THERE is no hardship in poverty that is not bearable; no hardship even in honest dependence that an honest man may not put up with.

We have but to change the point of view, and the greatest actions look mean; as we turn the perspective glass and a giant becomes a pigmy.

No one knows how good the world is till grief comes to try us.

And so it is a pair of bright eyes with a dozen glances suffice to subdue a man; to enslave him; to make him even forget; they dazzle him, so that the past becomes straightway dim to him; and he so prizes them that he would give all his life to possess them. What is the fond love of dearest friends compared to this treasure? Is memory as strong as expectancy? fruition as hunger? gratitude as desire ? I have looked at royal diamonds in the jewel rooms in Europe, and thought how wars have been made about them: Mogul sovereigns deposed and strangled for them, or ransomed with them: millions expended to buy them, and daring lives lost in digging out the little shining toys that I value no more than the button in my hat. And so there are other glittering baubles (of rare water, too), for which men have been set to kill and quarrel ever since mankind began; and which last but for a score of years, when their sparkle is over. Where are those jewels now that beamed under Cleopatra's forehead, or shone in the sockets of Helen?

FROM TUPPER.

He is a bold, bad man, who dareth to tamper with the dead;

For their whereabouts lieth in a mystery-that vestibule leading to eternity,

The waiting-room for unclad ghosts, before the presence-chamber of their king.

Mind may act upon mind, though bodies be far divided; For the life is in the blood, but souls communicate

unseen.

Life shall have no labyrinth, but thy steps can track it; For thou hast a silken clue, to lead thee through the darkness.

On all things created, remaineth the half-effaced signature of God,

Somewhat of fair and good, though blotted by the finger of corruption.

And if error cometh in like a flood, it mixeth with streams of truth;

And the adversary loveth to have it, for thereby many are decoyed.

There is not unmitigated ill in the sharpest of this world's sorrows.

Therefore look up, sad spirit, be strong, thou coward heart,

Or fear will make thee wretched, though evil follows not behind:

Cease to anticipate misfortune, there are still many

chances of escape;

But if it come, be courageous, face it, and conquer thy calamity.

There is not an enemy so stout as to storm and take the fortress of the mind,

Unless its infirmity turn traitor, and Fear unbar the gates.

The valiant standeth as a rock, and the billows break upon him;

The timorous is a skiff, unmoored, tost and mocked at by a ripple.

A bold man or a fool must he be, who would change his lot with another;

It were a fearful bargain, and mercy hath lovingly refused:

For we know the worst of ourselves, but the secrets of another we see not;

And better is certain bad, than the doubt and dread of worse.

There is joy in sorrow, which none but a mourner can know.

Life is a morsel of frankincense burning in the hall of Eternity.

Life is oft so like a dream, that we know not where

we are.

FROM ALFRED AUSTIN.
Oh! death! beautiful death!
Why do they thee disfigure?
To me thy touch, thy breath,
Hath not alarm nor rigour.
Thee do I long await;
I think thee very late;

I pine much to be going;
Others have gone before,
I hunger more and more
To know what they are knowing.

FROM TENNYSON.

And the vitriol madness flashes up in the ruffian's head, Till the filthy by-lane rings to the yell of the trampled wife; While chalk and alum and plaster are sold to the poor for bread,

And the spirit of murder works in the very means of life.

It seemed so hard at first, mother, to leave the blessed sun,
And now it seems as hard to stay, and yet His will be done!
But still I think it can't be long before I find release,
And that good man, the clergyman, has told me words of
peace.

O blessings on his kindly voice, and on his silver hair!
And blessings on his whole life long, until he meet me there!
O blessings on his kindly heart, and on his silver head!
A thousand times I blest him, as he knelt beside my bed.
He taught me all the mercy, for he showed me all the sin
Now, though my lamp was lighted late, there's ONE will let
me in;

Nor would I now be well, mother, again, if that could be,
For my desire is but to pass to Him that died for me.

SHAM PLEASURES.-I have been into some of the music halls in London, in Liverpool, in Leeds, and now I must confess that I never came away without feeling heart sore. I know people will be amused, and after all there is some philosophy in manly sport and a merry laugh. But can't you open a music hall without converting it into a tavern? Can't you give us the voice of song, and snatches of celestial harmony, without the temptation of drink, and away from the company of harlots and knaves? We have some sham ways of enjoying ourselves most truly. Last night I saw a poor woman, with a white face, peeping round the door of a public-house a little before twelve o'clock. "My lord" was enjoying himself within. Was it any enjoyment to his wife to watch and wait there in the cold, dreary rain, her patience perhaps rewarded presently with curses and blows? You call yonder man a jolly good fellow. Do his children feel very jolly when they are hungry and there is no food? Is that manliness to steal a little child's bread to feed our selfishness, and buy brass and mahogany for the "Green Swan" or the "Cow and Pigeons." There are young men out tonight to "see life" they say; but far away in some quiet home, unknown to you and me, tears will start from fond eyes, and this "seeing life" will pierce with sorrow many a mother's heart-that sacred temple of almost unspeakable and unchanging love. Oh, if there were not a sham at the bottom of our young men they would "see life" in something dif ferent to that which broke mothers' hearts, and snapped the dearest and most blessed of all human ties. From a Lecture on "Shams" by John De Fraine.

On theappearance of Ghosts, Spectres, &c.

It is well known to medical men, that nine-tenths of the disorders prevalent among the inhabitants of this country, arise from a derangement of the nervous system. When superstition and bigotry prevailed in England, if the minds of persons labouring under those disorders now termed nervous, were impressed with the idea of terrific appearances, through the medium of the equally impaired optic nerves, it was by the ignorant attributed to something supernatural. Hence arose the evil (one of the greatest that ever prevailed in England during the time of its baneful power) of ghosts, spirits, apparitions, spectres, &c., &c., in the imaginations of the uninformed multitude, infesting every church-yard, ruinated building, and desert or lonely place in the kingdom. Every one must be fully sensible, from experience, that nothing has a greater tendency to paralyse the human frame, and give it the most violent shocks, than the impulse of fear, particularly when impressed on the infant mind. After the false notion of the appearance of ghosts, &c. was completely established, it became the too common practice of the people in general, more particularly in the provincial parts of England, by way of entertaining each other on a long winter's evening, to relate the prodigious sights that had appeared to them, in their disordered imaginations, on important occasions, and in particular situations. As these marvellous and fearful relations always took place when the whole family formed a group round the fire, and before the younger branches were put to bed, the attention with which the latter listened to such stories is no way astonishing; but the influence they had on their minds, and by consequence on their constitutions, to their posterity, has been truly calamitous. Children from five to twelve, or even fourteen years of age, have been so paralysed with fear on such occasions, as to be incapable of moving from their seats; others thrown into fits of the most dreadful kind, from which their whole frames received such violent shocks, that their nerves were miserably impaired for the remainder of their lives. From the foregoing statement, it will no doubt naturally occur to every tender and affectionate parent, how cautious and circumspect they ought to be in the establishment of a nursery, in selecting every description of persons to whom they intrust the care of their offspring; as it not unfrequently happens, that both nurses, and nursery maids, have taken great pains to collect a budget of those wonderful and marvellous stories, which they generally relate to frighten the children into good behaviour, and prevent them from being refractory, without reflecting on the consequences that may result from their so doing.

Though past bad effects cannot be removed, it is our duty to do away, as much as possible, any future ones that may otherwise arise from causes of a similar description. Indeed, in the metropolis, the idea of ghosts, apparitions, and spirits, is pretty well removed from the minds of nine-tenths of the inhabitante: and in the provincial parts of England, it is to be hoped, from the great source of information they derive from books and other means, it will not be long before sentiments of a similar nature are entertained of such aerial and imaginary creations. But as great numbers of well-informed, well-educated, and very sensible females (and even males), from a delicacy of their frames, and a derangement or weakness of the optic nerves, have, at times, imaginary figures floating before their eyes, which, from fear, and other

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causes, are often by them conceived (in particular situations, and under peculiar circumstances) to be what has been erroneously called ghosts, spirits, or apparitions, of departed persons, we shall here introduce, for their further information, and to convince them there is no truth at all in the existence of such things, but that they are merely phantoms of the imagination, an extract from a Memoir presented by M. Nicholi, a Member of the Royal Society of Berlin, to that institution, on the subject of a complaint with which he himself was affected, and one of the singular consequences of which was, the representation of various spectres to his view. He has investigated the subject in a most scientific manner, and with the coolness and deliberation naturally to be expected from a philosopher, as well as a medical man. After

a detailed account of the state of his health, he gives the following interesting narrative.

She saw

"In the first two months of the year 1791, I was much affected in my mind by several incidents, and on the 24th of February a circumstance occurred which irritated me extremely. At ten o'clock in the forenoon my wife and another person came to console me; I was in a violent perturbation of mind, owing to a series of incidents which had altogether wounded my moral feelings, and from which I saw no possibility of relief; when suddenly I observed, at the distance of ten paces from me, a figure-the figure of a deceased person. I pointed at it, and asked my wife whether she did not see it. nothing, but, being much alarmed, endeavored to compose me, and sent for the physician. The figure remained some seven or eight minutes, and at length I became a little more calm and as I was extremely exhausted, I soon afterwards fell into a troubled kind of slumber, which lasted for half an hour. The vision was ascribed to the great agitation of mind in which I had been, and it was supposed I should have nothing more to apprehend from that cause; but the violent affection having put my nerves into some unnatural state, from this arose further consequences, which require a more detailed description.

"In the afternoon, a little after four o'clock, the figure which I had seen in the morning again appeared. I was alone when this happened; a circumstance which, as may be easily conceived, could not be very agreeable. I went, therefore, to the apartment of my wife, to whom I related it. But thither also the figure pursued me. Sometimes it was

present, sometimes it vanished; but it was always the same standing figure. A little after six o'clock several stalking figures also appeared; but they had no connection with the standing figure. I can assign no other reason for this apparition, than that, though much more composed in my mind, I had not been able so soon entirely to forget the cause of such deep and distressing vexation, and had reflected on the consequences of it, in order, if possible, to avoid them; and that this happened three hours after dinner, at the time when the digestion just begins.

"At length I became more composed with respect to the disagreeable incident which had given rise to the first apparition; but though I had used very excellent medicines, and found myself in other respects perfectly well, yet the apparitions did not diminish, but on the contrary rather increased in number, and were transformed in the most extraordinary manner.

"After I had recovered from the first impression of terror, I never felt myself particularly agitated by these apparitions, as I considered them to be what they really were, the extraordinary consequences of indisposition; on the contrary, I endeavored, as much as possible, to preserve my composure of mind,

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that I might remain distinctly conscious of what passed within me. I observed these phantoms with great accuracy, and very often reflected on my previous thoughts, with a view to discover some law in the association of ideas, by which exactly these or other figures might present themselves to the imagi. nation. Sometimes I thought I had made a discovery, especially in the latter period of my visions; but on the whole, I could trace no connection which the various figures that thus appeared and disappeared to my sight, had, either with my state of mind, or with my employment, and the other thoughts which engaged my attention. After frequent accurate observations on the subject, having fairly proved and maturely considered it, I could form no other conclusion on the cause and consequence of such apparitions, than that when the nervous system is weak, and at the same time too much excited, or rather deranged, similar figures may appear in such a manner as if they were actually seen and heard; for these visions in my case were not in consequence of any known law of reason, of the imagination, or of the otherwise usual association of ideas; and such also is the case with other men, as far as we can reason from the few examples we know.

"The origin of the individual pictures which present themselves to us, must undoubtedly be sought for in the structure of that organization by which we think; but this will always remain no less inexplicable to us than the origin of these powers by which consciousness and fancy are made to exist.

When

"The figure of the deceased person never appeared to me after the first dreadful day; but several other figures showed themselves afterwards very distinctly; sometimes such as I knew, mostly, however, of persons I did not know; and amongst those known to me were the semblances of both living and deceased persons, but mostly the former; and I made the observation, that acquaintances with whom I daily conversed never appeared to me as phantasms; it was always such as were at a distance. these apparitions had continued some weeks, and I could regard them with the greatest composure, I afterwards endeavored, at my own pleasure, to call forth phantoms of several acquaintances, whom I for that reason represented to my imagination in the most lively manner, but in vain. For however accurately I pictured to my mind the figures of such persons, I never once could succeed in my desire of seeing them externally; though I had some short time before seen them as phantoms, and they had perhaps afterwards unexpectedly presented themselves to me in the same manner. The phantasms appeared to me in every case involuntarily, as if they had been presented externally, like the phenomena in nature, though they certainly had their origin internally; and at the same time I was always able to distinguish, with the greatest precision, phantasms from phenomena. Indeed, I never once erred in this, as I was in general perfectly calm and self-collected on the occasion. I knew extremely well, when it only appeared to me that the door was opened, and a phantom entered, and when the door really was opened, and any person came in.

"It is also to be noted that these figures appeared to me at all times, and under the most different circumstances, equally distinct and clear; whether I was alone or in company, by broad day-light equally as in the night time, in my own as well as in my neighbor's house; yet when I was at another per son's house they were less frequent; and when I walked the public street they very seldom appeared. When I shut my eyes, sometimes the figures disappeared, sometimes they remained even after I had closed them. If they vanished in the former case, on

opening my eyes again, nearly the same figures appeared which I had seen before.

"I sometimes conversed with my physician and my wife, concerning the phantasms which at the time hovered around me; for in general the forms appear. ed oftener in motion than at rest. They did not always continue present; they frequently left me altogether, and again appeared for a shorter or a longer space of time singly or more at once; but, in general, several appeared together. For the most part I saw human figures of both sexes; they commonly passed to and fro as if they had no connection with each other like people at a fair where all is bustle; sometimes they appeared to have business with one another. Once or twice I saw amongst them persons on horseback, and dogs and birds; these figures all appeared to me in their natural size, as distinctly as if they had existed in real life, with the several tints on the uncovered parts of the body, and with all the different kinds of colors of clothes. But

I think, however, that the colors were somewhat paler than they are in nature.

"None of the figures had any distinguishing characteristic; they were neither terrible, ludicrous, nor repulsive; most of them were ordinary in their ap pearance-some were even agreeable.

"On the whole, the longer I continued in this state, the more did the number of phantasms increase, and the apparitions become more frequent. About four weeks afterwards, I began to hear them speak; some. times the phantasms spoke with one another; but for the most part they addressed themselves to me; those speeches were in general short, and never contained any thing disagreeable. Intelligent and respected friends often appeared to me, who endeavored to console me in my grief, which still left deep traces in my mind. This speaking I heard most frequently when I was alone; though I sometimes heard it in company, intermixed with the conversation of real persons; frequently in single phrases only, but sometimes even in connected discourse. "Though at this time I enjoyed rather a good state of health, both in body and mind, and had become so very familiar with these phantasms, that at last they did not excite the least disagreeable emotion, but, on the contrary afforded me frequent subjects for amusement and mirth; yet as the disorder sensibly increased, and the figures appeared to me for whole days, and even during the night if I happened to awake, I had recourse to several medicines, and was at last again obliged to have recourse to the application of leeches.

"This was performed on the 20th of April, at eleven o'clock in the forenoon. I was alone with the surgeon; but during the operation, the room swarmed with human forms of every description, which crowded fast one on another; this continued till half-past four o'clock, exactly the time when the digestion commences. I then observed that the figures began to move more slowly; soon afterwards the colors became gradually paler, and every seven minutes they lost more and more of their intensity, without any alteration in the distinct figure of the apparitions. At about half-past six o'clock, all the figures were entirely white, and moved very little; yet the forms appeared perfectly distinct; by degrees they became visibly less plain, without decreasing in number, as had often formerly been the case. The figures did not move off, neither did they vanish, which also had usually happened on other occasions. In this instance they dissolved immediately into air; of some even whole pieces remained for a length of time, which also by degrees were lost to the eye. At about eight | o'clock there did not remain a vestige of any of them, and I have never since experienced any appearance of the same kind."

The Two Pictures.

BY STUART MILLER.

EDWARD GLEN was going home one night in the dusk. Well, I'm not quite sure if he was going straight home, for there happened to be a half-way house, at a certain corner, which somehow he could never get past, when he had a sixpence in his pocket. He was on the way home, however, when he met an old fellow-apprentice whom he hadn't seen for an age.

"Why, where on earth have you been all this while, Glen!" exclaimed Frank Dysart. "We've been on the hunt after you ever since we came to town."

"I work at Mossman's Foundry," said Edward, confusedly.

"All right," returned Frank, "but you must take a cup of tea with us to-night, and we will return the compliment one of these days."

"I promised that I would be early home to-night," began Edward, but his old friend caught him by the arm, and wheeled him round with an air of resolution.

"Our crib is not a hundred miles off, and your wife won't grudge an old comrade half-an-hour. Anyway, Edward, you must look in and see the old woman and the children," and it was no use begging off.

"I know you've been one of the lucky ones, Frank," said Edward Glen, as they walked along. "Luck's all nonsense Glen," said Frank; "my belief is, that every man has his fortune in his own hands, with God's blessing."

"Some can't get on though, do as they like," sighed Edward.

"Then, depend upon it, there's a screw loose somewhere, if the machinery won't work," laughed Frank; "but this is our cabin door."

Edward Glen stared, as well he might, when Frank pointed to a handsome cottage, with a pretty flower-garden in front, and a goodly piece of well cultivated ground behind.

Two rosy, smart children came running through the primroses and violets to welcome them.

"You have had a windfall, Frank," said Edward in amazement.

"Yes, yon cherry tree in the farthest corner was a windfall," answered Frank, with great gravity; "but, thank goodness, there was no worse damage done that fearful night."

That was not exactly what Edward Glen meant, but he smiled, and followed Frank in silence through the perfumed path to the jessamine porch.

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One, two, three, four, five-half-a-dozen to keep in grub. Frank must have found a purse," thought Edward.

"Nice situation this, isn't it, Glen ?" said Frank, pansing to watch the setting sun's golden glory.

"But rents must be high in this quarter," said Edward.

Frank gave a short laugh. "Well, most of us up here are our own landlords."

No, no, Frank had got money left him, lucky fellow.

"I wish somebody would leave me a legacy, Frank."

"Bah! I wouldn't be any one's beggar as long as I could make my own way," said Frank, proudly. "We are obliged to nobody for what we have; and half the pleasure we enjoy is from our glorious independence."

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"What are you talking about ?" asked a smiling little woman, laying her hand affectionately on Frank's shoulder.

"Ah, I was just saying, wife-but don't you see an old friend, Missis."

Esther Dysart was dressed like a lady. What was the secret of all this prosperity. A glance inside discovered a comfortably furnished house, and an abundance of everything. The tea was sumptuously served with ham and fresh-laid eggs, and newlychurned butter, and cream, and hot cakes, and jellies. "Upon my word, thought Edward, "Frank's got a rise, and no mistake.”

After tea, the boys brought their prizes, to show father's friend. Three rough, tearing lads, that weren't kept on nothing; smart chaps, though, and far a-head with their education for their size. "Who helped Frank?" that was what Edward wanted to know.

My wife helps me," laughed Frank, "she spends the money; that's her department."

"But you've got a tremendous rise since you came to town," said Edward.

"Well, I have, Glen," candidly answered Frank; "I am a foreman, now."

"You," instinctively exclaimed Edward Glen. "By sheer determination and perseverance," continued Frank, with a smile. "You know I wasn't a

bright particular star at the outset, Glen." Edward Glen knew that well. "But a growing family put me to my mettle, and so with God's help, I got along."

"But you say this house is your own; and, your life's insured."

"Oh, the cottage is not quite paid up yet," said Frank, "but its on the way for it, and we are clear with everything else," he added, gaily catching up his youngest baby, and whirling him over his head." "I wish you would tell me your secret, Dysart," said Edward Glen, as Frank walked to the garden gate with him.

"We have no bottles in our house," said Frank, " and I don't turn in at the corner, on my way home, Glen."

Edward reddened.

"You've always kept your teetotal principles."

"Yes, that's the secret of our prosperity," said Frank. "If I had yielded to drink with my dull head I would have stuck at the foot of the ladder; and what's saved off the beer goes into good investment."

"What a downright idiot I have been," muttered Edward Glen, as he wended his way homewards. "That fellow hadn't half the chance I had when we began together, and he is a lord compared to what I am to-day-curse drink. If it hadn't been for it I might have been better off than the Dysarts, poor weak fool!"

But there's the brilliant lamp that has so often guided his unsteady steps into the "Golden Fleece," flinging him a friendly gleam; be scowls at it as if it were a snare to fleece him. The smiling landlady stands at the door; he passes without a word, and never halts until he comes to his own door, and then he half recoils with a feeling of disgust, the contrast in his own home is so great.

Bare floors, black fireside, crying children-crying with hunger and cold, poor things, and a pale weary wife, hanging over a dirty wash-tub by the light of a cracked lantern. How could any man be expected to come home with pleasure to a miserable scene like this? It was quite different with Frank Dysart. Why, his home was like a palace! Of course he wasn't to blame, it was his wife; and full of indignation he went in and abused poor Sarah for not being a better housewife, and making his home at

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no answer.

tractive. He was perfectly sober, but Sarah seemed to doubt it. She looked at him pitifully, but made And in this she showed her wisdom. It is said speech is silver, but silence is gold sometimes. Edward Glen was not a bad tempered man; a little hot when he was raised, perhaps, but his anger blew off in no time when he was sober. But he was annoyed with himself to-night, and when that is the case conscience is not so easily pacified. He stormed longer than usual, but when he could make nothing more of it, he sat down sulkily at his cheerless hearth. "What are you squalling for ?" he asked, as he roughly shook a thin white-faced little object, shivering on the floor.

"I'm so, so hungry," sobbed the little one.

"Can't you give them some supper," said Glen, addressing his wife.

"We have no bread in the house, to-night, Edward," said Sarah, meekly, "but I will have money tomorrow, when the linens are sent home, dear."

"And have you no coals either, Sarah," he asked. "There is one piece left, but we must be sparing." "It's a cold night though," said Edward; let's have a fire for once, woman, and there's a shilling to get a loaf and butter."

"Oh, mother, let me go for the loaf," cried little Tilly, clapping her hands. "I shan't lose the money; oh, do, I'm starving, and so are Johnny and you, mother."

"There then, run as fast as you can, Tilly," said her father, wrapping the shilling in a piece of paper, "and get a cake for yourself, or anything you like, child here's another sixpence." He hid his face behind Johnny's curly head, for there were tears in his eyes.

:

Wondering much at the change that had come over Edward, Sarah broke the last lump of coal in the house and made a good fire, and when she had tidied up the hearth and set away the tubs, and smartened herself up a bit, she took courage to ask him if he had got his wages advanced?

"Not yet; but I expect something of that sort, if I keep in the mind I'm in just now," he answered.

"But if I had known you were coming home so soon to-night, I would have been in better order," said Sarah.

"You can't make this hovel look much better," replied Edward, with a dash of bitterness.

'Perhaps we shall see better times yet," said Sarah, hardly knowing what to say.

"Well, I'd blow out my brains to-night, if I didn't hope so," said her husband.

Poor Sarah feared he had gone out of his mind, he looked so wild and strange; but next morning he was more composed, and went out to his work quietly. In the evening he came home straight from the foundry.

"He is out of money," thought Sarah; "when pay-day comes he won't pass the Golden Fleece.'"

But fancy her surprise when, instead of staggering in with a bare shilling or two close on mid-night, he came in smiling before it was dark, and flung his unbroken wages into her lap.

"There, Sarah, and before long, if God gives me strength, I will have twice that sum to give you on pay-day."

Poor thing, she burst into tears, and fell sobbing on his neck.

"I've been a downright idiot and a brute to you, Sarah, for all your goodness," said Edward, with a husky voice. I didn't deserve such a wife."

"Oh, don't say that, dear Edward," sobbed Sarah. "You were always kind but for drink."

"Well, you will forgive me, lass, I see," interrupted Edward, kissing her soft cheek, "and we will

begin life again on Frank Dysart's principle. No bottles in the house, and a clear head always to make progress upwards."

sur

"Oh, thank God, thank God," murmured Sarah. "I do, with all my heart, for leading me to a noble example to open my blind eyes," said her husband. After tea, they went out together to make some purchases, and next day the neighbors were prised to see Edward Glen going with his wife to church; but had they looked in at dinner and seen the bright blazing fire and the well set table, they would have got a surprise. A whole joint of mutton at the head and roasted potatoes, and a jolly plum pudding because it was Sunday.

Said little Johnny to Tilly, in a whisper, as he finished his pudding, "I think we must have died and gone to heaven, if it's to be always like this."--Scottish League Journal.

NATIONAL TEMPERANCE LEAGUE. The annual meeting of this association was held on Thursday, May 19, in Exeter Hall, London, which was nearly filled with the members and friends of the society.Mr. Samuel Morley presided. The subscriptions and donations for the year amounted to £130 more than the preceding year, and the liabilities were £180 less. After the report had been read, the meeting was ad dressed by the chairman, Mr. Edward Horner, J.P., Halstead; the Rev. John Griffiths, M.A., Rector of Neath; Rev. Joseph Brown, D.D., deputy from the Scottish Temperance League; Mr. Samuel Bowly, Gloucester; the Rev. Newman Hall, LL.B.; and the Rev. Stenton Eardley, M.A., of Streatham.

A CHALLENGE.-Mr. Knox, in the course of his address, has stated that from £60,000,000 to £70,000,000 were annually spent, and that chiefly by the working classes, and he could have told you that sixty thousand died, directly or indirectly, yearly in Great Britain from strong drink. But Mr. Knox has not told you, nor can he, the number of mothers this night that will shed tears on their pillows because they have drunken sons; or the number of wives that will wet their pillow this night with tears because of drunken husbands; or the number of children that will go this night supperless to bed because of drunken fathers. Will any man stand up and undertake to tell me that drink is not an enormous evil? I will meet him in the Music Hall or any. where else. Will any man come and deliver a lecture on the benefits of drinking? will undertake to attend him though I should come from the Land's End. -Rev. Dr. Guthrie.

A CLERGYMAN'S REWARD.-The Dean of Carlisle says: "I have reaped a rich reward in the blessings of the poor and those who are ready to perish.' No one can tell, till he has tried, what gratitude is awakened in the bosom of the working classes, not among the intemperate merely or chiefly, but among them all, when they become persuaded that for their sakes we abstain, or bear reproach. If I could but persuade my dear brethren the clergy only to try the matter as a question of moral influence in their parishes they would be astonished at the results. Let it but be known that the Parson has banished beer, and wine, and spirits from his table, though he never was suspected of intemperance; let his parishoners believe that for their sakes, as a mere example, be has done this; and numbers will flock to his church who never have been seen there before, and the known and established fact that the parson drinks nought but water,' will have more effect than a dozen homilies on the evils of drunkenness, followed by the practical application of the comfortable glass at home, and the social interchange of 'toasts.'"