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Updated: June 27, 2025
Dr. Dio Lewis visited Hillsboro in December, 1873, and there gave two lectures, one of them a lecture on temperance, in which he referred to his mother's struggles as a drunkard's wife, doing her best to support her family, and finally, with a few other praying women, visiting the saloon-keeper who sold liquor to her husband, and pleading with him to give up his business, with which request he, at last, complied.
And one night, when the heavens was curtained with blackness, like a pall let down to cover the accursed scene, he left Cicely with her pretty baby asleep on her bosom, went down to the saloon, got into a quarrel with that very friend of hisen, the saloon-keeper, over a game of billiards, they was both intoxicated, and then and there Paul committed murder, and would have been hung for it if he hadn't died in State's prison the night before he got his sentence.
Then, outside, on the public pavement, in the snow of a bitterly cold December, they knelt and prayed for the saloon-keeper and his family, that he might see his error and be persuaded to do right, for those who were in the habit of frequenting that saloon, and for the downfall of the liquor traffic.
The cheapest and easiest way to become an influential man and be looked up to by the community at large, was to stand behind a bar, wear a cluster-diamond pin, and sell whisky. I am not sure but that the saloon-keeper held a shade higher rank than any other member of society. His opinion had weight. It was his privilege to say how the elections should go.
"Guess there's one man who's got Jake's measure, an' that's Black Anton." The butcher added a punctuating laugh, while Slum nodded. "And who's Black Anton?" asked Tresler of the saloon-keeper. "Anton? Wal, I guess he's Marbolt's private hoss keeper. He's a half-breed. French-Canadian; an' tough. Say, he's jest as quiet an' easy you wouldn't know he was around.
And once it is a matter of record a coroner's jury under his instruction rendered the verdict: "Served the Mexican right for getting in front of the gun." Things always moved swiftly in Charleston. There is a tale of a saloon-keeper who buried his wife in the morning, killed a man at high noon, and took unto himself a new bride before evening.
They slept at night in doorways, and by day wandered timid and terrified through the streets. "At last a saloon-keeper saw that we were famishing," the Bohemian told me. "He was a a Oh, what do you call them in your language? I can think of the Bohemian word but not the English." "What was he like?" I asked to help find the word. "Red-headed? Tall? Fat?"
What's the matter with this Julian Marbolt?" He looked round for an answer, which, for some minutes, did not seem to be forthcoming. Slum broke the silence at last. "He's blind," he said quietly. "I know that," retorted Tresler, impatiently. "It's something else I want to know." He looked at the butcher, who only laughed. He turned on the saloon-keeper, who shook his head.
But ther' ain't no right on this blamed earth fer any feller to whoop it up at another feller's misdoin's, an' his ultimate undoin'. An' you kin take it how you fancy when I say only the heart of a louse could feel that-a-way an' that's about the lowest I know how to hand you." Bud's eyes were shining dangerously. They were squarely looking into the hard face of the saloon-keeper.
The saloon-keeper coughed once or twice, and then remarked, "Say, Jack, I'm afraid you'll have to quit." He was used to the sight of human wrecks, this saloonkeeper; he "fired" dozens of them every night, just as haggard and cold and forlorn as this one. But they were all men who had given up and been counted out, while Jurgis was still in the fight, and had reminders of decency about him.
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