The Jeffersonian. [volume] (Stroudsburg, Pa.) 1853-1911, 1854-07-27

0uN WIZ pVsSCSoCc 81 III any tACcllcHtidCul d
t. qualities, and for whom so much has bee
o done by the providence of God, by rel;g
Is ion, by friends? was often asked. But til
|, matter finally resolved itself into yelisj
1t 0ttS question, and resort was had to pray
S er and earnest personal appeal. Al
5 prayed to the God who has the hearts o
S all men in his hands for help in the grca
!, emergency, while wife, father, mother
:, brothers, and sisters, in turn, exhorted
and warned Henry in the most affection
4 atc and melting strains.
. About this time he received letter
a from James, which concluded in thi,
wise -" And now, my dear Henry,
pray you to hear me willingly for mo-
ment, IN matter which presses more
heavily upon my heart, and is of more
solemn interest to you than anything be-
side. You will anticipate the subject
1t is y0Hr course Of life. [ trust you have
not forgotten that you have a wife, pa
rents, brothers, and sisters, who NATURAL y
care for you, and feel deep interest in
what concerns your honor and happiness
Nor can you have altogether forgotten
that you have a soul which will live when
the world, and all within it, shall be con-
sumed. But is Jour conduct consistent
with anything like rational conviction
of these facts? Are you not breaking the
hearts of the wife of your youth and the
mother who bore you? Are you not
mortifying and grieving all of US to death!
More, are you not Fastening to prema-
ture and dishonorable grave, and to an
awful account after death! o, my dear
brother, how can we give you up? Have
mercy upon us-have some pity upon
yourself-and break off your absured and
rulnous course-and turn about, while
you may, and live. Could [ take you in
my arms this moment, would battle your
brow with my tears and would, if you
would allow me, bring you to our COM
mon Saviour, and see you again united to
his fold. What, my dear Henry, shall [
say to prevail upon you to forsake your
rulnous course, and return to your duty?
Let me assure you that prayers and tears
will follow you to the last. God grant
that they may not be swift witne sses a.
gainSt you in the day of Judgment.
" As ever, your aff2ctionate BROTHER
As Henry's eyes ran hastily over the
lines of this letter, his heart palpitated,
his countenance changed, first being deep
ly flushed, then turning as pale as a
corpse-and when he had read the last
word, his hand which held the letter fell
into his lap, and the tears coursed down
his cheeks. He rose up, and walked off
to retired spot, where he alternately
wept immoderately, and made strong eff
forts to brace himself up, and recover his
wonted Indifference. He, however, re-
solved that he would never again be seen
intoxicated.
This purpose was adhered to for seve-
raj months; but, in an evil hour, he was
again overcome, and now be seemed more
fatally prostrated than ever. The efforts
of friends were again renewed, and they
finally succeeded in prevailing upon the
object of their solicitude to "sign the
pledge" Strong hopes were now enter
tanned that Henry would not relapse
For months he was sober and industrious
as ever, and the family seemed to think
the danger had passed over, and felt their
hopes assured.
The CONSERVATION Of the Raymond fam
lily, and of their sympathizing friends,
may be better imagined than described,
upon the dreadful event of another lapse
of poor Henry. Circumstances transpir-
ed, which are SO common and we'll known
that they need not be described, which
proved more than match for the strength
of purpose and the power of conscience,
which, in this case, had been too much
relied upon, and down went the unfortu
nate victim Of rampant appetite, deep
or than ever, into the mirc of intemper
ancc. Henry now lost bis self-respcct,
and, to most fearful extent, his respect
for the feelings and admonitions of his
friends. He spent days and weeks from
home-he lounged about rum-shops and
country towns, until he became an object
of general commiseration.
Many now gave up Raymond for lost.
His youthful companion almost lost heart,
and scarcely knew how to brook the evils |
which she suffered. Old Mr. Raymond
often groaned out, "Poor Harry is ruined |
and, [ fear, will never be recovered >
But there was one heart that held out
supported by faith and hope-graces
which had been tried as in the fire, and
which, at this period of life, had ceased |
to falter. And whose heart was this but
that Of the n10ther of the unfortunate and |
apparently ruined victim of monster
vice The heart Of the mother felt most
keenly the fearful situation Of the object |
of her solicitude-she was not blind to
his dangers nor his faults-she saw the
impotency of human resolutions, and all |
motives founded upon mere self-respect |
or worldly prospects in struggle with an
overpowering appetite for the intoxicat-
ing draught; but she knew full well the
efficacy of prayer. Her dependence was
upon God alone, and not upon plans of
mans devising. She never for moment,
gave up "poor Harry" but despite of all
the discouraging circumstances which a
rose, she persisted in belle wing, and in |