and in his business, and a confirmed drunkard. Insolvency and bankruptcy were the consequence. The last time I saw him, all the clothing on his person was not worth a crown. He was a wretched sot, and without an atom of self-esteem. Two names occur to me at the same moment, Hand H. They bring up before me an event of a melancholy nature, which happened in the vicinity of this town, now nearly thirty years ago. These two were very intimate-always together with their glasses and pipes, and in every place of companionship and amusement. Their habits were extremely dissipated. They participated in the bountiful hospitality of our respectable tavern, and. were two of its busiest and noisiest brawlers. A murder was committed in the neighbourhood, and there were strong grounds of suspicion that these men were the perpetrators of the horrible deed. The report was common; but, singularly enough, nothing transpired which sufficiently induced the authorities to have them arrested. I am the more particular in noticing these things, that their remarkable fate may additionally strike the attention. In a very little while after this dreadful event, the one poisoned himself, and the other was drowned in his passage across the Atlantic. The suspicion and report lost none of their force in the public mind from the unhappy way in which these two poor outcasts were hurried into eternity. I should say, that large rewards were offered for the apprehension of the murderers, but nothing has ever been disclosed to fix the guilt upon any one.

One sad instance occurs to me of the ruin of a most amiable young man, named K- who was a frequent visitor to our tavern. He had begun business with fair prospects. His great misfortune was becoming acquainted with this abominable house-this house of fancied respectability. His attentions here won him from his proper pursuits. He lost his right estimate of things; his equilibrium was gone; one extravagance was the precursor of another. To meet embarrassing demands, he committed a forgery, for which he was transported for seven years. Thus ended the career of a young man liked by every one for the courtesy of his deportment. He was one of the unfortunate victims of strong drink.

a commercial

Another visiter to our tavern was Straveller. He was very fond of his glass. I have known this young coxcomb drink a bottle of wine at a sitting, and that too often. And when he had exhausted the mistaken helps and kindnesses of his friends; when they could help him no longer; when he had drained them, in his heartless career, of every shilling they had at their disposal,-he robbed his master. For this wicked infringement of confidence, he was forgiven and discharged; but with a character blasted, he could procure no other situation. Thus penniless, and almost friendless, he attached himself to persons of low character. At last he was detected in the perpetration of some burglary, and was transported for seven years. Prior to his becoming a drinker, he faithfully performed the duties required of him by his situation; and his master, in return, reposed in this faithful servant an unrestricted confidence; but the alcohol drove out his virtue, made him heedless, and in the end, a thief. It is the great parent of crime, poverty, and ruin.

Our tavern friends numbered among them the son of a much-respected clergyman of this town. He was educated for the medical profession, and was a young man of promising talents. No one supposed but that he would hold a first-rate place amongst the members of his profession; that he would be an honour to the town, and the pride of his parents. But, alas! not so. He would be found at the ale-house, when he should have been at his studies. The days of his kind-hearted father were shortened. He committed a serious offence, and he was obliged to leave his country and go abroad. Will any one contend for an instant that strong drink did not blight the promises of this young man's character, banish him from his native land, and put a deep sting of sorrow and shame into the bosom of an anxious parent?

Amongst the select party who gave up their time, property, and health, to the revelries of the tavern, was a member of the legal profession. To qualify him to hold a position in his calling, his education had not been slighted -I speak intellectually. He was well informed and cheerfully conversational-just such an intelligent, kindlydisposed man as would brighten and gladden a circle of

domestic affectionate friends. The demon of alcohol converted, as it is hourly converting, these elements of social usefulness into means of mischief and misery. Jovial and free, he was regarded with much deference and attention. His power to please was considerable, and his legal reputation made him a prodigy in the eyes of the unlearned of his associates. How deplorable, that one so estimable in manners, and in courtesy and gentleness of disposition, should have been so ignorant and heedless of the great and divine laws which regulate our being! His life was a solemn testimony that those laws are not to be broken with impunity. He terminated his existence by an act of suicide, by cutting his own throat-an instance of terrible warning to young men of education to avoid, diligently to avoid, the use of strong drink, and the society of drinkers of strong drink.

Another person I knew, who resorted to the same house of entertainment, and was also educated to the profession of the law. Perhaps this one had not the other's temperament and buoyant spirits; however, he squandered his substance, and wasted his health. He is alive now. I sometimes see him-the embodiment of rags, dirt, and want. He dissipated a handsome property, and assumed the appearance of old age twenty years before nature intended it.

Two other persons, worthy decent men, and in good circumstances, became entangled in the destroying snares of the tavern,-one a Mr. C- —, and the other a Mr. S. The habit of drinking strengthened in its pursuit, until, at last, they gave themselves up to entire abandonment. Pitiable slaves and victims to the nasty, poisonous fluid and its many attendants, both these persons failed in business, were totally ruined, and became miserably destitute.

This ends the account of a group of nearly a score persons who were ruined and destroyed from the effects of assembling together in the parlour of a public-house-not a low pot-house, but a respectable tavern-pressing one another forward in the work of demoralization and misery, and early death.

J. M. Burton and Co., Stereotypers and Printers, Ipswich.

RICHARD

WILKINSON,

THE RAILWAY LABOURER.

(By Simeon Smithard, late Ipswich Temperance Missionary.)

EIGHTEEN months ago, Richard Wilkinson spent the whole of Saturday night at the public house, as was his custom. His wife and family were forgotten amidst the din of drunken mirth, and Sunday morning found him a penniless, unwashed, unrespected drunkard. This was no new thing to Richard Wilkinson, for the last few years of his life had been entirely devoted to hard labour and dissipation. Being employed at the railway dock as an excavator, and continually associating with companions as dissipated as himself, his highest aspirations were, how he could best gratify his insatiable appetite for strong drinks, and find fuel for the fire of his passions, which were rapidly consuming his moral nature.

Like thousands more in this, and all other towns in our country, Richard found the Sabbath a long, wearisome day. His drunken orgies had unfitted him for its hallowed duties. Its high design and lofty privileges were a complete blank in his life; and the sot gave evidence that the use of strong drink and holy emotions were incompatible with each other.

In this condition, and with a drunken companion, he wandered to South End, where the usual temperance meeting was being held in the open air. The Missionary was, at the time, showing the advantages of a sober life, and urging all to hope for success in attempting to abándon their drinking practices, adducing, by way of illustration, and as a source of encouragement, his own reclamation. Wilkinson assumed a thoughtful attitude

amongst the audience, and though his companion was noisy, and attempted to annoy the speaker, Wilkinson listened on, and inwardly responded to the appeals and plain facts of the speaker; the pictures which were drawn of the drunkard's home, his suffering wife, and pining children, were all true delineations of the life of the listener.

At length the speaker concluded, and kindly invited all to attend the meetings of the Society during the week, and enrol their names in the pledge, book. The audience dispersed, and Wilkinson went away a changed man; for whilst listening to the words of the speaker, he had resolved upon an attempt at reformation. He had determined that he would slay the monster which was absorbing his time, his money, his health, and crushing his soul. He was heartily weary of his degrading habits.

At the close of the meeting on the Tuesday evening following, amongst those who came and signed the pledge, was Richard Wilkinson, and oh! what language can describe the advantages of that step. It was the first step in the heavenward road. It was an era in his life entirely new, giving wings to his motives for good so long torpid, and opening up to his dark spirit a source of light and love, which filled him with new enjoyments, and developed the noble elements of his nature.

During the subsequent eighteen months of his life, he rose in the estination of his employer; for he was a man of good abilities, and being now steady, he obtained the situation of superintendent of the men employed in piledriving, the duties of which he discharged with satisfaction to both the employer and the employed. Whilst attending to these duties, an accident occurred, which nearly deprived him of life, the falling of a quantity of