On the frontier : $b or, Scenes in the WestPearson, C. H. (Charles Henry)
General
On the frontier : $b or, Scenes in the West
Pearson, C. H. (Charles Henry)
Frontier and pioneer life -- United States -- Juvenile fiction; Sunday school literature
Some years before, the sacredness of the Sabbath was openly violated
by a brisk trade in fish. The hundreds of boatmen, sailors, and their
friends, engaged in this desecration, were so potent in influence, that
nobody thought of risking interference. Deacon P., though a man of
peace, was also a man of moral courage. He determined to put a stop to
the iniquity. His friends warned him that his life would be endangered;
but, at first alone, and afterward with a brother deacon, he would take
a walk along the wharves of a Sunday morning to ascertain who broke the
laws by traffic on that day. Men swore at him like fiends, fired his
dwelling at several different times, and at last "bound themselves with
an oath" to kill him. Yet they feared his presence, and at his approach
stores would be deserted of customers, and closed with great celerity.
This species of Sabbath-breaking was at length broken up, after various
hairbreadth escapes on the part of Deacon P. and his compatriot, the
authorities being shamed into action by their fearless zeal.
The brutal drunkenness of the sailors, and the degradation and
suffering of their families, with which Deacon P. was in this
enterprise brought into contact, opened his eyes to the evils of the
liquor traffic; and turning over his Sabbath reform to the legal
authorities, he became known as a temperance advocate. This also
brought him enemies, sometimes changing even friends into foes.
Distiller Graff was among the latter, from a warm friend becoming
bitterly alienated. In vain did the grieved deacon strive to conciliate
by explanation and personal kindness. Even the trifling civility of a
bow was rudely unnoticed by Mr. Graff.
Deacon P. entered the distillery of his old friend. For the first time
for years its proprietor looked up with a nod and smile of recognition.
It was evident something unusual had softened his heart.
"I have called," said the deacon, "to ask if you can tell me who sent
some wood and candles to my house to-day?"
"Yes, sir, I sent them."
"You are very kind; but pray tell me how you came to do so?"
"But first, let me inquire if you really needed them?"
"Oh, I can not express to you how much!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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