Nick Babas Last Drink and Other Sketches | Page 3

heaved as only a
strong man may be moved--he wept.
"What do you see? Speak!" said his tormentor.
"I see," responded Nick, mechanically, "a scene of seven years ago. It
is the image of a fair-haired, blue-eyed girl before the altar in her
wedding garments. I am there also, vowing to protect her; to stand up
and battle with the world for her; to be a barrier between her and 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