Christian herald and signs of our times . lam help-less as a child. You dont need to tell me thatit is wrong. I know it is wrong. I am a have had good opportunities, and have lostthem. I have been rich, and I lost it all. I hada good wife and children. My wife died broken-hearted, and my children dont acknowledgeme. I am not a man. I am the possession of afiend. Quit the liquor ? No, I never shall till Idie. Know? Yes, I know; I know, but Ivelost the will power. Im a wreck. Take warn-ing by me, young men. It is the most insidiousfoe you have. You may be bound hand and footbefore you kno
Christian herald and signs of our times . lam help-less as a child. You dont need to tell me thatit is wrong. I know it is wrong. I am a have had good opportunities, and have lostthem. I have been rich, and I lost it all. I hada good wife and children. My wife died broken-hearted, and my children dont acknowledgeme. I am not a man. I am the possession of afiend. Quit the liquor ? No, I never shall till Idie. Know? Yes, I know; I know, but Ivelost the will power. Im a wreck. Take warn-ing by me, young men. It is the most insidiousfoe you have. You may be bound hand and footbefore you know it. Dont touch it. Donttaste it. Theres no other safe way. You mayhave all the learning in the world, you may havebrilliant genius, but they wont save you. Theydid not save me. Im lost for this world andthe next, too. The old mans voice broke, and genuine tearsrolled down his cheeks. There were tears, too,in the eyes of his listeners. The young menwere moved by his despair, and pitied him sin-cerely. They took him to his wretched home,. A Learned Inebriates Warning. and as they left him there they heard him callingout for more liquor to drown his misery. A FATAL FRAUD. AN ORIGINAL SERIAL STORY. BY LEW VAN-DERPOOLE.(Continued front page T43.) Reunion. The anxiety about Myrtie told seriously uponMrs. Vane. Dav after day passed and broughtno tidings from Smith the detective. Since heleft St. Louis, from which he telegraphed that hewas on the right track, he had been silent. Itseemed to the anxious mother that she had livedyears since then instead of days. She sat list-lessly in her room, wearily waiting, seldomspeaking to any one. Alice Vane was thinking during those daysover her past life. She could lay her finger onthe precise spot at which her life had divergedfrom the path of rectitude ; but her memorytravelled farther back, and she saw that yearsbefore that day her feet had been set on slipperypaths, where a slight impulse of temptationwould cause her to fall. One night lon
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