ble
evil of intemperance, and seeking to stay its baleful course, "poor
fanatics." He talked of pure wines and liquors as harmless, and gave
them to his son at suitable times and occasions, _moderately_; only
guarding him by warnings against excess.

But these warnings went for nothing as appetite increased. At twelve
years of age the boy was content with a single glass of light wine at
his dinner; at eighteen he wanted two glasses, and at twenty-one
three. By this time he had acquired convivial habits, and often drank
freely with other young men of his age. His mother was the first to
take the alarm; but his father was slow to believe that his son was in
danger. The sad truth broke upon him at last in a painful humiliation.
At a large party in his own house the young man became so badly
intoxicated that he had to be removed from the company.

From that unhappy period wine was banished from the father's table.
But it was too late! The work of ruin had progressed too far. At
twenty-seven the wretched young man died, as we have said, in one of
the lowest and vilest dens of the city.

We could give many instances like this. Here, at home, is the chief
source of that wide-spread ruin by intemperance, that is every year
robbing society of thousands of young men, who, by education, culture,
and social standing are fitted for useful and honorable positions.
They are ruined at home. Not in one case in ten does a young man
acquire the taste for drink in a saloon or tavern, but at home--if
not in his own home, in that of some friend. We fear that the drinking
saloons men set up in their drawing-rooms, and to which they invite
the young and old of both sexes, do more to deprave the taste and lead
to intemperance than all the licensed taverns in the land. It is here
that the appetite is formed and fostered--here that the
apprenticeship to drunkenness is served. Year by year the sons of our
wealthiest and most intelligent and influential citizens are tempted
and led astray by the drinking customs of society--ruined at home.
How few of the sons of successful men rise to the level their fathers
have gained. How many, alas! sink so far below this level that the
eyes ache to look down upon them!

GOOD-BYE--GOD BLESS YOU!

I love the words--perhaps because
When I was leaving mother,
Standing at last in solemn pause,
We looked at one another;
And I--I saw in mother's eyes
The love she could not