Year: 1862

venerable face. Most sincerely do congrat-
ulate you OF. your marriage with Hetty Will
kins. | am sure you will be happy. From
child have known and loved Hetty, and that
love has grown warmer every day. This in
terest which feel in both her and you, makes
me free to whisper one warning in your ear,
Henry-to caution you against the only dam
ger that it seems to me can possibly wreck
your happiness. May speak freely"


TO me, certainly! / replied; wondering
within myself what he could possibly mean.


The only danger, then, Henry he said,
lies, believe, in your unwisely indulging In
the use of strong drinks


cannot tell you how surprised was at
this. At first l felt angry with my aged
friend; but this feeling passed away as tho't
of his eccentricity.


You are certainly iesting with me- said;
'or else under some strange mistake about my
habits | do not drink to excess


L am perfectly aware of that, Henry was
his serious reply. Il know that few young
men in this neighborhood indulge less than
you do. But the danger lies in the fact of
your using liquor at all. 1t does you no good.
Cut it off. then, Henry, and your happiness,
and that of your young wife, are beyond the
reach of danger


Il have perfect control over myself urged


'Of that am assured he said. But have
heard many say the same in my time, who





ren have found a home in the aims houses, or
in asylums for destitute orphans. Had they
done as now wish you To do. all this degra-
draton and misery might have been saved


This conversation fully determined me not
to abandon the use of liquor To have done
SO would have been admitting to myself and
others that there was danger of my becom-
ing that miserable being,a drunkard The
very idea was disgrace, and l rejected it
with CONTEMPT


Alas alas The fears of my friend were
prophetic. In ten years from that day, with
five neglected children, and heart-broken
wife, turned away from the comtortless tene-
ment that had for "A few months sheltered us,
houseless and homeessn


Low, mournful and tremulous was the voice
of the speaker, as he uttered these words
And then followed long, breathless pause, in
which each one Of his hearers could hear the
labored pulsations of his own heart.


The lecturer at length resumed. can,"
said he. say but little more The recolec-
tions of that day-of wretched days for my
wife and children, that went before, and that
followed after, have touched my feelings more
deeply than had expected. Thank Heaven
those days are passed for them and me. There
is fire on our hearths, and sunshine in our
dwelling. Young man! Temperate drinker!
Despise not that warning of experience. What
has happened to me, may happen to you. You
cannot now feel more secure in your resolu-
ton than did, then, in mine. l fell; so may
you. Let me entreat you, neither to touch,
taste, nor handle the accursed thing. For the
sake of her, towards whom your earliest and
best affections are now going ont, guard your
SELF So shall the bright promise Of your mar
riage be fulfilled"


The speaker then took his seat, not having
spoken over one-third of the time he had al
lotted himself. But he had said enough. The
arrow had been sent with true aim, and found
its right place. But few remarks were made
by others; and then, while an invitation hymn
was sung with fine effect, the pledge was Of
fered for signatures.


The first who presented himself was Henry
Ellis. He sprang forward with an eagerness
that showed how deeply he had felt his dan
ger, and how eager he was to escape.


Three weeks from that night he was mar
ried to one Of the sweetest girls in the town.
While the lecturer was speaking OF his early
history-of his marriage-and of the sad re-
suits of his temperate drinkng-Ellis felt aw-
full, as Imagination pictured his own darkened
hearth, and the heart-broken maiden whom he
so tenderly loved shivering beside 1t.


Horrible y he murmured to himself with
shudder, as he shook off the dreamy. prophetic
state into which he had been thrown. This
fixed his resolution never again 10 suffer any
thing that could intoxicate to pass his lips
and under this feeling be acted when he sign
ed the pledge so eagerly.