She left the room, and went into the kitchen to prepare the soothing drinks which the excited nerves of the patient demanded.
"I will reform, Philip. I will follow this good lady's advice. Give me your hand, my son," said my father.
"O, if you only would, father! This world would be full of happiness for us then. We could find my mother, and be reunited forever."
"God helping me, I will never drink another drop of liquor," said he, solemnly lifting up his eyes, as I held his trembling hand.
Mrs. Greenough opportunely returned with the medicines, and with a folded paper in her hand. As my father took his potion, she opened the paper, which was a temperance pledge, on which was subscribed the name of "Amos Greenough."
"This is the pledge my husband signed, with trembling hand, ten years before his death. It was salvation to him here—and hereafter. Will you add your name to it, Mr. Farringford?" said Mrs. Greenough.
"I will."
"Not unless you are solemnly resolved, with the help of God, to keep your promise," she added. "Not unless you are willing to work, and struggle, and pray for your own salvation."
