WILLIAM RICH. William Rich is one of those men whom the orthodox priest in this town delights to sneer at as "gutter graduates." Early in life he incurred habits which at last plunged him into the dreadful vortex of intemperance, and cost him his love of truth, honesty, and even common decency. He became, through the frightful influence of intoxicating liquors, a poor, miserable, reckless creature, living a life of the utmost degradation and wretchedness. His naturally good talents, and fine disposition, were almost ruined, and he felt himself irrevocably lost. With no self-respect, he soon lost respect for the rights of others, and in his despair was driven to the commission of acts which at last placed him, through the operation of our retaliatory laws, in the Charlestown State's Prison. After staying there for several years, and deporting himself in a manner in the highest degree creditable, and giving hope of much better things when he should be permitted to go loose, he was released, before the expiration of his term, by the active efforts of a few noble-hearted Washingtonians,—and again had the "world all before him where to choose." By a too common mistake he concluded, according to the advice of his friends, not to engage in his regular trade, (that of shoemaking) but to go out as a temperance lecturer. The novelty and unhealthy excitement of this wandering life-especially when contrasted with his hard life in prison-was more than his moral system was equal to; and when the novelty began to wear off, and the excitement to subside, he was visited with that dreadful ennui which in such cases is almost invariably the precursor of a return to evil habits, or which at any rate was such a precursor in this instance. His past life had not given him that stability of character which could breast the tempestuous tide of life, and he fell. Soon after, he reformed once more, but only to fall again and again, until "repeated penitence had wearied his soul," and he was hurried back by the receding tide into further violations of civil law, and the prison again stared him in the face. To many of our readers these circumstances are familiar. In a state of intemperance he broke into the store of Christopher Robinson, who, from the beginning, had been one of his most constant and efficient friends. The community was much excited about it, and pronounced William to be an incorrigible and hopeless ingrate. They would not listen to any further plans for his benefit, but set him down as fit only for the life of a convict. Not so thought Mr. Robinson. He was fully satisfied that William had in him, among the decaying embers of his soul, a spark which might yet be kindled into a flame by the warm breath of brotherly affection. And he acted accordingly, against the almost unanimous opinion of his neighbors and the public. They hooted at the idea that Christian principle was applicable to so extreme a case, and contended that nothing was applicable to it but the heathen law of retaliation. Mr. Robinson replied that if Christian principles were not applicable to extreme cases, they were not applicable to any cases, and were not worth professing. In his opinion the peculiarity of Christian principles was that they were equal to every emergency. Meanwhile the civil law had got its iron grasp on to William, and he was taken off to jail to await his trial. The time of trial hurried along, and he was brought before the bar to answer to a State's Prison offence. He plead "guilty." Mr. Robinson then interceded (by attorney) in his behalf, and endeavored to procure for him as lenient a sentence as the case admitted of. The result was that the court offered to let William off on $300 bail for ninety days, with the understanding that if at the expiration of that time he had deported himself well, it would materially affect the final decision of his case. Mr. Robinson and several others promptly consented to be bound for William, and he was set free. For this benevolent act the bondsmen were much ridiculed, and it was very shrewdly and cunningly said that they would have to pay down the $300, while William would head for Texas. Not so thought they. They were as sure of his appearance at court 66 a man at the appointed time as they could be of any thing in the future. As soon as he was released from confinement, friend Rich went out to the Hopedale Community, the delightful home founded by Adin Ballou and others,-where he was welcomed as and a brother," and treated with that kindness which his situation was so well adapted to call forth. At the expiration of the ninety days he made his appearance promptly at the court, and, through the intercession of his bondsmen, was set at liberty for ninety days more, the amount of the bonds being diminished one half. He returned to Hopedale, conducted himself as well as before, and when the court convened, made his appearance again,—and, with the amount of the bonds lessened still more, was released again. Shortly after this, the whole matter was settled, (legally, of course,) by the District Attorney, Mr. Huntington, who, it is proper to say, from beginning to end, behaved in the most creditable manner. And now, to bring the matter to a close, the reader is requested to notice the fact that by the faithful application of Christian principles, our friend William Rich has been rescued from the jaws of a dismal prison, reclaimed from a life of intemperance and crime, and restored to society, a virtuous, industrious, and happy citizen. He has just taken to himself, for a wife, one of the most respectable and worthy women in Hopedale, and he is esteemed by all who know him as deserving of her esteem and love. This is certainly one of those cases which might well strengthen our faith in the law of love and truth, and diminish it in the law of retaliation. Had Mr. Robinson listened to the advice, or been affected by the sneers of those who call themselves Christians, William Rich, instead of being the happy and useful man he now is, would be a convict in the Charlestown State's Prison. It should be borne in mind, moreover, that for this act of disinterested humanity, and for similar acts in other departments of reform, Mr. R. is called an infidel. The New England Puritan, (and other religious papers,) at the time the above interesting facts were transpiring, sneered at him as a come-outer and non resistant, and almost into. But let this go. rejoiced that his store had been broken One fact is worth a million theories,— and here is a fact, of the most instructive character, which goes further to prove the truth of Christianity, and the falsehood of the popular religion, than all the books which ever were written. My God, I heard this day, That none doth build a stately habitation, And more. For Man is everything He is a tree, yet bears no fruit; Reason and speech we only bring. Man is all symmetry, Full of proportions, one limb to another, Each part may call the farthest brother : And both, with moons and tides. Nothing hath got so far, But Man hath caught and kept it, as his prey. He is, in little, all the sphere. Herbs gladly cure our flesh, because that they For us the winds do blow, The earth doth rest, heaven move, and fountains flow. As our delight, or as our treasure. The stars have us to bed: Night draws the curtain; which the sun withdraws. Music and light attend our head. All things unto our flesh are kind, Each thing is full of duty: Waters united are our navigation; Distinguished, our habitation; Below, our drink; above, our meat: Both are our cleanliness. Hath one such beauty? Then how are all things neat! More servants wait on Man, Than he'll take notice of. In every path He treads down that which doth befriend him Since then, my God, thou hast So brave a palace built, oh, dwell in it, Till then, afford us so much wit, That, as the world serves us, we may serve thee; And both thy servants be. |