Nick Babas Last Drink and Other Sketches | Page 3

want. But I have not done it--I have been recreant to every principle of honor or manhood, God help me."
"Now, Nick," said the conjuror, persuasively, "pick up the other shoe and tell me what you see there. That is a mirror of the present."
"I see," groaned Nick, "in place of that fair-haired girl at the church, then all happiness, a prematurely old woman, faded and disheartened. Three ragged children cling to her scanty clothing. They beg of her mere bread to keep off hunger. She has none to give them--she draws them closer to her, and folding them in her emaciated arms, kisses them. She gives them all she has--a mother's love."
"What more do you see," demanded the magician: "tell it all."
"Oh! maddening sight," sobbed Nick; "I see myself staggering from the ale-house and reeling into what should be a home, where gaunt starvation stalks the floor; where the hearth is fireless, and where a starving family die upon a pallet of straw."
"You have seen it all," said the wizard. "It is bad."
"Yes, and the picture is as true as it is terrible. What demon prompted you to come here to-night with your diabolical machinery, to show me to myself so much blacker than I thought I was?"
Nick's queer little companion peered through the misty, uncertain light of the cobbler's workshop with his sharp restless red eyes, but remained quiet.
Nick, his head in a whirl of excitement, then placed his face in his open palms, and resting his elbows upon his knees, looked down at the floor covered with scraps of soiled leather. Soon these scraps commenced to move and assume weird shapes. They changed to hundreds of little red, blue and green devils, no more than a few inches high, which capered over the floor in troops. They ran up Nick's back, and hiding in the mass of black hair, twisted and knotted it until their victim winced, and then with hilarious shouts dropped to the floor and went clattering away. Returning, they played hide and seek in and out of the old worn boots and shoes which littered the floor. Then the tub wherein the shoemaker wet his leather, burst its hoops and the water ran out over the floor in streams of fire. The light was out and darkness enveloped Nick and his companion. The wind went howling by, and flung gusts of hail against the cracked and broken windows. Baba, shivering from the cold, straightened himself up and looked for his patron.
He could not see him, but he did perceive two balls of fire close to him--the red eyes were still upon him.
Nick was thankful even for this, as any companionship at that moment was better than none. The silence was at length broken by the Goblin remarking, "You must have passed a fearful ordeal during the last few moments."
"Has the time been so short?" inquired Nick; "it seemed almost an age to me. This is not the first occasion, however, that I have passed through it, and I fear the time may come when nature will break down, and then I shall either do myself an injury or harm some one else--I know it."
"I hope not," said the wizard. "Good-bye, I must go."
"Do not leave," implored the half-frightened Baba, "but remain with me until I have quite finished my work. I believe I am growing to be a coward, for I dare not be alone to-night. You are such an odd-looking manikin," continued Nick, "and have spoken so fearlessly to me, that I am beginning to like you. Do stay."
"Well," consented the Goblin, "I will remain as long as you wish; my time is of no value; beside, if I can persuade you to reform and be a sober man, it will be worth an eternity of waiting."
Nick said, "Thank you, I will try," and went on with his work.
Neither spoke for some time, when Baba suddenly exclaimed, "There, they are finished at last, and are as good a pair of shoes as man ever trod in. I suppose now that I may occupy this den for a while longer."
"Baba, my good man," solicited Nick's friend, "as we are about to part, will you give me your promise never to drink rum again? You will then be happy, I am sure."
Hesitatingly the cobbler agreed that he would not taste the accursed stuff again; but made it a condition that his new-found friend should accompany him as far as where he lived in such wretchedness.
"I have no objection," replied the Goblin, "if you will not walk too fast, for I cannot keep pace with you."
"Why, I will carry you," said the grateful Nick, and seizing the little conjuror in his arms, walked off with him easily.
When they had proceeded about half the length of the street,