The days of which I write were those on which the bright star of temperance had scarcely shone. Ministers, deacons, Christians, all used the deadly drinks. Was it surprising, therefore, that I, but so short a time before a rum-loving sailor, fell into the common current, and became a rum-seller? No, it was not strange! but it was a strange, a glorious display of restraining grace, that prevented me from being drawn into the snare I was thus thoughtlessly spreading for the poor drunkard. But even in those early days of temperance, I was not without my trials of mind in respect to the unholy traffic. Once, when at Hartford, making purchases for my store, of which rum formed no inconsiderable article, I accidentally heard of a lecture on temperance, to be delivered at Dr. Hawes’s[29] church. This was the first discourse on the subject I ever heard. The speaker excited a deep interest in my mind, as he told of the origin of rum, its primary costliness and rank among medicines, of the growth of distilleries, the consequent decline in its price, and the attending spread of drunkenness. So deadly a plot against the peace of the world, he said, could only have been contrived in hell. This discourse fell like a light on some dark opaque; it illuminated my understanding, disturbed my conscience. No sleep visited my eyes that night. Duty said, “Send back your team without rum in the morning.” Fear of men, public opinion, interest said, “No. Every other store-keeper sells it, and so may you.” The latter argument prevailed. Conscience was rebuked; the rum went to my store. Shortly after this struggle, I married a member of the Methodist church in Hartford. We removed to Somers, Connecticut, where I continued to sell rum, though, as before, with great caution and with much inward struggling of mind. At last I could hold out no longer, and in spite of the example of ministers, (some of whom often drank, though sparingly, at my house,) in spite of the sneers of the scornful, and of the fear of loss to my trade, I gave it up! It was for the poor, untaught sailor to set the example of sacrifice to the store-keepers of Somers. Three others imitated me in a short time. Not to me, but to the grace of God, be the glory of my decision and resolution. I can assure the modern rum-seller, whose lashed and tortured soul still cleaves to the rum barrel and the toddy stick, for the sake of the profit, that I have ever regarded that act as among the best of my life. Finding my present residence ill adapted to a successful prosecution of business, I closed up my concerns, and removed to Wilbraham, Mass., the place of my present abode; a pleasant town, but which is rendered more so by the very superior opportunities it affords for the education of children, in its most excellent and flourishing academy.