"The hardest blow I ever received," said a devoted mother, occupying
a high social position in our land, "was when my eldest boy turned to
me in answer to my expostulation with him about taking too much wine,
and said, 'Mother, you know I learned to drink at home.'" So many
have said, "If I had only known then what I know now, how different
my home would have been, I would not now have to reproach myself for
the wrongdoing of husband or of sons." Recently a member of one of
our Christian churches, a lady of wealth and refinement, whose home
was a home of luxury, and on whose hospitable board the wine-glass
was placed as a matter of custom, during the long years of married
life, was called to pass through a very painful experience, a very
Gethsemane. Her eldest son had grown to be "a little wild," would go
from home occasionally for a day or two, causing his parents great
anxiety concerning him. On this occasion nearly a week had passed
since they had seen him, when a message came to the mother from one
of the city policemen. She hurried with the messenger to the gaol,
there to meet her darling boy, the one in whom her fondest hopes had
been centred, and for whom her brightest dreams had been so many
times thought out, the boy she ceased not thinking of other than
true, loving and pure,--to find him battered, bruised, and bleeding,
with clothes disordered and torn, a sad example of the transformation
which strong drink can produce. Some one writes, "It is sad to be
disappointed in those we love," but who can tell the agony of that
mother's heart as she looked at her shattered idol, and cried out,
"My son, why will you drink and break my heart?" I shall not soon
forget his reply, "Because you gave it to me at home," nor can I
forget that mother's face as there came over her soul the awful
realization of all that the thoughtlessness of custom had done for
her boy. As we passed out she said, "No more wine at our table, God