HOW A D. D. LEFT OFF SMOKING.
The interesting autobiography of Rev. Charles Freshman, late Rabbi of the Jewish Synagogue at Quebec, and graduate of the Jewish Theological Seminary at Prague, at present German Wesleyan minister at Preston, Canada, has just been published by Rev. Samuel Rose, Wesleyan Book Room, Toronto. His closing remarks are: Here, perhaps, I had better write the little word FINIS and lay down my pen, but as another important event occurred quite recently, which I neglected to mention in its proper place, it may not inappropriately be inserted here, and may be called a “P. S.,” an “N. B.,” an “Addendum,” or anything else that suits the fancy of the reader. Those who have been wearied with the task of reading the preceding pages, may stop when they come to the word “Finis” if they please; but if they do they will never know HOW I CAME TO GIVE UP SMOKING TOBACCO! It occurred in this way. In the latter part of November, 1867, I was assisting at a protracted meeting in Heidelberg, on my son’s mission. During one of the evenings I preached there, a good old lady, a Mrs. Weber, was powerfully awakened to a sense of her lost condition as a sinner. After the meeting, Mrs. Freshman and I went home with her to the house of her son, with whom she is living, and to whose kind hospitality we are always welcome. As she was in great distress of mind, we remained, conversing with her, and pointing her to the Saviour who taketh away the sins of the world, till after midnight, when she found peace, and was made happy in God. After this had been achieved, I thought I deserved to enjoy the luxury “of a good comfortable smoke.” While preparing the necessary materials, the following conversation ensued between myself and one of the young men, a grandson of the old lady I have mentioned: “Why, Doctor,” said he, “do you smoke?” “Yes,” said I, “did you never know that before?” “Well,” said he, “your young men are not allowed to smoke, are they?” “No,” said I, “we would like our young men, if possible, to be in every respect an improvement on ourselves.” “Well,” said he, “I was reading a short time ago in the Apologete an article in which you were styled ‘The Father of Methodism in Canada;’ and it does seem to me rather inconsistent that a father will persist in doing what he will not allow his children to do.” That was about all he said, and the subject was dropped; but never have I listened to a more powerful sermon than that contained in those few words of that young man. When I came home, I said to one of my daughters, “Search through my drawers, and pockets and shelves—everywhere, and wherever you find pipes, tobacco, matches, knives—anything I used in smoking, take it out of my sight, and out of my reach.” The command fell on no unwilling ear, and in less time than it has taken to write this, not a vestige of it remained, not a crumb, if I had been starving, and scarcely an odor in places formerly most infected. From that day to the present, more than six months ago, I have never had a “whiff.” To say that I gained the victory without a struggle, would be a simple untruth, and would serve no good purpose. For several days my old appetite would return with considerable intensity, especially after my meals. At such times I would pace the floor, sit down, try to read, get up again, and often could only find relief in prayer for sustaining grace. But I must say the victory thus gained was not such an impossible feat as I had always considered it. Now I not only have no desire to go back to my wallowing in the mire, but I enjoy a delightful sense of freedom from a thralldom which was worse than slavery. My appetite was improved; some of my vests will now hardly button around me. My perceptive faculties are clearer; my sleep more refreshing. I feel younger in years, and more vigorous in body. To all smokers, I would say,—“If you don’t believe it, try it!”