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Shortly after this the aged minister, who had outlived the generation with which he had begun life, passed away from the toils and sorrows of this mortal state to the rewards and glories of the world to come. His demise caused universal sorrow, and when Oswald had to preach a funeral sermon on the occasion they were compelled to hold the service in the field behind the church, where not fewer than from six to seven thousand persons were present. Oswald s sermon was one of his very best productions, and some of the old men who heard it declared that, for profound truth and moral grandeur, they had never heard anything to compare with it.

And now the full duty rested on Oswald, and a few weeks afterwards the library and better part of the furniture were purchased. Oswald became the resident minister in the manse, which was enlarged and beautified, and for twelve years it was identified with his ministry, and designated with his name. His elder sister, two years older than himself, came to keep house for him, and she was a most excellent person, and well adapted to make her brother and all in the Manse truly happy.

Oswald soon after this proposed to the M'Dougalls for their daughter, and as she was enraptured with his talents, and without any dislike to his person, the parents thought the match worthy of their assent, and therefore it was suggested that in six months the marriage should take place, and that the Manse should have Bella for its mistress, as it had already Oswald for its master. The kirk in the meantime was filled to overflowing, and the anticipations of the most sanguine were more than realised in the popularity of Oswald's ministry.

Forty additional communicants were admitted at the first celebration of the sacrament, and Oswald secured for the services the most distinguished men of his own denomination. Though Oswald thought the six months very slow in their progress, they did at last pass away, and under the most auspicious circumstances the marriage took place. The parents, as might be expected, were liberal on the occasion, and as the bride was their only child they lavished every kindness on the wedded pair that heart could devise.

Oswald and his beautiful and accomplished wife spent the honeymoon in visiting the English lakes, and as the weather was all they could desire, their cup of bliss seemed to run over. But on the third week of their tour an event took place that indicated how she, at any rate, required to rejoice with trembling. Yes, there appeared a small cloud not bigger than a hand, but it was the token of a fearful change. A storm was evidently near, not a terrific one, but the pilot one of a series that should produce utter dread and desolation.

As a matter of course they stayed at hotels on their route; and one night, when Bella had retired to her room, as was her wont, Oswald felt that the thirst for a fuller supply of stimulants was strong within him. He called for brandy, and sat down to it. He continued to drink until his astonished wife, fearing he had been taken ill, dressed and came down, and found him, with flushed face and glaring eyes, seated with the vile intoxicating fluid before him. She was appalled; her heart sank within her, she could scarcely speak to him, so great was the shock she had experienced, and when she did he looked at her and laughed and leered, and spoke with difficulty, so that she had to get waiters to assist him to his room, and it was hours before she could obtain a reasonable reply to her choking interrogations. At length, through sheer exhaustion, she fell asleep, with a pillow steeped with the bitter tears of grief and mortification she had shed.

CHAPTER IX.

MINISTERIAL CAREER.

THE sad incident related at the close of the last chapter was a frightful beginning of matrimonial life; and

His

often as Mrs. Oswald had seen intemperance in all its possible phases, it never appeared to be so horrible as when it was presented in the person of her own newlywedded husband. She from her childhood totally loathed everything in the form of excess, and she had often been for days together in her own room when convivial parties met at her father's house. Yet, as she loved Oswald, as a woman only can love, with all her heart and every part of her entire being, the conflict within her was most distressing. The silence which the event produced lasted for several hours after Oswald had really become sober, but at length it was broken by a burst of distressing tears, when she said, "Oh! Oswald, how did it happen? How could you drink brandy alone, and stay down in the parlour, and forget me, and bring all this anguish so soon upon me? Oh! that I had never been born, or that I had died before I saw your face. Drunkards I loathe; the very name is disgusting, and everything about it I hate with all my soul; and yet only married three weeks, and my husband, my minister, and yet he a drunkard! Oh! that I could have a friend to help me to bear this crushing burden." Oswald was most keenly distressed by what he heard and saw. wife to him was the very symbol of perfection, and her intelligence and good sense, real piety, and womanly affection might have made her worthy of a king. length he said that his confusion and misery were complete, that he could present no apology worthy of credit to her, but that he felt a sudden impulsive craving for some exciting liquor, and that the temptation came upon him so suddenly that he felt powerless to resist it; that if she would forgive the dishonour he had brought upon them both, he would never tamper with the feeling if it returned, but would overcome it by prayer, or remain in her society till the fiery attack yielded to better influences. He was evidently sincere in all this, and really meant to do as he said; and, kind as he ever had been to her, his affectionate solicitude was now truly increased, so that all she could reply was that the affair should be buried in her own bosom, and if he carried out his purposes it should never be referred to any more. As a few days yet remained before they returned home, she put forth all her crushed hopes once more to see if they would bud, and especially as she was anxious that all should appear joyous and bright to her parents when they met.

At

Oswald was more abstemious than he was wont to be, and avoided everything that could excite suspicion or fear in her heart; and at Dalbreathe every house, almost and every heart and voice gave them a hearty welcome. The Elders had arranged to have a supper at the hotel to do honour to their minister and his wife, and thus to cheer them on first taking possession of the manse.

Oswald's father, mother, and his sisters were to come next day to the manse to hail their brother and his excellent wife on their actual entrance on the responsibilities of married life. The Elders' supper did not break up till nearly midnight, and when Oswald met the keen investigating eye of his wife, he felt somewhat confused, for he had not acted out the wise moderation of the last few days, but had gone very close to the boundary line of excess.

Events every now and then occurred that kept her fears alive, and that did much to destroy her domestic comfort; for whether Oswald went to meetings of the Presbytery, or officiated for some other brother, or visited Dumfries, his appearance indicated excitement, and on more than one occasion his speech was thick and inarticulate. He was not the man he had appeared to her a year or two before. But still she hoped-and in fact she knew not what else to do.

A year and a few weeks had passed away, when Oswald was blessed with a sweet charming girl, in beauty and resemblance a miniature edition of his be

OSWALD MANSE

loved wife. The event was one that produced quite a stir in both grandfathers' establishments, as she was the first little stranger of the new generation.

Oswald, whose heart was intensely kind, beheld with most exalted feelings of delight his Heaven-sent treasure; and when the time for the baptism arrived, it was resolved that on the following day a festive scene should be held to celebrate the event. It would have given great offence to have omitted in the invitation any of the friends on either side, so that the baptismal banquet included upwards of twenty persons. But the accommodation of the Manse was quite adequate to the occasion. Grandmother M'Dougall undertook the arrangements, and with her old servant Jessy there was no fear the party would be entertained to their perfect satisfaction. In the evening two or three kinds of wine from the Hotel, and a full supply of whisky, real Glenlivet, was provided in great profusion. Such a scene had never been remembered in the history of the Manse; and if the spirit of the old minister could have witnessed the respectable revelry that prevailed he would not have recognised his own dwelling. He had been no ascetic; but it was his rule that there should be nothing like the appearance of evil in his house; for he held that the minister's residence, as well as his heart, should both be holy to the Lord. As the evening got late the company gradually decreased, until Oswald and his Father-inlaw and two other persons were the only ones left to finish the scene. The four continued to attack the dangerous creature, until it was evident to M'Dougall that if they wished to retire decently they must do so

at once.

Mrs. Oswald had been hours in her room before her husband joined her, and then it was discovered that he was quite unable to remove his clothes, and that she was too weakly to give the necessary aid, so that Jessy had to be called in, when Oswald explained he had been so overcome by the kindness of his friends that he had become really helpless, and that Jessy must render him help on the occasion. This she cheerfully did; but in doing so she had to approach so near to him that she bluntly confessed if she did not know he was her own minister she should have thought he was some drunken traveller who had been spending bis evening with the sons of Belial. However, her duty done, she departed; and Oswald, very far gone in the path of inebriation, was soon side by side with his astounded wife and precious child. Here was a fine appendix to a religious ceremonial-a marvellous offering to God for all his goodness-a sad winding-up of a social gathering in the house of a preacher of righteousness. Mrs. Oswald never closed her eyes in sleep, for she would have been infatuated not to have perceived that her husband was clearly the victim of drunken habits, and therefore that there was a dark and dismal future before them. She was so ill the next morning that the medical man, who had taken his leave, had to be recalled, when he gave orders that she must take to her own room, and be kept quiet, or he would not answer for the life of either mother or child. In that chamber she lay for several days, sad, desolate, and nearly broken-hearted.

One day when Jessy was in attendance, and there was no fear of being interrupted, she said-" Mrs. Oswald, I am sadly afraid our minister must have a great liking to the whisky, and I am sore perplexed to consider where the liking was created. I should not think that students in Edinburgh usually take over much drink, and I am sure that in his father's house, as well as yours, hotel though it be, he never had an example of drunkenness set before him. I really pity you and your sweet babe; but what is to become of us all if this thing should go on, and grow worse, as I fear it will?" Mrs. Oswald said "Why, Jessy, I am utterly speechless on the subject; but, for my sake, keep your own counsel, and let us hope for the best."

89

"You may rely on me,' said Jessy, "but I fancied I heard other bodies in the house whispering about it; and you may depend on it, if Mr. Oswald is not more careful, that both the kirk and the whole countryside will soon have hold of it, for you know drunkenness cannot long be concealed." At present, however, the evil was only known in the house.

About this time an effort was made to do bonour to the memory of the holy band of martyrs, who had loved the Gospel and its ordinances more than their own lives. A granite monument was reared, with suitable inscriptions on it, relating to the men of whom the world was not worthy. Of all the eminent ministers of the region, Oswald was invited to deliver the inauguration discourse-and this he did in the presence of probably ten thousand spectators. His sermor, a master-piece of eloquence, and which took nearly two hours in its delivery, was afterwards printed at the general request of those who heard it.

Oswald's fame as a man of great theological attainments, as a popular preacher, had now reached its meridian altitude, and but for the drink he might have died the most honoured of all his brethren. In returning from the inauguration service, feeling great exhaustion, he went into a decent tavern in a village on his way home, and here he took so much whisky that he was fairly overcome by it. He laid his head on the table and fell fast asleep, where he was found later in the evening by one of the elders of his Church. But so far from being hard on the minister, knowing the long service he had conducted, he attributed it to his great weariness, and offered to conduct him home and render him any assistance in his power. Thus aided, elder and minister appeared at the manse, and thus in some degree allayed the agonising fears of his anxious wife.

Being fully restored to her usual health and vigour, she resolved next morning to open another battery upon her reverend husband, believing that without an immediate change ruin and degradation must be the inevitable consequences. 66 'Oswald," said she, "how will you meet your elder on Sabbath-day who conducted you home from the tavern last night?" Oswald for the first time resented the appeal, pleaded his exhaustion, and said that the elder was more charitable than his wife. "Yes," she answered, because he knows less of your habits. He has not been tortured day and night for months as I have been; and I now faithfully warn you that tongues will not be silent, and already two or three have been speaking to my father about your course." "Indeed," said he; "and no doubt your father's calling would not be taken into the account in the conversation that took place." "My father's calling!" said she, fired with indignation, "when did you know my father encourage intemperance? When did you see one of his customers, even among the profane of the town, so disgraced as you have been? However, I will leave father to settle the matter of his calling with you when you are in a better spirit to judge of things than you are now. But, calling good or calling bad, he has been a true friend to you; and, though more than twice your age, no one ever saw him or heard of his being the worse for drink. He has not, dear Oswald, what I fear you have, lost self-control, and will never disgrace himself or his office by drunkenness."

Oswald felt the truthfulness of this appeal, and he replied, "I confess I am a fool, an idiot, worse than either; yea, I am a wretch, and do but forgive me, and help me," he said imploringly, "and I will try to avoid the evil thing." Just at that time a Presbyterian clergyman from New York had delivered a sermon on the Temperance Reformation, as it had sprung up in the Eastern States of America. This sermon, and the pledge of abstinence from spirituous liquors, had created a great stir in the public papers and periodicals of the day. Mrs. Oswald had read a good deal about it, and,

90

THE TEMPERANCE MOVEMENT IN IRELAND.

therefore, she resolved to have a confidential interview with her father, and see what must be done to save her husband from a drunkard's infamy and sorrow.

Mrs. Oswald now unfolded the whole to her father, related the scene at the Lakes, and said she felt her lot was bound up with one whose habits were of the most dangerous kind. He listened to her with profound astonishment, and said he feared from what she had stated it was a lost case. She then reminded him of the new society and the pledge, and the success attending it." "Why," said he, "would you have the minister do a thing that would fix a stigma on him all his days? What! abstain altogether from what everybody uses, and what your own father sells! What! take his place among degraded weak bodies, who have no No; principle, no religion, and no status in society? that society may do for poor vulgar folks, but we should all be scandalised at the Burgher minister of Dalbreathe having to ensure his own sober behaviour by a pledge or an oath, or whatever you may call it. No; I'll never agree to that; but I will tell you, if he goes on this way, you had better leave him, and come home again, and bring your babe with you. "How,"

said she, "can I leave him? and if I did, would he not at once be driven from his kirk? Surely he had better join any society than that should occur. However, he is my own husband, and I must bide with him and share his fate."

(To be continued.)

formers make no pretension to be able to counteract; but the accursed traffic which we war with is the nursing mother of our evil propensities; it gives them intensity, and adds fearfully to their violence. Our efforts are given to arrest this malign influence, and, in so doing, place ourselves and others in a better position for reception of those higher principles of human action which would really dignify man, and bring him a little nearer, even upon earth, to that great Being in whose inage he is made. We are merely pioneers, who are levelling the road for the army of reformers who will follow us, and who will sow good seed in the ground we have ploughed and made fit for them, and without whose previous labours all their work would be useless. If the soil be not previously prepared for the husbandman, his seed can produce no golden harvest.

* *

We drink, and we are poor and wretched. We drink, and the arm of plenty is weakened, so that our full energies cannot be put forth. We drink, and jails are filled and churches are shorn of half their usefulness. We drink, and homes are wretched, and wives and children are in squalid misery. We drink, and raging madmen fill our lunatic asylums. We drink, and we forget the days when Father Mathew created such a religious enthusiasm against our relentless enemy, Alcohol, that the whole world looked at Ireland with admiration because of the manly courage with which her people put away from them that craving appetite which had long been the ruin of their country. At the period of our history in the Temperance reform, to which I have just referred, the con

The Temperance Movement in Ireland: sumption of whisky in Ireland was reduced, in three or

IMPORTANCE OF UNION.

SELECTIONS FROM A PAPER BY JAMES HAUGHTON, ESQ., J.P., READ AT "IRISH TEMPERANCE LEAGUE CONFERENCE," HELD IN BELFAST, ON 6TH APRIL, 1863.

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,-The Committee of the Irish Temperance League have requested me to write a Paper for this Conference, on "The Temperance Movement in Ireland, and the Importance of Union." I hastily complied with their request, feeling it to be a high honour and great privilege to be called on to take any part in the proceedings of such a Conference, held in Belfast, and called together under the auspices of an Association which has the credit of collecting in one great bond of union many of the weak and scattered Temperance Societies of Ireland, thus giving cohesion and strength to bodies that have been hitherto kept far apart and too much isolated, thereby losing that strength and power for effecting the good purposes in view, which unity of action imparts to large bodies of men-this union, as I understand, not being intended, in the smallest degree, to interfere with the local management of the societies that become thus affiliated, but leaving to them all full liberty to regulate and manage their own affairs in such manner as may seem to themselves best and most suitable to the circumstances of each local Association.

With such a body as this, it should be a pleasure to every Temperance Society in Ireland to enter into close and cordial affiliation. I therefore heartily wish success to the "Irish Temperance League," in its efforts to unite all the local societies in our country by the cords of sympathy in one great friendly association, which will, I trust, act powerfully on public opinion, and, in due time, call forth the voice of this nation in a loud and general demand for the overthrow of the traffic in intoxicating liquors, which sad and demoralizing trade lies at the root of most of those evils that oppress and degrade our people.

The drink traffic is the grand fountain of misery-it stands foremost among those promoters of human wretchedness which Man has any power to control, and to remove out of the way. There is inherent in our nature a tendency to go astray, which temperance re

four years, by more than one-half-that is to say, from about twelve millions to about five gallons a-year; or, from one and a-half gallon to three-fourths of a gallon per head of her population. We became a sober people, and one of the good results which followed was, that our prisons were nearly emptied.

Soon after the death of the good Father Mathew this enthusiasm in favour of teetotalism, which he had created, died away. This declension may, I think, be in some measure attributed to the fact that he had done little towards a real and permanent organization of our people. He was the main spring that kept the wheel in rotation; and when he was taken away no force strong enough to keep the machinery he had set in motion remained, and the consequence was, it became feeble in its action, but it has never ceased working altogether, a few true hearted men yet sustain its vitality. Father Spratt, in Dublin, has done much during the last 23 years to keep the Total Abstinence cause alive in that city; and several minor societies have always been in being, and have kept the fire on the altar of teetotalism burning-sometimes with a brighter, sometimes with a duller flame. During the past year it has shone with a steadier light, and has kindled better hopes in the hearts of the friends of this sacred cause. Our humble Hall in Cuffe Lane, under the Presidency of Father Spratt, assembles its five or six hundred willing hearers weekly, every Sunday evening. The society under the Presidency of Mr. Hunt, meets in the Merchants' Hall on Monday evenings, and is now in a flourishing condition. We have also a Ladies' Temperance Association in Dublin, and they occa sionally collect a good audience in the Metropolitan Hall. Several Temperance societies, connected with various religious bodies, also exist in the capital. "The Dublin Branch of the United Kingdom Alliance for Suppression of the Liquor Traffic" is deserving of special mention. It is silently, but I hope surely, doing good service in our cause, by diffusing information on that particular phase in our movement of which it is a representation in Ireland.

In Cork, which was once the great scene of the labours of the "Apostle of Temperance," but in which city his death seemed, for a season, to deprive our cause of nearly all its vitality (which collapse was felt

ROUGH WATERS.

to become even colder on the lamented decease of Richard Dowden Richard, who was one of the most intelligent and earnest supporters of Father Mathew), I have learned with pleasure that a revival of Teetotalism has recently become manifest. May good and true men be found in that ancient and beautiful city proudly to sustain that standard under which its people once fought so nobly against the degrading and demoralising liquor traffic, which has yet so much power and influence in this fair land of ours, whose inhabitants might be, but for its benumbing influences, happy and prosperous, through the means of those blessings of Providence so bountifully offered for our acceptance. Throughout our four Provinces-especially in Ulster -fresh evidences of an earnest determination to grapple manfully with the cruel traffic-the great foe of our temporal and eternal happiness-have been, during the past year, manifested; but time and space prohibit my making any further allusions to these gratifying evidences of new life in our sacred cause.

I must, in conclusion, say a few words on the necessity, and also the great importance of union among teetotalers.

Isolated efforts will not accomplish the mighty work before the Temperance Reformer. The drinking mania which pervades our social system, from the Palace of the Sovereign, through all the gradations of society, down to the cottages of her lowliest subjects, has it deep foundations in an unnatural appetite, which, when once created, has an unvarying tendency to crave a continually increasing indulgence to minister to this appetite, which grows upon what it feeds, and is indeed insatiable in its demands.

By a law of our being-for which, I believe, science has not yet discovered any satisfactory reason—our nervous system becomes so affected by the use of alcoholic stimulants, they acquire such an ascendancy over us as hurries away to destruction great numbers of the human race, who are in the condition of children and maniacs, unable to use their reasoning powers so as to guide their actions aright. Hence the necessity of union among all who would save themselves and others from the dread calamity of intemperance, and raise up those who have fallen into this miry pit, and who are sure to perish if no friendly hand be held out to them.

The fashion of using the drinks which lead to these sad results must be undermined; and the idea that their use, even in moderation, is not injurious, either morally or physically, must be proved to be a most mistaken idea, before these miserable delusions can be made to pass away. The light of truth must be made to shine in upon the darkness which clouds the mind of very many, even of our otherwise intelligent men and women among the educated classes of society.

This great work needs union among all parties for its accomplishment. Is the evil we contend against so great and so injurious to the best interests of man as to demand and require this union for its overthrow? That is the question for our solemn consideration.

May the Almighty bless all your proceedings, and may they deeply impress upon the hearts of our countrymen a sense of the unspeakable importance of the great cause we advocate that much good may be the result of our labours. May our country, from the good seed we are now scattering broadcast, reap a golden harvest, and hand down to future generations an ever strengthening determination to banish from our beautiful Island, for ever, that foe which has, for many past generations, marred and destroyed the happiness of her people.

The march of humanity is like that of any other army. It has its stout and hardy pioneers, who go before and make the rough places smooth; its vanguard, who do the first fighting; its main body of steady marchers, in no hurry, yet constituting the real line of battle in every great action.

Rough Waters;

CHAPTER IX.

A FRIEND IN NEED.

91

The

CRIMINALS have slept soundly the night before their execution, and many a despairing wretch is strengthened by a refreshing slumber to begin life again. sleep into which Adelaide Singleton fell had no feverish starts, and when she awoke at six o'clock the next morning, she felt like one whose strength had been renewed. She dreamed, too. A huge mastiff was pursuing her; with difficulty she was trying to escape through brushwood which impeded her at every step; she called for aid and shrieked until her throat was parched; the mastiff, with open paws, was about to spring upon her, when a blow from an unseen hand hurled him to the ground. She knelt down, prayed, and rose up not only strengthened but comforted. It was now an hour before breakfast, and she began to pack up. Next to prayer, nothing lightens sorrow like employment. As she was putting her music and books in a corner of her trunk by themselves, she took up a beautifully bound copy of Tennyson's Poems, given her some years ago, in happier days, by a friend who lived near them. She read the few lines written on the fly-leaf. She had done so a thousand times. "Presented to ADELAIDE SINGLETON, By her faithful Friend, FRANCIS JAMES BURCHER, When going to Australia.

May 15th."

It was a great trial to part with this memento of friendship and love; but what was she to do? She had but five stamps in her purse, and even the third-class ticket would cost six-and-tenpence. She had read of pawnoffices, and heard some poor people whom she and her mother often relieved speak of them, but she shuddered at the thought of going into one. She remarked one at the village, or rather Master Tommy pointed it out to her, asking what was the three balls for. She first corrected his ungrammatical mode of expression, and then began to explain something about the Lombardy coat of arms; but Master Tommy, with a knowing shake of his head, informed her that James, the man of all work, told him it meant two to one if you ever get what you pawn. On second thoughts, she determined to see Mr. Hunter, though she well knew he had long ceased to govern. He had been once a very poor

curate, and thought the quickest way to steal a march on poverty was to marry Miss Eliza Emerilda Wriggle, an attorney's daughter, who was said to be very rich. Pour Hunter paid for his imprudence like many others who meanly barter love, happiness, and independence for a stipulated sum. Whenever he offered any opinion which in any way opposed his wife's notion of things, she generally met it with the elegant rejoinder of, "Oh, bother, I know a sheep's head from a hand-saw." At nine o'clock Anne brought up her breakfast on a small tray.

"The missis says the car will be ready at eleven o'clock to bring you to the train at Layton," and she looked round at the walls of the room as if she half suspected the few prints had been put into Miss Singleton's trunk. "Like mistress-like maid," for Mrs. Hunter said at breakfast, or rather in the interval between the meal and family devotion, that she hoped "she would only take what belonged to her." "Anne, will you take this note to Mr. Hunter?" "Misses told me to bring no more letters; and, besides, she wouldn't let him read it, without reading it herself first."

"Ask him to speak to me for a few minutes?" "If I can get Misses out of the way, I will; but, if not, I cant, or wont.

An hour passed by; it was now ten o'clock, and she

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ROUGH WATERS.-JUDGE CRAMPTON.

waited to see Mr. Hunter with all the impatience of a criminal expecting a reprieve. At half-past ten she saw a small basket carriage and dun pony, driven by a lady, coming up the avenue. She got a glimpse of her side face between an opening of the shrubs. She could not tell why, but that glimpse was like a sunbeam to her soul, and a presentiment of relief came to her mind. What enigmas we are! By what laws can we account for those feelings of dislike or love which come upon us quick as lightning? You meet a face in a crowd, and you carry the image for ever in your heart! Our friendships wont end here, and those kindred spirits that take our hearts by storm shall meet again. Blessed thought!

we

Mrs. Letstieg and her husband came to Layton about a year ago, and purchased a beautiful property. Seeing the spiritual darkness which prevailed among the people, Mr. and Mrs. Letstieg, both children of God, began those labours of love which we have seen blessed in many places. They had no children of their own, and having ample means and loving hearts they soon won the affections of all around them. Even Mrs. Hunter said, "Mrs. Letstieg is like an angel." So she was; her face was as beautiful as a poet's dream-her form was like those statues sculptured by Grecian hands from fairest models. Her laugh! Such music! Adelaide Singleton heard it, and it cheered her. Thank God, you careworn and weary, for sending such people across your path. Sunbeams they are, thawing the icicles of disappointment and sorrow, and leading us onwards to light beyond.

Stepping out of the carriage with fairy motion, she glided into the hall, and laughed as she saw Master Tommy sitting like a Hindoo at devotion before a sugar-bowl, the contents of which were fast disappearing.

"Mrs. Hunter, have you any message to London. I am going up by the eleven o'clock train. I should have sent over a few days ago, but I had several matters to settle, and deferred it until I came in per

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"It is very kind of you, Mrs. Letstieg (Mrs. Hunter spoke differently to her husband, visitors, governess, and domestics), but as Edward (her husband) must go up to see about a governess in a few days, I wont trouble you this time. Can I take any of your meetings for you while you are away?"

"Has your governess left you?-this was a part of my business this morning to make an apology for not having called on her before this."

"She has turned out very badly," was the reply of Mrs. Hunter, and she told all that had occurred.

Mrs. Letstieg waited very patiently to the end, and heard the comments without any interruption.

"Mrs. Hunte., you should have given her an opportunity of explaining. May I see her?"

66

'Oh, my dear, yes, but don't let her impose upon you." She went up, gave a low knock at the door; it was opened by as sorrow-stricken a face as she had ever

seen.

"Miss Singleton, pardon what may seem an intrusion. I came to apologise for not having called before; I am sorry to see you in trouble. As she said this a tear of sympathy was forcing itself into the corner of her eye. Miss Singleton saw it, and it drew her own tears afresh. She told her all-all she knew about her brother, her mother's poverty, her own poverty in not having a penny to bring her home.

"Poor, dear troubled sister, God has sent me to you. I am no stranger to sorrow," and she placed her hand on her feverish forehead and removed it to wipe away the tears.

"You must come with me to the train. I am going to London, and you can travel with my husband and myself." As she moved towards the table she saw the writing in Tennyson's poems.

"Mr. Burcher! and you are the Adelaide he often

spoke about." It would have taken a skilful physiog nomist to tell what that face expressed, and what that heart felt as the lips uttered the words. In ten minutes they were leaving the vicarage behind; but not the shouts of Master Tommy, for he bellowed like a young bull, more to annoy his mamma than through any regret he felt at the departure of his governess. Mrs. Letstieg was very silent during the drive. She appeared like one whose feelings had been deeply moved. They were just in time for the train, but had to delay until the down train-which was expected every moment-arrived. As it darted by, like an arrow sent from a giant's hand, Adelaide saw a gentleman wave a handkerchief. It attracted her attention; and quicker than I can write the words, she exclaimed, "Oh! my brother-there he is." A gentleman, with an eye like a hawk, was on the platform near her, and heard the words. He turned on his heel, and went into the Telegraph Office; and going to the station-master asked, "When does the next train go to Plymouth?"

"Ten minutes, Sir."

"All right. First-class return ticket, please."

He was a London detective, but had been at Layton for the last twenty-four hours, and knew every incident in the life of Miss Singleton within that time. (TO BE CONTINUED.)

Judge Crampton

AND THE

RISE OF THE TEMPERANCE REFORMATION.

ONLY once in a century a man like Judge Crampton dies; and the good take care that his memory shall not die. His name is immortal, connected with the origin, in the old world, of the Temperance Society. So early as March, 1830, we find him addressing, with great eloquence and power, large public meetings in the Friends' Meeting-house, Dublin, in company with Dr. Harvey, George Carr, and others, and reading the following documents :

"We, the undersigned, hereby declare, that, in our opinion, nothing would tend so much to the improvement of the health of the community as an entire disuse of ardent spirits, which we consider to be the most productive cause of the diseases and consequent poverty and wretchedness of the working classes in Dublin." This was signed by Dr. Crampton, the Judge's brother, the venerable Dr. Cheyne, Physician-General, Sir Henry Marsh, Dr. Jackson, and other physicians.

The second was similar, and was signed by twentyfour eminent Surgeons, with the Surgeon-General at their head; the cousin and namesake of the judge, Philip Cecil Crampton.

The third was signed by the Lord Mayor and Sheriffs, Frederick Shaw, the Recorder, and Major Sirr, and is as follows:

"We, the undersigned, hereby declare that, in our opinion, an entire disuse of ardent spirits would greatly tend to the moral improvement of the community; and that an indulgence in them is the most fruitful cause of crime in Dublin."

Cautiously as the honorable judge and his associates worked, they were in full operation as THE HIBERNIAN TEMPERANCE SOCIETY in 1830, and in June of that year they published models for the formation of auxiliaries, from which the following is an extract :--

"We, the undersigned, being impressed with a deep sense of the magnitude of the evils, both moral and religious, which result from the use of ardent spirits, and feeling it an imperious duty, by all honest means within our power, to attempt a reformation of the public sentiment and habits on this important subject, and believing that drunkenness-that desolating vice to which the use

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