A Reversal

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A Reversal BY LOUIS W. LARSEN

A youth longed ardently for the joys of life. He was lured by the gaieties and drawn irresistibly by the Goddess of Pleasure. There was a hunger in his heart that could be gratified only by mad indulgence. For him, satiety, even if it involved his destruction. He counted not the cost, he cared not for the consequence. What of wild oats! In the seed time there was ecstasy, in the harvest — ah, he wouldn't think of that Then came a Siren of Pleasure and whispered softly to h m, :

"Come, I will fulfil the dream of your impetuous youth. You shall drink your fill at the fountain of perishable joy." And he followed, infatuated with her beauty, intoxicated by her fair promise. She led the way to a lofty eminence from which he could look down upon a scene of transcendent brilliance. It was more dazzlng even than the visions of his dream hours. He was spellbound, enravished, his soul keyed to the intensity of wildest anticipation. There stretched before him a vision of infimte light. Soft, luring strains of music went out on the perfumed air, nrngled with the ripple of a thousand cheery voices. A host of revelers was there, light-hearted, gay, bent on the gratification of every carnal passion. They moved about in that wonderful fairyland with the nonchalant tread of the carefree. "Wine, woman and song" filled every fleeting hour with the fullest measure of intoxicating joy. The youth was in a frenzy of suspense, eager to rush into the happy throng that beckoned him. This surely was the fullfilment of his dreams, the hour of realization He was determined to go down with his fair guide, but she detained him to say "These are the pleasures you have long dreamed of, and now you are to partake to your heart's desire. No one can deny you, there is no law that forbids it. If this is the life you " choose Then he would have rushed away, but the Siren said "Yet :

a moment, ere you plunge. I am commissioned to initiate you

into this l'fe of dissipation, but there is one condition. You must know that worldly pleasures are fleet'ng. They endure for a day, then are gone forever. You pluck the rose, and ts perfume for :

a breath is exquisite, but its hidden thorn pierces your flesh and the wound for many days is sore and vexing. T must warn you

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156 IMPROVEMENT ERA that excess means ultimate disappointment. You must know of the blighting remorse that will fill up the days of your later life." "Bah," said the youth, "speak not to me of retribution. It frightens me not in the least, nor serves one whit to lessen my determination to indulge. Let the consequence be what it will." "Very well," she said, "but one thing more, and I will leave you forever. In your case things are to be strangely reversed, it is decreed that the remorse must precede the indulgence. You must suffer the pangs of a guilty conscience for many long years you must smart under the disappointment of a debauched life you must reap the whirlwind ere you sow to the wind. I exact from you only the pr'ce that every recreant must pay, but you must pay in advance." Then the scene before him changed. The resplendent glory of it all faded slowly away, and he was lookmg down into the blackness of a yawning abyss. The sounds that issued thence were no longer the sweet strains of music, but the horrible shrieks of the damned. As he peered into the darkness, he caught sight of faces that he recognized, faces that a moment before had borne no trace of care, but that were now furrowed with the deep and tragic lines of misery. And the meairng of it all was borne home to the astounded youth with a thundering emphasis. This was the remorse that followed indulgence, the remorse that in his case must precede it Then the darkness fell away and the vision of the revelers returned. "Now choose," said the Siren, and, without another word, she vanished as mysteriously as she had come. And the revelers with one accord beckoned him, but he turned away.

The Way of Sin Fraught with gloom of myriad shadows That the distance veils from sight, Artfully it lures the traveler Onward by mirage of light. But, have feet of those who've wandered Down that path not left behind Imprint of exquisite torture, For each seeking soul to find? Tear away the mocking verdure! See! its growth doth overlay Wreckp^e that since Time's inception Hath incarnadined the way. Grace Ingles Frost