Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1870-07-15
needed wine in the house, either for our
health or comfort2"
"Why, think 1t has added TO our COM
fort, Cora"
uIIow -,

"Name one of them.'
"why, in the enjoyment of our guests"
"Ahl but am speaking of ourselves,
Henry-of you, and me, and Of our own
little family. Has 1t ever ministerod to
your comfort?"
mo, I cannot say IL has
"And If it was banished from our house
today and forever, as a beverage, shorld
we suffer in consequence
"Certainly. What would our fri nds-"
"Ah but stop. / am only speaking of
our own affairs, shut out from the world
by our own fireside. I want all extrane-
Gus considerations left out of the question.
Should we, as a family, suffer in our NOR
al, physical, social, or domestic affairs, in
tho total abstinence from this beveragef"
"No, do not know that we should"
"Then to you, as husband, and a father,
and as n man, 1t is of no earthly use2'
"No."
"And it would cost you no effort, so far
as you alone are concerned, to break clear
from it?"
"Not particle"
"And now, Henry" pursued the wife,
with increased earnestness, 81 have few
more questions to ask Do you believe that
the drinking of intoxicating beverages Is
an evil in this country?"
"Why, as it is now going on, 1 certainly
do"
"And isn't 1t an evil to socetyf'
"Yes."
"Look over this city, and tell mo IL 1t is
not terrible evil2"
"a terrible evil grows out of the abuse
of it, Cora"
"And will you tell me what good arises
out of the use of it2"
"Really, love, when you come down to
this abstract point, you have the field. But
people should learn to govern their appe-
tite. All things may be abused"
"Yes. But will you tell me the use-the
real good-to be derived from drinking
wine and brandyf"
"As I said before, it is social custom
and has its charms"
"Ah! there you have it, Henry. 1t does
does have its charms, as the deadly snake is
said to have, and as other vices have. But
l see you are in a hurry"
at is time was at the store"
81 will detain you but moment longer,
Henry. Just answer me few more ques-
tons. Now call to mind all the families of
your acquaintance think of all the domes-
tic circles you know from your school boy
days to the present; run your thoughts
through the various homes where you have
been intimate do this, and tell me, if any
one instance you ever knew a single joy
to be planted by the hearth-stone from the
wine cupf Did you ever know one item
of good to flow 10 a family from its use2"
mo; I cannot say that ever did, not rs
you mean"
"And now answer me again.. Think OF
those homes once more, call 10 memory
the playmates OF your childhood, think Of
the homes they have made, think of other
homes, think of the firesides where all you
have known dwell, and tell me II you have
seen any sorrows flow from the wine cup.
Have you seen any great griefs planted by
the intoxicating bowl upon the hearth
stone?
Henry Seaburn did not answer, for there
passed before him such grim spectres of
sorrow and grief that he shuddered at the
mental vision. He saw the youth cut down
in the hour of promise; he saw the gray
head fall in dishonor he saw hearts brok-
en- he saw homes made desolate; he saw
affections wither up and die; and saw no.
BILE intellects stricken down! Good Heav-
on what 81 2hts he saw as he unrolled the
canvas of his memory!
Henry" whispered his wife, moving to
his side and winding one arm gently about
his neck, 1--WE have two boys. They are
growing to be men. They are noble, gen.
erous and tender-hearted. They love their
home and honor their parents. They are
here 10 form those characters, to receive
those impressions, which shall be the basis
upon which their future veal or woe must
rest. Look at them, oh! think of them.
Think of them doing battle in the great
struggle of the life before them. Shall
they in the time to come fall by the way
side, cut down by the demon of the cup,
and in their dying hour curse the example
whence they derived the appetite, oh for
our children, for those two boys. for the
men we hope to see them, for the sweet
memories we would have them cherish Of
their home, for the good old age they may
reap, let us cast this thing out now and for
| ever"
Cora kissed her husband as she ceased
speaking; and then he arose to his ieet, but
he made her no reply.
Henry, you are not offended"
mo-" he said. He returned her kiss
and without another word left the house
and went to his store.
How strangely circumstances did work
to keep the idea his wife had given him
alive in his mind That very morning he
| met youth, u son of one of his wealthy
| friends, in state of wild intoxication; and
during the forenoon he heard that young
Aaron O. had died at sea. He knew
that Aaron had been sent away from home
that he might be reclaimed.
After the bank was closed, and as Henry
Seaburn was thinking of going home to his
dinner, he received note through the pen
ny post. 1t was from a medical friend and
contained IA request that he would call al
the hospital on his way home. This hospi-
tai was not much out of his way, and he
stopped there.
"There is q man in one of the lower
wards who wishes TO see you," said the
doctor.
"Does he know e9" asked Seaburn.
"He says he does"
"What is his manner"
"He won't tell us. He goes by the name
of Smith but / am satisfied that such IL
not his name. He Is in the last stage o
consumption and delrum. He has lucid
intervals, but they do not last long. He
has been here week. He was picked NJ
In the street and brought here. He heard
your name and said he knew you once"
Mr.. Seaburn went to the room where tn,
patient lay, and looked at him. Surely h,
never knew that mani ",There must b,
some mistake" he said.
The invalid heard him, and opened hi
eyes,-such bloodshot, unearthly eyesi
"Harry," he whispered, trying to lif
himself up on his elbow; sis this Henr,