The Monitor. [volume] (Woodstown, N.J.) 1884-1892, 1888-10-05

ing smile, little dreaming that she might
better have stabbed him to the heart than
tempted him to this act.
When Harry left Mr.. Marston's house
that evening, without being actually in
toxicated, he felt dizzy, and rather I'M
steady. He would have liked to get up
into his own room without passing through
the sitting-room, where he knew his moth
Ter would be awaiting him. But that was
impossible; so he entered the apartment
irving to look and act as usual.
delightful day, mother, ; he cried,
with affected gaiety. 'sBat I'm just dead
tired and sleepy, and I'm off to bed. Tell
you all about it tomorrow"
But his flushed face and thick speech
had told her that which made her fall ON
her knees, and buy her face in her hands, as
her son left the room. The curse was upon
her again; and any Of you who know how
a mother can agonize in prayer for the be-
ing dearest to her will not need to be told
.how Mrs. Crandall spent that night.
will not follow Harry Crandall in the
year which followed. There was repen-
lance and temporary reformatbns, but
from the first his mother had no hope.
She trod again the gia dolorsa she knew so
well of Ole, but her feet were more sorely
wounded, and her strength had failed her
with hope. Harry lost his situation, and
was gradually drifting into a drunken vag-
a bond, when his mother died suddenly.
At least it was sudden at the last, though
she had known for months that her days
were numbered.
To say that her death was a blow to her
son was to say very little. lie loved her
with all his heart, and that heart was not
yet numbed by intemperanee. He had al
ways intended making her happy by re-
forming, and now he could never make her
happy again. After the funeral, he re-
turned to the empty house, and, in a pas
sion of remorse and grief, he threw himself
in.his mothers vacant chair, and laid bis
face on the table that stood neal it. An
hour passed, hnt, weeping and grooming,
No HNEs R%Att fboALtBI. lit ltii biidi
he would 60 mad II this torture did not
cease. Well, a drink would settle his
nerves and take away this terrible ache at
his heart. He half rose 10 go out, when
the Sudden motion threw to the floor his
mothers old Bible, which was at the edge
of the table. As he picked it up, a written
paper fluttered out. He saw it was his
mothers handwriting, and through a mist
Of tears he read what he knew mnst have
been her last prayer.
80 blessed and mercifnl Lord, who alone
can help my beloved son, stretch forth Thy
powerful arm, and raise him from the gulf
in which he is drowning. My love, my
prayers have not awaited to stay his down
ward course; for | have sinned in the weak
ness Of my great love for him. Bless my
death, now so near to him. and let me
speak TO his soul from the grave as I could
never do with my living lips"
The last words Of the prayer were blot
ted out by her tears; but what he read
smote the unhappy young man to the soul
He sat motionless for a few minutes, and
then, with a half a~rticulate cry, Help me,
Lord, help me-" fell on his knees. That
night was spent with wrestling with the
fierce temptation of drink, and cries for
''help."
Is He, the Merciful, ever deaf to that
cry? Does IIe ever stand aloof from the
penitent sinner? l do not say that Harry
Crandall found it easy to return to the
right path, but, through sore conflicts, he
did return. To-day there is no man more
respected in the town of A. than Harry
Crandall. He has a fine family, a good,
pious wife, and he is as happy as a man
can be who remembers past sins, and how,
bat for the infinite mercy OF God, they
would have been the means Of his losing
his soul.-Naria D. Williams. IN tie Con-
g~regGti0naltst.