The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1884-08-02
Temperance Reading.
"TATE, AGOIN' BY!"

az "tIl lIOlu tuo tavern pldblOTn. his
remark served a double purpose, it ac-
costed Tate Sykes, and also let the other
frequenters know of his approach. He
added, with the peculiar infection of
maudlin sympathy: "How do you find
yourself, after Yesterday"
''Middlin' WE'LL" said Tate, gravely;
but walking on.
"Why, look ahere We amt dgoi,1 6y,
be ge? Why, boys, here's Tate agoin'
dyr
Farwelrs tone had changed from
sentiment to intense establishment, as if
it couldn't be that Tate was passing
their mutual haunt-Tate Sykes whose
nosmils loved the scent of liquor that
tloated through the open door, and who
always turned in for one glass. 1t
oftener became more.
But two days before, sad-eyed. tat
tered woman burst in upon their revels,
her face full of agony.
"Where's my man? Where's Tate
Sykes?" Then imperatiyely: "Come
home, Tate. Bess wants you; she's
dying"
Tate had some manhood left, for he
set his glass down with groan, and
followed his wife out, bareheaded, in an
unwonted stiffness.
That was the last they saw of Tate at
the tavern until then, and ne was going
by. Farwell felt that it was unnatural.
What had gone wrong? Farwell
scratched his slightly muddled head
for the clew, then slapped his knee
emphatically when he thought he
found it.
"Hold on, Tate Mebbe We thought
we'd ought to been there, us boys, bein'
as we was old friendsP"
Tate stopped, but did not reply. His
hands were clenched, and great strug-
gle was written on his face He looked
like one ready for conflict, and he was;
not however with the poor deluded men
he had drank with, but with the powers
of darkness. Farwell broke the awk-
ward silence:
1--WE felt for We, Tate. If we'd had
the money we'd done the handsome
thing with flowers and SIGH. [ wouldn't
begrudged comm down with hack n
span O. horses; fact, Tate; but hadn't
the needful; you know that, old boy.
There amt u man in the county I'd
help out sooner, but | couldn't. Ye
hadn't orter lay it up again us, Tate"
boys, y said Tate hoarsely, with fire.
quent pauses to conquer emotion, ~
didn't--eXpect ye-to folly my little gal
-to-to-the grave, And yer posies
would-a been-too late--too late. Ye,
see, it had been-all thorns for her
alluz-them her father planted"
A deep sob swelled his brawny chest.
He sank upon the low platform, leaned
his head against decaying pillar, and
wept like child
The "boys" were silent. Old Farwell
laid his pipe aside, and rose with the
majesty of purpose.
"Theye, there, Tate, don't We take on
so, man. She's gone, an parting's
hard but We can't call her back. Come
in and have drop O something. It'll
tone We up. Come, all, I'll stand treat"
They started eagerly towards the bar.
room, except Tate. There was fierce
longing IN his bloodshot eyes, and ev.
cry breath he drew of the impregnated
air increased his thirst; but. to the sur
prise of all, Tate Sykes declined the
drink, even implored Farwell not to
urge him.
Farwell paused, angrily; the faces Of
the others darkened, also. Their MUIR
murs would have been less gentle, only
they remembered that Tate's child was
dead, and most of these men, alas.
were fathers, tool They meant some.
time to turn about, but their good reso.
buttons decayed with the old tavern:
by-and-by they would drop into drunk.
ard 5 graves, their souls going-where?
Don't never ask me to drink" cried
Tate, ''for l can't! Don't ever call me
in here again, for if 1 do, I'll shoot my
self. wouldn't be fit to live if forgot
the VOWS L made by that little grave.
Sit down a bit; I'll tell we how l come
to this"
Then Tate began, in a strange, hoarse
voice:
Eye all knew why Meg come after me
that night. She said Bess was dyin'.
l thought she had left us-when | got
home, she was so white and still. She
wanted you, Tate says Meg, She
couldn't be easy 'thout We. She telled
me to 90 fetch father; she'd wait. Oh,
Tate, how ran, and now it's too late!
She's gone; without her dyin' wishn
AhSS SAlcu oOlIly, NHLoPOllu lliS plG ny
bit, betwiXt the tears. l can't tell We
what l felt, boys, settin' there beside
my lettle gal. There want nothing
comfortable for such as she, in that
poor room. 1t goes without sayin'
there couldn't be, and me spendin' what
| did here.
"Well, boys, whilst was lookin' al
her, all of student, the color flashed
into her sweet face, and them dear
Tate's voice shook-darlin eyes flied
open-but not to see me, boys, they
looked straight for'ard, beyant and up
ards, and says she, startled like: .
can't go alone-its dark-go part a0ay
a0ith me, father. dear!
Tate groaned as he had the night he
was summoned from the bar-room.
When he could speak, he said:
Them was her last words. She
give great sigh, and left US. There
WANT no backin' out for her, boys,
even if her father couldn't go part way
with cheerin' words, an scriptur. She
had to go alone, in the dark, my poor
leetle gal. 1t come over me then,
what | was and what might ben.
There's one other left me; please God
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