Clarksville Weekly Chronicle

DANIEL BRYAN'S OATH.

A TRUE STORY.

Daniel Bryan had been a lawyer of eminence, but had fallen, through intoxication, to beggary and a dying condition. Bryan had married in his better days the sister of Moses Felton.

At length all hopes were given up. Week after week would the fallen man lie drunk on the floor, and not a day of real sobriety marked his course. I doubt if such another case was known. He was too low for conviviality, for those whom he would have associated with, would not drink with him.

All alone in his office and chamber, he still continued to drink, and even his very life seemed the offspring of his jug.

In early spring Moses Felton had a call to go to Ohio. Before he set out he visited his sister. He offered to take her with him, but she would not go.

"But why stay here," urged the brother.

"You are fading away, and disease is upon you. Why should you live with such a brute?"

"Hush, Moses, speak not so," answered the wife, keeping back her tears. "I will not leave him now, but he will soon leave me. He cannot live much longer."

At that moment Daniel entered the apartment. He looked like a wanderer from the tomb. He had his hat on, his jug in his hand.

"Ah, Moses, how are ye?" he gasped, for he could not speak plainly.

The visitor looked at him a few moments in silence. Then, as his features assumed a cold stern expression, he said in a strongly emphasized tone:

"Daniel Bryan, I have been your best friend but one. My sister is an angel, though matched with a demon. I have loved you, Daniel, as I never loved man before; you were generous, noble and kind; but I hate you now, for you are a perfect devil incarnate. Look at that woman. She is my sister. She now might live with me in comfort, only that she will not do it while you are alive; when you die she will come to me. Thus do I pray that God will soon give her joys to my keeping. Now, Daniel, I do sincerely hope that the first intelligence that reaches me from my native place may be that you are dead."

"Stop, Moses, I can reform yet."

"You cannot. It is beyond your power. You have had inducements, enough to have reformed half the sinners of creation, and you are lower than ever before. Go and die sir, as soon as you can, for the moment that sees you thus will not find me among the mourners."

Bryan's eyes flashed, and he drew himself proudly up. "Go," said he, in the tone of the old sarcasm.

"Go to Ohio, and I'll send you news. Go, sir, and watch the post. I will yet make you take back your words."

"Never, Daniel Bryan, never."

"You shall, I swear it."

With these words Daniel Bryan hurled the jug into the fire-place, and while yet a thousand fragments were flying over the floor, he strode from the house.

Mary shrank fainting on the floor, Moses bore her to the bed, and then, having called in a neighbor, he hurried away for the stage was waiting.

For a month Daniel hovered over the brink of the grave, but he did not die.

"One gill of brandy will save you," said the Doctor, who saw that the abrupt removal of stimulants from the system, that for long years had almost subsisted on nothing else, was nearly sure to prove fatal. "You can surely take a gill and not take any more."

"Aye," gasped the poor man, "take a gill and break my oath. Moses Felton shall never hear that my brandy and rum killed me. If the want of it can kill me then I die; but I won't die--I'll live till Moses Felton shall eat his words."

He did live. An iron will conquered the messenger death sent--Daniel Bryan lived.

For one month he could not even walk without help. Mary helped him.

A year passed away, and Moses Felton returned to Vermont. He entered the Court House at Burlington, and Daniel Bryan was on the floor pleading for a young man who had been indicted for forgery. Felton started in surprise. Never before had such torrents of eloquence poured from his lips.

The case was given to the jury, and the youth was acquitted. The successful counsel turned from the court room and met Moses Felton.

They shook hands, but did not speak.

When they reached a spot where none others could hear them, Bryan stopped.

"Moses," he said, "do you remember the words you spoke to me a year ago?"

"I do, Daniel."

"Will you take them back--unsay them, now, and forever?"

"Yes, with all my heart."

"Then I am in part repaid."

"And what must be the remainder of payment?" said Moses.

"I must die an honest, unperjured man! The oath that has bound me thus far was made for life."

That evening Mary Bryan was among the happiest of the happy.