The Belmont chronicle, and farmers, mechanics and manufacturers advocate. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1848-1855, 1853-03-04

nave oeen seen the tall hgure OF man close
ly wrapped in his cloak pacing to and fr
with an anguished and uneasy air.
Occasionally the moon shone full in hi
face, revealing, with unerring certainty, tn,
footprints of the demon intemperance. Re
morse and agony were likewise depicted there
He stood before the home of former and hap
pier days-scaldng tears traced each othe
down his haggard face, as he gazed upon tn,
noble mansion. He clasped his hands il
agony, murmuring, oh! thou home of m,
childhood, thou lookst like a heaven of the
past: beneath thy roof have sported in the
innocent days of youth. There, too, my sis
tiers played and sported in gleesome pleasure
They say they are gone, gone away--why!
TO forget me-yes to forget their own son
and brother All, no, no, would that coult
think SO; but no, they are gone away to pray
for me, gene to mourn,-gone to hide their
disgrace. My mothers warnings. her ear.
nest pleadings, my sisters fearful face, like
specters they haunt me--they are ever be-
fore me. Oh! Father Of mercies, how wretch
ed and miserable am L! have lost all, all
as the fool looseth his own salvation. Oh,
in thee lies the coiled serpent with cleaning
eyes, heaving with fiery breath sparkling
bubbles to the the brim, waiting to destroy
the reckless being who venture to approach
thee. Then with agitated steps he FASTENED
away, as if to flee from the reproach of con.
science.
In an apartment which bore undoubted ev-
idence of having seen better days, in an OBJ
scure boarding house in the city of P sat
two young men, George Fulton and CharlA
Melville. Five years had made but little DIFF
ference on the appearance of George Fulton
perhaps more thoughtful looking-no other
change. His highest aspirations had been
realized. He occupied the station that his
talents and moral worth claimed for him.
Ever watchful, he had been the first to dis
cover, in the wretched outcast, his friend
Charles Melville. True to his pledge, and to
the promptings of humane heart, he was,
with all his former assiduity, seeking to re-
claim him from the degradation ard misery
into which he had fallen. Charles sat BY
the table, his head resting on his hands--be-
fore him lay the pledge, opposite sat George,
watching with intense anxiety all the various
changes of his countenance. He had almost
exhausted his eloquence urging upon Melville
the importance of putting his name to that
paper.
He now sought by gentle words to awaken
softened remembrances in his darkened mind.
Melville, little thought I, few years ago,
when we parted at College, to see you in the
fallen condition that now find you. How
very different were our situations then. T.,
ne relatives, no friends, but little wealth,
cast upon the wide cold world, without one
to direct, advise or rejoice with me, stood
alone amid the crowds. You returned to
wealth, friends and an affectonate mother
and sisters. They welcomed you with their
smiles and blessings, bestowing upon you
that warm love which mother and sister a.
lone possesses to bestow, relying upon you
with true heartfelt confidence. Your wild
owed mother looked upon you as protector;
with your orphan sisters, you occupied the
double station of father and brother. How
you returned their love and confidence, your
own heart can answer best. Here is the
pledge, sign it, and return to your heart-bro-
ken mother. ...... .. ........ ...
Charles took the pen with trembling, but |
determined hand, and put his name to the |
paper. 1t is done! he exclaimed, while ray |
Of intense satisfaction played over his squalid
features. Go, foul destroyer, have tasted !
thee for the last time-yes, the last. I feel
IS if new life has been given to me. Long,
ong have wished for this hour-it has come
And you my true, my ever watchful friend,
Using and taking his hand, how can thank
,ou! He could say no more-his feelings
'hoked further Inference, and the strong man
vept like a child At length recovering, he
but cannot yet return to my
leaf mother, cannot 60 to her beggar.
The last dollar of my estate is spent, | am
My squalid appearance would
hock her. I will enter the situation you
lave kindly procured for me, and in part try
o regain some of my former appearance and
health.
George, your request to hear description
If the manner in which have spent the last
i've years of my life, at some future day shall
pc fully granted. At present my feelings
will not permit me to live over again, years
'f naught but folly and vice. OF my first
steps 10 rum you are iully aware. Your
warning voice often sounded in my ears, even
lmid the bosterous uproar OF the midnight
'evel, but think not that during the many
lays of crime and folly, conscience, that ever
vakefu monitor, slept. No, its probings Of
.en drove me almost to desperation, and how
,ften in my better moments have | resolved
o fursake my wretched course, and dash a.
way forever that blasting cup. But in those
lours no friend was near like you, to hand
he pledge, and e'er sought it, it was too
ate. No, acted wrong in first handling the
cup, and before | could be released from its
'corching chains, had to drink its bitterest
lregs. Why at last sought my native city,
can scarcely tell, but something from with
in whispered that there was salvation there.
My mothers fearful face arose before my
mental vision, and you stood beckoning me
Then, scarcely knowing what
did, embarked for home. You know the
rest of my story.
A few months after the above conversation
took place, in an apartment of respectable
boarding house in P, George Fulton
might have been seen pacing the room with
an uneasy air, occasionally stopping to listen