this,' it may be said, 'I have often heard, and it may be true.
But it does not apply to me. I am in no danger. You speak of a path, I
have never entered; or if I have ever done so, I have no idea of
returning to it, habitually. I know my own strength; how far to go, and
when and where to stop.'

But is there one of all the miserable, in the future world, who did not
once think the same? Is there one among the thousands who have thus
ruined themselves and those who had been as dear to them as themselves,
that did not once feel a proud consciousness that he 'knew his own
strength?' Yet now where is he?

Beware, then. Take not the first step. Nay, indulge not for an instant,
the _thought_ of a first step. Here you are safe. Every where else is
danger. Take one step, and the next is more easy; the temptation harder
to resist.

Do you call this preaching? Be it so then. I feel, and deeply too, that
your immortal minds, those gems which were created to sparkle and shine
in the firmament of heaven, are in danger of having their lustre for
ever tarnished, and their brightness everlastingly hid beneath a
thicker darkness than that which once covered the land of Egypt.

C. S. was educated by New England parents, in one of the most
flourishing of New England villages. He was all that anxious friends
could hope or desire; all that a happy community could love and esteem.
As he rose to manhood he evinced a full share of 'Yankee' activity and
enterprise. Some of the youth in the neighborhood were traders to the
southern States, and C. concluded to try his fortune among the rest.

He was furnished with two excellent horses and a wagon, and every thing
necessary to ensure success. His theatre of action was the low country
of Virginia and North Carolina, and his head-quarters, N----, whither
he used to return after an excursion of a month or six week, to spend a
few days in that dissipated village.

Young C. gradually yielded to the temptations which the place afforded.
First, he engaged in occasional 'drinking bouts,' next in gaming;
lastly, he frequented a house of ill fame. This was about the year
1819.

At the end of the year 1820, I saw him, but--now changed! The eye that
once beamed with health, and vigor, and cheerfulness, was now dimmed
and flattened. The countenance which once shone with love and good-will
to man, was pale and suspicious, or occasionally suffused with
stagnant, and sickly, and crimson streams. The teet