Think you, ye who still hesitate, that the fire is quenched-that the ravages are not still progressing? We need but point to yonder house, whose twice-painted sign shews forth these darkening words "To be drunk on the premises;" we need but stand before yonder Gin palace, to shew you its gorgeous lamps and gas lights, dazzling the eyes with their lurid glare, and filling us at once with horror and admiration; we need but draw aside the curtain of some home fireside, and behold the single glass quaffed in secret and imaginary moderation. All these point in one direction. Strong Drink, the agent in every case, hurries on its victims into the whirlpool of drunkenness, to replenish the ranks of those thousands who annually fill a drunkard's grave. Thus, though much has been done, the fire continues to rage. Our exertions-the exertions of all-are still called for, to hold out the ladder of refuge to the dying multitude who yet drink those soul-destroying potions, whose burning desires end not till swallowed up in this "liquid fire.”

Ye professors of the Christian name! would ye, while beholding a house enveloped in flames, still stand idly by, while your fellow beings were left to perish? would you hear them calling for assistance, and still refuse to help them? "If thou forbear to deliver them that are drawn unto death, and those that are ready to be slain: if thou sayest, behold we knew it not: doth not He that pondereth thy heart consider it? and He that keepeth thy soul doth not He know it? and shall He not render unto every man according to his works."

Should these pages fall into the hands of any poor inebriate, we would offer him a word of kindness: our souls yearn for his safetywe have made sacrifices for him—we are still waiting to help him, to hand to him the ladder of safety for his escape from the burning elements within! We would even now say, "Make a full standdetermine to abstain from the accursed cup-join the Temperance Society; we have a goodly company; many who have signed the pledge for their own preservation, and many who have, in Christian self-denial, signed it for thine. Come with us, and we will do thee good: how many have improved their outward condition, replenished their purses and homes, and (higher thought) have also found durable riches and righteousness? If thou refuse, the consequences in this life may be awful; but how infinitely more so in the world to come, if for ever shut out of the kingdom of Jesus." "Who among us shall dwell with the devouring fire? who among us shall dwell with everlasting burnings ?"

With these solemn considerations before us, how can any, who profess to be followers of Jesus, still tamper in even the moderate indulgence in Wine or Strong Drink? Is he not like him who, instead

of extinguishing, adds fuel to fire? What part has he in that selfdenying discipleship which must still characterize the followers of Him who died that even sinners might live? who "came to seek and to save that which was lost." Let him even now consider-let him think on that costly sacrifice made on Calvary for his salvation, when purchased for him by the blood of the well-beloved Son of God. May these things lead him to ponder his path, and think whether this small sacrifice is not called for at his hands.

In conclusion, we feel there is a word of caution for all, whether those that are engaged in this holy enterprise, or those who, having escaped Intemperance, are the happy objects of their labours. Let none of us think, that our efforts in the Temperance cause, good as it is, can stand us instead of that change of heart, that regeneration, which we must witness individually, if ever we are made fit for the kingdom of God. Our destruction may be of ourselves, but our salvation must be of God. "O Israel, thou hast destroyed thyself, but in me is thy help." "The gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord." We must not only have faith in Him as our Light and our Atonement, but we must know Him to work in our hearts by His all-searching Spirit, to "thoroughly purge his floor, that he may gather his wheat into his garner, and burn up the chaff with unquenchable fire." Thus cleansed, washed, and made free from every defilement, we shall be enabled to do his will while here on earth; and, when time to us shall be no more, prepared, through the mercy of God our Saviour, to have our part in that pure and undefiled inheritance, where there is nothing that "worketh abomination or maketh a lie, but they who are written in the Lamb's book of life."

Newcastle, 1848.

G. R., JUN.

THE SHIP IN DANGER.

We need no new evidence to prove, that our moderate wine-drinking citizens are the most formidable enemies that retain the field against the progress of temperance. We know that they are strong, very strong; that they occupy the highest walks of life, and fill almost every station of honour, trust, and emolument. We know they number in their ranks, the learned, the wise, and powerful. We cannot employ towards them any other language than that of respectful entreaty and expostulation; nor would we do it if we could. No; we would say

to our fashionable wine-drinking citizens, "Come, let us reason together." To you we must address our appeal; for we recognise no other opponents in the field. The unreformed inebriate, the rum manufacturer, the rum seller and importer, are mere supernumeraries in your camp; they wear no arms; they are under your protection, and subsist on your example and support. We are your fellow-citizens. In many of the duties and avocations of life we walk side by side; in many of the interests of our community and country we take sweet counsel together. We can testify to the integrity of your honour, to the respectability of your standing, the cordiality of your friendship, and the munificence of your philanthropy. And we appeal to these bright qualities of the heart when we say, that there are thousands of unhappy beings who are trying in vain to reform on your principle. At the corners of the streets you may meet scores of poor inebriates who have tried to become temperate men by following your example; but it has plunged men deeper in the mire. These side-walks are daily thronged with those who are trying to arise from habitual intoxication to the moderate use of the intoxicating cup. Alas! is it your example that is hanging out this tantalizing phantom? Will you cheat their souls with the insidious delusion, that they may again be moderate drinkers? Will you bind, with wanton hands, another stone to the willing neck of a Sisyphus, to drag him back into the fiery abyss, at each successive attempt to rise from its torments? Will you torture a Tantalus with visions of the cooling waters of life, with which he may never slake his burning lips? Shall that father who has almost strength enough to face the tempter; shall that husband who has just recommenced an existence of life and love; shall that son and brother who has just been rescued from the lee-shore of intemperance-shall these be dashed back into their original ruin by a glance at the wine that sparkles on your tables? When the shipwrecked mariner has clung to his frail plank through all the wilderness of the wintry waves, and when he is in sight of the haven of rest, will you hang out false beaconlights, to lure him on to breakers, whence his mangled corse shall be dashed on the shore? When, with a desperate effort, he has caught hold of the ark of safety, will you strike off his hand, and leave him to sink in the waves?-E. BURRITT.

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THE SABBATH MORN;

OR,

AN ADDRESS TO YOUNG PERSONS ON TOTAL ABSTINENCE.

WE are much more likely to pay attention and respect to the advice of others when we believe they love us, and only speak from a desire to do us good. I will begin, then, by telling you, dear children, that I do love you, and end, I hope, by proving that I do indeed wish to do you good. You are fond of stories, I know; well, then, listen, and I will tell you a true little story first, for which you must promise to pay attention afterwards to what remarks I may make upon it.

On a beautiful Sabbath morning, many years ago, I learnt my first lesson on the evil of strong drink. I was quite a little child then, but I remember the lesson well, though, I am sorry to say, I have forgotten many since. It was summer time, and I was in the country with my mother, who being poorly, was unable to go with me to church, and so trusted me with a companion, not much older, but a great deal wiser and steadier then myself, who promised for himself and me, that if she would only let us go, we would be quiet and good, and not go near the water, which, as we were more than a mile from the church, had to be passed at a short distance.

It is a fine thing to have a good character, and so I thought when my careful mother, on the strength of his promise, tied on my bonnet and dismissed us with a kiss. I wish you had been with us that bright morning: you would have enjoyed the walk so much across the meadow and over the stile and down the green lane, where, what with the birds singing over head, and the flowers blooming in our path, and the bright sun-beams that came peeping in whenever the thick tall hedges would make room for them-all this together, with the soft air and the musical sound of the church bell afar off, made us very happy indeed —not noisily, but thoughtfully happy; and I remember we sat down on a bank near the water, and talked in our quiet childish way of the great love of our Heavenly Father, who had made and kept the earth so beautiful. My companion was a thoughtful quiet boy, and his earnest manner always impressed me, wild and gay as I was; it did so greatly on this occasion, when he said, "How I wish people would learn to love God, instead of swearing and quarrelling, drinking, and breaking the commandments of Him who loved the world well enough

to let his dear Son die to save it-do let us try to be good; it is so wicked and ungrateful to offend so kind a Maker." I was going to answer him by saying, I often wished to be good and obedient, but very often the first temptation to be otherwise was too strong for me, and I was as naughty as ever; and I should have asked him what he thought I had better do to become really a good child-only just at that moment. we heard a loud scream, and saw a woman with a baby in her arms, running swiftly across the fie'd towards the water, on the brink of which two men were struggling; she ran towards them, shrieking for help, and intending to rush between them, for one was her husband, and both were drunk. I could look no longer, for I grew sick with fear as I saw the fighting men almost tottering on the edge of the deep water, so I clasped my hands over my eyes and saw no more; but the end was this, the men fell together into the water; the woman's_ screams for help brought others to the spot, who succeeded in rescuing one from an awful death, but were too late to save the other, for when they took him from the water he was dead, and the poor distracted wife, with her little fatherless babe, was left desolate and heartbroken. Here was an end to our walk so happily begun! My little friend led me silently home again, and I wept myself to sleep on my dear mother's shoulder.

Now I have told you my true story, and what can we learn from it? First, you say, you have learnt to pity the poor woman and her infant. Well, I shall ask you to prove this pity soon; but do not forget that sad as her fate was, his who died before her eyes was immeasurably worse, for our bibles tell us the drunkard shall not enter the kingdom of heaven; and what, then, was her loss compared to his? Secondly, you tell me you learn God punishes the Sabbath-breaker. It is a good lesson, dear children: never for one moment forget it, and let no temptation induce you to leave your school or the house of God to seek pleasure on the day He calls his own. You will soon find that the performance of your duty on that day is the best, nay, the only pleasure you can enjoy. Thirdly, you say you learn to avoid quarrelling and evil company. How I hope you may remember these good lessons. But what makes people quarrelsome very often? what as often leads to evil company, the breaking of God's laws, and an awful death § Why, drink, children; so, fourthly, you must learn to hate that bitter cause of so much sin and sorrow. Look round you in your town, nay, many of you in your own houses, and see if you have no cause to hate it: harsh words and angry blows, tattered garments and stinted meals -do you know nothing of all this? If so, be thankful from your hearts; but, remember, there are thousands around you who do, and