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day.' He looked at him and added, 'I know your connection with the Temperance cause, but I tell you as your friend that you will die, and that shortly if you don't.' He was weakly, and he must acknowledge that he did not think at that time he was likely to live, but he had examined it in a medical point of view, and he felt that if his system did require a doctor who carefully recommended medicine, he ought not to send him to the brewer or spirit-merchant for strength. Although he felt he could consistently take it at that time without violating his pledge, he said, 'No, I will not do it; I do not believe that God will let me die for want of wine.' He went back to London, and in a few days consulted Dr. James Clarke. He made very minute inquiries as to his mode of living, and then came the question, What liquors do you drink?' He replied, 'I have been a Teetotaler for 12 years, and have never tasted wine, spirits, or beer during that time.' I am glad of that, sir,' he replied; you will be better sooner without it.' Now, had he taken his first doctor's advice, in all human probability he would have recovered, but to this day he might have attributed his recovery to the wine which he drank. He mentioned that at a meeting about a year after, when George Cruickshank jumped up and said, 'That is just my case; the doctors told me the same thing some months ago.' Twelve months after that, he was at another meeting, when a gentlemanly-looking person said to him, I have great cause to thank God that you mentioned that fact about the doctors, and that Mr. Cruickshank confirmed what you said.' The gentleman then went on to tell him how he had been ordered to drink small quantities of spirits by his medical man; and how he was on the point of committing suicide that night, when what was then said lit up a spark of hope in his bosom, and he resolved to live without it. That man signed the pledge, and afterwards became one of the most succesful labourers in the cause in one of the worst districts in London.

HAGAR.

(From "Scriptural Sketches," published by M'Glashan, Dublin.)

Tis early morn-from off the freshened grass
No footstep yet has brushed the moisture sweet
Which the night skies have wept. Pellucid glass
Or sparkling crystal seem the drops that meet
The slanting sunbeams! Oh! how fair, how bright
Is morning's hour of loneliness and light.

Let me look forth on such-let me again

Dream, as I gaze o'er all the hopes of youth-
Feelings which dormant in the soul have lain—
Let them, with all the vividness of truth,
Burst warmly forth, and thaw each icy part

Which this world's converse freezes round the heart.

Who would not on such glorious morn rejoice
And feel the strength, the freshness of the scene
Gladdening their spirit? But, ev'n now a voice
Of lamentation sounds. Yes, there has been
A mourner here; mixed with the early dew,
Tears, tears are glistening in the sunshine too.
And they have fallen from eyes which oft have wept,
But never in such bitterness before;

A wanderer seems she; in her hand is kept
Another's closely clasp'd, while o'er and o'er
The boy looks shuddering up, as if to read
Ev'n in her tears the doom so dire decreed.
And there is one who, fixed as in a trance,
Follows each movement of that sorrowing pair—
Whose aged eye is strained to catch the glance,
The last, long, lingering glance of mute despair-
Whose groans are echoing every footstep's fall
Of those he longs, yet dares not to recall.

But now,

ev'n now, the sun his mid-day seat Ascends with all the glow of torrid fire; Struck by his fervid beams of withering heat,

The herbage droops, the tender flowers expire.
Alas! by Hagar's side a flower as fair

Is drooping too, despite of all her care.
Spent is the water; sparingly and slow

Drain'd drop by drop; his gift, who dared no more Of earthly sustenance on those bestow,

So fondly cherished and sustained before. Now, must she, from Beersheba's desert wild, Demand, in vain, refreshment for her child! No gushing fountain gems those arid plains; No Elim palm-trees offer shelter there; Throughout the waste a heavy silence reigns,

And the hot simoon taints the baleful air. She feels its influence through each trembling limb, But heeds it not-her thoughts absorbed in him. From out th' exhausted flask she drains the last One drop, to cool his burning lip and brow; Herself, upon the ground despairing cast

Hangs o'er her boy, in languor prostrate now; While, like a broken lily, faint and weak,

Upon his shoulder drops his pallid cheek.

And swiftly she unbinds her raven hair

To shield him from the fierce sun's scorching ray; Loosened her veil, she fans, with jealous care,

Each noisome insect from his face away. And lays the fair curl'd head upon her knee, Watching his breathing-oh! how anxiously! Vain every effort-vain her burning tears

To moisten his parch'd skin. She looks around For hope, for succour. Alas! none appears.

One little shrub her searching eye has found
In the far distance; it is reached at last,

And 'neath its shade her dying child is cast.
A moment she stoops o'er him—can it be?
So lately full of life, and joy, and power!
Are those the drops of mortal agony?—

This the convulsion of his parting hour? Shuddering she turns-she will not, dare not stay

To witness all she loved thus pass away.

She ceased-but ceased not with her words the tears
Which gush in torrents from her breaking heart,
Rent by convulsive sobs, her breast appears,
As from the dying boy she sat apart;

Nor raised her head, lest, piercing as a lance,
The last death-struggle sore should meet her glance.
But when on earth, by tempests fiercely driven,
The clouds of fate across our path are borne,
Then wakes the watchful Providence of heaven-
A pitying eye looks down on her forlorn-
A voice of comfort speaks-"Rise, Hagar, rise,
And Ishmael yet shall bless thy longing eyes.
"Take him once more within a parent's hand,

Lift him from off the hard, unpitying ground;
For God has heard the lad. At his command

The waters gush from stony rocks around:
Yet will I bless him for his father's sake,
And of his seed a mighty nation make.”
And now her sight is cleared-amazed she spies
A fountain opened in the desert plain,
And crystal waters sparkling. Quick she flies
To dip the flask; replenish it again
How joyfully! from heaven's provided spring,
And sweet refreshment to her child to bring.

Yes, Hagar's eyes are opened. Oh! for sight
Like hers, all ecstacy, to view the fair

And glorious fount of endless life and light,

And, pilgrim-like, to seek refreshment there.
Oh! to be sprinkled with those drops-bedew'd-
And feel, like Ishmael, our whole life renew'd.

AIDS TO LECTURERS.

A WARNING TO DRINKERS AND DRUNKARDS.—The following solemn and important statement as to the mortality among drunkards, is made on the authority of Mr. Neison, the celebrated actuary, and is worthy the serious consideration of all parties who still use and indulge in the use of intoxicating liquors :Mr. Neison states that out of 357 who died of drunkenness, there would have been only 110 according to the rate of sober mortality. It was not only computed, but scientifically demonstrated, that between the ages of 21 and 30 the mortality of the drunkard is five times greater than that of the rest of the community; that between 30 and 50 it is twice as great. The drunken man at the age of 20 may expect to live fifteen years, the sober man 44; at 30, the drunkard may expect to live 13 years, and the sober man 36; at 40, the drunkard may expect to live but 11 years, and the sober man 28. These are facts

which need only to be known to make a powerful impression on the minds of all. Let young men especially ponder the foregoing facts, and at once renounce the use of intoxicants. Total abstinence is the course of wisdom and common sense.

A TEETOTAL HIGHLAND GAMEKEEPER.-" John Macallum is worthy of special mention, not only because he is a very honest, superior, and civil man—though that last point is not so extraordinary, for, as Sir Walter Scott says, 'there are few nations who can boast of so much natural politeness as the Highlanders,'—but because he is a Highland gamekeeper who never touches whisky. Like the prisoner at the tread-mill, John Maccallum's turning was the result of conviction: he saw so much abuse of whisky going on around him, that he determined to dispense with the use of the spirit, if possible, and drink instead the real mountain-dew that flowed from the hillside. He did not take any unnecessary pledge' imposed by man, but followed out his own reading of the Word of God, and acted upon its precepts. It is now three years since he abstained from everything in the shape of malt liquor and

spirits, and he finds himself none the less fitted for those arduous duties that his profession demands. All honour to a man like this, who can preserve himself victorious amid perpetual temptation."-From "Glencreggan," by Cuthbert Bede.

PROPORTIONS OF THE RESPECTIVE INGREDIENTS used to one hogshead of beer:-1. Capsicum pepper, in the proportion of half an ounce to one hogshead. 2. Coculus indicus, one ounce to ditto. 3. Liquorice juice, from four to eight ounces, ditto. 4. Salt of steel, a quarter of an ounce. 5. Sulphate of iron, vulgo, copperas, five drachms dissolved, and added just before the porter is sent out, a proportionate quantity for a hogshead. 6. Colouring, one and a half pint per hogshead.-Art of Brewing, London, 1824.

HOW TO SAVE MONEY.-At a Temperance Meeting held in Birmingham, a working coach painter addressed the meeting to the following effect :-'I have made a few calculations which I wish to communicate, with the view of showing the pecuniary benefit I have derived during the four years I have abstained from the use of all intoxicating drinks. Previously I had been in the practice of spending in alcoholic beverages upon an average five-pence a day, or £7. 12s. 1d. a-year, which, in four years amounted to £30. 8s. 4d. I will now state how this sum, which during the last four years I have saved, has been expended. First, I have allowed my aged father £3. 5s. per annum towards rent, making in four years £13. Secondly, I have become a member of a benefit society, and paid one shilling and sevenpence a-week, or £4. 2s. 4d. per annum, making £16. 9s. 4d. for the four years. For this payment I have secured to myself the following advantages:-In case of my being disabled by sickness or accident from doing my accustomed work, the society will furnish me with medical attendance and medicine gratis, and pay me eighteen shillings a-week till I am restored to health. In case of my death, my widow, or rightful heir, will become entitled to a bonus of £9., besides half the amount of what I have paid to the society up to the time of my decease, and that with interest thereon. Thirdly, I have had the remaining four shillings and ninepence per annum, or nineteen shillings for the four years which I have laid ont in temperance and other periodicals. There is yet to be added, that should I live to have deposited the sum of £54. in the society's funds, no further payment will then be required, and I shall continue to be entitled to all the benefits which I have named without further charge.'

HOW TO PAY RENT.-A blacksmith in the city of Philadel