A Good Samaritan
A GOOD SAMARITAN The little District Telegraph boy, with a dirty face, stood at the edge of the desk, and, rubbing his sleeve across his cheek, made it unnecessarily dirtier. "Answer, sir?" "No--yes--wait a minute." Reed tore the yellow envelope and spread the telegram. It read: "Do I meet you at your office or at Martin's and what time?" "The devil!" Reed commented, and the boy blinked indifferently. He was used to stronger. "The casual Rex all over! Yes, boy, there's an answer." He scribbled rapidly, and the two lines of writing said this: "Waiting for you at office now. Hurry up. C. Reed." He fumbled in his pocket and gave the youngster a coin. "See that it's
pursuit or calling, but sow in his body the germs of diseases which will
curse him in his later years and abridge their term.
Other evidences of the steady growth among the people of a sentiment
adverse to drinking might be given. We see it in the almost feverish
response that everywhere meets the strong appeals of temperance
speakers, and in the more pronounced attitude taken by public and
professional men.
JUDGES ON THE BENCH
and preachers from the pulpit alike lift their voices in condemnation.
Grand juries repeat and repeat their presentations of liquor selling and
liquor drinking as the fruitful source of more than two-thirds of the
crimes and miseries that afflict the community; and prison reports add
their painful emphasis to the warning of the inquest.
The people learn slowly, but they are learning. Until they _will_ that
this accursed traffic shall cease, it must go on with its sad and awful
consequences. But the old will of the people has been debased by sensual
indulgence. It is too weak to set itself against the appetite by which
it has become enslaved. There must be a new will formed in the ground of
enlightenment and intelligence; and then, out of knowing what is right
and duty in regard to this great question of temperance and
restriction, will come the will to do. And when we have this new will
A GOOD SAMARITAN The little District Telegraph boy, with a dirty face, stood at the edge of the desk, and, rubbing his sleeve across his cheek, made it unnecessarily dirtier. "Answer, sir?" "No--yes--wait a minute." Reed tore the yellow envelope and spread the telegram. It read: "Do I meet you at your office or at Martin's and what time?" "The devil!" Reed commented, and the boy blinked indifferently. He was used to stronger. "The casual Rex all over! Yes, boy, there's an answer." He scribbled rapidly, and the two lines of writing said this: "Waiting for you at office now. Hurry up. C. Reed." He fumbled in his pocket and gave the youngster a coin. "See that it's