Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1855-06-23
. \ MING STAR.
THE TIMELY WARNING
A THRILLING STORY.

absence, L had grown from a child and
baby OF my mothers (for / was toe
youngest,) into rough, careless and
headsuong boy. Her gentle voice no
longer restrained me and I was often
wilful, and sometimes diSobedient. |
thought it Indicated manly superiority
20 be independent Of q Yoman's q influ-
ence. My fathers return was q fortu.
nate circumstance for me. lie soon per
ceived the spirit o! insubordination
stirred in me. saw by his manner that
it displeased him, although for a few
days he said nothing to me about it.
1t was an afternoon in October, bricht
and golden, that my father teld me to
get my hat, and take walk with him.
We turned down narrow lane into a
line open field-a favorite play ground
tor the children in the neighbOrhood.
After talking cheerfully on different top.
les for while, my father asked nc if |
observed that huge shadow, thrown by a
mass of rocks that stood in the midst Of
the field. replied that did.
My father owned this land" said he
- 1t was my play ground when q boy.
That rock stood there then. To me it is
a beacon, and whenever look at it,
recall dark spot in my life-and event
SO painful to dwell upon that if it was
not as warning, l should not speak Of
1t. Listen then, my dear boy, and learn
wisdom from your fathers errors.
My father died when | was a mere
child. Twas the only son. NY mother
was a gentle, loving woman, devoted to
her children, and beloved by every body.
remember her pale beautiful face-her
sweet atfectiOnate smile-her kind and
tender voice, was never apart rom
her, and she, fearing that was becoming
too much a baby, sent NE to a high
school IN the village. After associa.ing
for a time with rude boys, lost, in a
measure, my fondness for my home, and
my reverence for my mother; and it be-
came more end mere difficult for her to
restrain ny impetuous nature. l thought
1t indicated want Of manlinesS to yield
to her authority, or to appear penitent,
although know that my conduct pained
her. The epithet | most dreaded was
girt-boy. | could not bear to hear it said
by my companions that was tied to
my mothers apron strings. From a
quiet, home-loying child, | soon became
a wild, bolsterous boy. Ny poor mother
used every persuasion 10 induce me TO
seek happiness within the precincts Of
heme. She exerted herself to make her
tireside attractive, and my sister, fol-
lowing her self-sacrificing example, sought
to plan enticing games and diversions for
my entertainment. | saw all this, but
l did not heed it.
1t was an afternoon like this, as was
about leaving the dining to spend
my lntcImlSSiOn bcween the morning
and evening school in the street, and, as
usual, my mothlr laid her hand upon nv
shoulder and said, mildly and firmly,
I" My son, [ want you to come with me. 8"
| would have rebelled, bnt there was
something In her manner that awed me.
She put off her bonaet, and said to me,
" We will take a walk together"
followed her in silence and as 1 was
passing out of the door, [ observed one
of my rude companions, skulking about
the house, and knew he was waiting for
me. lie sneered as went past him. Nv
pride was wounded to the quick. He
was very bad boy, but being several
years older than myself, he exercised q
great influence over him. i followed nv
mother sulkily, till we reached the spot
where We now stand, beneath the shade
of this huge rock. o, my boy, could that
hour be blotted from my memory, which
has cast dark shadow over my whole
life, gladly would | exchange all that the
world can offer me, for the quiet peace of
mind | should enjoy. But no like this
huge, unsightly pile, stands the monu-
ment of my guilt forever!
My mother, being feeble in health, sat
down and beckoned me to sit down beside
her. Her look, SO full of tender sorrow. j..
is present to me now. would not sit,
but continued standing sullenly beside
her.
ALFRED, my son, said he, "have you
lost all your love for your mother 2"
l did not reply.
Il fear you have" she continued,
"and may God help you to see your own
heai L, anu Ac w uO IL Uuly.
She then talked to me of my own mis-.
deeds, of the dreadful consequences of
the course | was pursuing. By tears,
entreaties, and prayers, she tried to make
an impression on me. She placed before
me the lives and examples of great and
good men. She sought to stimulate my
ambition. Twas moved, but too proud
to show it, and remained in dogged
silerce beside her. l thought, what
will my companions say it, after all my
boastipg, l yield, at last, and submit to
be led by woman.
What agony was visible on my mother s
face, when she saw that all she had said
and suffered had failed to move me. She
rose to 60 home, and l followed at dis
lance. She spoke no more to me till we
reached cur own door. 1T is school
time now," said she. "Go, my son, and
once more let me beseech you to think
upon what / have said"
81 will not" said l, with loud tone
of defiance.
lone of these two things you must