rned with such proud anticipations. She
was oppressed by a sense of humiliation. Her son had stepped down from
his pedestal of dignified self-respect, and stood among the common herd
of vulgar young men to whom in her eyes he had always been superior.

But greater than her humiliation were the fears of Mrs. Whitford. A
thoughtful and observant woman, she had reason for magnifying the
dangers that lay in the path of her son. The curse of more than one
member of both her own and husband's family had been intemperance.
While still a young man her father had lost his self-control, and her
memory of him was a shadow of pain and sorrow. He died at an early age,
the victim of an insatiable and consuming desire for drink. Her
husband's father had been what is called a "free liver"--that is, a man
who gave free indulgence to his appetites, eating and drinking to
excess, and being at all times more or less under the influence of wine
or spirits.

It was the hereditary taint that Mrs. Whitford dreaded. Here lay the
ground of her deepest anxiety. She had heard and thought enough on this
subject to know that parents transmit to their children an inclination
to do the things they have done from habit--strong or weak, according
to the power of the habit indulged. If the habit be an evil one, then
the children are in more than common danger, and need the wisest care
and protection. She knew, also, from reading and observation, that an
evil habit of mind or body which did not show itself in the second
generation would often be reproduced in the third, and assert a power
that it required the utmost strength of will and the greatest
watchfulness to subdue.

And so, when her son, replying to her earnest warning, said, "I am in
no danger. Set your heart at rest," she knew better--knew that a deadly
serpent was in the path he was treading. And she answered him with
increasing earnestness:

"The danger may be far greater than you imagine, Ellis. It _is_ greater
than you imagine."

Her voice changed as she uttered the last sentence into a tone that was
almost solemn.

"You are talking wildly," returned the young man, "and pay but a poor
compliment to your son's character and strength of will. In danger of
becoming a sot!--for that is what you mean. If you were not my mother,
I should be angry beyond self-control."

"Ellis," said Mrs. Whitford, laying her hand upon the arm of her son
and speaking with slow impressiveness, "I am older t