and when evening came I determined, in spite of many a hesitation, to
perform the promise I had made to the stranger the night before. The
meeting was to be held at the lower town hall, Worcester; and thither,
clad in an old brown surtout, closely buttoned up to my chin that my
ragged habiliments beneath might not be visible, I went. I took a
place among the rest, and when an opportunity of speaking offered
itself, I requested permission to be heard, which was readily granted.

When I stood up to relate my story, I was invited to the stand, to
which I repaired, and on turning to face the audience, I recognized my
acquaintance who had asked me to sign. It was Mr. Joel Stratton. He
greeted me with a smile of approbation, which nerved and strengthened
me for my task, as I tremblingly observed every eye fixed upon me. I
lifted my quivering hand and then and there told what rum had done for
me. I related how I was once respectable and happy, and had a home,
but that now I was a houseless, miserable, scathed, diseased, and
blighted outcast from society. I had scarce a hope remaining to me of
ever becoming that which I once was, but, having promised to sign the
pledge, I had determined not to break my word, and would now affix my
name to it. In my palsied hand I with difficulty grasped the pen, and,
in characters almost as crooked as those of old Stephen Hopkins on the
Declaration of Independence, I signed the total abstinence pledge, and
resolved to free myself from the inexorable tyrant.

Although still desponding and hopeless, I felt that I was relieved from
a part of my heavy load. It was not because I deemed there was any
supernatural power in the pledge which would prevent my ever again
falling into such depths of woe as I had already become acquainted
with, but the feeling of relief arose from the honest desire I
entertained to keep a good resolution. I had exerted a moral power