_GEORGE AND MARY._
The Sunday-school having been successfully organized, Mr. Steele was
extremely vexed, and he withdrew himself as far as possible from
those who went with the missionary in the movement. He was, besides,
ambitious and proud--he could not bear to think that “a traveling
loafer,” as he termed the missionary, should overcome him; and, being
considered the champion of the opposition, he mingled with the wicked,
courting their praise, and bringing himself to their level. He was
fighting in vain, for it was against God.
A few more weeks passed away, and it having been quite a while since
George and Mary had seen their friends, they asked their mother if
they might make Henry and Eliza a visit; she referred them to their
father for permission. George persuaded Mary to ask, for he knew that
his little sister’s winning manner would be more likely to accomplish
the object; watching her opportunity, she climbed upon her father’s
knee, and putting her arms around his neck, kissed him; she had done so
before, but not for some time. The caress pleased him, and he returned
the kiss. Not thinking of anything in particular, he said, “Well, what
else do you want, my little pet?”
“You wouldn’t give me what I wanted, anyhow, would you father?”
“Certainly, anything you ask;” and he gave her another kiss, adding,
“Well, pet, what is it?”
“George and I would _so_ much like to go see Henry and Eliza--may we?”
For a moment he was in doubt, the nature of the request being so
unexpected; but for once he allowed his better nature to have sway, and
consented on condition that they would come home early. They were soon
on their way, as happy as the birds on a sunny morning.
Henry and Eliza were delighted to see them, and entertained them by
giving a minute account of all that transpired in the Sunday-school;
they also gave them some of the cards and papers which they had
received there.
George and Mary kept their promise to “come home early.” Whilst they
were showing their mother the Sunday-school cards and papers, their
father entered the room. He became very angry upon being thus reminded
of the subject so disagreeable to him; so, seizing the children’s
gifts, he tore them into pieces and then threw them out the window,
and declared that the children should never go to Mr. Brown’s again.
The result of such a course on his part, was that the hearts of his
children were hardened against him; they felt that they had been
unkindly and unjustly treated, and they very soon became irritable and
peevish in disposition. Their father soon discovered the change, and
knowing the cause, he determined to restore them to their usual spirits
by affording them amusement; so he induced them to seek new playmates,
among those who did not attend Sunday-school. They obeyed; but, at
first, such company was exceedingly disagreeable to them, for the
children with whom they associated were profane and vulgar and did not
regard God’s Holy day. They had been taught by their mother that such
conduct was wrong; but the father now ruled with a rod of iron, and all
were compelled to bend to his will.
The downward course is rapid; it was but a few short years before
George and Mary, surrounded by such influence, could mock with the
mocker, at the prayer-meeting and Sunday-school.
The father, annoyed by the success of the good cause, and a
consciousness of wrong-doing, sought relief in drink--hence he was
thrown into the society of the worthless, vulgar drunkards, who
lie around the haunts of vice. Insensibly, he was drifting down to
irretrievable ruin!
He never expected to be a drunkard--not he! No, he could drink when he
pleased, and let it alone when he pleased. He would show “that crazy
Truman,” that a man could _govern_ his appetite, and that he did not
speak the truth when he said that confirmed whisky-drinkers would fill
drunkards’ graves.
He found out to his own sorrow who spoke the truth; for the time came
when he was compelled to give up his comfortable home to satisfy
the tavern-keeper’s demands. His wife, through disappointment and
abuse, lost her health and died broken-hearted, before her husband and
children had run their whole course of sin.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]