Locomotive Firemens Magazine V 06 (1882)

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m f itU WlVEfis^' Firemen’s Magazine.7" feir, H ^ (eJ>Sb dS'l? V k VOL. VI. JANUARY, 1882. NO. 1. Written Expressly for Firemen’s Magazine. HOW THE OLD YEAR DIED. BY MALCOM MEREDITH. “No pitying heart may vainly turn aside In ways of charity ; no soul so dead But may awaken strong and glorified If something good be said.” —James W. Riley . “Charley,” said Tom Allen to his friend and partner, “I think when I see that long face you put on occasionally, you ought to have been a preacher.” “ There may be ‘ more truth than poetry ’ in your remark, Tom,” was the quiet reply. Tom Allen was one of those jolly, kind- hearted, irrepressible fellows, bubbling over with health and life, and never — that is as he said— “hardly ever,” wore a long face. These men were lawyers and partners, and entertained for each other the firmest friendship. They had met each other at law school, where they had become classmates, room- mates, and, when they left, partners. They had come from the city where they practiced to the great city to spend the holi- days. This had been their custom from their first acquaintance at law school. This was their only real time of rest during the year. It was the last night of the old year, and they had visited many places where crowds were assembled to study human nature under its varied phases. Charles Raymond was not a member of any temperance organization, though he was a total abstainer from the use of intoxicating beverages. It had not always been so with him, but he thought he saw danger ahead, and wisely concluded that the safest course would be to let it alone. He knew that his will was strong, but he bad seen men with just as strong wills as bis, ruined by its use, men who had laughed to ridicule the warnings of friends, and had been buried beneath the quicksands of intemperance. Occasionally, Raymond had found it necessary to say to those who urged him to drink, “ I do not believe a man who habitually uses liquor is a fit person to discharge an important trust. I have seen and known of too many mis- takes made by men under this influence while attempting to discharge some trust that had been reposed in them. To faithfully discharge trusts of importance requires a clear brain. Liquor has no influence over me, nor do I purpose it shall. It is something I do not want, nor need, and if used will cause a needless expenditure of money. You often hear a man say, 1 He was a whole-souled fellow, generous to a fault ; or, he was a fine phy- sician, a talented lawyer, a successful business man, &c., but whisky ruined him.’ Now, I do not intend to put any one to the trouble of pronouncing any such eulogy over me.” It was 11 o’clock, and they had just returned to their room. “ You perhaps wonder,” said Raymond, “ why my ‘ long face,’ as you term it, to- night. Well, I will tell you. I have seen played upon the stage of real life to-night the beginning of some of the saddest trage- dies of human life ; and, I have seen other acts which are nearer the end. But infin- itely sadder are the acts I cannot see. Those are the acts which are left to the mothers, wives and sisters. The piece that is being played is the Tragedy of Intemperance. It has many, very many acts.” “Pshaw! Charley, you are always look- ing through the glasses of tragedy. Why, old boy, all I saw to-night was comedy ; and many a hearty laugh I’ll have when memory recalls to-night. The jokes those fellows told would have upset the gravity of the most sober-faced judge that ever sat upon the bench ; and those fellows never would have thought of such ridiculous stories without something to liven them up.” “Yes, there is a thread of comedy to some of the actors, and the audience ; but to other actors — and the great majority of them — there is no element of comedy. It is a sad, dreary, heart-breaking tragedy ; and, all in all, there is no compensation Digitized by v^ooQle