Temperance | AdventAI

International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Sep 11, 1884

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 10, No. 35.

Temperance.

How the Leak Was Mended.

“UNCLE TIMOTHY!” Uncle Timothy looked up from the shoe whose sole he was vigorously hammering.

“Why, bless you, John, ef I’m not glad to see you, man alive!” exclaimed Uncle Timothy, jumping up so suddenly that his last went one way, taking the shoe with it, his hammer went another, while his spectacles fell into the water-pail close by.

There stood Uncle Timothy, grasping the arm of his favorite nephew, John, as if he were a pump-handle, and the day being hot, and Uncle Timothy being dry, the pump-handle was worked with emphasis.

“Set down, John, and tell us how the folks are,” said Uncle Timothy. “You have come to make me a visit, and have time enough to tell me all I want to know.”

John was telling about the “folks,” when Uncle Timothy said: “What’s that? Thunder, I do believe, rollin’ down old Bear Mountain! We shall catch a rain now. There it is, coming down the mountain.” Soon the water began to drip down from the ceiling. “Uncle Timothy, your roof is leaking.”

“I know it, John; I will just put this pail under that ‘ere.”

“Why don’t you have the roof mended?”

“Well, John, carpenters, you know, do charge so. La! John, they’d make a forenoon’s work of it stopping up that ‘ere hole, and I don’t seem to have the extra chink. Fact is, John, it costs suthin’ to live in this world, and it keeps a fellow poundin’ all the time.” Here Uncle Timothy took up his work, and began to ring out a series of responses to the thunder rolling at nine-pins overhead. In the course of his visit, John noticed that every afternoon Uncle Timothy would leave his shop, step across the yard to his house, bring out an immense yellow mug, and, passing to a saloon in the neighborhood, bring a mugful of beer. “Ah!” thought John, “I see how it is that the roof is not mended.”

The next day a surly, glowing wind brought rain that began to pour early in the morning. “Uncle Timothy,” said John, “could I borrow that mug in the closet?”

“Oh, sartin, sartin!” Uncle Timothy was not going to his shop very early that day, and John knew it, business at another place calling him away. When he returned it was about 11 o’clock, and his beer-gnawing visited him. “Where is my mug?” said Uncle Timothy, going to the closet. “Oh! John has it. Well, I guess I’ll let my beer go this forenoon.” The rain was still dripping when he passed from his house to the shop. John was standing in the door. “A wet day, nephew,” said Uncle Timothy, “and there is not much hope given by the clouds.”

Here he looked up, and there on the shop roof, covering the leak, he saw his yellow beer mug! For a minute, Uncle Timothy gazed in silence. Then he broke out: “Thank ye, John; I’ll take the hint.” It was the last day Uncle Timothy owned a beer mug. It was the last day that roof leaked, for it was soon mended with the beer money he saved.—Christian at Work.