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A true and Touching story.

We clip the following from the Fredericksburg (Va.) Christina Banner:

A young man and his wife were preparing to attend a Christmas party at the house of a friend some miles distant.

‘"Henry, my dear husband, don't drink too much at the party, to-day, you will promise me, won't you?"’ said she, putting her hand on his arm, and raising her eyes to his face with a pleading glance.

‘"No, Millie, I will not you may trust me,"’ And he wrapped his infant boy in a soft blanket, and they descended.

The horses were soon prancing over the turf, and pleasant conversation beguiled the way.

‘"Now don't forget your promise,"’ whispered the young wife, as she passed up the steps.

Poor thing! she was the wife of a man who loved to look upon the wine when red. But his love for his wife, and their babe whom they both idolized, kept him back, and it was not often that he joined in Bacchanalian revelries.

The party passed off pleasantly, the time of departing drew near, and the wife descended from the upper chamber to join her husband.

A pang shot through the trusting heart as she met him, for he was intoxicated — he had broken his promise.

Silently they rode homeward, save when she drunken man broke into snatches of songs or unmeaning laughter. But the wife rode on, her babe pressed closely to her grieved heart.

‘"Give me the baby, Millie, I can't trust you with him,"’ said he as he approached a dark and somewhat swollen stream.

After some hesitation, she resigned her first born, her darling babe, closely wrapped in the great blanket, to his arms. Over the dark waters the noble steed safely bore them, and when they reached the bank, the mother asked for the child.

With much care and tenderness he placed the bundle in her arms; when she clasped it to her bosom, no babe was there! It had slipped from the blanket, and the drunken father knew it not.

A wild shriek aroused him, and he turned just in time to see the little rosy face rise one moment above the dark waves, and then sink forever.

This is no fiction, but the plain truth. The parties were known by the friends of the writer, and it should be a warning to those who indulge in intoxicating drinks, and resist the pleadings of loving wives.

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Fredericksburg, Va. (Virginia, United States) (1)
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