The Brookhaven leader., 1883-04-19
Temperance.
THE STORY WHICH THE LEDGER
TOLD,

| Grief, as well as yeass. had turneu her
hair to snowy whiteness. She was look
ing over, with her weak, tear-dimmed
eyes, the old ledger which showed how
much wealth her husband had gathered
from his cider-brandy mill. The credit
side was all there. There was not
much written on the debit side, save a
| balance of cash cleared. But, TO. the
woman looking there, il was as il the
invisible fingers of the dead were writ
| ing on her very heart the fearful
charges that should be set down against
the business. All! as the vision of her
youth and all the years between swept
by her, how that debtor side grew
large with black figures, and with q
blackness no figures could express,
while the written lines before her grew
dim and seemed of small account.
She remembered well when the mill
for brandy-making were begun. She
remembered the arguments, the ex-
cuses, the economy of saved apples,
the deacons who opposed intemper-
ance. but, on the ground of being
thrifty farmers, brought all their poor
est apples to the mill. On the debit
side, that first year, had been placed
by careful hands in the ledger, the cost
of building, of license for her husband
had called himself an honorable mani,
of revenue tax for Government must
be sustained, they say); and, the widow
added, mentally, the keen sorrow of
her heart, her loss of self-respect, the
hardening influence on her boys, the
annoyances from rough customers, the
loss of her confidence in her husband,
her unavailing tears. And that was
but the beginning.
Following down the ledger dates, she
read invisible writing of hearts blood
on the debit side. Here, an accident
al hurt that laid in death her only
daughter. What a sweet child-face she
had seen laid away beneath the flowers,
years ago! How her friends would have
shuddered in their pity, had they known
an angry fathers hand had struck the
blow that killed the child-and the
brandy was responsible for the blow.
But there are still heavier charges.
This mother had had four noble sons.
And all the weight of her love and grief
for them was on the debit side. One of
them, her darling, her rgenerous-hearted
boy, the only one untainted by the
drink demon, had been murdered by a
drunken companion while trying to lead
him away from his fathers mill. But
this is not the heaviest charge. What
of the other boys? One died of delirum
tremens. Twice before, the mother
had watched him in his agony, while
strong men tried to hold him, till at
last in the terror of his fear, death re-
leased him. But what death for her
boy-sher bright, active-brained, college
boy-to die! He might have helped
the world with his gifts. All! put that
down, too, on the debit side. Not only
what he was to his mother, but what he
might have been to others. There was
another son. When he brought his
young wife home, she had hoped that
he would conquer his thirst for drink,
there seemed so much of love and
sweetness thrown around his life. For
little while, it seemed that here her
hopes would be fulfilled; but his father
tempted him with the fair figures on
the credit side. He went again into
the business and soon began to stumble
by the way. 1t is the old story-so old,
so often repeated--the story of falling
and repenting, of agony, of remorse,
of despair And so on a few years,
and then he, too, was brought home
dead. He had shot himself-unable
longer to endure his remorse. People
said he was crazy, but the mother knew
where to place the charge. The young
wife faded like blighted- blossom, and
died of broken heart. The mother
placed that anguish and death on the
debtor side. r. ...
But there was another son living yet,
and wealthy. He is carrying on the
flourishing business which his father
left to him, and it has rapidly increased.
He is moderate drinker; never was
drunk in his life; despised people who
''do not know when to stop Already
he has driven his only son out, a
wanderer on the face of the earth, for
not knowing when to stop" 1t was
not the kind of advertisement of his
business which he wanted. He prides
himself on his strength and thinks his
skirts are clean from the blood of his
victims. Generous in his way, he gives
his blood-money to the churches and
they accept it and extol his generosity.
But the mother, looking over the ledger,
knows that she has lost her boy; his
tenderness, his kindliness, his loyal
love of friends and God-these are
gone. He is selfish, cold-blooded,
hardened man; and the harm he is do
ing can not be measured by any human
computation, and over the ledger the
mother sees text full of meaning:
''For what Shall it profit man if he
gain the whole world and lose his own
soul? or what shall man give in ex-
change for his soul?" -slst~ o
This mother is a widow. There is q
charge for that, and for the years of
sorrow and neglect preceding. The
strong man had changed in the latter
years. He could not bear TO see the
wife whose saddened face was a per-
petual reproach, and SO he had driven
her from him; and he had died alone.
What he had suffered was known only
to himself and to God. ""t q
lG The widows tears are falling over the
grave of all the bright hopes of her early
married life-a life that, but for strong
drink, might have been so bright.
All this on the debit side. On the
credit side, the dollars and cents-the
world. Who shall draw the balance
sheet? a I'll trtf4 M ef-aa
The ledger falls from the weakened
hands. When kind friends found her,
she seemed asleep. The traces of tears
were on her cheeks. She, too, had died
alone-alone with her ledger and its
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