RUNS FATAL WORK!
{"newspaper_name": "The Washingtonian.", "edition": "01", "page": "p2", "byline": ""}
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Again does the melancholy duty devolve on
us, Of chronicling the sad work of the arch
destroyer of human life and happiness-the
murderer Of soul and body. 1t was only last
week that we filled column Of our paper with
the sickening details of murders and suicides,
and horrid deaths, caused by the use of the
intoxicating fluid; and now another chapter in
the fearful history of death and destruction is
TO be recorded. 0 that men would listen to
the voice of warning


In Hartford, early last week, poor unfor-
tunate victim of the drunkards dreadful appe.
tite died of that most horrible of all diseases
deliriun tremens. He had signed the Wash
ingtonian pledge, and reformed his habits; and
high hopes were entertained by his friends,
that he would continue to live a sober and
useful life. But in an evil hour he yielded to
temptation, and returned to his former degra-
dation. His career was short one-he drank
he gave himself up to the delusive pleasures
of the maddening cup-the horrid rawlings Of
mania potu seized him-he died What a
lesson to Washingtonians How should they
cling to the pledge! There is no safely bul in
faithful, untiring, eternal uig,lance.


Another rum seller in, East Hartford was
also numbered among the victims of delirium
tremens during the past week. This unfortu-
nate man had been a subscriber and reader Of
the Fountain; but he read only to ridicule the
truths there exhibited. He had been in the
habit Of attending temperance meetings-but
it was only to return to his bar-room, gather
around him the miserable customers Of his
shop, and mock at the solemn truths to which
he had been listening. But ridcule did not
secure him from the shafts of the destroyer
The dreadful disease seized him, and he now
moulders with the dead. Rumseller! dare
YOU still continue to traffic in the souls of your
fellows? Dare you ridicule the melancholy
tale Of the drunkard's wife and child, and scoff
at the solemn warnings uttered by those who
have escaped from the fangs of the destroyer?
Visit the grave Of your fallen brother, and over
his mouldering ashes ask yourself what sure
ty you have that his dreadful fate will not be
yours? HE


A letter from Bethlen informs us that young
man, named Judson Parmalee, had his bottle
filled at the drunkery Of Joseph Hannah, on
Tuesday morning Of last week, "starled UP
to his sfather's-complained some of the head
ache-lay about the house in the forenoon
complained bitterly of the flies biting him
went into the buttery-got some milk-pour
ed into it some cider brandy from his bottle
went out few rods from the house, and lay
down under pear tree. In few minute
some one went TO him and found him dead a
stone, with the bottle about one-third full il
his pocket"


Truly there is death in the bottle! Drinker
beware! the fate Of poor Parmalee may sool
be thine! Oh, save us the painful necessit,
of recording thy death, as one Of the fata
consequences Of the intoxicating bowl.