The way to Mr. Jones’ house was past Arnold’s grogshop, and as Braddock drew nearer and nearer to his accustomed haunt, he felt a desire, growing stronger and stronger every moment, to enter and join his old associates over a glass of liquor.  To this desire, he opposed every rational objection that he could find.  He brought up before his mind his suffering wife and neglected children, and thought of his duty to them.  He remembered that it was drink, and drink alone, that had been the cause of his downfall.  But with all these auxiliaries to aid him in keeping his resolution, it seemed weak when opposed to desires, which long continued indulgence had rendered inordinate.  Onward he went with a steady pace, fortifying his mind all the while with arguments against drinking, and yet just ready at every moment to yield the contest he was waging against habit and desire.  At last the grog-shop was in sight, and in a few minutes he was almost at the door.

“Hurrah!  Here’s Jim Braddock, bright and early!” cried one of his old cronies, from among two or three who were standing in front of the shop.

“So the cold-water-men havn’t got you yet!” broke in another.  “I thought Jim Braddock was made of better stuff.”

“Old birds aint caught with chaff!” added a third.

“Come!  Hallo!  Where are you off to in such a hurry, with your tools on your back?” quickly cried the first speaker, seeing that Braddock was going by without showing any disposition to stop.

“I’ve got a job to do that’s in a hurry,” replied Braddock, pausing—­“and have no time to stop.  And besides, I’ve sworn off.”

“Sworn off!  Ha! ha!  Have you taken the pledge?”

“No, I have not.  I’m not going to bind myself down not to drink any thing.  I’ll be a free man.  But I won’t touch another drop, see if I do.”

“O yes—­we’ll see.  How long do you expect to keep sober?”

“Always.”

“You’ll be drunk by night.”

“Why do you say so?”

“I say so—­that’s all; and I know so.”

“But why do you say so?  Come, tell me that.”

“O, I’ve seen too many swear off in my time—­and I’ve tried it too often myself.  It’s no use.  Not over one in a hundred ever sticks to it; and I’m sure, Jim Braddock’s not that exception.”

“There are said to be a hundred reformed men in this town now.  I am sure, I know a dozen,” Braddock replied.

“O yes.  But they’ve signed the pledge.”

“Nonsense!  I don’t believe a man can keep sober any the better by signing the pledge, than by resolving never again to drink a drop.”

“Facts are stubborn things, you know.  But come, Jim, as you havn’t signed the pledge, you might as well come in and take a glass now, for you’ll do it before night, take my word for it.”

It was a fact, that Braddock began really to debate the question with himself, whether he should or not go in and take a single glass, when he became suddenly conscious of his danger, turned away, and hurried on, followed by the loud, jeering laugh of his old boon companions.