The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1873-08-13
THE STORY OF RoDG ERS.


One of our family papers breaches strong
temperance sermon, by simply telling the
story of woman who, after struggling with
the preternatural strength of loving wife
and mother for years against the demon of
drink that possessed her husband, conquered
it, and made him once again a free man. In
his last illness, brandy was prescribed, which
he was strong enough to use only as a medi
cine; but after his death she "turned to it in
her grief, and died, not many months later, a
hopeless, helpless drunkard.''
Let us tell companion story as true as this
but of asdifferent complexion as daylight to
night. few years ago, on any sunny MORN
ing heap of filthy rags might be seen stretch
ed on some of the bales of a paper warehouse
in neighboring city, with strong smell of
stale tobacco and whiskey hanging about it,
Turning it over, (Which you could do as
though it were a log, any time after ten O. clock
in the morning., you would find the swollen
purple face of what had once been handsome
young man, but there was little hope that the
bleared eyes or thick tongue would give an in
telligent answer. The porters passing by
would push him aside, but not roughly. The
time had been when he had been a jolly, gene
rous young fellow and a fayorite in the office.
"Yonng Rodgers - some one would give you
his history in five minutes "Taken to rum
no chance-Poor devil" "Stokes" (the pro-
prietor) could not turn him out to starve, so
still gave him nominal salary and suffered
him to hang about the house lest he should
take to worse courses than drinking" There
were hints, too, of widowed mother, away
off in the country who had been dependent
on him, and q sweetheart, pretty, clinging
little girl both of whom long ago he had
abandoned. But there was nothing to be
done. The end, through the usual horrors of
dilirium tremens, was apparently not far off.
One day, as Rodgers was creeping to the
nearest bar for his morning bitters man,
whom he barely knew by sight, took him by
the elbow and walked with him into quieter
street. "They tell me you are Richard Rod
gers son. he said. "Dck Rodgers was the
only friend had for years, and for his sake
I'd like to save his boy. Are IL willing for
me to try? "Oh, you can try" muttered
the lad with an imbecile laugh. This name
less friend, nothing daunted, took him to
chamber in his own house and put him to bed
There he and his sons kept watch and guard
ed the poor wretch for months, like a prisoner,
keeping liquor from him, and trying to sup
ply it by medical treatment. A physician he
employed, but he was not able to pay for
4 To-
victim of mania-a-potu can guess how difficult
and loathsome a task he had set himself. I'm
grateful enough it was at first, but Rodgers
struggled against his tormenters with the fe-
rocity of--just what he was-a starking ami
NAL As reason began to return and his un-
natural strength to vanish, he would beg them
in his intervals of reason not to fail him, but
to work out the experiment either to success
OF death. &C 1t is my last chance" he would
cry; "for Gods sake be patient" This
friend, with his son, did work it out through
all the foul uncomfortable details, and the
end was not death, but success. How soon,
asked a friend of Rodgers. afterwards, were
you trusted alone?" mot for two years,
he answered, laughing. 81 was out OF jail
but in Jail bonds. Do you remember that
lank, muscular young fellow who had desk
beside me in the office ? He took it with the
condition that he could leave it to dog me
night and day, to my meals and to my bed
That was the son of the man who saved me.
He was taken from lucrative situation in
order that lie might become my jailer. God
bless him "How / used to curse him -
"Can't you trust my honor?" ! would cry.
"Im not convinced that your honor has not
the consumption" the Scotch-Irishman would
saw "We'll put no burdens on it until 1t has
regained its health"
.Your friend was wealthy man, no doubt,
and SO able to give both time and money to
your case ?" "On the contrary, he is put
the owner of small hat-store, and supports
his family out of that. He is rich or noble
only in the deed and spirit of friendship. =
All this was years ago. Rodgei is now an IN
dustrious honorable man, married to his old
love, with his gray haired mother by his
hearth, bringing to it the perpetual benediction
of benignant old age. His friend sells hats
makes no speeches nor bruit of any sort in the
world. Nobody has recognized in him