THE BATTALION.
9
ance furnishes plenty of ground for wily thoughts.
Here is a man who cast his vote for the liquor trade; he
says:
“ What do I care for the grocer’s gain,
He makes some clear money, and all that’s plain;
But I can control myself I know full well,
So i’ll give my vote to the popular swell.
And at midnight ’way down the track toward Sananton’,
Is heard the cry of men and a woman’s moan;
He cast his vote for liquor ’twas plain,
And a drunken conductor had wrecked the train,
And the voter’s wife was among the slain.”
Let us now glance into the midnight home of the drunk
ard, Methinks I can see the delicate form of a once beauti
ful woman, but the flush of health has departed from her
cheeks. She is kneeling, lips compressed, eyes turned upward
and hands together. Listen, she speaks; the words “God for
bid ” escape her lips. Imagine the rest.
But let us come nearer home. Take the boys of our
school; enumerate the good ones* But I fear your enumera
tion will not reach the unit’s place. We could pick out boys
that would do very well, were it not for a few bad qualities:
They deceive, chew tobacco, drink, “ pony,” flirt and swear
]ust a little. But then, have I any right to point out the evil
in others? Am I free from vices? No, I may have fifty to
your one, so that bars me off from writing on intemperance.
What’s the trouble? My light is burning low, but I have
plenty of time. I am now thinking of the new girl. On clos
ing my eyes, I can seemingly see a path, across which lies a
sign-board upon which is inscribed in gold letters, “Grace,
Loveliness and Beauty Fade Beyond this Sign.” Farther down
the path I see a maid of scarcely eighteen summers coming up
the path at a cheerful gait. She has laughing blue eyes and