THE Rev. Mr. Tennant, of New Jersey, North America, states that a young man of his congregation, by trade a carpenter, of industrious habits and good conduct, addicted himself to the drinking of ardent spirits; and from being remarkable for regularity and sobriety, became equally remarkable for idleness and vice.
While pursuing this line of conduct, and neglecting his wife and children, he one night dreamed that, returning from one of his drunken revels, and getting as far as the head of his own stairs, he fell from the top to the bottom and broke his neck—but opened his eyes in hell. Here his ears were deafened by the most boisterous sounds, such as he was accustomed to hear when frequenting the crowded tap-room, filled with persons of every nation, and kindred, and tongue and people; all seemingly enjoying themselves, and each roaring more lustily than another over their cups, which were abundantly well supplied by the governor: to whom he turned and said, “What abominable lies they tell us in the other world! They would make us believe that hell is a place of endless fire and brimstone, where sinners are to be kept burning to all eternity; but here all is mirth and jollity. I think I should like this place mighty well”; when, all of a sudden, every eye fixed upon him with a horrid glare, as if to give him the lie; and, rising from their seats, each tore open a cloak, which before hid them from his view, and presented a solid body of living fire, from the crown of the head to the sole of the foot.
On seeing this fearful sight, he grew pale and dumb with horror and awe: his very soul seemed to die within him, and he besought the governor to let him “escape for his life.” “No, no,” said the governor, “there’s no discharge from this place; you see thousands coming in, but none going out.” “Oh, but,” said the young man, “if I had known what a place of horror this was, I should have lived a different life, and never have come to this place of torment. I implore you to let me out on any condition.” “Well,” said the governor, “I will let you out on one condition, and that is, that you return here this day twelve months.” “I will,” said he, flying from the pit of destruction, — which effort awoke him out of his dream.
Scared out of his life, he flew from his bed to unburden his mind to his long-neglected minister, who heard him with extreme concern. Mr. Tennant told him that it was of the Lord’s mercy he was now out of hell: and if he did not heed the solemn warning, repent, and begin a new course of life, God would certainly cut short his life, and he would reap the fruit of his doings through an eternity in hell, “where the worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched.” He told him likewise from the Scriptures that “now is the accepted time, now is the day of salvation”: “today, if you will hear His voice, harden not your heart.”
The young man determined on a new course of life; accordingly forsook his former company, applied himself cheerfully to work, and soon had the delight of seeing his family comfortable and happy from his industry, the wages of which he never failed to bring home:— till one evening, returning home happy and contented, carrying his honest wages to his little family, he was met by some of his old profligate companions, who began to jibe and jeer him as a Methodist and a swaddler, and with not being able to enjoy himself as formerly.
He endeavored to persuade them that he felt more real happiness now than he ever did when doing as they did: however, to prove to them that he was not so strict as they thought him, that he was neither a Methodist nor a swaddler, he would go with them to take one glass. This fatal glass led to another, and that to a third: he returned to the house of hell, the tippling-house, and the tap-room, till in a very short time he became tenfold more a child of hell than ever; when, fearful to relate, returning one night from the whiskey shop, intoxicated to a great degree, he tumbled from the head of the stairs to the foot, broke his neck, and was taken up a lifeless corpse. The next morning notice was sent to Mr. Tennant that such a man of his congregation was dead; and Mr. Tennant, not having seen or heard of him for some time, the young man’s striking dream flashed across his mind. He went to his diary, and there saw it was that very day twelve months the unhappy man had unfolded to him the awful warning of the wrath to come.
Reader, it is not marvelous that infidels should mock at a dream; and even many others may be disposed to smile. But remember that the dream of this unhappy individual was accompanied with awful realities; he died, — in a state of Drunkenness, and his death was occasioned by Intoxication. We have no wish to encourage a foolish and superstitious belief in dreams, which are mostly the result of natural causes; but we have no doubt there are exceptions, and that this was one, and designed to impress his mind with the dreadful consequences of drunkenness to the soul, and thus to be a merciful warning to him. Perhaps it may be said by some that he was obliged to become a drunkard again, in order to fulfill his imaginary agreement. This would be a fatal error—his dream had no power to compel him to become a drunkard, but he died because he returned to sin, and neglected the solemn warning which he had received in his dream.
ANON.