Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1873-07-16

with all courteous and friendly attentions
Livingston was quiet and cold through il
ALL He had intended TO return me as good
as he brought me, and had failed lie was
my senior, and had entertained a genuine
respect for my conscientious scruplcs. over
which, from the first moment bad known
him, he had assumed a sort Of guardianship.
Tie was bigh.spiritod, and as | had once re-
PEELED bis cautioning care, knew should
hear no more from him.
When We arrived at the boat, went at
once into the cabin, and sank into chair,
buried my face 10 my hands, ard gave my
self up 10 my sorrow and shame Sitting
there u occurred to me for the first time
that Mr. Bradford was on New Years
visit to his daughter, whom he had pro.
viously placed in a New York school.
How should ever meet them againl How
could they ever forgive met How could /
ever win their respect and confidence again?
80 God o God :" | said, in a whisper Of
anguish, "how eau | ever come TO thee
again, when | knew in my inmost heart
that | was disobeying aud grieving
thee ?"
was conscious at this moment that steps
approached me. Then followed light
touch upon my shoulder looked up, and
saw Mr.. Bradford. | had never before
seen his countcnance 80 sad and at the same
time 80 severe.
Don't reproach me-" said, lifting my
hands in depreciation, " don't roproach me
if you do | shall die.
" Reproach you, my boy ?" he said,
drawing a chair to my side, while his lips
quivcred with sympathy there would he
no need Of it if [ were disposed to do So
Reproach for error between errng mortals
is not becoming
" Do you suppose you can ever forgive
me and trust me again." | asked
90 forgive you and trust you now.
give you credit for common sense. You
have proved, in your own experience, the
truth Of all have told you, aud do not
believe that you need to learn anything
further, except that one mistake and mis-
step like yours need not ruin a life.'
Do you really think" said l. eagerly
grasping his arm, that I can ever be
again what have been ?"
Never again" he replied, sadly shak-
ng his bead The bloom is gone from
the fruit, but if you hate your folly with
hatred which will forever Danish il from
your life the fruit is uninjured."
And are they to know all this in Brad
: ford ?" asked.
5 Never from me-" be replied
Youare too kind to me, said "You
have always been kind. Will you accept
a pledge from me, " said eagerly, ain re-
gard to the future2"
"No indeed Arthur No pledge COM
ing from you to-day, while you are half be-
side yourself with shame and sorrow, would
have the value Of q straw. A promise
can never redeem a man who loses himself
through lack Of strength aud principle. A
man who can never be controlled by Gods
Word certainly cannot by his own. twill
take weeks for you to arrive at a point
where you can form a resolution that will
be of the slightest value, and when you
} reach that point no resolution will be need
ed Some influence has changed your
views Of life and your objects. You have
IN some way been shaken at your founda-
tions. When these become sound again you
will be restored 10 yourself, and not until
, then. You fancied that the revival in
fluences and experiences which We both re-
member had done much to strengthen you,
but in truth they did nothing. They in.
0 terrupted, and, for the time, ruined the pro-
r cesses OF religious education. You fam
cied that in day you had built what it
y takes life time to build, and you were,
y owing TO the reactions Of that great excite
! rnent and TO which your thoughts and feel
= ings were thrown, weaker to resist tempta-
tiou than before | saw it all then, just as
a plainly as see it now. have discounted
all this experience of yours--not precisely
this, but something like it, | know you
would be tempted and that into the joints
: of a harness too loosely knit aud fastened
e some arrow would find its way
"What am | to do? What can | do?"
said piteously.
+. " Become child again. he responded.
! go back to the simple faith and the SIM
! Pile obedience which you learned Of your la-
} ther. Put away your pride and your love
, of that which enervates and omascuates
| you, and try with Gods help to grow into
u Nlut Iluu htlt dl' nbihN AhAhf1 IL lii'
l. that can only be wrought out between a
n man and his God and you have just that
= thing in hand"
/ Our conversation was long, and touched
f many topics Mr. Bradford shook my hand
! heartily as we parted at the wharf, and Liv-
! ingston and | were soon ia a carriage, whir
I ling towards the town. entered my silent
$ room with a sick and discouraged feeling,
with sad presentiment of the struggle which
s It's walls would witness during the long
] winter months before me, aud with terri
b bic sonso Of the change through which |
] had passed during the brief week ofmy ab-
sence.
+ Aud here, lest my reader be afflicted
! with useless anticipations Of pain, | record
y the fact that wine never tempted me again.
4 One bite Of the viper had suffced. | had
= tramplcd upon my conscience, and even that
G had changed to viper beneath my feet,
d aud struck its fangs deep into my recoiing
$ fesh. From that day forward | foreswore
:. the indulgence Of the cup. While in col
: leee it was comparatively easy to do this,
| for my habit was known, and as no one but
Y Livingston knew of my fall il was respect
e ed was rallied by some Of the fellows
d on my sleepy eyes and haggard looks, but
e none of them imagined the cause, aud the
storm that threatened to engulf me blew over,
J. and the waves around me grow calm again,
d the waves around me, but not the waves
within From "Arthur Bonaieastle, =" in
e, ScriJRer's Monthly.
a ----- ss---------
-