o check him in his wild career; and,
five years ago, Harry, my poor friend Frank died a drunkard."

"Oh, father, how dreadful!" and Harry shuddered.

"Yes, it is dreadful, my son; but there are countless untold stories as
dreadful as this one. If we were to visit a prison, and ask the wretched
inmates how it was that they were first led into crime, we should find
that '_only this once_' brought most of them there. One took something
which did not belong to him, never intending to do it more than that
once; but the crime soon grew into a habit. Another was once tempted to
gamble, and only that one game was the foundation of all his crimes.
Another fully intended to stop with the first glass; but instead, became
a reckless drunkard.

"Learn, my son, to dread those three little words, and when tempted to
use them, think of all they may lead to, and ask for strength to resist
the temptation; and, Harry, do you wonder now at our refusing to allow
you to visit the billiard room even once?"

"No, father; I see now that you were right, and I was wrong in supposing
that it could not possibly do me any harm to go only this once; and if
Jim _does_ tell the boys some silly story to make them laugh at me, I
can tell them about Frank Allen, and that will soon sober them."

My dear boys, do you flatter yourself that it is a trifling thing to do
wrong, "only this once?" If so, stop and consider, how often not only
the young but those of mature years yield to this deceptive and
alluring thought and take the first steps in a career of sin, when,
could they but see the end of the path which they are so thoughtlessly
entering, they would shudder with horror. They do not realize that sin
once indulged in hardens the heart, and that one step in the downward
path leads to the broad road.

How many parents yield to the pleadings of their children to be indulged
"this once," who find that to deny after once being indulged, costs a
greater effort than to have stood with firmness to conviction of
conscience and true principle.

[Illustration]

THE RIGHT DECISION

It was the beginning of vacation when Mr. Davis, a friend of my father,
came to see us, and asked to let me go home with him. I was much pleased
with the thought of going out of town.

The journey was delightful, and when we reached Mr. Davis's house
everything looked as if I were going to have a fine time. Fred Davis, a
boy about my own age, took me cordially by the