A Tragedy.

Thames Star, Volume X, Issue 3178, 26 April 1879, Page 4

A Tragedy.

A young man stood at the corner of Broadway and Houston-street, evidently doubting as to which direction he had better take, his hat lifted high enough so you could see he had an intelligent forehead, stout chest, a robust development. Splendid young man. Cultured young man. Honoured young man. Why did he stop there while so many were going up and down? The "fact is that every man has a good angel and a bad angel contending for the mastery of his spirit, •nd there were a good angel and a bad angel struggling with that young man's soul at the corner of Broadway and Houston-street. "Come with me," said the good angel; " I will take you home ; I will spread my wing over your pillow; I will lovingly escort you through life under supernatural protection; I will bless every cup you drink out of, every couch you rest on, every door-way you enter; I will, consecrate your tears when you weep, your sweat when you toil, and, at the last, I will hand over your grave into the keeping of the bright angel of a Christian resurrection. In answer to your father's prtilion and your mother's prayer, I have been sent of the Lord out of heaven to be your guardian spirit. Come with me, said the good angel, in a voice of unearthly sympiion}'. It was music like that which drops from a lute of heaven when a seraph breathes on it. "No, no," said the bad angel, " come with me; I have something better to offer; the wines I pour an*: ..chalices of bewitching carou?al; the dance I lead is over floor tes&elated wiih unrestrainedindulgences; there is no God to frown on the temples of sin where I worship. Come with me. The skies are Italian. The paths I tread are through meadowß daisied and primrosed. Come with me." The young man hesitated at a time when hesitation was ruin, and the good angel departed. That was the turning-point in that young man's history; forj the good angel flown, he hesitated no longer, but started on a pathwny which is baautiful at I he opening but blasted at the last. The bad angel, leading the way, opened gate after gate, and at each gate the read became rougher and the sky more lurid. Past each portal there was a grinding of locks and a shoving of bolts ; and the scenery on either side the road changed from gardens to deserts, and the June air became a cutting December blast, and the bright wings of the bad angel turned to sackcloth, and the eyes of light became hollow with hopeless grief, and the fountains that at the sfart had tossed with wine, poured forth bubbling terrs and foaming blood, and on the right side the road there was a serpent, and the man said to the bad angel, "What is that serpentP" And the answer was, " That is the serpent of stinging remorse." v On the left side the road there was a lion, and the man asked the bad angel " What is that lion ?" and the answer was, " That is the lion of all-devouring despair." A vulture flew through the sky, and the man asked the bad angel, " What is that vulture ? " and the answer was*" That is the vulture waiting for the carcases of the slain." And then the man began to try to pull eff the folds of something that had wound him round and round, and he said to the bad angel. " What is it that twists me in this awful convolution ?" and the answer was, "That is the worm that never dies! " and then the man said to the bad angel, " What does all this mean ? I trusted in what you said at the corner of Broadway and Houston street; I trusted it all, and why have you thus deceived me?"j Then the last deception fell off the charmer, and it said " I was sent forth from the pit to destroy your soul; I watched my chance for many a long year ; when you hesitated that night on Broadway I gained my triumph ; now you are here."—From a Sermon by Talmage.