“All that day Bancroft remained at home with his wife, renewing his assurances of reformation, and laying his plans for the future.  I saw all this, and began to fear lest Joe would really get freed from the toils we had, through the rum-sellers, thrown around him—­toils, that I had felt, sure would soon cause him to fall headlong down amongst us.  I, of course, suggested nothing to him then; for it would have been of little use.  Towards night, his wife proposed that he should sign the pledge.  I was at his ear in a moment—­

“‘That would be too degrading!’ I whispered.  ’You have not got quite so low as that yet.’

“‘No, Sarah, I do not wish to sign the pledge,’ he at once replied.

“‘Why not, dear?’

“’Because, I have always despised this way of binding oneself down by a written contract, not to do a thing.  It is unmanly.  My resolution is sufficient.  If I say that I will never drink another drop, why I won’t.  But if I were to bind myself by a pledge not to touch liquor again, I should, never feel a moment’s peace, until I had broken it.’

“These objections I readily infused into his mind, and he at once adopted them as his own.  I had power to do so, because I now perceived that his love of drink was so strong, that he did not wish to cut off all chance of ever tasting it again.  He, therefore, wanted specious reasons for not signing the pledge, and with these I promptly furnished him!

“It was in vain that his wife urged him, even with tears and eager entreaties to take the pledge:  I was too much for her, and made him firm as a rock in his determination not to sign.

“On the next morning, he parted with his wife, strong in his resolution to be a reformed man.  The pleasant thrill of her parting kiss, the first he had received for more than a year, lingered in his memory and encouraged him to abide by his promise.  He passed his accustomed places of resort for liquor, on his way to business, but without the first desire to enter.  I noted all this, and kept myself busy about him to detect a moment of weakness.  Our friend Graves advertised his ‘Sub-Treasury’ on that morning.  I calculated largely on the novelty of the idea to win him off.  But, somehow or other, he did not see it.  Another young man, one of his companions, did, however: 

“‘Have you tried Graves’ new drink, yet?’ he asked of him about eleven o’clock, while he was under the influence of a pretty strong thirst.

“‘No, what is it?’ he replied, with a feeling of lively interest.

“‘Sub-Treasury,’ replied his friend.

“’Sub-Treasury!  That must be something new!  I wonder what it can be?’

“Into this feeling of interest in knowing what the new drink could be, I infused a strong desire to taste it.

“‘Suppose we go and try some,’ suggested his friend.

“‘There’ll not be the least danger,’ I whispered in his ear.  ’You can try it, and refrain from drinking to excess.  The evil has been your drinking too much.  There is no harm in moderate drinking.  This decided him, and I retired.  I knew, if he tasted, that he was gone.’