The Princeton union., 1900-08-30

pocket forgotten.
On their way to "The Forks" NAL
com learned from Mrs. Barton that
while Philip was on his back, unable
to leave his bed, one Of the farmer
boys living on the next ranch had
brought out several bottles of whisky
an1 smuggled them into the house.
The result was that young Barton was
having delirium tremens while in the
terrible condition caused by his de-
bauch at the time of the great fire.
His mother had spent a fearful night
with him, and at last, desperate and
heartbroken, dry eyed, but weeping
her blood away within, she had come
into town for Kirk.
1T is all Of the devil, this drink busi-
ness" groaned Malcom as he went in
to the house and into the room where
Phil Barton lay.
Never in all his life had Malcom
Kirk seen such sight. Barton knew
him as he came in, and he spoke his
name. Then he began to curse in the
most awful manner. The lower part
Of his body was paralyzed, but his
arms moved necessarily, and his head
rolled back and forth on the bed
while he called on all hell to blast ev-
cry living creature on earth.
Malcolm put Mrs. Barton out of the
room and shut the door. Then for
three hours he spent the most trying
period he had ever known by the side
Of a suffering and sinful human being.
At the end Of that time Barton lay
| quiet, and Malcom was weak and
trembling, wet with perspiration and
unnerved as if he had been facing
some great peril The doctor came just
as Malcom went to tell Mrs. Barton
that Philip was sleeping. She had not
been able to find any physician when
she had gone in that morning and had
| left word for one to come out.
"What is going to become Of my
boy, Mr.. Kirk?" Mrs. Barton asked as
he was getting into the doctors buggy
to go back with him.
Malcolm had not the heart to say
anything at first In his soul a pro-
found horror and a divine Indignation
against the saloon greater than he had
ever known had risen.
At last he said: Mrs. Barton, hope
to live to see the day when your boy
will not be near this temptation. The
saloon and all it represents is an enc
my of mankind. We will not cease to
work and pray and suffer until the
curse Of it is removed from our life as
a state" For the time he had forgot
ten he was going away.
promise me, Mr.. Kirk, that you will
do what you can for Phil. There's no
one living he thinks so much of. You
saved his life. Save his soul too. Don't
give him up, will you, Mr.. Kirk?''
N1alcom trembled. How could he tell
this wretched, heartbroken woman, liv.
ing in that desolate, ruined home, that
he had already made his plan to leave
Conrad. She clung to him as the lar.
gest and only hope for her boy that
she knew. What could he say to her?
The doctor, who had been listening
sympathetically, but in silence, had
gathered up his reins, and the horses
impatiently made movement to start
and still Malcom Kirk said nothing.
II know you won't give him up, Mr.
Kirk. If you don't save him, no one
else will. Don't you think he's worth
saving?'
She stood by the buggy and laid bel
thin, worn hand on Malcom's arm. Al
he looked at it he thought Of some ole
verses he had read while in the semi
nary about mothers hands:
, Not all the ladies in all the lands,
, With riches and titles and fame,
Could boast of such beautiful, shapely hands
AS that could name.
Her hands were without jeweled ring,
And the fingers were thin and old,
But baby's fingers would round them cling,
More precious than solid gold.
My mother has passed this earth away,
10 the land where death cannot be-,
But I'll never forget her as she lay,
Hands clasped in prayer for me-
They were old verses that some on,
had translated hastily from a German
l text, but Malcom remembered them
r and they came to him vividly just now
"Of course I believe he is worth say
, ing" said Malcolm.
3 Mrs. Barton looked up to him ngail
appealingly.
E "You won't give him up, will you?"
] mo; won't give him up," replie,
). Malcom, but he hardly seemed to real
, ize what the words meant. Was he no
D planning to go away from all this bur
9 den bearing? Had he not already writ
ten the letter accepting the place wher
he would be free to use his pen withou
t this constant struggle to help the live
+ Of others in this personal contact wit
t them?
:. CHAPTER XII,
o THE BATTLE FOR PROHIBITION.
All the way back to Conrad his min