And so my aunt yielded the point; but from the day of her son’s
desertion, there was in her a perceptible change. Far oftener was she
found in the house of prayer, and less frequently was she seen in places
of amusement, while more than once I heard her in secret asking that her
wayward boy might be shielded from the great temptation. Alas! for thee,
poor Herbert Langley, sleeping in thine early grave! There were prayers
enough, methinks, to save thee; for at the old Meadow Brook home, thou
wert remembered in the early morn, and not forgotten when at eve, my
father knelt him down to pray. Why, then, didst thou fall ere thy sun
had reached the meridian of manhood? Was it because in thine early
training there was an error which no after exertions could repair? We
answer, Yes. The fault was there, and little know they what they do, who
set before their sons the poisonous cup, and bid them, by their own
example, drink and die. How many young men, from the higher walks of
life, now sleeping in the dishonored grave of a drunkard, might at this
moment be filling some honorable position, had it not been for the wine
or beer drinking habit acquired in childhood by their own firesides, and
at their father’s table? Look to it, then, you around whose hearthstones
promising sons are gathered, and if in the coming years you would escape
the sleepless nights, the bitter tears, and the broken hearts of those
whose children walk in the path, which, sooner than all others, leadeth
down to death, teach them, both by precept and by practice, to “touch
not, taste not, handle not,” for therein alone lieth safety.
CHAPTER XIV.
TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS.
Early in March, as I was one Saturday morning seated with my aunt in her
pleasant, cozy sewing-room, a little boy brought me a note from Dell
Clayton, in which she requested me, if possible, to spend the afternoon
with her. She was sick, she wrote, unable to sit up, and what was worse
than all, she was homesick and unhappy! Her aunt, she said, was out of
the city, and as she had no acquaintance, she thought the sight of a
familiar face would do her good.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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