p. 11 | THE OLD DECANTER

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Sep 19, 1895

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 21, No. 37.

THE OLD DECANTER.

There was an old decanter, and its mouth was gaping wide; the rosy wine had ebbed away and left its crystal side; and the wind went humming, humming, up and down the sides it flew, and through its reed-like, hollow neck the wildest notes it blew. I placed it in the window where the blast was blowing free, and fancied that its pale mouth sang the queerest strains to me. “They tell me, puny conquerors, the plague has slain his ten and war his hundred thousand of the very best of men; but I—” ’twas thus the bottle spake—“but I have conquered more than all your famous conquerors so feared and famed of yore. Then come, ye youths and maidens all, come drink from out my cup the beverage that dulls the brains and burns the spirits up, that puts to shame your conquerors that slay their scores below, for this has deluged millions with the lava tide of woe. Though in the path of battle darkest waves of blood may roll, yet while I have killed the body, I have damned the very soul. The cholera, the plague, the sword, such ruin never wrought as I in mirth or malice on the innocent have brought. And still I breathe upon them and they shrink before my breath; and year by year my thousands tread the dismal road of DEATH!”