There is no class of people exempt from broken hearts. The rich and the
poor suffer alike. There was a time when I used to visit the poor that I
thought all the broken hearts were to be found among them, but within
the last few years I have found there are as many broken hearts among
the learned as the unlearned, the cultured as the uncultured, the rich
as the poor. If you could but go up one of our avenues and down another
and reach the hearts of the people; and get them to tell their whole
story, you would be astonished at the wonderful history of every family.
I remember a few years ago I had been out of the city for some weeks.
When I returned I started out to make some calls. The first place I went
to I found a mother; her eyes were red with weeping. I tried to find out
what was troubling her, and she reluctantly opened her heart and told me
all. She said: "Last night my only boy came home about midnight, drunk.
I didn't know that he was addicted to drunkenness, but this morning I
found out that he had been drinking for weeks, and," she continued, "I
would rather have seen him laid in the grave than have have had him
brought home in the condition I saw him in last night." I tried to
comfort her as best I could when she told me her sad story.
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