Chapter II: Part TWO

The next day I went to see poor Joe, but he was too sick to play with me.”

“I think he must have learned a lesson by this time,” ventured Bertha.

“O no, my child, you see he has not even yet learned to control his appetite, and it has nearly proved his ruin, and surely must unless he repents very soon, and turns from his evil ways. Instead of learning a useful lesson from that day’s folly, his craving for sweets and rich foods seemed to grow stronger from that time. He always called for the most highly seasoned food whenever he would come to spend the day with me,--the greasiest meat, the strongest pickles, the richest puddings.

“One day at our table my mother helped him to some food. At once Joey called for the pepper. ‘It is not good for you, child,’ said my mother, mildly. But Joey insisted until she allowed him to cover his food with pepper till it was quite black. He was very indignant indeed when mother told him that she never allowed me such highly seasoned food, and the young gentleman declared at once that if he could not have what he wanted to eat, he would go home where he could get as much as he pleased, and that he would never come to play with me again.

“O my children! I hope you will never forget that appetite is like fire;” and grandma sighed; “it is a good servant, but a bad master. You see that in poor Joe’s case it has proved to be a strong giant, from whose dreadful chains he has no power to release himself.”

“I suppose,” ventured Bertha, “that he began drinking rum when he was just a little boy.”

“O no; the taste for liquor is not formed in a moment. All this time he was an intelligent, bright, and active lad, and I liked to play with him very much. Until he was about eight years old, he drank nothing but water or milk. But by this time, the rich foods and spices, the pepper and the strong, fiery pickles, with which he had so often filled his stomach, created a longing for something stronger than milk and water to drink.

“‘Come, Aunt Maggie,’ he pleaded, one day, ‘come; please let me have a little taste of your tea--just a little.’”

“Of course, he got it,” said Bertha.

“O yes, and before long, he ran slily into the pantry, and drank still another large cup. When I threatened to tell Aunt Maggie, he only smiled and replied: ‘I love it, I tell you; it’s good! if it doesn’t hurt Aunt Maggie, it won’t hurt me. If it’s good for women, it’s good for boys, and I shall have what I like--there now!’

“I was a timid little girl,” continued grandma, smiling gravely, “and Joe’s logic as well as his bravado rather appealed to me, and so I said nothing. When it came time for me to go home that day, he went a little piece with me, as was his custom:--

“‘I wonder if Aunt Maggie thinks that was my first cup of tea,’ reflected Joe, turning confidentially to me, ‘’cause if she does, she’s mistaken, that’s all; and what’s more, I’ve got so I just hanker after it--and good, strong coffee, too. Aunt Maggie thinks it’s expensive, I guess; but I don’t believe she thinks it hurts anybody, or she would not drink it herself. I tell you, Jennie Brown’--Joey used to call me by my full name whenever he was excited,--‘when I get to be a man,--a big man,--I’ll have what I want to eat,--I tell you,--and--and--_what I want to drink_, too, or I’ll know the reason why!’ he added, pompously bringing one little fist down into the palm of the other hand.

“‘O Joey, Joey!’ I cried; ‘you don’t mean to be a horrid old drunkard!’ Joe flashed a look of defiance back at me:--

“‘Don’t you suppose, Jennie Brown, that I mean to be a gentleman--a gentleman, like my father used to be?--Well, I do, but I guess a little tea and coffee’ll not hurt me any,--and look here, sissy, I’ll tell you something if you’ll never tell,’ he continued, putting his small fingers across my lips; ‘look here; I’ve noticed that a great many _gentlemen_ smoke and chew tobacco, and just as soon as I get a little bigger,--you just wait!’ and Joey assumed a swaggering gait, and puckering his red lips, puffed a cloud of imaginary smoke from an imaginary pipe. Then he turned on his heel, and called a cheery good-by to me.

“But into my young heart had crept a vague fear that between my little playmate and myself there would be, some day, ‘_a great gulf fixed_!’”

OLD JOE, THE DRUNKARD