The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1881-05-05
THE TIMELY WARMING.
A THRILLING STORY.

n 1I1hliLIl4NN O1OhI j
My father, after an absence Of three years
returned to the house so dear to him.
He had made his last voyage, and rejoiced
to have reached haven OF rest from the
pcrils of the sea. During his absence
had grown from child and baby Of my
mother's-for was her youngest-into a
rough, careless, and head strong boy.
Her gentle voice no longer restrained
me. ! was often wilful. and sometimes
disobedicnt thought it indicated manly
superiority TO be independent of q
woman's influence. My fathers return
was fortunate circumstance for me.
lie soon perceived the spirit of insubor-
dination stirring within me. saw by
his manner that it displeased him, al
though for few days he said nothing to
me about it.
1t was an afternoon IN October, bright
and golden, that my father told me to
get my hat and take a walk with him.
We turned down q narrow lane into fine
open iield-a favorite playground for
the children in the ncighborhood. After
talking cheerfully on different topics for
while, my father asked me if observed
that huge shadow thrown by q mass Of
rocks that stood in tho middle of the
field. replied that did.
"My father owned this land" said he.
ut was my playground when boy.
That rock stood there then. To me it is
n beacon. and whenever look at it I
recall dark spot in my life-an event
so painful to dwell upon, if it were not
as n warning to you, should not speak
of it. Listen then, my dear boy, and
learn wisdom from your fathers errors.
My father died when was n mere
child. / was the only son. My mother
was q gentle, loving woman, devoted
10 her children and beloved by every.
body. / RENE ,ber her pale, beautiful
face, her sweet, affectionate smile, her kind
and tender voice. In my childhood loved
her intensely. was never happy apart
from her aud she, fearing was bccom.
ing too much OF baby, sent me to the
high school in the village. After associ-
ating for time with rude, rough boys,
lost, in measure, my fondness for
home and my reverence for my mother;
and it became moro and moro difficult
for her .c restrain my impetnous nature.
l thought it indicated want of manliness
to yield to her authority or to appear
penitent, although | knew that my con-
duct panied her. The epithet I most
u's1oSu "tS yuf o0y. Couiu hot Dear
to hear it said by my companions that I
From quiet, iIome.loviug child, soon
became a wild, boisterous boy. My Jear
mother used every persuasion to induce
me to seek happiness within the precincts
of home. She exerted hergelf to make
our fireside attractive, and my sister, fol-
lowing her sacrificing example, sought to
entice me by planning games and diver
slons for my entertainment I saw all
this, but did not heed it.
1t was one afternoon like this that /
was about leaving the dining table, to
spend the intermission between morning
and evening school, in the streets as
usual, my mother laid her hand on my
shoulder, and said mildly, "My son, I
wish you to come with me-" / would
have rebelled, but something in her man
ner awed me. She put on her bonnet,
and said to me, eve will take O little
walk together" followed herin silence
as was passing out Of the door, I OBJ.
served one Of my rude companions
skulking about the house, and + knew
he was waiting for me. He sneered as
went past him. My pride was wounded
to the quick. He was O bad boy, but
being some years older than myself he
exercised a great influence over me.
followed my mother sulkily, till we
reached the spot where we now stand,
beneath the shadow of this huge rock.
Q, my boy could that hour be blotted
from my memory which has cast shad-
ow over my whole life, gladly would 1
exchange all that the world can offer
me for the quiet peace of mind should
enjoy. But mol like this huge, unaight-
ly pile, stands the monument of my guilt
forever.
My mother, being feeble in health, cat
do~a and b5okoned ne beaide her. Her
look, so full of sorrow, Is present to me
now. would not sit, hnt continued
standing sullenly beside her.
Alfred, my dear con-" said she, "have
you lost all love for your mother?" l
did moi reply. II fear you have" she
continued; "and may God help you to sec
your own heart, and me to do my duty"
She then talked to me of my misdeeds--
OF the dreadful consequences of .he eonrse
was pursuing. BY tears, and entTeaties,
and prayers, she tried to make an in.-. fes.
sion on me. She. placed before me the
lives and examples of great and good
ton. was moved, but too proud to
show it, aud remained standing In dogped
silence beside her. thought, "What
wiz my companions say, If, after all my
boasting, | should yield at last, and sub.
nit to be led by woman2"
What agony was visible on my mothers
face when she saw that all she said aud
suffered failed to move me. She rose to
30 home, and followed at distance.
She spoke no more to me till we
reached our own doC..
ut is school-time now" said she
"Go, my son, and once more let me be,
seech yon to think upon what ] have
said.n
II shan't go TO SCHOOL, said /.
She looked astonished at my boldness,
but replied firmly, certainly you Wilt
go, Alfred 1 command yon.t
will not" said I, with tone Of do.
fiance.
One Of thotwo things you must do.
Alfred, either go to school this moment,
or will lock you into your room. and
keep yon there till you arc ready 70
promise implicit obedience to my wishes
in future.p
= dare you to do it." said I; .you
cfn't get me up stairs."
Aired, choose now" said my mother.
as she laid her hand on my arm. She