The constant and almost daily drain of small change for liquor, had nearly exhausted all the money in the house long before the winter was over.  The accommodating landlord seemed to discover, as by instinct, this condition of things, and encouraged Warburton to run up a score.  He well knew that at any time it was easy to get the payment out of a man who had a good farm, well stocked.  Not so much for the money to be made at the business, as for the purpose of attracting more persons to his tavern, the landlord of the “White Hall” kept a small store.  At this store, Warburton, long before the winter was over, had also made a pretty large bill.  As if to atone for his unkindness to, and neglect of his family, he would rarely return from his voluntary visits at the tavern, without bringing home something.  A few pounds of sugar to-day, some cheese or fish to-morrow, or some dried fruit on the day after.  The excuse, that such and such a thing was wanted, was often made to get away to the public house, and thus scarcely a day passed without a dollar or two being entered against him on the books of the smiling landlord.

When the spring opened, and his bill was made out, much to his surprise, he found his account to be one hundred and fifty dollars!  After some two or three weeks’ pondering on the matter, during which time he was cross and sulky at home, two fine cows and one of his best horses were quietly transferred from his pasture to the more capacious one of the landlord of the “White Hall;” and thus his account was squared with Boniface.

The discouragement consequent upon such a reduction of his stock, tended to make him less industrious and less pleasant.  He was constantly grumbling about his expensive family, and could not afford to send his two oldest children to a school just opened in the neighbourhood, although the master offered to take them both for five dollars a quarter.  His wife, he said, could teach them at home.  And in this she was not neglectful, as far as her time allowed.

How rarely does the drunkard, when once fairly started, stop in his downward course!  How similar is the history of each one!  Neglect of business—­neglect of family—­confirmed idleness—­abuse of family—­waste of property—­and finally, abject poverty.

In less than three years from the day on which he breathed the air again as a free man—­free, through the untiring assiduity of his neglected but faithful wife, he struck her to the ground, and unregardful of all the ties of nature, left her alone with her children, in the wilds of the west, after having made over house and farm to the land lord of the “White Hall,” for fifty dollars and his bill at the bar.

Day after day did his poor wife wait and look for him to return, until even hope failed, and she at last, with a heavy heart, commenced the task of recalling her own energies in aid of the little ones around her.

But she soon found her condition to be far worse than she had imagined.  But a few days passed after her husband had left her before the hard-hearted tavern-keeper came, and removed everything but the house in which she lived from off the place, and then gave her notice that she must also remove, and in three weeks, as he had rented the farm to a man who wished to take immediate possession.