Temperance > Autobiography and personal recollections of John B. Gough

PLEDGE.
95
the strange friend, who had so unexpectedly interested
himself in my behalf, that I had no hope of ever again
becoming a sober man; that I was without a single friend
in the world who cared for me, or what became of me;
that I fully expected to die very soon,—I cared not how
soon, or whether I died drunk or sober; and, in fact, that
I was in a condition of utter recklessness.
The stranger regarded me with a benevolent look, took
me by the arm, and asked me how I should like to be as
I once was, respectable and esteemed, well clad, and sit¬
ting, as I used to, in a place of worship; enabled to meet
my friends as in old times, and receive from them the
pleasant nod of recognition as formerl}',—in fact, become
a useful member of society? “Oh,” I replied, “I should
like all these things first-rate; but I have no expectation
that such a thing will ever happen. Such a change can¬
not be possible.”
“Only sign our pledge,” remarked my friend, “and I
will warrant that it shall be so. Sign it, and I will in¬
troduce you myself to good friends, who will feel an in¬
terest in your welfare, and take a pleasure in helping you
to keep your good resolutions. Only, Mr. Gough, sign the
pledge, and all will be as I have said; ay, and more too! ”
Oh! how pleasantly fell these words of kindness and
promise on my crushed and bruised heart. I had long
been a stranger to feelings such as now awoke in my
bosom. A chord had been touched which vibrated to the
tone of love. Hope once more dawned; and I began to
think, strange as it appeared, that such things as my
friend promised me might come to pass. On the instant
I resolved to try, at least, and said to the stranger : —
“Well, I will sign it.”
“When?” he asked.
“I cannot do so to-night,” I replied, “for I must have