Something For A Cold - Page 2

be seen.

"Where is Mr. Brooks?" he asked.

"He has gone for the doctor," was replied.

And in a few minutes he came in with a physician. He was partially sobered, and his countenance had a troubled expression. His eyes shrunk beneath the steady, rebuking gaze of his neighbors.

"Did you say your daughter had fallen down stairs?" said the doctor, as he leaned over Margaret, and examined the dreadful bruise on her cheek.

"Yes--yes," stammered the guilty father, adding this falsehood to the evil act.

"Had the injury been a few inches farther up, she would ere this have breathed her last," said the doctor--looking steadily at Brooks, until the eyes of the latter sunk to the floor.

Just then there were signs of returning life in the poor girl, and the doctor turned towards her all his attention. In a little while, she began to moan, and moved her arms about, and soon opened her eyes.

After she was fully restored again to conscious life, Mr. Green returned to his home, where he was met with eager questions from his wife.--After describing all he had seen, he made this remark--

"There are few better men than Thomas Brooks when he it sober; but when he is drunk he acts like a demon."

"He must be a demon to strike with his hard fist, a delicate creature like his daughter Margaret. And she is so good a girl. Ah, me! to what dreadful consequences does this drinking lead!"

"It takes away a man's reason," said Mr. Green, "and when this is gone, he becomes the passive subject of evil influences. He is, in fact, no longer a man."

Mrs. Green sighed deeply.

"His poor wife!" she murmured; "how my heart aches for her, and his poor children! If the husband and father changes, from a guardian and provider for his family, into their brutal assailant, to whom can they look for protection? Oh, it is sad! sad!"

"It is dreadful! dreadful!" said Mr. Green.--

"It is only a few years ago," he added, "since Brooks began to show that he was drinking too freely. He always liked his glass, but he knew how to control himself, and never drowned his reason in his cups. Of late, however, he seems to have lost all control over himself. I never saw a man abandon himself so suddenly."

"All effects of this kind can be traced back to very small beginnings," remarked Mrs. Green.

"Yes. A man does not become a drunkard in a day. The habit is one of very gradual formation."

"But when once formed," said Mrs. Green, "hardly any power seems strong enough to break it. It clings to a man as if it were a part of himself."

"And we might almost say that it was a part of himself," replied Mr. Green: "for