BAD MANNERS and the WRONG MEDICINE by Mrs. L. D. Avery-Stuttle

Pacific Press Publishing Association · Mountain View, California · Dec 1, 1914

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 41, No. 47.

BAD MANNERS and the WRONG MEDICINE

By Mrs. L. D. Avery-Stuttle

AN OLD MAN ANNOYED AND A CHILD RUINED

By Mrs. L. D. Avery-Stuttle

He sat directly beside and a little in front of the dear old man, for they were fast friends, and were carrying on a very earnest and animated conversation. The old man was feeble and sick, and had a great abhorrence for tobacco; but though the younger man well knew that this was the case, he deliberately blew great volumes of poisonous smoke directly into the pale, delicate face of his aged friend.

The smoker seemed entirely oblivious of the fact that every now and again a spasm of pain flitted across the expressive face of the old man.

UNCONSCIOUSLY IMPOLITE

Now this younger man had no idea that he was wofully impolite, besides being unkind. I had known him well for many years; and I knew that he had by nature a heart kind and tender above the average. And so as I watched the clouds of nicotin-laden smoke that rolled blacker and thicker into the room, and as I observed the ever-increasing uneasiness of the old man, I said to my-self, "Strange that the young man doesn't realize how disagreeable he is making himself!"—because I remembered his natural kindness of heart and refinement of disposition.

As I thought upon it, I became sure that there could be but one reason: the moral sense of that young man had been blunted by the use of the deadly narcotic. In other words, the pipe had destroyed his keen sense of the fitness of things. It had dulled and coarsened that which by nature was sensitive and refined. It had cheapened and adulterated the consciousness of right and wrong. It had — but we will call a halt, though we have not even mentioned the mischief that this debasing habit has wrought upon the body of its victim,—a mischief which the kindly hand of time is slow in undoing even after genuine repentance has caused a complete change of habits. But if the mischief that is the direct fruit of intemperance were confined to the foolish victim himself, the case would not be so bad.

CRIPPLED AND DEFORMED

The other day, I stepped into one of the down-town stores. As I stood waiting for a salesman, I noticed a large baby cart at my side. There sat a wretched, deformed, and crippled child, I think about twelve years old. The legs were unsightly and twisted bones tightly covered with skin. The feet bore not the slightest resemblance to the human foot. The arms and the hands, as distorted as the lower limbs, moved about uneasily and aimlessly. The face and the head were hideous in their deformity.

Quick tears sprang into my eyes. A little girl of about ten years stood close by the cart; and when I saw that she seemed to exercise a sort of motherly care over the cripple, I asked her the cause of its sad condition.

"Bennie was a nice, pretty baby, mama says," replied the child, "until he was about three years old. Then he was taken sick with a fever."

What? Could the fever cause such a terrible condition? I mentally asked. The little girl saw the look of astonishment in my face, and hastened to explain.

GAVE HIM THE WRONG MEDICINE

"O, it wasn't the fever, missus, though mother says that was bad enough; but the doctor did it—he gave Bennie the wrong medicine."

"But," I protested, "how could any man calling himself a doctor become so careless as that?"

"He wasn't careless, missus, he was just drunk—that's all; and my little brother will have to bear his misery till he dies, mother says."

I glanced once more at the poor, twisted body of the innocent victim of strong drink, and turned sorrowfully away.

That was one of the most able sermons I ever heard in favor of temperance. O, if by a general prohibition of the manufacture of the accursed stuff, we could save even one such child as this, it would surely be worth while!

I believe that could each and all right-minded voters of America have seen the cruel effect of just one lapse into intemperance which I saw that morning, they would rise in the strength of their manhood, and banish the black fiend forever from this fair land. Let us just balance accounts, in the case above stated:

First, the usefulness of a physician was ruined, and instead of becoming a blessing to society, one upon whom the sick and suffering might lean in times of calamity and danger, he became a positive menace.

Second, a beautiful little boy, the pride and joy of his parents, became a helpless, hopeless invalid for life, frightful in his awful deformity. A hideous thing, he must drag out his ruined life in misery, the innocent victim of the depraved appetite of one who sailed under the false colors of a physician.

Third, the parents and family of the child must endure days and nights of weariness and heartache and disappointment, to say nothing of expense and trouble, their home blighted, an innocent boy life ruined, anguish instead of joy, the dregs of bitterness instead of the joys of motherhood.

All this, and more, for one moment's indulgence of the cup!

But Uncle Sam received a few dollars license fee, and the saloon-keeper received ten cents for the drink!

Accounts can never be completely balanced in this life. We have given a partial summing up of gain and loss, as it appears now; but what mind is sufficient to compute the infinite and eternal loss?

Does it pay?