View source for Next Part The Shoemaker's Daughters CHAPTER 18+1

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<p> It was a little over ten years from the time the incidents mentioned in the last chapter occurred, that <em>four men </em>were seated at a table, in a saloon in the vilest part of New Orleans, playing cards. They appeared to be strangers. One of them was a <em>sailor</em>, and almost every word be uttered, was coupled with some disgusting expletive, or shocking curse. The other three seemed to be boatmen, and it was evident that they were men of wicked principles and bad hearts. All four were more than half drunk; and yet each exhibited a keen desire to win from each other. The sailor lost frequently, and at every failure of his luck, he <em>swore </em>more and more bitterly. At last he threw down a five dollar bill, his last money. In a few minutes it passed over to the pile of cash along side of the man who sat next to him.<br><br>
  "If you can beat me, or <em>cheat </em>me — I can whip you!" cried the sailor, as his last dollar vanished, springing from the table, and thrusting his clenched fist into the face of the man who had won from him.<br><br>
  Quick as thought, a <em>knife </em>glanced in the dim light of the saloon, and in the next moment the blood gushed from the side of the sailor. He fell with a groan to the floor. The individual who had stabbed him, coolly replaced his knife, and looked on with a drunken and indifferent stare, while others attempted to stop the flow of blood.<br><br>
  "Who is he? Does anyone know?" was asked by many voices.<br><br>
  "Ask him his name!" cried another, "while he is able to speak."<br><br>
  "Who are you? What is your name?" was shouted in the ear of the wounded man.<br><br>
  "Thomas Peters," he replied, in a feeble tone.<br><br>
  <em>"Tom Peters!"</em> ejaculated the individual who had committed the rash and murderous deed, pressing forward, and bending over to catch a glimpse of the face of the man. A single glance sufficed him. In the next moment he glided from the house, and hurried to the residence of a physician.<br><br>
  On the arrival of that individual at the scene of blood, he proceeded to examine into the condition of the wounded man, and soon ascertained that the stab he had received was not mortal. No effort was made to arrest the individual who had committed the act, for none in that <em>den of devils </em>would report him to the law. The physician, after dressing the wound, and giving the necessary directions, hurried away; for he hardly felt that his life was safe a moment, among the wretches that crowded the room.<br><br>
  After he was gone, the individual who stabbed Tom Peters — the reader's old acquaintance — gave directions to have him removed to a chamber, and provided for at his expense. During the whole night, he sat by the bedside of the man whose life he had attempted, sometimes listening to his feeble breathing, sometimes fixing his eyes long and sadly upon the pale face of the insensible sleeper, and sometimes resting his head upon his hand, for an hour at a time, in sad and painful thought.<br><br>
  Towards daylight, Tom became sensible, for the first time since the affray, and looked about him wildly.<br><br>
  "What's the matter? Where am I?" he said, with a curse, attempting to rise. But he sank back upon his pillow, at once, exhausted.<br><br>
  "You have had a narrow escape, Tom Peters! — But you are safe, now," said the individual who had been watching beside him through the night.<br><br>
  "Who are you, ha! that calls me Tom Peters?" replied the wounded man, turning a quick and searching glance upon his companion.<br><br>
  "Don't you know me, Tom?" said that individual, rising to his feet, and placing himself so that the light of the dim lamp would fall upon his face.<br><br>
  "I think I know your voice. But that is not the face, surely, of <em>Bill Grimes</em>," responded Peters, in surprise.<br><br>
  "It may be very much changed from what it was, Tom, but still it is the face of Bill Grimes, your old fellow-apprentice, and none other."<br><br>
  "Then we are both a little the worse for wear, I'm thinking. But who was it that <em>stabbed </em>me, ha?" — and Peters launched a volley of <em>curses </em>at the head of the <em>murdering villain</em>, as he called him, who had attempted his life.<br><br>
  "<em>I</em> stabbed you, Tom," said the other. "But you roused the devil in me by insinuating that I cheated you, and then rubbed your fist in my face. I didn't know it was you — or I'd cut my hand off before I would have harmed a hair of your head. But the doctor says you are not dangerous, and I hope you'll soon be well."<br><br>
  "Well, here's my hand, Bill," said Tom, stretching out his arm with a feeble effort. "A sailor never bears malice, and is always true to an old friend."<br><br>
  The other took the offered hand, and grasped it with a feeling of warm friendship.<br><br>
  After Thomas Peters' recovery, neither he nor Grimes exhibited any disposition to recede from their advanced position of wickedness. They attached themselves to each other, in a kind of <em>evil fraternity</em>, and followed after the <em>evil delights of their hearts </em>with a zest that gave little room to hope for any future beneficial change. And, it is much to be doubted, if any such change ever took place. It is possible, by a <em>long course of wickedness</em>, to <em>extinguish the remains of good in the mind</em>, whereby we are elevated out of a love of evil — into a desire for good. And it is to be feared that Thomas Peters and William Grimes thus extinguished their remains of good, and were brought entirely under the control and guidance of evil tendencies.<br><br>
  It is needless for the writer of this story to point out its <em>moral</em>. He deems it so plain, that those who run may read.<br>
  <br><br>
  <em>And here the curtain drops.</em><br>
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