and their hands full of inventive activities to protect him from ruin. Edward, as a boy, had
interested himself in Sunday-schools, debating societies, penny missionary affairs, anti-
tobacco organizations, anti-profanity associations, and all such things; as a man, he was a
quiet but steady and reliable helper in the church, the temperance societies, and in all
movements looking to the aiding and uplifting of men. This excited no remark, attracted no
attention--for it was his "natural bent."
Finally, the old people died. The will testified their loving pride in Edward, and left their
little property to George-- because he "needed it"; whereas, "owing to a bountiful
Providence," such was not the case with Edward. The property was left to George
conditionally: he must buy out Edward's partner with it; else it must go to a benevolent
organization called the Prisoner's Friend Society. The old people left a letter, in which they
begged their dear son Edward to take their place and watch over George, and help and
shield him as they had done.
Edward dutifully acquiesced, and George became his partner in the business. He was not a
valuable partner: he had been meddling with drink before; he soon developed into a
constant tippler now, and his flesh and eyes showed the fact unpleasantly. Edward had been
courting a sweet and kindly spirited girl for some time. They loved each other dearly, and--
But about this period George began to haunt her tearfully and imploringly, and at last she
went crying to Edward, and said her high and holy duty was plain before her-- she must not
let her own selfish desires interfere with it: she must marry "poor George" and "reform
him." It would break her heart, she knew it would, and so on; but duty was duty. So she
married George, and Edward's heart came very near breaking, as well as her own. However,
Edward recovered, and married another girl-- a very excellent one she was, too.
Children came to both families. Mary did her honest best to reform her husband, but the
contract was too large. George went on drinking, and by and by he fell to misusing her and
the little ones sadly. A great many good people strove with George--they were always at it,
in fact--but he calmly took such efforts as his due and their duty, and did not mend his
ways. He added a vice, presently--that of secret gambling. He got deeply in debt; he
borrowed money on the firm's credit, as quietly as he could, and carried this system so far
and so successfully that one morning the sheriff took possession of the establishment, and
the two cousins found themselves penniless.
Times were hard, now, and they grew worse. Edward moved his family into a garret, and
walked the streets day and night, seeking work. He begged for it, but in was really not to be
had. He was astonished to see how soon his face became unwelcome; he was astonished
and hurt to see how quickly the ancient interest which people had had in him faded out and
disappeared. Still, he must get work; so he swallowed his chagrin, and toiled on in search of
it. At last he got a job of carrying bricks up a ladder in a hod, and was a grateful man in
consequence; but after that nobody knew him or cared anything about him. He was not able
to keep up his dues in the various moral organizations to which he belonged, and had to
endure the sharp pain of seeing himself brought under the disgrace of suspension.
But the faster Edward died out of public knowledge and interest, the faster George rose in
them. He was found lying, ragged and drunk, in the gutter one morning. A member of the
Ladies' Temperance Refuge fished him out, took him in hand, got up a subscription for him,
kept him sober a whole week, then got a situation for him. An account of it was published.