. Platform echoes: or, Living truths for head and heart . friendless, and forlorn, lie determinedto return home to his mother. Ah, thats it. young men. When friends aregone, when com]tan-ions have left youalone, when reputa-tion and means aregone, when healthand strength aregone, then the long-ing comes for themother. Take met o m y mot h e r,though all the worldturn from me, shewill receive me andcare for me. He went home to die, andthe mother said, When I look at myit seems but yes- boy lying dead, it seems hut vesterclay TERDAY. _ • that his father sprinkled on his foreheadthe water of bapt
. Platform echoes: or, Living truths for head and heart . friendless, and forlorn, lie determinedto return home to his mother. Ah, thats it. young men. When friends aregone, when com]tan-ions have left youalone, when reputa-tion and means aregone, when healthand strength aregone, then the long-ing comes for themother. Take met o m y mot h e r,though all the worldturn from me, shewill receive me andcare for me. He went home to die, andthe mother said, When I look at myit seems but yes- boy lying dead, it seems hut vesterclay TERDAY. _ • that his father sprinkled on his foreheadthe water of baptism, and there he lies dead, and my heart isbroken. Remember, drunkenness does not exist altogether amongthe lower orders of society. Some people say, I advise youto go among the outcasts and talk to the people there. Inmy opinion, drunkenness has curse to the middle andthe upper classes of society as much as it has been to thelowest. I consider a man as much a drunkard if he lies uponIns bed of down, and rolls from it upon his magnificent car-. A SCENE IN A LONDON CELLAR. pet in a sumptuous apartment, with mirrors all around himshowing him his own bestiality—as much a debased, degraded, and imbruted sol as the man who lies in the kennel,his hair soaking in the tilth of the gutter; it is only the cir-cumstances by which he is surrounded which save him fromthe position of the other. The drunkard, in whatever stationhe may be, who stupefies his intellect, dethrones his reason,beclouds his mind, puts an extinguisher on the light thatGod has given him, commits as grievous a sin against Godand his own soul as the man who wallows in the lowestkennel. A city missionary once showed me a cellar in St. Giless,London. *• There, he said. I once saw a man on his death-bed— a heap of rotten straw — who, six years ago. hungpictures in the Suffolk gallery, and moved in the besl circlesof society. I asked, What has brought you to this? andlifting up his emaciated arms and
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, booksubjecttempera, bookyear1890
