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A missionary was saying only
last week that we ought to help raise money to build churches in New
York. Just think of there being mor'n ten saloons for every church! And
that my son should speak for them and spend nights in them!"
"I'm sorry it troubles you so. If I felt I had any right to stop, I'd do
it."
"You haven't drunk in them yet, Peter?"
"No."
"And you'll promise to write me if you do."
"I'll promise you I won't drink in them, mother."
"Thank you, Peter." Still his mother was terrified at the mere thought,
and at her request, her clergyman spoke also to Peter. He was easier to
deal with, and after a chat with Peter, he told Mrs. Stirling:
"I think he is doing no harm, and may do much good. Let him do what he
thinks best."
"It's dreadful though, to have your son's first refusal be about going
to saloons," sighed the mother.
"From the way he spoke I think his refusal was as hard to him as to you.
He's a good boy, and you had better let him judge of what's right.


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