THE DISTILLER AND HIS SON.
In the first of my ministry there occurred an incident within the bounds of my congregation which a half-century has failed to efface from my memory. At that early day the cause of temperance was gradually spreading its influence through our country, and we thought it well to organize a temperance society in our community. In my congregation there was a gentleman thirty-one years of age, of more than ordinary intelligence and business activity. It was desirable that he should join our new society, and I did my best to bring him to that point, but without success. On one occasion, when trying to persuade him to connect himself with the temperance movement, he said to me, "I never expect to be a member of a temperance society, and yet I rejoice at their existence. Not on my own account, but for the sake of that boy," pointing to his little son of four years. "When he has grown to manhood he will be under better influences than those which have surrounded his father. He will have temperance men for his companions—drinking usages will then have ceased." I replied in most serious tones, "Mr. S—, whatever effect temperance societies may have on the community at large, one thing is certain, which is, that the destiny of your little son is in your hands, more than with all others; that such is your influence on that boy that it may well be expected that his future will be shaped by you, more than by the whole outside world." I regret that my words were too prophetic! In about two years after the above-mentioned interview I was called to bury that dear boy. He was burned to death! His father had a small distillery on his farm. One evening, while engaged in removing some apple-brandy from the "receiver" into a cask, the boy standing by with lighted candle, the liquor was ignited, an explosion followed, and both father and son were covered with flames! The father was taken to his bed, and slowly recovered after weeks of suffering. But where was the son, who was to live and grow up under the happy influence of a temperance community! where was he? On the day of the funeral, as I entered the chamber of the suffering father, he turned his face to the wall, and raising his wounded hand as if to shun my sad look, exclaimed in agony, "O, I know what you are going to say!"—Selected.