"If a soul thou would'st redeem,
And lead a lost one back to God;--
Would'st thou a guardian angel seem
To one who long in guilt hath trod,--
Go kindly to him,--take his hand
With gentlest words within thine own,
And by his side a brother stand,
Till all the demons thou dethrone." MRS. C. M. SAWYER.
_Monday, July 6th._
This afternoon, I rode out with Frank to visit an elegant residence,
about three miles distant. The house stands on an elevation, and has a
beautiful lawn in front, descending toward a small lake or pond; on the
shore of which stands a neat but tasteful boat-house, with
accommodations for boating or fishing.
I saw a young girl rowing herself in a light skiff. She appeared to me
to be about to upset every minute; but Frank told me it was an Indian
canoe, which, being very light, can be paddled about with great ease and
safety.
On our return, a woman came to the door of her house and requested the
Doctor to call at Jones's, where a child was sick, intimating that she
wished to say something more, but did not like to do so in my presence.
I immediately proposed to alight from the carriage and proceed to the
house of the patient, which was but a few steps distant.
Both the outer and inner doors were open, and nothing could be more
appalling than the sight presented to my view. The room itself was
capable of being made comfortable, if proper care had been bestowed
upon it. But at present poverty and filth ruled without restraint.
The sick child lay upon a tottering bedstead, which was covered with
pieces of carpet, torn quilts, or anything which could be procured from
the floor or elsewhere. A part of an old rag-mat was fastened by two
forks to the window at the side of the bed, to serve the double purpose
of keeping out the wind and light, as there was hardly a whole pane of
glass.
Chairs without backs, and a table under which a barrel had been pushed
to serve in the place of a missing leg, made up the inventory of the
furniture. On the floor, in the farther corner, lay the remnant of an
old straw bed, and upon it was stretched in brutal unconsciousness of
all around him the father of the family; the husband of the woman who
was weeping over the sick child.
I announced myself as the wife of their physician, and was received by
her in a way which led me to suppose she had seen better days. I felt of
the little hand, lying over the side of the bed, and found it burning
with fever. The sufferer lay with her eyes and mouth partly open, and
her hair in a tangled mat about her face and neck.
"How long has she been in this stupor?" I asked, as the child took no
notice of me.
"Since early in the morning."
"And have you given her no medicine?"
"Oh, yes! I have tried to force down a little spirit; but her teeth
seemed set, so that she could not swallow."
I was never more rejoiced than to see Frank enter, as he did at this
moment. He bid the woman get him a clean cloth, and some warm water. The
latter she procured from a neighbor's kitchen, while a part of an old
apron sufficed for the former.
The Doctor then proceeded to bathe the face, neck, and arms of the
child. Afterwards he administered a cooling draught, which the poor,
parched mouth eagerly swallowed. He forbade Mrs. Jones to give her any
spirit, and left, promising to bring powders for the night.
As we rode home, my heart was full of admiration of my husband, while
shame, that disgust had rendered me useless, and pity for the suffering
family, alternately occupied my mind. At length, sympathy prevailed, and
I said, "Frank, I shall watch with that sick child to night."
"Not for the world!" he replied, quickly; and then continued, more
calmly, "The child will do well enough; or rather, she will not be the
one to require most attention. I wish she were away from there; but I
hardly think," he added, after a pause, "it will do to remove her."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Did you not see the man lying in the corner? He is a poor drunken
fellow; and, if I'm not mistaken, will require more care than the child.
I shall engage Mr. Ferris, a kind neighbor, to watch with them."
Perceiving my interest, my husband gave me a short account of the
family, which he had known from childhood. "When Esther Holmes was
married, her father furnished everything necessary for comfortable
housekeeping. She had received a good common education, had been a few
terms to an academy, and every one thought her well and happily settled
in life.
"Her husband, Thomas Jones, is the son of pious parents; a capable man
at his trade, and fully equal to supporting his family in comfort. He
earns, at times, a good deal of money; but it is all spent for rum.
Never was slave more under the influence of a tyrannical master, than he
is under the power of his incessant appetite for intoxicating drink.
"In his Bacchanalian revels and fits of fury, he has broken and
destroyed the furniture until now scarcely a piece remains. Sometimes,
after an attack of delirium tremens, he endeavors to reform, and works
steadily for two or three months. But then he is again overcome, and
drinks worse than ever. His wife has gradually lost all hope, and seems
to give up and let everything go. I fear she does not try to make home
comfortable and pleasant to him, when he is himself. Everything is
filthy in the extreme. It is only as a matter of stern duty that I can
sit down in the house.
"For a day or two Jones has been sick, but he drinks all the time, he is
awake; and I fear he will be wild to-night. It makes me sick at heart to
think of him. He has some noble traits; but rum, _rum_, has changed him
from a kind husband and a tender father into a creature worse than a
brute."
_Tuesday, July 7th._
About midnight a messenger came for the Doctor to hasten to Jones. The
watchers could do nothing with him. He raved and swore that devils were
at the foot of the bed, waiting to catch his soul, and carry it to hell.
Frank went at once and did not return until near daylight. At breakfast,
he relieved my anxiety for the sick child, by saying, she had been
removed to a room in the other part of the house, and was now much
better. But Thomas, he said, had passed a dreadful night. He had seemed
to suffer the torments of the lost. He enumerated his sins from his
childhood, disobedience to his parents, Sabbath breaking, profanity,
intemperance, and almost every form of iniquity. These came up to his
remembrance with the distinctness of the judgment. Then he told how he
had turned from the Saviour, refused His offers of mercy, quenched the
Spirit's influence, ruined his own soul, and the souls of his wife and
children, _all_, ALL _for_ RUM!!
This he screamed out; and when those around tried to soothe him, he said
that he would scream so loud that every drunkard in town could hear. "If
ten thousand devils pursue me," shrieked the insane man, "I will warn
all to beware of RUM!!"
His attendants listened in wonder, and even Frank was astonished, as he
had never heard him talk in this way before. Nor could he understand it
until this morning, when Mrs. Jones told him that they had been to hear
the new minister preach; and it appears their consciences had been
aroused by his faithful presentation of truth.
_Afternoon._
As Frank would not consent to my visiting little Susan, I contented
myself with making her some nice porridge which Ann carried to her. My
husband came in soon after, and told me two men could not hold Thomas in
bed; and they had been obliged to confine his arms. He knows no one but
his physician; and this afternoon appealed to him in a hoarse whisper,
"take them off," pointing to the men who stood at the side of the bed.
"Oh, hide me! _Hide me!_ they tear my soul!"
The Doctor motioned them out of sight, and tried to soothe him.
"Thomas," said he in a calm voice, "do you remember when you and I went
to the Sabbath school?"
"Yes, oh _yes_!" gasped the poor fellow.
"Where did Mr. Goodrich tell us to flee for safety?" Thomas looked up
eagerly, but made no reply.
"He told us to go to Christ. He would save us from all our enemies."
"If he would but take me; but oh, he wont; _he wont_! I've been too
wicked ever to expect that," and hiding his head under the clothes, he
cried aloud. Frank succeeded in persuading him to take some medicine,
which the attendants could not do, because he thought they meant to
poison him. He was calmer before Frank left.
_Thursday, July 9th._
Last evening, my dear husband hurried through his calls, and took Mr.
Munroe with him to see poor Thomas. He found him so exhausted by the
violence of his fits, that, unless soon relieved, he cannot live long.
The agony of his mind makes him much worse than ever before. When they
went in, he had fallen asleep, and they sat down quietly to wait until
he awoke. Frank says, as he sat by the bed and looked at the miserable
man, so haggard and ghastly, he prayed that God would have mercy upon
his soul, even at the eleventh hour.
When Jones awoke, he stared around him a moment, as if trying to
remember where he was, while the Doctor quietly liberated his right
hand, with which he immediately covered his face. After he had taken
some gruel, he sighed, but would not speak.
Frank told him Mr. Munroe had come in as a friend to see him. He
suddenly pulled away the clothes, and said, "No, he'll mock me! He knows
how wicked I am! The last time I went to meeting he told over all my
sins. He knows I can't be saved, and he'll only mock me." Here the poor
creature burst into loud crying.
Mr. Munroe moved nearer, and took Thomas's hand in his; "My poor
friend," said he, in a very gentle voice, "It would ill become me, a
sinful creature as well as yourself, to make a mock at one for whom
Christ died. I have come to remind you of his love, of his desire for
your salvation. He has knocked at the door of your heart again, and
again, and you have turned away from his pleading voice. Will you?--dare
you turn from him now? When the Holy Spirit is striving with you, will
you resist his gracious influence?"
He was interrupted by loud sobs, and Mrs. Jones, whom they had not
perceived, hastened from the room, holding her apron to her face. Thomas
had not noticed the interruption, but was looking so intently at Mr.
Munroe that the Doctor almost feared the excitement, and placed his
fingers on the brawny wrist.
But our good pastor perceived the workings of the spirit, and hoped and
prayed that peace and joy might take the place of the dark despair which
was killing body and soul.
No one spoke, but still Thomas gazed. His whole mind was filled with
wonder. At length, he gasped, rather than spoke, "I will, _I will_
receive Him as my Saviour, but oh, it is too late!"
The last words were spoken in such a tone of utter wretchedness and
despair, that his hearers could not refrain from tears.
"Thomas," asked Mr. Munroe, "Do you remember the thief on the cross? Up
to the moment of his conversion he had probably reviled his Lord. Take
care then that you do not limit the power of the Almighty, whose voice
of mercy saith 'He will save to the uttermost all that come unto Him.'
He also adds for your encouragement, 'though your sins be as scarlet,
they shall be white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall
be as wool.'"
The poor man looked from one to the other, as if exhausted by the
dreadful conflict within him, and said in a broken voice, "you will not
deceive me with hope, when God has left me to despair."
Frank said, "While there is life, there is mercy if you will believe;"
and not wishing to prolong the interview, they knelt in prayer. The poor
wife came in and threw herself down at the foot of the bed. Mr. Munroe
in a fervent manner commended them to God.
He prayed that from eternity they might look back upon this hour as the
most blessed of their lives, as the hour when they had chosen Jesus for
their Saviour, and heaven for their everlasting home. Before he arose
from his knees, the poor humble penitent said, in a voice choking with
tears, "Lord, I believe. Have mercy upon my guilty soul!" Mrs. Jones
sobbed aloud.
From earth to heaven the tidings flew,
Two guilty souls are born anew.
_Friday, July 10th._
This morning Doctor Frank has been to see Thomas. I waited with no
little impatience for his return. He found his patient decidedly better,
though very weak. He had but one fit during the night, and that much
less severe in its character. He had a touching expression of humility
which made him look like a different man. He has most clear views of the
sinfulness of his own heart; and of the abounding grace of God in
providing a Redeemer for one so vile.
Frank was much pleased with one expression he used; "I dare not hope
that God has accepted me; but I feel willing to be in his hands. He
knows what is best for me. I feel safe to trust him, and think when he
sees how strong my desire is to do right, he will help me."
Oh, that Thomas may be able to withstand temptation, and to bring forth
fruits meet for repentance. I hope Christians will encourage him and
pray for him. I was grieved this morning to hear a professing Christian
speak distrustfully of the change in poor Thomas, and say, "persons in
delirium tremens, are often very pious, but when they recover, their
goodness vanishes like the morning cloud, and early dew."
Surely it is infinite condescension in God to visit the abode of
drunkenness and filth with the rich blessings of salvation; but who can
doubt his ability, and willingness to do it?
_Monday, July 13th._
I have not been quite well for a day or two, and have only received
permission to write a few lines. Frank blames himself for allowing me to
do so much; but I have really done nothing which could injure my health.
The weather was very warm yesterday. I lay upon the bed the greater part
of the day. Frank insisted upon staying from church to nurse me in the
afternoon. He was obliged to visit his patients in the morning. It is
quite sickly now in the town, especially among children. May God
preserve our dear little Pauline!
After her return from church in the afternoon, madam Phebe came to my
room to make inquiries about my health.
"Well, Phebe," I asked, "Did you enjoy the sermon?"
"Oh, yes, missus, ole Phebe hab blessed time. Mass'r Munroe quite undo
hisself dis yer day."
"_Out do_ you mean," said I laughingly.
"Laws missus! dere aint no kinder difference. He go long farder in the
broad road dan I eber heard him afore. I 'spects, I'se can stand de
meanin if I'se don't use de right words."
"What was the text?"
"Dere now, I'se can't jist tink ob de text all in a minit. It has popped
right off all in a suddent, but 'twas a blessed un, all bout God."
"Well, Phebe, if you can't remember the text, you can tell me about the
sermon,--it pleased you so much."
"Oh, yes, missus, pleased me berry much, powerful good discoors dat ar.
Wall now, how kinder curis dis yer chile, can't jist tink ob nothing,
only jist when don't want ter. Now I declar," said the perplexed woman,
putting her hand to her head, "when I'se getting de supper de hull
discoors 'ull come pouring into my ole brain, when I can't no way stop
to 'tend to it."
"Can't you tell me the subject?" I asked, trying to repress my mirth.
"Oh, laws, yes, missus, 'twas all bout piousness, and serousness, dat's
de idee. I'se glad," she added complacently, "I'se got some o' my senses
left, 'twas a blessed discoors dat ar."
_Tuesday, July 16th._
Dear Mother, I am up and dressed for the first time since Monday. I feel
a general prostration of the system. My husband ascribes it to over
excitement. Nothing could surpass the kindness of every one in the
house. I fear Frank will make himself sick from anxiety. He returns home
once or twice in the forenoon, runs to my chamber for a few minutes, and
then off again to another part of the town. Phebe does wonders in her
line, trying to make something "Missus will relish a bit." She complains
that I do not eat enough to keep a canary bird alive, and indeed I have
not much appetite. Frank would not allow me to arise until after dinner,
when Ann came in with a dish which would be very tempting to a person in
health. I readily recognized the kind hand which selected it for me.
The breast of a fat pigeon, with a nice slice of crisp toast, and an
excellent cup of tea. I almost relished it.
While I sat in bed bolstered by pillows with the waiter before me, madam
Phebe came from the kitchen to pay me a visit. She wished to see with
her own eyes why I did not eat.