John Thompson—His Dream.

Auckland Star, Volume VII, Issue 1971, 3 June 1876, Page 8 (Supplement)

John Thompson—His Dream.

A TEMPEBANCE STOBY.

Tt was a drunken dream—yet a singular one. When we say it was a drunken dream, we wish to insinuate that John Thompson was not a very respectable man. On the contrary, ho was a very wreck, rum-soaKed, seorehed, prematuroly withered. By his lamentable failure to control his appetite for gin ho had undermined his constitution, worn out his poor, parient, wife, and inspired his four little girls with a terrible idea of his utter cruelty. Ten years before Mr. Thompson dreamed this droara. When he lirst married the bright, buoyant down East girl who lived with him, if anybody had warned John that there was always danger in even moderate drinking, ho would have felt insulted and would probably have inquired if they thought ho was a brute who could not control his appetite, and yet, a fov years later, it was no uncommon thing too see John standing, with bleared eyes and shameful face beforo Judge Lawtoa, while functionary infleted tho customary 37,30. But the details of a career like John Tompson's it is not necessary to rehearse ; they are to common. Let us tell about his dream, which he dreamed on New Year's night two years ago. Mr. Thompson, on that particular night, had spent his evening in varied pleasures. He was au excellent workman, and on that had received a sum of money for ■work done since his last ' spree,' and had slipped out by the back door of the building where he was employed, because he knew that his thinly-clad wife was waiting near tho front dor to see if she could get a litte money of him to buy some flannel for the children. No doubt John felt, as he looked, like a cur, when he did this deed, find no wonder he projected himself with groat velocity into the nearest grog shop, where a bland smile greeted him, and joured down two heavy doses in quick succession, Then he felt a little better.

' Daiva a woman,' he said to the bartender, ' what dogs a man's footsteps.'

' I should say so,' answered the barender, ' why dont you make the old woman work, as you do P T •' She's a lazy one,' said John, and pouring down another drink, which seemed as though it would have choked him—as it ought ty have clone —and this was the

lowest point John Thompson ever reached > and this was low enough. Even the shorr cropped rum-sellei', desperato villian as ho probably was, felt a kx:x contempt for John, when he spoke tixad of'-ig poor hardworking wife, and took ittble pains to concealit, and Mr. Thompson was not sufficiently intoxicated not to notice this, and as a voice within him was expressing toward him similar feelings, something like a burning flush, not altogether born of alcohol, carno over his pimply face, and he left tho shop abruptly, with ono desire uppermost in his mmd —to lose himself in the oblivion of whisky as quickly as possible. Bat, as ho walked to the next saloon, something kept dinging in his ears incessantly, words to this effect: 'Liaalandorer, coward, knave ! her fingers are worn with weary toil; her eyes are dim with midnight sewing; her brain is woary with unvarying anxiety, and now she is standing in the cold, waiting for you.' But John, though he could not disputo the truth of these statements, and did not try to, merely said, within himself, ' Let her wait; darn the woman what dogs a man's footsteps, she ought to starve.' Nevertheless, in spite of this defiant attitude toward his own conscience, there was, on Mr. Thompson's part, a more livoly desire to roach the point of drunken unconsciousness than he had ever known before. Ho poured down tho drink with eager rapidity, treated all that desired to be treated (and they were many), and being utterly reckless about tho change. Before 9 o'clock that night, tho voice of conscience might have roared from tho mouth of a tenpounder, and John, so far from boing moved or disturbed, would have returned a bland and tender smile. But tho voico was quite silent. At the particular hour wo mention indeed, Mr. Thompson was engaged in a sport peculiarly absorbing to a gentleman in his condition. Ho WB3 in a shooting gallery and saloon combined, where they were shooting for turkeys, and Mr. Thompson's shots had created intense amusement by their grotesque inaccuracy, the bullets apparontly describing a transcendental curve of which it would have puzzled Descartos to determine tho locus. So very much pleased, indeed, were the company, that with great fertility of invention, they bethought themselves of a practical joke. • You know,' said tho proprietor to his boy, ' the sick turkey that died in the coop yesterday ?' ' Well,' said the boy.

'Well, 1 said tho proprietor, 'stuff it with straw and lot John take it borne to his family, which, inal 1 probability, haven't had one for some time'

So they informed John when the defunct bird was stuffed, that ho had won a turkey, which ho might have-after treating them, and having treated them with the last money he had, John departed with his prize, reflecting, as lie staggered along, that tho present of a turkey would make it 'all right' with the old woman—the ' old woman' who was lying on the meagre straw bed, thinking what in the world she should do—for the grocory bill was running up, the coal 'most gone and not paid for, the children's feet were on the ground, and ' John was drunk again.'

Yes—drunk for the last time ; for, as tho clock struck 12, or shortly before, John dreamed a dream.

It was, perhaps, 11 o'clock when Mr. T. cast himself upon his bed in tho attic, which, like all the rest of his houso, was of a primitive kind, being a tick stuffed with 50 cents worth of rye straw—wholesonic, indeed, but very democratic —and, for a while, he know nothing, snoring heavily as his vitals iabored under tho stimulants he had taken, but after sorno time strange shapes seemed to flit before him ; he felt cold ; a queer consciousness of being in some strange place took possession of him, and a hazy light showed him strange siguts. I3ig icicles jumped round his legs ; snow men walked solemnly past him, looking at him with their wocden eyes, arid pointing at him with their broomstick arms; he heard the jingleof unearthly sleigh bells and the scraping of unearthly snow shovels as the spectral side-walks were being cleared oft"; then, suddenly, a great ring of aurora borealis blazed up with purple light, and John saw. seated on a glittering throne of ice, old King Winter himself, with heavy beard and snowy garments, with frigid face and steaming breath, while around him stood myriads of his courtiers, armed with long, sharp icicles for spears. Beside tho iceking's throne stood, leaning upon a staff", a worn and hoary man, bent nearly double, with" wrinkled face of infinite severity, who gazed on John, while on tnc other side stood a fair and rosy boy with a little scepter in his hand, who also looked on John. ' This, 1 said John, 'is a sight well worth seeing.' But the old Winter King cried out with awful sternness,- ' Silence, sir !' and a dozen of his courtiers pointed their icicle spears at John's heart, and a shivering ssized him and a quaking, so that ho was glad to hold his tongue. Then, when John had ceased to sliiver so violently, the Winter King remarked : ' John Tompson.'

' That is my name,' said John. ' I desire to introduce you,' continued the Winter King, to a personal knowledgo of the Old Year, whom in a general way, you have known for very near twelve months.'

' And I,' said Old Year, in a wheezy, broken voice, yet with awful sfcenines, ' I, am sorry to say that 1 have known you Mr. Thompson, and i hope I have seen you under unfavorable circumstances ; 1 am prejudiced against you; I trust I. do

not utter the exact truth when I Bay that you are a contemptible man.' 1 Such language,' began John—but the Winter King roared ' Silence/ and the icicle spears pointed towards him with such awful vengaence, that he was immediately silenced and began to shiver.

' I have look upon your course with extreme regret and displeasure,' resumed the Old Year; ' you have not improved me as you ought to have done. You have wasted my precious moments, and I have desired to warn you. At your present rate ofjtravel to perdition you'will not have many more years to waste and insult; and your children will curse your memory.' John was visibly moved at this allusion to his children, and ke ventured to remark:

' I suppose you refer to my unfortunate weakness for drinking.' 'I do,' said the Old Year. ' Well,' said John 'if you have known me for almost a year, as you say you have, you must be aware of the number of good resolutions I have made; you must know porfeetly well that 1 made up my mind a dozen times to swear off—that the thing has got such a hold on me that I can't give it up ; there is no use in trying.'

' It's because you're a dastardly coward, roared tho Old Year in a voice of thunder; 'it's because you want to undo tho awful evil of a dozen years in a moment, without trouble, without pain. It's because you can't boar tho touch of the caustic that must bum away your fault. Miserable coward 1 Let your poor, suffering wife fill a premature grave, let your four little girls go to pedition, but don't, O don't you boar tho disciplinary throve which might make you once more a man.'

There was a touch of awful sarcasm in the Old Year's voice, and tho Winter King was evidently much ' worked up.' 'He won't bear the necessary pain, won't lie?' said the latter;' he's averse to the cauterizftion, is ho ? Well, he shall bear a little. Ho! ye Artie supernumarerics, touch him with your 243 zero poles, and teach him a little endurance.'

At this command the earta opened with a loud cracking sound, and a battalion of frozen imps jumped forth with wands of concentrated frigidity, and they danced around John Thompson, and their cold breath burned him like hot iron, and they touched him with their wands, and at every touch John shrieked with pain, and thero was no such thing as escape. ' Will you promise never to drink again P said the ice king. ' Will you ?'

' I will, so help me Moses !' cried John Thompson in agony, and immediatly the imps desisted and ranged themselves all around, and John Thompson, looking up, saw that the hands of the big clock over the throne of the ice king were upon the figures of 12. The next moment the first stroke struck and the Old Year trembled and closed his eyes, while two ice men supported him; as the stroke continued, the Old Year was let gradually down bickward, and when the twelfth had struck ho was completely on his back, while the rosy youth who was the New Year, (for JNew Years are always born mature enough to perform their functions) waved his hand in token of his accession, and smiled on John, The next moment there was a tremendous crash, and Mr. T. found himself awake and remarkably sober, while the clock in the city hall tower (which was nlways a little behind) was just strikeing 12.

' Thunder,' said Mr. Thompson, 'what a time I have had!'

Just then he becamo aware that his family below were moving about, and presently a light on the stairs approached his room ; the light was carried by his wife, who was followed by a series of little girls, symmetrically graded as to height. In the hands the oldest of thorn, some nine years old, was borne triumphantly the turkey which John had won.

' I think, John,' said his wife, ' the least you could do when you come home like this, is not to rouse the neighbors. You have been screaming aud shouting for this last ten minutes as though the fiend had got you.'

' And the lioud will get him, won't ho, mamma, ?' cliimod in one of the medium sized daughters,' ' because he's a bad man and won't give you any money.' ' Bat he's going to bo a good papa, now,' said the eldest, 'he's brought home a turkey for Now Tear's.'

At this John's glance rested upon the bird, from whose body, in several places protruded the straw with which it was stuffed, and a dim recollection of the evening's performance came over him, and he turned over on his bed and covered his face with shame.

•Go away, Mary,' he said to his wife, 'Go to bed at once; you'll catch your death of cold. Go to bed, children. I'm all right/

And these having departed, John spent the rest of tho night in making good resolutions, in snatches of fitful sleep, in thinking of his previous career, of his present weakness, of his gloomy future, with an occasional prayer, '0 God, if there be a God.' Answer seemed to come, with unvarying monotony, ' Help yourself ; suffer, and be helped.' When morning came, however, John Tompson was a changed man—changed in that ho recognized something of the difficulty and hardness of his position—in that his heart had been touched—in thai he was resolved to endure something for something to be gained. He made no observations about reform to his wife ; merely said he would try and get her ?ome money soouj but she noticed, with a

queer surprise, that he betrayed a singular curiosity about the household affairs seemed anxious about the coal, the rent, and a variety of things which had troubled' John Tompson very little for some yaars past. He also inquired about the precise date of her birthday, which struck her as a most singular proceeding. He found that this event was about three months distant. Going to his work that morning John soliloquized: ' That is where I have always made my mistake—in not being able to bear, in not counting the cost of reform, in thinking to get up with out pain, in wanting something for nothing. Fool that I was! Now, if it tears my vitals out, I will conquer.'

JSo (withstanding this valiant boast, however, John went to a physician that day and inquired of him whether there was anything that would destroy the appetite for drink. The sum of that gentleman's remarks was this:

' You must cultivate and develop the will power; it will grow if you stimulate it; it will in time balance the objectionable tendency, and if your persevere, yon will conquer; but it will cost you effort— pain!'

'Just what the Old Year said,' thought John ; • the same old story ; well, let the pains come, the sharper the better.'

Oh, when a man makes up his mind to this, the battle is more than naif won.

John resolved to tell no one, as yet, of his new resolution, but on his wife's nest birthday, in three months time, if he had kept the faith, he would toll her, and great would her joy. In the meantime he would so arrange appearances that she should not more then suspect and hope that new and brighter days had come. ******

We will not bore the reader with the details of John Thompson's struggle— his solitary struggle—his bitter struggle —but for him it was a silent, bloodysweat. Having started with the ide i that the 'job' he was about to do would be closely, ho was not dissappointed. For two whole nights he slept not a wink, and only by brief snatches for a week ; his nerves became unstrung; he feared he should drop in a fit; his hands trembled, and his work was imperfectly done, insomuch that his employers reprimanded him severly, solemnly warning him that his drunken habits had all but completed his ruin, never dreaming that his peculiar demeanor and confusion, and tremor were the results of a bitter internal struggle. At the end of three weeks John Thompson, as he was going home one night, stood suddenly still and stamped his foot upon the pavement, and exclaimed aloud, in blank astonishment:

' Three weeks gone and not a drop. The Winter King was right; it was all a matter of pluck—of the bearing of pain.1 Prom that moment John folt that the matter rested with him; that he could conquer the monster. But though he felt that the centre of his enemy was broken and his flanks enveloped, still lie ceased not to pound him with heavy guns of renewed resolution, until rally should be impossible. His nerves soon began to recover from their reactionary prostration, and he began to look forward to his wife's nest birthday, and to prepare for her a little, or rather a great surprise, To some extent, indeed, she was already surprised, iho had noticed, with strange, trembling joy, that not only did her husband's breath not betray the everlasting rum, but that he grew kinder every day. On the 31st anniversary of Mrs. Thompson's birthday, John proceeded to the savings bank and drew therefrom the sum of §75, which he had saved in the three months of his sobriety. With the money he went to various stores and made sundry purchases, in accordance with a list which he had carefully prepared, of articles which were needed in the house. There was a little of almost everything—crockery, tinware half a dozen knives and forks, a black alapaca dress pattern, a clock, somo cotton cloth with and four pairs of juvenile shoes —making his purchases with great quietness and method; and with these all in an express wagon he drove to his house. And when these things were carried in, and the expressman had departed, he said to his amazed wife :,

Mary, this is your birthday, and these are some tbings which you need.' ' John,' she cried, ' dear John, what does this all mean ?' •It means,' said John, 'that things are changed.' ' And you don't drink any morer' ' Don't drink any more,' said John, with solemn echo.

' Don't drink any more,' piped the children, as Mrs. Thompson quietly gave way to her feelings, resting in a dramatic attituce upon the bosom of John.

But ecstacy is, in its very nature, transieut; a family scene, even the most emotional, can't last much over half an hour, and at the end of that period, John and his family were prosaic enough. But they were happy and talkative. ' Why didn't I tell you of my resolution ?' said John, ' because I feared I could not keep it. I only did keep it because I counted the cost closely, and resolved to pay it to the last iota.'

Let us hurry to the last scene. It was New Year's night again. John had kept the faith; friends had gathered round him ; his resolution was buttressed with supplimentary aids. His business had prospered; his wife began to look young; tho feet of his little children wore warmly clad; and John was grand deputy

becoming a useful m ;* s ea> PjJjJT m his bureau draw children are now m "^wst Sabbath S choor° r : gua b r t tOs name is oa the book of the t which his wife has bag been a but tr USUhI Uf qaite but troubled sometimes with don difficult™, so that he might at < characterized at a Manffi a tinged with mediayal PelaHaniS dashoftheAriau here S y?bu 3t he New Testament a good deal, sublime ideal therein embodied On this particular N ew y' , John said to his wife: * • Mary, I am going to sleep, i up in the attic chamber, where year ago to-night. I have a p reasoa for wishing to do so. 1 P Well,' said his wife. 'I hope ft, won't trouble you.' PV* nf J w Q'S mC L e ehaQged color atthis of Mrs. Thompson's, but she observe it, and, shortly after, he t small lamp and retired. It was i oclock.

bably be before twelve o'clock.' 40 this remwk iast« he down the lamp and sprang into b, that was about the last ho knew noise of the children below awo the next morning. He. had n dreamless night i a sound slee had troubled him, no ghost,'node ho had slept the calm sleep of heal temperance.