. Social Dynamite: The Wickedness of Modern Society from the Discources of T. De Witt Talmage . t Solomonsaid: A foolish son is a heaviness to his mother. Oh, what a funeral it will be when that boy is broughthome dead! And how mother will sit there and say: Isthis my boy that I used to fondle, and that I walked the floorwith in the night when he was sick? Is this the boy that Iheld to the baptismal font for baptism? Is this the boy forwhom I toiled until the blood burst from the tips of my fin-gers that he might have a good start and a good home?Lord, why hast Thou let me live to see this? Ca
. Social Dynamite: The Wickedness of Modern Society from the Discources of T. De Witt Talmage . t Solomonsaid: A foolish son is a heaviness to his mother. Oh, what a funeral it will be when that boy is broughthome dead! And how mother will sit there and say: Isthis my boy that I used to fondle, and that I walked the floorwith in the night when he was sick? Is this the boy that Iheld to the baptismal font for baptism? Is this the boy forwhom I toiled until the blood burst from the tips of my fin-gers that he might have a good start and a good home?Lord, why hast Thou let me live to see this? Can it be thatthese swollen hands are the ones that used to wander overmy face when rocking him to sleep? Can it be that this isthe swollen brow that I once so rapturously kissed? Poorboy! how tired he does look. I wonder who struck him thatblow across the temples! I wonder if he uttered a dying INTEMPERANCE. 109 prayer! Wake up, my son; dont you hear rne? wake up!Ob, he cant hear me! Dead, dead, dead! Oh, Absalom,my son, my son, would God that I had died for thee, oh,Absalom, my son, my son!. I am not much of a mathematician, and I cannot estimateit: but is there any one quick enough at figures to estimateiiow many mothers there are waiting for something to be 110 INTEMPEKANCE. done? Aye, there are many wives waiting for domestic-rescue. He promised something different from that when,after the long acquaintance and the careful scrutiny ofcharacter, the hand and the heart were offered and a hell on earth a woman lives in who has a drunkenhusband! O Death, how lovely thou art to her, and how soft andwarm thy skeleton hand! The sepulcher at midnight inwinter is a kings drawing-room compared with that womanshome. It is not so much the blow on the head that hurts, asthe blow on tbe heart. The rum fiend came to the door ofthat beautiful home and opened the door and stood there,and said: I curse this dwelling with an unrelenting curse that father into a maniac, I
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