The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1892-01-14

TEMPERANCE NOTES.
SAVED ~ HIS SON.
rhs Story Of Drsnken Fathers Refor-
. s .z<@s& aaation. q II S.5
1t was q weekday afternoon meeting
81 the children. Carl Hartwell was one
Of those present. He seemed to listen
with his eyes as well rs his ears, for he
leaned on the back Of the bench before
him, and stared with big. eager eyes at
the speaker. The latter was telling
about the thirst of drunkard. 1t was
like furnace, he said, heated red-hot,
and it was asking for liquor to feed 1t
al the time.
Carl did not seem to notice anything
else but the minister, who was talking
to the boys and girls of his congrega-
ton. Carl thought of his father, Abram
Hartwell, known to be a drunkard,
known to have this hot thirst
"How can you cool off such a thirst?"
asked tho minister. M saw q great
river of ice 0nce-a glacier-oh, so cold!
Would that take out the heat from a
drunl<ard's thirst? know what will
take away his thirst. Do you want to
know? Prayer to God will do it. And
whatever you do, whatever remedy
you try, whatever medicine, don't leave
out prayer. Add that to it."
Carl went away in deep thought.
That thirst, the awful thirst of
drunkard and to think his father had
it, this hot furnace! Oh, If he could do
anything! He wanted to do so much
tor his home, whore the mot her had
such an anxious face, the home that was
so poor and needy and empty. The
baby there was such . pining little
thing. the pantry sometimes had no
food in it, the hod ever seemed to lack
coal, the stove was so often without
any FIRE. Oh, so much needed to be
done in that drunkard's home!
Well, he could do one thing which
the minister had mentioned; yes, he
could pray. He would pray, too, that
very day, that very moment A white
little face was turned up to the sky in
its mute supplication, like white
flower asking for rain on hot day.
God sends rain to the flowers; would
he not hear the plea of this boy-face
and send blessing?
Hark! When Carl opened his eyes
he heard rumbling. 1t was not the
sound of thunder accompanying rain,
but it was the Earring noise of heavy
ice cart coming down the hot, dusty
street
''And it IS stopping.at Stokell's"
thought Carl
Stokell was the keeper of the rum
hole at the corner. "And oh, there is
father!' thought Carl.
Abram Hartwell was standing on
the sidewalk, looking very sad and dis
contented. He was saying to himself:
what nobody am! Don't do any
thing, don't amount to anything. don't
care for anything, except-to drink!
Oh dear" Yes, he did seem to be a
very useless being.
"What am l good fore" he muttered
He looked up to the sky. How he
wished he could be good!
His face was coarse and red There
are flowers coarse and home,y, very
unlike the white ones. Does not God
send rain on those homely ones also?
While Abram Hartwell was thinking
about his useless life and raising his
hopeless face toward the sky, Carl was
thinking about that hot thing, the
drunkard's thirst; and oh. if ice would
only cool it and subdue it and stop it!
That ice cart. what an attractive OBJ
ject it was to all the children in the
neighborhood! Out of the close, hot,
poor homes, they rushed when they
heard the sound of the heavy, Earring,
rumbling wheels. 1.-THE ice cart! the
ice cart! they shouted. How they
gathered about the cart when it halt
ed! When Sol Stevens, the ice man,
with the brown arms and iron ice pick,
broke up the white sparkling blocks of
crystal, what a rush was made for any
of the cool chips flying over the side
walk!
"Hurrah!" they shouted And Sol
grinned and let his ice pick fall c'um-
silly at times on the ice that there might
be shower of nice, cool bits for the
hot, thirsty children.
All this time Carl eyed first his father
and then the tempting ice shower. He
wanted to pick up cooling crystal and
hand it to his father that the awful
thirst within might be slaked, and his
father not 60 into Stokell's saloon
81 don't dare to-" Carl muttered
more than once. Sol had finished his
delivery of ice for the neighborhood,
cried: "Good-bye, youngsters" and
mounted the drivers seat, and was
turning his team away from the side
walk when Carl saw piece of ice still
ungathered and also saw his father
turning toward the saloon. Crying:
God, do help me speak to my father, ~
he quickly mustered courage to seize
that last piece. Then, strangely, he
slipped, and oh, SO near those awful,
heavy wheels! He did not think of
that. He only thought of his father
going into the saloon, and cried:
Don't 60; oh, this ice, father-take
it!''
1t was all Carl could do to offer his
ice and think of God in just swift lit
tie prayer!
AhC 4dCACE Sd" some.
thing terrible-a big wheel rumbling
and grinding round, and so near his
boy!
"Whoa!' the driver suddenly shouted
to his horses. fiercely pulling them
back from big express team coming
round a corner. He did not see Carl,
but that halt put little space between
the child and the great threatening
wheels approaching
"God help me!' murmured Abram
Hartwell
Does not God send rain, 1 said, on
the coarse, homely flowers?
Abram seemed to reach Carl in one
single, immense leap He took several
leaps actually, but he was not in con-
dition to appreciate time or distance.
Those dreadful wheels were turning