The Newberry herald and news. (Newberry, S.C.) 1884-1903, 1892-08-24
P'INTS FROM PINEToP.

P'INTs FROM PINEToP.
Pinetep has been privately accused o
being opposed to temperance, simply OF
account of few anti-prohibition points
Some people can only see right on ont
I side of question. The prohibition ides
is now the popular one, but I just didn'
think it right to bring it into the presen
political campaign-and don't think so
II there were no barrooms here, certain
men and boys at certain times could gel
no liquor, of course. But that is not the
point. Send your children regularly tx
the Sunday-schools ana temperance so
c1eties and it will do more good than al
the prohibition that can be preached OF
| advocated.
Opposed to temperance?
In one of his sermons Rev. Sam Jones
is quoted as saying: II think the worse q
boy is the more his mother loves him.
And he asks: "How far viii mothers
love go in watching over the erring one?'
| have been thinking over these touching
and beautiful words and have thought
that an answer would be appropriate now
| In these troublous times-times when Il
seems it would not take much more to
cause brothers blood to be shed by
brothers hand.
The poet says:
Seven years are uaught to mothers love,
And seventy times the seven:
| A mother is mother still,
On earth or in Gods heaven"
If it be true, as Mr.. Jones says, that the
worse boy is the more his mother loves
him, why is it? Listeul Perhaps it is
her frstborn, the offspring of early love.
The power of drink holds him now. But
that mother cannot, will not forget. That
boy was once a fathers joy; a mothers
prattling baby boy. Would You see the
picture? Then look as I draw the cur
tain: It was "in the dusk where fell the
frelight's gleam." To the heart it seemed
"a valley, surrounded by mountains, where
sweet were the flowers and deep were the
fountains" when that fond mother dan
gled that boy upon her knee. But the
scene too rapidly changes. A few feet
ing years ago, secure in the place Of her
sheltered and fragrant retreat and with
"a song at twilight when the lights were
low" that young and innocent mother
looked upon the toddling form of her in
FAINT son; and that child, resting upon his
mothers lap, laughing in babyish glee
and cooling bewitchingly as he gazed in
dearest eyes made bright by happy tears
of love, is now that boy, reeling In streets
where once be played in childhood's hour
in "days Of summer glory, when all its
scenes were brilliant" Then, that coil
ing, growing, lisping child looked into
mothers sweet face with smiles lent by
angels for the happy season. And 7aoao,
that still fond and hopeful mother, per-
haps away in distant lands, may be say
ing, in the agony of her wretcbed heart:
"Oh! where is my boy to-night? Reader,
judge not lest you be judged in thsEs
when God shall make up his
Know you not that many a gem,
darkness trampled down, might ss:
diademw Thou mother reades
pity, not in scorn; thy boy, t.
baby boy, whose dimpled chez
now beneath those waving cur ,e
ieweled eyes Ghat seem to loo] md
the sunsets radiant glow'O a,4 de-
light; whose little head now r 8 aithin
thy fond embrace; whose littl = Eys are
precious to thy soul; who's S. Sweetest
prattle now gives thee peace g 4 fondest
thoughts Of "a new and bright So-morrow
that viii never pass away; t.dt boy may
some day cause thy loving smiles to turn
to bitter tears and thee to say, in the
throes of a broken but still loving heart:
"Would that I had died for Ehee, my son,
my son." That voice, now "gentler than
the whisper Of angel" to thee, may yet
be loud from drink, and wiring from thee
the bitter CRY: "Only an angels tears can
wipe away the STAIN" Those chubby
hands, now clinging to thee in sweet SIM
picity, and making thee in thy happy
love @look beyond the orient meadows
where floats the golden fringe of day"
may yet clutch thy throat and tear the
bleeding strings of thy lacerated heart.
That rosy foot, now hiding beneath softest
folds of flowing robes, may some day soon
cause thy piercing shrek to break the
stiffness of midnight hour: Lost, In
sight of home, where mother fondiy ga5sd
upon her boy" Or it may be that that
dear young form, now covered by ssnowy
wings OF peace" whose every feature
awakens within thee the STRAINS Of home
that are dear as life" and makes thee
sing 'that song In the valley OF blessing
so sweet," may some day, .1ike bird on
the deep, far away from its nest," wander
from thy tender arms and sit In silence
In some far off place, "when the beating
of his own heart will be all the sound he
hears"
Think not that that once bright and
happy boy, as In memory he "turns again
to seek the peace Of home" feels not the
bitter thoughts that crowd upon him now.
He is not the heartless wretch he seems.
He may be "a gem by cruel hands de-
faced, a brilliant scattered in the waste. ,
The demon holds him down, and @amid
the encircling gloom he wanders on; but
still, looking back to that twinkEng light
that once cleaned through lattice DER
happy night and Scaled the wayward
wanderer home" his mind reverts to past
scenes-to mother, and tho music OF her
silYery laugh rings in his listening esr:.
and he cries In the depth of his immortal
soul: mother, thy wings shall my pea-
ton bear"
Oh! fond and gentle mother, thy way
ward boy still feels for thee. he does not
wish to bring down thy gray hairs in sor-
row to the grave. Fen though "his step
has forgotten its ightness" in wandering
far from thee, ''his lips have no stain
on their truth" He thinks by day and
dreams by night of mothers love-that
love which never fails to seek mothers
boy, because he is her boy-and in his
hours Of sobriety and reflection, when
the mists have rolled in splendor from
the beauty Of the hills" he battles for the
mastery of his better self-only to fall
again and again.
So, mother, while thou mayest, it we're
well for thee to sing: "Oh, hush thee, my
baby, the time viii soon come when thy
sleep shall be broken; and in future
day. that Will come too soon to thy beat
ing heart, thou wilt weep over the rest Of
that truest of songs as thou thinkest how
it's words strike thee as they did not strike
thee once: "Then, hush thee, my darling,
take rest while you may, for strife comes
vith manhood and waking with day.;
and as that boy, on bitter nights thinks,
what a joy to press the pillow OF cot
tage chamber bed" thou wilt spend thy
gray haired years "'mid scenes of deepest
gloom" and feel and know that 'slife has
its thorns as it once had its flowers"