While the workmen and apprentices were revelling over their rum, and insulting and misusing this boy, he often retired and vented his grief in tears. But a few years changed the aspect of things. As they grew up, and entered upon the world for themselves, all the older apprentices fell into habits of dissipation, and finally sunk into the drunkard’s grave. But the little boy, at whose abstinence they used to scoff, grew up a sober and respectable man, engaged in business for himself, and a few years ago, was worth a hundred thousand dollars, and had in his employ one hundred and ninety men, none of whom used ardent spirits. All this came from his having courage to say no, to those who held the poisoned cup to his lips.
Poison.
A little boy, four years old, wandered from his home, one day, in the town of Turin, N. Y., to a field where some men were at work. There he found a bottle of spirits, of which he drank freely. When found, he was lying on the ground, unable to speak. He was carried home to his mother, and the Doctor was sent for; but he could do nothing for the poor boy. He remained stupid till evening, and then died. The rum had poisoned him. Not a great while before this, his father was drowned in a fit of intoxication. “Touch not, taste not, handle not.”
“Am I to blame, Mother?”
A lad in Philadelphia, some years ago, joined the Temperance Society. The father and mother, who were what are called moderate drinkers, were displeased with him. The boy said nothing for sometime, but bore patiently the chidings of his mother. At length, he undertook to vindicate his conduct: “Am I to blame, mother? Sister Mary has married a drunken husband, who abuses her every day. Sister Susan’s husband was intemperate, and has gone off, and left her, and you are obliged to take her home, and take care of her children. Brother James comes home drunk almost every night. And because I have joined the cold water company, and you are likely to have one sober person in the family, you are scolding at me! Am I to blame?”
How it happened.
There was a young man in college, one of the brightest, who was greatly beloved for his personal attractions, frankness, good nature, and generosity. But he was occasionally found flushed with wine, and then he was turbulent and ungovernable. At length, in one of these fits of excitement, he committed a misdemeanor for which he was expelled from college. Soon after this, he became very dissipated, abandoned his studies, and finally became a sot. People wondered how such a lovely young man could fall into such ruinous courses. A young lady, conversing about him, said she remembered that, when he was a little boy, just beginning to study Latin, she saw his mother bring him a loaf of cake and a glass of wine for a lunch. She then thought that perhaps he would become a drunkard, and so it turned out. Beware of the first glass.
GOING TO THE THEATRE.
WILLIAM R. was a young man of good habits—a lovely youth, “the only son of his mother, and she was a widow.” He was sent from the country, where he had been brought up, to the city of New York, where he was employed as a clerk. Hearing much of the Theatre, and seeing it puffed in the newspapers, he thought he would go once, just out of curiosity, to see what was done there. But, he was so fascinated with what he heard and saw there, that he went again; just as some birds are so charmed with the gaze of the serpent, as to run straight into his mouth! There William fell into evil company, who enticed him away to the haunts of infamy. Intoxicated with these things, he continued to frequent the theatre until the expense was more than his earnings. He then began to steal money from his employer. He was detected and fled. After some time, his friends, hoping he had learned something from experience, sent him to another city. For a time he seemed to be thoroughly reformed. But evil habits once acquired are not easily overcome. He soon fell into the same round of folly and sin, till he lost his character and his employment, and in his despair, committed suicide!