 | The fiend's delight |  |
Deathbed Repentance.
An old man of seventy-five years lay dying.
For a lifetime he had turned a deaf ear to religion,
and steeped his soul in every current crime. He
had robbed the orphan and plundered the widow;
he had wrested from the hard hands of honest
toil the rewards of labour; had lost at the gaming-table
the wealth with which he should have endowed
churches and Sunday schools; had wasted
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and left his wife and children without bread. The
intoxicating bowl had been his god—his belly had
absorbed his entire attention. In carnal pleasures
passed his days and nights, and to the maddening
desires of his heart he had ministered without
shame and without remorse. He was a bad, bad
egg! And now this hardened iniquitor was to
meet his Maker! Feebly and hesitatingly his
breath fluttered upon his pallid lips. Weakly
trembled the pulse in his flattened veins! Wife,
children, mother-in-law, friends, who should have
hovered lovingly about his couch, cheering his last
moments and giving him medicine, he had killed
with grief, or driven widely away; and he was
now dying alone by the inadequate light of a
tallow candle, deserted by heaven and by earth. No,
not by heaven. Suddenly the door was pushed
softly open, and there entered the good minister,
whose pious counsel the suffering wretch had
in health so often derided. Solemnly the man
of God advanced, Bible in hand. Long and silently
he stood uncovered in the presence of death. Then
with cold and impressive dignity he remarked,
“Miserable old sinner!”
Old Jonas Lashworthy looked up. He sat up.
The voice of that holy man put strength into his
aged limbs, and he stood up. He was reserved
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Mr. Lashworthy was hanged for braining a minister
of the Gospel with a boot-jack. This touching
tale has a moral.
Moral of this Touching Tale.—In snatching
a brand from the eternal burning, make sure of its
condition, and be careful how you lay hold of it.
| The fiend's delight | |