than ever into his destroying indulgences, and the terrible delirium that haunts the drunkard's brain had obtained the mastery. One wild scene of unbridled excess had followed another in swift succession, till he was laid upon his dying bed. No, he did not have a dying bed! No visions of angels waiting to convey him to heaven now floated before his eyes. No dreams of pardon and peace by the blood of the dear Redeemer, shed their soothing influence on his soul.

"Take them off! Oh, take them off," he screamed as I came into his chamber. "They have come for me; I see them, I feel them; this is hell."

The scene was awful to me, heart-rending to those who loved him as none others could. Every object in the room was a demon ready to dart upon him. They leaped on the bed, they planted themselves on his breast, they laughed at his horrors, and revelled in his cries and groans. It was with great difficulty that strong men could keep him on his couch of anguish. He was determined to fly from the monsters that gathered in troops

about him. Seizing his opportunity when their attention was for a moment diverted, he leaped from the bed, by the side of which sat his parents, wrinkled and gray but not with age, and his own young wife with their only child in her arms; he broke away from the attendants who vainly strove to hold him back; he rushed from his chamber into the, streets of the city, and there in his nakedness and madness raved like a devil escaped from hell. They caught him and forced him into the house, but could not compel him to lie down. He stood in the middle of his chamber, struggling fearfully with friends who gathered around him to pacify his maniae frenzy. His wife fell on his neck, and implored him by his love for her and his darling boy, to lie down and be still, till the storm that raged in his brain should pass by. But no tears, no prayers, no force would quiet him in that wild hour. He stood and struggled fiercely with phantoms, and raved of devils and the damned. An unearthly brightness lighted up his face as he exclaimed, "I am ready now; I'll go, I'll go;" and

he stood a corpse! They laid him on the bed, and closed his eyes for ever.

Such was the career and fate of one whom I knew and loved. He was a Prodigal Son. How many fall like him; perish like him, in the very morning of their days.

As I have read the story of the Prodigal Son in the gospel of Jesus Christ, I have often admired its force and fidelity in portraying the course of every sinner in his apostasy from God. But more than this, it follows the prodigal, not only in his departure, but in his return to the father, whose house he deserted, and whose love he abused. And as I have dwelt upon the beauty of this story as a complete picture of the sinner's ruin and recovery, I have thought of asking the young to follow the parable with me, step by step, and patiently contemplate its wonderful fitness to lead them to a knowledge of their danger, a sense of their sinfulness, and to guide them in the way of salvation.

The chapters that follow are written with this design. If any of my readers, having

learned the melancholy end of poor Charles L, should here lay down the book, it may never be known to him who writes it; but it may be the act which God will look upon as a cold rejection of a kind offer to lead them in the way of life everlasting. Let us read and study the parable of the Prodigal Son.

CHAPTER II.

The object of this little book-The parable of the Prodigal Son-The analogy between the Prodigal and every sinner-An outline of the discussion.

MAN is a prodigal from God. In the morning of his being he was owned as the child, and treated as the favorite of Heaven. But he has wandered away from his Maker, disowned the relationship in which he stood, squandered the goods that a father's kindness had bestowed; and in the distance to which he has strayed he must perish miserably, unless brought back to God.

In the gospel we have a faithful history of the sinner's career. The story of the Prodigal Son was left on record to mark the voluntary departure of man from God; the miserable condition to which sin reduces the sinner; the bitterness of sorrow he feels when awakened to a sense of his sinfulness; and the steps by which he must travel back to his