Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1880-07-14
Driven Away from Shore.

Burt Holmes was no handsomer, no better,
no more intensely beloved than thousands of
other sons still he was very attractive boy
and one exceedingly popular. boy" call
him frank, winsome boy with features
not regularly beautiful-far from it-but
with one of those wholesome, pleasant coun-
tenances which all sensible people prefer to
merely effeminate prettiness.
And yet, though | call him boy, he, like
most other boys at seventeen, considered
himself man, capable Of choosing his as
sociates and doing as he pleased. He began
to put on mannish airs, and to say, when ex-
postulated with in regard to certain little
outofthe-way acts, that he wished he was
twenty-one.
"Ah but, dear boy" his mother answered
fondly, "you are not the first boy, you will
not be the last TO wish that"
At the first party Burt Attended, select
affair of a dozen-he was offered his first
glass of wine. Mrs. Holmes never drank
wine, never had it in her home, so ii was
not strange that Burt had never made its
acquaintance. But The passing of wine was
not then looked upon as it is now by all
good people. Burt, in his ignorance of the
worlds ways, considered the decanter and
the goblets the insignia of aristocratic so
ciety else why should it meet him on the
very threshold of the world which he was
Just entering? When offered glass of
sparkling wine by his hostess, pretty,
thoughtless girl Of sixteen, he accepted tim
idly and drank it eagerly, supposing that it
would be considered an objectionable breach
of politeness to refuse it.
at is good" Burt decided, and when he
accepted the second glass he felt no shadowy
sense OF coming evil he saw no sword hang
ing by frail thread just over his head.
The years rolled on, and poor Burt's life YES
sci drifted further away from shore. He
dimly realized that the anchor of total alb
stinence had been foolishly, aye, wickedly,
| lifted from his souls integrity; and yet, not
leaning upon divine strength, he was utterly
powerless to battle with the storms that beat
in from every quarter Still, will give Burt
the credit of being brave in his own strength
poor, human strength, so weak and power
less unaded by the one mighty to save.
| AT one time weeks passed away and no
drop of anything intoxicating passed through
his lips. He felt encouraged | might say
elated but, alas his weak feet, not being
planted on the rock, slipped, and he fell.
The brilliant lights and the sparkling wines
in one of Satan parlors proved too rich for
him, and the spider clutched him firmly.
Then, again, when the ground began to
feel firm under his feet, thoughtless friend
offered him a glass Of strong cider, and
that night he was carried home again to his
broken-hearted, despairing mother After
that three months passed away, gradually
bringing hope into Mrs. Holmes heart, and
glad but faint smile to her pale lips. Burt
began to hold up his head once more, and in
his eyes there crept little of the old sweet
look. But Thanksgiving day was near
at hand. Burt with his mother was invited
to his aunt's to dinner.
The browning feature in this aunt's bill
of fare was a mammoth plum-pudding and
some of the richest and best of mince-pies.
Burt's aunt was very generous, and believed
in giving her nephews and nieces all they
wanted to eat, especially on Thanksgiving
day. So Burt's pretty oval pudding dish
was twice filled and emptied, and the Sec
ond piece of pie did not linger long upon
his plate. There must have been something
very strong in those rich Dishes for Burt
slipped away to a saloon that night, and his
mother did not see him again until he was
brought home upon a shutter at midnight,
with an ugly wound Just above his temple,
caused by severe fall. Several weeks
passed away before Burt was able to leave
his home again. Many repentant tears fell
from his eyes. Many resolves be made never
TO drink again. But his resolves were only
gossamer threads, and they burst at a touch.
But | will tell you no more of his strife.
The conflict was long and heart-rending.
Two hearts we're broken and one soul was
lost before the battle ended.
| will show you one more glance at Burt.
The June roses were seeming the air. The
bright sun sent down its warming and glad
dening rays upon the front windows of Mrs.
Holmes house. But it could not warm the
cold, blue face which lay in still whiteness
in the gray parlor; it could not gladden. the
panied countenance which was fixed as in
its last death-throe; and SO the blinds were
tightly closed The casket in which Burt
was sleeping his last sleep was handsome
one. There were rose-buds in the thin hands
aud a wreath of them at his feet, but, white,
fragrant, and beautiful as the blossoms
were, they did not comfort Burt's mother,
who sobbed out her agony alone with her
dead child. She was on the verge OF insan-
ity, and her cry as she rocked back and
forth wailing was 80 Burt, my love, my
only boy you were so fair and so pure, and
SO loving. Why didn't they leave you alone
Why didn't they spare you for comfort
and blessing? Why were they so cruel
as to give you that first tempting glass, that
glass that drove you away from shore ?''-
National temperance Advocate.