laughed merrily at the sport he made. Mrs. Whitford's pleasure was
gone for that evening. A shadow came down on the bright future of
her son--a future to which her heart had turned with such proud
anticipations. She was oppressed by a sense of humiliation. Her son
had stepped down from his pedestal of dignified self-respect, and
stood among the common herd of vulgar young men to whom in her eyes
he had always been superior.

But greater than her humiliation were the fears of Mrs. Whitford. A
thoughtful and observant woman, she had reason for magnifying the
dangers that lay in the path of her son. The curse of more than one
member of both her own and husband's family had been intemperance.
While still a young man her father had lost his self-control, and
her memory of him was a shadow of pain and sorrow. He died at an
early age, the victim of an insatiable and consuming desire for
drink. Her husband's father had been what is called a "free
liver"--that is, a man who gave free indulgence to his appetites,
eating and drinking to excess, and being at all times more or less
under the influence of wine or spirits.

It was the hereditary taint that Mrs. Whitford dreaded. Here lay the
ground of her deepest anxiety. She had heard and thought enough on
this subject to know that parents transmit to their children an
inclination to do the things they have done from habit--strong or
weak, according to the power of the habit indulged. If the habit be
an evil one, then the children are in more than common danger, and
need the wisest care and protection. She knew, also, from reading
and observation, that an evil habit of mind or body which did not
show itself in the second generation would often be reproduced in
the third, and assert a power that it required the utmost strength