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“Hurrah! Here’s Jim Braddock, bright and early!” cried one of his old cronies, from among two or three who were standing in front of the shop.

“So the cold-water-men havn’t got you yet!” broke in another. “I thought Jim Braddock was made of better stuff.”

“Old birds aint caught with chaff!” added a third.

“Come! Hallo! Where are you off to in such a hurry, with your tools on your back?” quickly cried the first speaker, seeing that Braddock was going by without showing any disposition to stop.

“I’ve got a job to do that’s in a hurry,” replied Braddock, pausing–“and have no time to stop. And besides, I’ve sworn off.”

“Sworn off! Ha! ha! Have you taken the pledge?”

“No, I have not. I’m not going to bind myself down not to drink any thing. I’ll be a free man. But I won’t touch another drop, see if I do.”

“O yes–we’ll see. How long do you expect to keep sober?”

“Always.”

“You’ll be drunk by night.”

“Why do you say so?”

“I say so–that’s all; and I know so.”

“But why do you say so? Come, tell me that.”

“O, I’ve seen too many swear off in my time–and I’ve tried it too often myself. It’s no use. Not over one in a hundred ever sticks to it; and I’m sure, Jim Braddock’s not that exception.”

“There are said to be a hundred reformed men in this town now. I am sure, I know a dozen,” Braddock replied.

“O yes. But they’ve signed the pledge.”

“Nonsense! I don’t believe a man can keep sober any the better by signing the pledge, than by resolving never again to drink a drop.”

“Facts are stubborn things, you know. But come, Jim, as you havn’t signed the pledge, you might as well come in and take a glass now, for you’ll do it before night, take my word for it.”

It was a fact, that Braddock began really to debate the question with himself, whether he should or not go in and take a single glass, when he became suddenly conscious of his danger, turned away, and hurried on, followed by the loud, jeering laugh of his old boon companions.

“Up-hill work,” he muttered to himself, as he strode onward.

An hour’s brisk walking brought him to the residence of Mr. Jones, nearly four miles away from the little town in which he lived, where he entered upon his day’s work, resolved that, henceforth, he would be a reformed man. At first he was nervous, from want of his accustomed stimulus, and handled his tools awkwardly. But after awhile, as the blood began to circulate more freely, the tone of his system came up to a healthier action.

About eleven o’clock Mr. Jones came out to the building upon which Braddock was at work, and after chatting a little, said–

“This is grog time, aint it, Jim?”

“Yes sir, I believe it is,” was the reply.

“Well, knock off then for a little while, and come into the house and take a dram.”

Now Mr. Jones was a very moderate drinker himself, scarcely touching liquor for weeks at a time, unless in company. But he always kept it in the house, and always gave it to his workmen, as a matter of course, at eleven o’clock. Had he been aware of Braddock’s effort to reform himself, he would as soon have thought of offering him poison to drink as whiskey. But, knowing his habits, he concluded, naturally, that the grog was indispensable, and tendered it to him as he had always done before, on like occasions.

“I’ve signed the pledge,” were the words that instantly formed themselves in the mind of Braddock–but were instantly set aside, as that reason for not drinking would not have been the true one. Could he have said that, all difficulty would have vanished in a moment.

“No objection, Mr. Jones,” was then uttered, and off he started for the house, resolutely keeping down every reason that struggled in his mind to rise and be heard.