A repast was soon at hand, and when it was over the lady said,

“You are from Boston, then?”

“Yes,” I replied; “and, having heard considerable respecting this place, have come hither to satisfy myself whether or not any good would be likely to result from a temperance lecture here.”

“Temperance lecture!” she exclaimed, as she grasped my hand.  “Do, sir, for Heaven’s sake, do something, do anything you possibly can, to stay the ravages of the rum fiend in this place!”

She would have said more, but she could not.  The fountains of her heart seemed breaking, and a flood of tears flowed from her eyes.  The daughter buried her face in her hands, and the sighs that arose from both mother and child told me that something had been said that deeply affected them.

Tommy at this moment came in, happy and joyous; but, as soon as he saw his mother and sister weeping, his whole appearance changed.  He approached his mother, and, looking up in her face, said, “Don’t cry, mother.  Jenny will be better soon, and Tommy will work and make you and her happy.  Don’t cry, mother!”

The child’s simple entreaty brought more copiously the tears to the mourner’s eyes, and some time elapsed before they became in the least degree comforted.

“You will excuse me, sir,” said she, “I know you will, for my grief; but, O, if temperance had been here ten years ago, we should have been so happy!”

“Yes,” said the boy; “then father would not have died a drunkard!”

The surmises I had entertained as to the cause of this sorrow were now confirmed; and, at my request, she told me her story, with a hope that it might prove a warning to others.

“You must know, sir, that when we came here to live we were just married.  Alfred, my husband, was a good mechanic, industrious, frugal and kind-hearted.  He had by his labor and economy accumulated a small amount, enough to purchase an estate consisting of a house, shop and farm.  He had many and good customers, and our prospects were very fair.  We attended church regularly, for we thought that, after enjoying the bounties of a beneficent Ruler all of six days, it was our duty, as well as privilege, to devote the seventh to His praise.

“Years passed by, when one morning Jenny, who was then about seven years old, came running in, and told me that a new store had been opened; that the man had nothing but two or three little kegs, and a few bottles and tumblers.  I went out, and found it as she had stated.  There was the man; there was his store; there were his kegs, bottles and tumblers.

“The next day some changes were made; a few signs were seen, and the quiet villagers gazed in wonder, if not admiration, at the inscriptions, ‘Rum,’ ‘Gin,’ ‘Brandies,’ ‘Wines and Cigars.’  Old men shook their heads, and looked wise.  Old women peered from beneath their specs, and gave vent to many predictions.  Children asked what the words meant.