upt.

Paul Clifford, whom we have also introduced to you, was the only son of
a widow, whose young life had been overshadowed by the curse of
intemperance. Her husband, a man of splendid abilities and magnificent
culture, had fallen a victim to the wine cup. With true womanly devotion
she had clung to him in the darkest hours, until death had broken his
hold in life, and he was laid away the wreck of his former self in a
drunkard's grave. Gathering up the remains of what had been an ample
fortune, she installed herself in an humble and unpretending home in the
suburbs of the city of B., and there with loving solicitude she had
watched over and superintended the education of her only son. He was a
promising boy, full [of?] life and vivacity, having inherited much of
the careless joyousness of his father's temperament; and although he
was the light and joy of his home, yet his mother sometimes felt as if
her heart was contracting with a spasm of agony, when she remembered
that it was through that same geniality of disposition and wonderful
fascination of manner, the tempter had woven his meshes for her husband,
and that the qualities that made him so desirable at home, made him
equally so to his jovial, careless, inexperienced companions. Fearful
that the appetite for strong drink might have been transmitted to her
child as a fatal legacy of sin, she sedulously endeavored to develop
within him self control, feeling that the lack of it is a prolific cause
of misery and crime, and she spared no pains to create within his mind a
horror of intemperance, and when he was old enough to understand the
nature of a vow, she knelt with him in earnest prayer, and pledging him
to eternal enmity against everything that would intoxicate, whether
fermented or distilled. In the morning she sowed the seed which she
hoped would blossom in time, and bear fruit throughout eternity.

Chapter II

The Decision[1]

"I hear Belle," said Jeanette Roland[2] addressing her cousin Belle
Gordon, "that you have refused an excellent offer of marriage."

"Who said so?"

"Aunt Emma."

"I am very sorry that Ma told you, I think such things should be kept
sacred from comment, and I think the woman is wanting in refinement and
delicacy of feeling who makes the rejection of a lover a theme for
conversation."

"Now you dear little prude I had no idea that you would take it so
seriously but Aunt Emma was so disappointed and spoke of the rejecte