty17 approbation18 of the enterprise proposed. Then Mr. Crupp whispered a few words to Squire Tomple, and the Squire subscribed19 a hundred shares at ten dollars each, information of which act was disseminated20 among business men and well-to-do farmers by Parson Wedgewell with an alacrity21 which, had modern business ideas prevailed at Barton, would have laid the parson open to a suspicion of having accepted a few shares, to be paid for by his own influence. Then Deacon Jones subscribed twenty shares, and Judge Macdonald, Fred’s father, promised to take fifty; Crupp’s name already stood at the head of the list for a hundred. No stock-company had ever been organized at Barton before, and the citizens had always manifested a laudable reluctance22 to allow other people to handle their money; but this case seemed an exception to all others; confidence in the enterprise was so powerfully[86] expressed, alike by the mercantile community, the bar, the church, and the unregenerate (the last-named class being represented by the ex-vender of liquors), that people who had any money made haste to participate in what seemed to them a race for wealth with the odds23 in everybody’s favor. Crupp neglected no one; he scorned no subscription24 on account of its smallness; before he left the cemetery gate nearly half the requisite25 capital had been pledged, and before he slept that night he found it necessary to accept rather more than the twenty thousand dollars which, it had been decided26 two days before, would be needed. Several days later a board of directors was elected; two or three of the directors informally offered the superintendency of the mill to Fred Macdonald, on condition that he would pledge himself to abstain27 from the use of intoxicating28 beverage29 while he held the position, and then Fred was elected superintendent30 in regular form and by unanimous vote of the board of directors.
Great was the excitement in Barton and the tributary31 country when it was announced that the mill needed no more money, and that, consequently, no more stock would be issued. In that mysterious[87] way in which such things always happen, the secret escaped, and encountered every one, that his new position would prevent Fred Macdonald from drinking; non-stockholders had then the additional grievance32 that they had been deprived of taking any part in an enterprise for the good of a fellow-man, and all because the rich men of the village saw money in it. None of these injured ones dared to express their minds on this subject to Squire Tomple, to whom so many of them owed money, or to Judge Macdonald, who, in his family pride, would have laid himself liable to action by the grand jury, had any one suggested that his oldest son had ever been in any danger of becoming a drunkard. But to Mr. Crupp they did not hesitate to speak freely; Crupp owned no mortgages, no total abstainers owed him money; besides, he not only was not a church member, but he had been in that most infernal of all callings, rum-selling. So it came to pass that when one day Crupp went into Deacon Jones’s store for a dollar’s worth of sugar, and was awaiting his turn among a large crowd of customers, Father Baguss constituted himself spokesman for the aggrieved33 faction34, and said,
[88]
“It ’pears to me, Mr. Crupp, as if reformin’ was a payin’ business.”
Crupp being human, was not saintly, so he flushed angrily, and replied,
“It ought to be, if the religion you’re so fond of is worth a row of pins; but I don’t know what you’re driving at.”
“Oh! of course you don’t know,” said Father Baguss; “but everybody else does. You don’t expect to make any money out of that woolen mill, do you?”
“Yes I do, too,” answered Crupp quickly. “I’ll make every cent I can out of it.”
“Just so,” said Father Baguss, consoling himself with a bite of tobacco; “an’ them that’s borne the burden and heat of the day can plod35 along and not make a cent ’xcept by the hardest knocks. I’ve been one of the Sons of Temperance ever since I was converted, an’ that’s nigh onto forty year; I don’t see why I don’t get my sheer of the good things of this world.”
“If you mean,” said Crupp, with incomparable deliberation, “that my taking stock in the mill is a reward to me for dropping the liquor business, you’re mightily36 mistaken. I’d have taken it all the[89] same if anybody had put me up to it when I was in the liquor business.”
“Yes,” sighed Father Baguss, “like enough you would; as the Bible says, ‘The children of this world are wiser in their generation than the children of light.’ I can’t help a-gettin’ mad, though, to think it has to be so.”
Two or three unsuccessful farmers lounging about the stove sighed sympathetically, but Crupp indulged in a sarcastic37 smile, and remarked,
“I always supposed it was because the children of light had got their treasure laid up in heaven, and were above such worldly notions.”
The late sympathizers of Father Baguss saw the joke, and laughed with unkind energy, upon which the good old man straightened himself and exclaimed,
“The children of the kingdom have to earn their daily bread, I reckon; manna don’t fall nowadays like it used to do for the chosen people.”
“Exactly,” said Crupp, “and them that ain’t chosen people don’t pick up their dinners without working for them either, without getting into jail for it. But, say! I didn’t come in here to make fun of you, Father Baguss. If you want some of that[90] mill stock so bad, I’ll sell you some of mine—that is, if you’ll go into temperance with all your might.”
The old man seemed struck dumb for a moment but when he found his tongue, he made that useful member make up for lost time. “Go into temperance!” he shouted. “Did anybody ever hear the like of that? I that’s been a “Son” more’n half my life; that’s spent a hundred dollars—yes, more—in yearly dues; that’s been to every temperance meetin’ that’s ever been held in town, even when I’ve had rheumatiz so bad I could hardly crawl; that kept the pledge even when I was out in the Black Hawk38 War, where the doctors themselves said that I ort to have drank; that’s plead with drinkers, and been scoffed39 an’ reviled40 like my blessed Master for my pains; that’s voted for the Maine Liquor Law; that’s been dead agin lettin’ Miles Dalling into the church because he brews41 beer for his own family drinkin’, though he’s a good enough man every other way, as fur as I can see; I that went to see every member of our church, an’ begged an’ implored42 ’em not to sell our old meetin’-house to the feller that’s since turned it into a groggery; I to be told by a feller like you, that’s got the guilt43 of [91]uncounted drunkards on your soul——”
Crupp, with a very white face, advanced a step or two toward the old man; but the participator in the Black Hawk War was not to be frightened, especially when he was so excited as he was now; so he roared,
“Come on! come on! perhaps you want my blood on your soul, with all the others; but just let me tell you, it isn’t easy to get!”
Crupp recovered himself and replied, “Father Baguss, all that you’ve done is very well in its way, but it wasn’t going into temperance. You’ve been a first-rate talker, I know, but talk isn’t cider. Why, there’s been lots of men in my store after listenin’ to one of your strong temperance speeches, and laughed about what they’ve heard. I’ve told them they ought to be ashamed of themselves—don’t shake your head—I have, and all they’d say would be, ‘Talk don’t cost anything, Crupp.’ But if you’d followed up your tongue with your brains, and most of all your pocket, not one of them chaps would have opened his head about you.”
“Money!” exclaimed the old man; “didn’t I tell you that division dues alone had cost me more’n a hundred dollars; not to speak of subscriptions44 to public meetin’s?”
[92]
“And every cent that didn’t go to pay ‘division’ expenses, that is—for keeping a lodge-room in shape for you to meet in, and such things—went to pay for more talk. Did you Sons of Temperance ever buy a man away from his whisky? It might have been done—done cheap too—in almost any week since I’ve been in Barton, by helping45 down-hearted men along. Did you ever do it yourself?”
Father Baguss was nonplussed46 for a moment, noting which a bystander, also a Son of Temperance, came valiantly47 to the rescue of his order, by exclaiming,
“Tongues was made to use, and the better the cause, the more it needs to be talked about.”
“There’s no getting away from that,” said Crupp. “Talk’s all right in its place; but when anybody’s sick in your family, you don’t hire somebody to come in and talk him well, do you?”
The auxiliary48 replied by pressing perceptibly closer to the bale of blankets against which he had been leaning, and Crupp was enabled to concentrate his attention upon Father Baguss. But the old soldier had in his military days unconsciously acquired a tactical idea or two which were frequently applicable in real life. One of them was that of[93] flanking, and he straightway attempted it by exclaiming,
“I’d use money quick enough on drunkards, if I saw anybody fit to use it on,” said he; “it would do my old soul good to find a drinking man that I could be sure money would save. But they’re a shiftless, worthless pack of shotes, all that I see of ’em. There wuz a young fellow—Lije Mason his name was—that I once thought seriously of doin’ somethin’ fur; but he went an’ signed the pledge, an’ got along all right by himself.”
“But there’s your own neighbors, old Tappelmine and his family—they all drink; what have you done for ’em?” asked Crupp.
“A lot of Kentucky poor white trash!” exclaimed Father Baguss. “What could anybody do for ’em? Besides, they do for ’emselves; they’ve stole hams out of my smoke-house more’n once, an’ they know I know it, too.”
“Poor white trash is sometimes converted in church, isn’t it?” asked Mr. Crupp; “and what’s to keep poor white trash from stopping drinking? what but a good, honest, religious, rum-hating neighbor that looks at ’em so savagely49 and lets ’em alone so hard that they’d take pains to get drunk, just to[94] worry him? I know how you feel toward them; I saw it once: one Sunday I passed you on the road just opposite their place; you was in your wagon51 takin’ your folks to church, and I—well, I was out trying to shoot a wild turkey, which I mightn’t have been on a Sunday. They were all laughin’ and cuttin’ up in the house—it’s seldom enough such folks get anything to laugh about—and I could just see you groan52, and your face was as black as a thunder cloud, and as savage50 as an oak knot soaked in vinegar. The old man came out just then for an armful of wood, and nodded at you pleasant enough; but that face of yours was too much for him, and pretty soon he looked as if he’d have liked to throw a chunk53 of wood at your head. I’d have done it, if I’d been him. The old man was awfully54 drunk when I came back that way, two or three hours later. That was a pretty day’s work for a Son of Temperance, wasn’t it—and Sunday, too?”
The casing to Father Baguss’s conscience was not as thick as that to his brain, and he was silent; perhaps the prospect55 of getting some mill stock aided the good work in his heart.
Crupp continued: “I’m a ‘Son’ myself, now, and I know what a man agrees to when he joins a division.[95] If you think you’ve lived up to it—you and the other members of the Barton Division—I suppose you’ve a right to your opinion; but if my ideas, picked up on both sides of the fence, are worth anything to you, they amount to just this: the Sons of Temperance in this town haven’t done anything but help each other not to get back into bad ways again, and to give a welcomin’ hand to anybody that’s strong enough in himself to come into the division with you; and that isn’t the spirit of the order.”
Crupp got his sugar, and no one pressed him to stay longer; but, as he slowly departed, as became a soldier who was not retreating but only changing his base, Father Baguss followed him, touched his sleeve as soon as he found himself outside the store door, and said,
“Say, Crupp, I’ll try to do something for Tappelmine, though I don’t know yet what it’ll be, an’ I don’t care if you do let me have about five sheers of that mill stock; I s’pose you won’t want more than you paid for it?”
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1
doughty
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| adj.勇猛的，坚强的 | |
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privately
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| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
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anthem
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| n.圣歌，赞美诗，颂歌 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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6
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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7
legacy
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| n.遗产，遗赠；先人(或过去)留下的东西 | |
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8
squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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9
inflicting
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的现在分词 ) | |
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10
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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11
tact
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| n.机敏，圆滑，得体 | |
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12
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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13
cemetery
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| n.坟墓，墓地，坟场 | |
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14
importuning
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| v.纠缠，向（某人）不断要求( importune的现在分词 )；（妓女）拉（客） | |
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15
woolen
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| adj.羊毛(制)的；毛纺的 | |
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16
abate
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| vi.(风势，疼痛等)减弱，减轻，减退 | |
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17
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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approbation
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| n.称赞；认可 | |
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19
subscribed
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| v.捐助( subscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；签署，题词；订阅；同意 | |
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20
disseminated
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| 散布，传播( disseminate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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21
alacrity
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| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
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22
reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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23
odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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subscription
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| n.预订，预订费，亲笔签名，调配法，下标（处方） | |
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25
requisite
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| adj.需要的，必不可少的；n.必需品 | |
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26
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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abstain
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| v.自制，戒绝，弃权，避免 | |
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intoxicating
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| a. 醉人的,使人兴奋的 | |
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29
beverage
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| n.(水，酒等之外的)饮料 | |
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30
superintendent
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| n.监督人，主管，总监；(英国)警务长 | |
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31
tributary
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| n.支流；纳贡国；adj.附庸的；辅助的；支流的 | |
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32
grievance
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| n.怨愤，气恼，委屈 | |
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33
aggrieved
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| adj.愤愤不平的，受委屈的；悲痛的；（在合法权利方面）受侵害的v.令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式)；令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式和过去分词) | |
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34
faction
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| n.宗派，小集团；派别；派系斗争 | |
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plod
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| v.沉重缓慢地走，孜孜地工作 | |
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mightily
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| ad.强烈地；非常地 | |
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sarcastic
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| adj.讥讽的，讽刺的，嘲弄的 | |
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38
hawk
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| n.鹰，骗子；鹰派成员 | |
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39
scoffed
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| 嘲笑，嘲弄( scoff的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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40
reviled
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| v.辱骂，痛斥( revile的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41
brews
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| n.（尤指某地酿造的）啤酒( brew的名词复数 )；酿造物的种类；（茶）一次的冲泡量；（不同思想、环境、事件的）交融v.调制( brew的第三人称单数 )；酝酿；沏（茶）；煮（咖啡） | |
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42
implored
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| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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43
guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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44
subscriptions
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| n.（报刊等的）订阅费( subscription的名词复数 )；捐款；（俱乐部的）会员费；捐助 | |
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45
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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46
nonplussed
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| adj.不知所措的，陷于窘境的v.使迷惑( nonplus的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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47
valiantly
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| adv.勇敢地，英勇地；雄赳赳 | |
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48
auxiliary
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| adj.辅助的，备用的 | |
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49
savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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50
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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51
wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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52
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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53
chunk
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| n.厚片，大块，相当大的部分（数量） | |
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54
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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55
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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