years there will be no bar-rooms, for none will crave the fiery
poison."

"Of little value, my friend, will be, in far too many cases, your
precepts, if temptation invites our sons at almost every step of
their way through life. Thousands have fallen, and thousands are
now tottering, soon to fall. Your sons are not safe; nor are mine.
We cannot tell the day nor the hour when they may weakly yield to
the solicitation of some companion, and enter the wide open door
of ruin. And are we wise and good citizens to commission men to do
the evil work of enticement--to encourage them to get gain in
corrupting and destroying our children? To hesitate over some
vague ideal of human liberty when the sword is among us, slaying
our best and dearest? Sir! while you hold back from the work of
staying the flood that is desolating our fairest homes, the black
waters are approaching your own doors."

There was a startling emphasis in the tones with which this last
sentence was uttered; and I do not wonder at the look of anxious
alarm that it called to the face of him whose fears it was meant
to excite.

"What do you mean, sir?" was inquired.

"Simply, that your sons are in equal danger with others."

"And is that all?"

"They have been seen, of late, in the bar-room of the 'Sickle and
Sheaf.'"