The News-Herald. [volume] (Hillsboro, Highland Co., Ohio) 1886-1973, 1893-05-18
THE SUNDAY SCHOOL.
International Lesson for May II, 1S8S-
Against Intemperance--P Prov. e3:20-30.
tArr~prad frox, I1oIo,,Not,e Notao

tArranged from Peloubets Notes.]
GOLDEN TExr.-wine is q mocker strong
drink is raging: and whosoever is deceived
thereby Is not wise.-Prov. 20:l
INrRoDucTIoN.-Prof Phelps saying: .'The
Old Testament often seems rs n 1t we're in
spired specially for young men," is verified in
the present chapter. A father, foreseeing the
social dangers Of q well-born lad, with
pleasant manners and q well-flled purse, ad-
vises him in regard to great banQuets; then,
with little gush OF affection, entreats him to
keep out OF the company OF wine bibbers and
gluttoDs who will surely come to poverty.
Finally, with strong, rapid hand, he draws .
chsracter-sketch of the drunkard, which hangs
In the worlds great picture gallery, solemn
warning for all time. This picture is the text
Of the lesson for to-day
y THE SOCIAL QU1CKsANDs.
"It sometimes happens on certain
coasts of Brittany or Scotland that a
man, traveller or fisherman, walking on
the beach at low tide, far from the
bank, suddenly notices that for several
minutes he has been walking with
/ some difficulty The strand beneath
his feet is like pitch; his soles stick to
it; it is sand no longer-it is glue. The
beach is perfectly dry; but at every
foot, the print which it leaves fills with
water. The eye, however, has noticed
no change. The immense strand is
smooth and tranquil; all the sand has
the same appearance; nothing distin-
guishes the surface which is solid from
that which is no longer SO; the joyous
little cloud of sand-fleas continue to
leap tumultuously over the wayfarer's
feet. The man pursues his way, goes
forward, inclines to the land, endeavors
to get nearer the upland. He is not
anxious. Anxious about what? Only
he feels somewhat as if the weight of
his feet increases with every step he
takes. Suddenly he sinks in. He sinks
in two or three inches. Decidedly he is
not on the righN road; he stops to take
his bearing. All at once he looks at his
feet. His feet have disappeared The
sand covers them. He draws his feet
out of the sand; he will retrace his
steps; he turns back; he sinks in deeper.
The sand comes up to his ankles; he
pulls himself out and throws himself to
the left; the sand is half-leg deep. He
throws himself to the right; the
sand comes up to his shins. Then
he recognizes with unspeal<able terror
! that he is caught in the quicksand, and
that he has beneath him the fearful me-
| dunn in which man can no more walk
than the fish can swim. He throws off
his load, if he has one, lightens him
self like ship in distress. 1t
his knees. He calls, he waves his
l,A L L. II. Al
gains on him more and more. 1
the beach is deserted, if the land is too
far off, if there is no help in sight, it is
all over. He is condemned to that ap-
| palling burial, long, infallible, implaca-
BILE, impossible TO slacken or to hasten,
| which endures for hours, which will not
end, which seizes you erect, free, in full
| health, which draws you by the feet,
which at every effort that you attempt,
at every shout that you utter, drags you
a little deeper, sinking you slowly into
the earth while you look upon the hori-
zon, the trees, the green fields, the
smoke of the villages on the plains, the
sails of the ships upon the sea, the
birds flying and singing, the sunshine
and the sky. The victim attempts to
sit down, to lie down, to creep. Every
movement he makes inters him. He
straightens up, he sinks in; he
feels that he is being swallowed
up. He howls, implores, cries to
the clouds, despairs. Behold him
waist-deep in the sand. The sand
reaches his breast; he is now only a
bust. He raises his arms, utters furious
groans, clutches the beach with his
nails, would hold by that straw, leans
upon his elbows to pull himself out of
this soft sheath, sobs frenziedly. The
sand rises. The sand reaches his shoul-
ders; the sand reaches his neck;
the face alone is visible now. The
mouth cries, the sand fills it--silence.
The eyes still gaze, the sand shuts them
night. Now the forehead decreases,
little hair futters above the sand; a
hand comes to the surface Of the beach,
moves and shakes, and disappears. 1t
is the earth drowning man. The earth
filed with the ocean becomes a trap. It
presents itself like a plain, and opens
like a wave."-Victor Hugo. You have
doubtless noticed during this descrip-
ton the striking analogy between the
quicksand and intemperance. The
young man indulges in his social
glass joyously, merrily, until at length
he feels little of the power Of
appetite; but he is not anxious. His
strong will can keep it in check, and he
goes on with his indulgences without a
thought of fear. Songs are merry about
him, laughter is loud and frequent; he
Is in no danger of crossing the invisible
line between moderation and drunken
ness. And yet somehow his feet be-
come unsteady, and his nerves tremble
strangely. Suddenly he wakes from
his dream Of security to find that last
night he lost control of himself and be
came the laughing-stock of the street.
He makes resolutions of reform; he will
give up his drinks. Then he finds that
the dregs of the social glass form a