The Maryville times. (Maryville, Tenn.) 1884-1944, 1893-05-17


INTRoDUcTIoN-Prof Phelps saying: 1.-THE
Did Testament often seems as " IL were in
spired specially for young men, is verified in
he present chapter A father, foreseeing the
social dangers OF q well-born lad, with
pleasant manners and well-fllled purse, ad-
rises him in regard TO great banquets then,
With little gush Of affection, cntreats him TO
Keep out OF the company OF wine bibbers and
yluttons, who will surely come to poverty.
Finally, with a strong, rapid hand, he draws
:haracter-sketch Of the drunkard, which hangs
IN the worlds great picture gallery, a solemn
warning for all time This picture is the text
Of the lesson for to-day
THE SOCIAL QUICKsANDs.
st sometimes happens on certain
coasts of Brittany or Scotland that
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
step he takes, as soon as he lifts his
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-
cuisines the surface which is solid from
that which is no longer so; the joyous
little cloud of sand-fieas 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 right 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 unspeakable 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, hghtens him
self like ship in distress. 1t
is already too late; the sand is above
his knees. He calls, he waves his
hat or his handkerchief; the sand
gains on him more and more. !
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
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 tc
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 tc
the clouds, despairs. Behold hin
waist-deep in the sand. The sane
reaches his breast; he is now only {
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 o.
this soft sheath, sobs frenziedly. The
sand rises. The sand reaches his Shout
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 then
night Now the forehead decreases
a little hair flutters above the sand; 6
hand comes to the surface of the beach
moves and shakes, and disappears. II
is the earth drowning man. The eartf
filed with the ocean becomes trap. II
presents itself like plain, and opens
like wave. Victor Hugo. You have
doubtless noticed during this descrip
ton the striking analogy between the
quicksand and intemperance. The
young man INDUCES in his socia
glass joyously, merrily, until at length
he feels little of the power o.
appetite; but he is not anxious. Hi,
strong will can keep it in check, and he
goes on with his indulgences without 6
thought of fear. Songs are merry about
him, laughter is loud and frequent; hi
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 trembl'
strangely Suddenly he wakes from
his dream of security to find that las
night he lost control of himself and be
came the laughing-stock of the street
He makes resolutions of reform; he vii
give up his drinks. Then he finds tina
the dregs of the social glass form ;
uuicksand that holds his feet with
terrible power. With agony he realize
the power of quenchless thirst. HI
takes the pledge, entreats the aid o
friends, resolves to amend; fails, re
solves again, again he yields to tempta
ton. Then if Faith, Hope and Chart,
do not lead him to Christ, and hope al
things" for him, even against hope, ant
forgive ali his failures, and deliver hin
from evil, he will die in despair.
Epileptic Infancy of Great Men.