The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1899-03-19
THE PATH TO PERD|T|0H
BY LOUIS VINCENT DE FOE.
Copyright, 1899, by Louis Vincent De
Foe)

From the window of Deacon BirdselPs
house the bright rays of a lamp marked
the forks of the country road which led
to the right, past the old Quaker meet
ing house, and, to the left, through the
worldly and iniquitous village called
into existence only a year before by the
coming of the new railroad.
This little cluster of houses, muSh-
room growth of implanted boards, in
cluded, besides a blacksmith SHOP and
general store, both welcome enough in
their way, a. tavern conducted on wide
open principles, under the name OF
Lowden's Halfway House, which had
speedily brought the locality into gen
eral diSrepute. No one had discovered
toward what goal it marked the half
| way point unless it was that goal OF
torment which is the ending of evcry
career of Incorporate profiigacy.
In the dining room which served like
wise as a sitting room, the deacon was
carefully cleaning stray scraps Of Wis
dom from the columns of the Michigan
Agriculturalist, the silence of the house
disturbed only by the loud ticking of
the farm clock on the shelf in the cor
ner and the busy click of knitting
needles in the deft fingers of Mrs. Bird
sell. 1t was characteristic of the 'dea-
con that he always postponed his study
I'll lie ulltll eiAlSi eilc
harvest, when the information he
might gain was sure to be of least
value to him.
Presently the clock tolled the hour of
s, lingering long, it seemed upon the
final stroke. Deacon Birdsell started
suddenly.
Mother" he said, don't you know
it's gettin' pretty later"
Mrs. Birdsell paused in surprise and
dropped the half-finished sock in her
lap.
Eight and after, an it's high time
folks was abed,' said the deacon. Did
you shut down the back window an
bolt the kitchen door, An Joel-of
course Joel's in
AS if in answer to the deacon's ques-
ton, the quavering, uncertain notes of
a song sifted through the ceiling from
the chamber above.
"Sh!" Mrs. Birdsell said, holding up
her finger in warning.
The song from the chamber above
gradually became more distinct until a
word could be understood here and
there in its uncertain rhythm. 1t bore
a distant resemblance to one of the pop
ular songs of the day heard with great
frequency in the neighboring town, but
justly abhorred for its worldly insinua-
tons in the peaceful Quaker church
neighborhood.
"William!" exclaimed Mrs. Birdsell
in trembling voice, "somethin' must
be done right away. It's gettin' just aw-
full! It's been weighin' on my mind I'M
til sometimes 1 get that nervous"
The deacon gathered his shaggy gray
broks and stroked his angular unshaven
chin in silence for a moment. Il hate
to think of it, JOEL" he observed
thoughtfully, but L guess it must be
true. Have you been noticin' anything
else lately, Martha?" The deacon sell
dom addressed his wife by her given
! name except on occasions of great SOL
emnity.
"Anythin'! Good land aliveH' Mrs.
Birdsell swept her hands around her
head as if she was warding off a swarm
of impending evil Its gettin' worser
and worser every day." she exclaimed
with great earnestnesS, AN the worst
part of it all is, he's gettin' that brazen
about ito think, too William, that
he's your own brother!' The song be-
gan again in the chamber above, this
time accompanied by the unmistakable
sound Of shuff1ing feet.
Just listen to that now" she went
on, with mournful emphasis. Il guess
you can hear it for yourself!'
Yes mother, you're right" pro-
nounced the deacon refiectively, slowly
nodding his head in the affirmative.
Poor Joel is certainly goin straight
to the-I was almost goin' to say devil,
an here We are, you an me, sittin
with our hands folded, not dom a
blessed thing to put him right
1T didn't get real bad till the middle
of June-leastwise Joel didn't take to
gofn' out nights till then" Mrs. Bird
sell squinted thoughtfully through her
glasses as if to look into the past. Il
first suspiciOned him circus day over in
h
for a box of collars an them red and
green neckties. He seemed right
ashamed of 'em, too-that is to say, at
first he did"
when was it he spoke to you about
creasin' his pant legs?"
why, dear me. you amt forgotten
that, have you? It was the very same
day he come out from town prln r,gaa ,
his tail coat. I'll never forget that!
He was precious careful to keep that
ridiculous thing out of my sight, an
when he spoke about the pants he
blushed like a boy. He says to me,
| Martha, some time when you've got a
f1at-iron on 1 wish you'd press out my
gray pants an leave 'em creased before
an behind. Folks say, nowadays, it
| keeps 'em from Wearin' out so quick
1 almost gave him a piece of my mind
right then an there. L says, Joel Bird
sell! An at your time in life, too He
didn't say another word, but went off
upstairs that ashamed-an' that very
night was the first time in the twenty
years he staid out till after midnight"
Deacon Birdsell clasped his long fin
gers around his bony knee and bowed
his head.
IF [ DO say it, I watched him from
the window when he went out" Mrs.
Birdsell earnestly continued, AN seen
him tramp straight off toward the
tavern. 'Twasn't the last time I've
seen him, either
The deacon suddenly started up and
thumped his fist hard upon the table.
Them Lowdens will get to prison yeti"
he burst out with Indignation.
"'Twould be a true religious act to
set their cussed dram shop on fire!
I'd do it, too, if
Mrs. Birdsell reached across the table
to place a restraining nand upon her
husbands arm, but the tips of her
fingers barely touched his shirt sleeve.
William she said in a. more COM
posed tone, I'VE mustn't get excited.
What we must do is to tend to Jocks
case The Lord that judges between
the righteous an the unrighteouS will
tend to the Lowdens himself
Before such an undeniable exposition
of truth the farmers anger slowly sub
sided.
| ~ GU Know the time joel WdSIleu IHe
buggy an went to town." Mrs Bird
sell went on. He didn't get back that
night till a quarter past u, an he took
his boots off before he come into the
house I know all about it, because
he clean forget EN- an left.'em on the
porch"
'.You wouldn't call them things boots,
would vou?" The deacon threw his
whole available fund of sarcasm into
the words.
Caters; mean" corrected Mrs.
Birdsell, quickly. AN that's another
thing. Just to think of man takin' to