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Little sisters, little brothers,

If you from old alcohol flee,
Happy fathers, happy inothers,

In the future you may be.
But if you, your comrade make him,

Shunning abstinence, which saves,
You perhaps will not forsake hiin,

'Till you rest in early graves.
When you make a promise, keep it;

If you plant it will take root,
If you sow it you will reap it,

In enjoyment of the fruit.
CRUIKSHANK, veteran in the movement,

Talent and experience brings,
And the means of vast improvement,

All about the meeting flings.
Now let all, as earnest pleaders,

Simply say without a trope,
God preserve the temperance leaders,

And “ The Wild Street Band of Hope.” The other speakers very ably and earnestly supported the cause, and were listened to with great attention. During the evening the children sang several hymns and melodies.

MOUSEHOLE.- On Monday evening, December 2nd, Mr. Insull, of London, entertained the children and friends of the Wesleyan Methodist Band of Hope, with one of his very amusing and instructive entertainments, interspersed with striking anecdotes and melodies, the children taking part in the latter. For two hours Mr. Insull rivetted the attention of the children to a greater degree than most lecturers have the ability to do, and his singing is good. The chair was occupied by Mr. J. Perron, of Penzance.-Cornish-Telegraph.

LITERATURE. An Appeal to the Lovers of the Saviour on behalf of Total Abstinence from Intoxicating Drinks. By a RAILWAY PORTER. London : Jarrolds.The writer of this powerful appeal is an estimable metropolitan advocate, and has written what deserves wide circulation. The price is one penny per copy, and the tract is well worth that small sum. We append a good anecdote of a Minister, which we extract from its pages :—“He was once dining with a family, when the lady who presided at table said, 'Ah, I do not like your doctrine ; you go too far in refusing the good creatures of GOD.' No notice was taken of the remark by the minister at the time, At length he said, ' Pray, madam, can you tell me who made this ?' holding up a glass of water. The lady replied, 'Why God, I suppose.' Then,' said the minister. “I think you do us an injustice, when you accuse us of refusing the good creatures of God.' Silence again reigned. By and by, the minister said, 'Madam, pray can you tell me who made that ? Pointing to a glass of beer, which the lady had at her side. Why, no, sir, I cannot exactly say; I suppose the brewer and the maltster.' Then,' replied

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he, allow me to say there is some apparent inconsistency in your first remark. You prefer taking a thing which man has made, to that which God has so very bountifully provided ; and yet you accuse me of rejecting God's good creatures, because I prefer water to beer! Let me leave the matter to your more serious consideration.""

The Shadow of the Almighty. By NEWMAN HALL, L.L.B. London : James Nisbet & Co.—This is another of Mr. Hall's neat, portable, precious volumes. Our readers will find it full of beautiful thoughts and powerful appeals. In its pages will be found 'rest for the weary.'

The Threepenny Magazine. Job Caudwell, 335, Strand. This new candidate for public favour is remarkably well printed, and filled with valuable papers on Domestic Happiness, The Settlement, a Tale, Compensation, The Brothers, Chapter I., The Penny Bank, &c. We strongly recommend it.

The Teetotalers' Almanac for 1862. London ; Job Caudwell. Here is a cheap and very good pennyworth. Every total abstainer should have it. It is full of most useful information, but contains one slight error which we beg to correct. The names of the gentlemen who act as agents of the Band of Hope Union (see page 17) are Mr. F. Smith and Mr. G. Blaby. The Union have no other Agents.

The Commercial Room. By JOHN BURNS. W. Tweedie, 337, Strand. Whoever begins to read this book will finish it. Mr. Burns is a man of varied experience, great talent, and intense earnestness, and has produced a book which every young man should read. Our pages furnish the reader with a specimen of the 'wares' to be found in "The Commercial Room."

Second Annual Report of the Nottingham Band of Hope Union, 1861. - This admirable report is worthy of perusal by all who are engaged in the good work. In our next issue we will say more about it. It will give us much pleasure to hear from our fellow-workers in Nottingham.

A Song for Life and Death. A Meditation on the Twenty-third Psalm. By GEORGE W. M'CREE. London : John F. Shaw and Co., Paternoster row, and Southampton row.—This small book may now be obtained of the publishers,

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MR. JOHN DE FRAINE.

We are glad to find that this gentleman is going to deliver an Oration in Exeter Hall. All the particulars will be found in the advertisement on our Cover. We trust the famous hall will be crowded, and that Mr. De Fraine will achieve a brilliant

Tickets may be obtained at the office, 37, Queen Square.

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success.

EDITORIAL NOTES.
All communications should be written on one side of the paper only.
Names and Addresses should be written very plainly.
Intelligence should be sent early.

Books for Review, Articles for the Record, &c., may be sent to the Editor, at No. 37, Queen Square, London.

J. BALE, Printer, 78, Great Titchfield-street, Marylebone.

BAND OF HOPE RECORD.

MORAL SHIPWRECKS.

By the Rev. G. W. McCREE. How many moral shipwrecks have I seen! Having been "a pilgrim on the earth,” I have met with many men, and, alas ! scores of them are now in a drunkard's grave. One of my early friends was a learned and eloquent preacher. Tall and graceful in person, wearing the highest academical title, able to speak with power, and excelling as a debater, he was a popular divine, One morning I went into his study, and to my surprise and grief saw the remains of a glass of brandy. From that hour I trembled for him. Not without cause. His name is noy a bye-word, and in public disrepute.

Some years ago a bright and beautiful bride stood at the altar, and was married to a young man of good family, education, and fortune. They commenced life with eight thousand pounds. For some years they were very happy, but “wine and strong drink" at last enslaved my friend, and not long since he came to my door, without a penny, a shirt, or a home! In the days of his honour he rode his “ blood horse” up a broad street; in the days of his dishonour he sold periodicals—old ones—in the same street to make a few pence. The last time I saw him was late at night. He was unshaven, dirty, ragged, and desperate, and exclaimed :-"For God's sake! give me sixpence.” And yet he once had a splendid home, a beautiful wife, laughing children, troops of friends, and eight thousand pounds! “Let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall.”

Domestic life has often been seen by me under very distressing aspects. A respectable woman called upon me, and said:

“O, sir, come~come and see my husband !"
“ What is the matter with him ?”
“I am ashamed to tell you, sir," and she burst into tears.

Come;" I replied, “ tell me what it is.” “O, sir, he has cut his throat." In a few minutes I was beside him.

What a sight! The bleeding husband, the weeping wife, the crouching children, the alarmed and crowding neighbours, formed a memorable picture. When he was sufficiently well, he said :-I had been drinking, sir, and as I stood in the shop I thought I heard a mob of people rushing in upon me, and crying — We will burn him—burn him-burn him!' I seized

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the knife, and in my fear and horror did the deed, and fell down upon the floor where I was found.” This man recovered, but did not sign the pledge. Visiting the

poor I found my way into a room where intemperance had long reigned. There was no fire. There was no food. There was no furniture. A child lay in its coffin ; its father stood beside it. When that child was buried both its parents were too drunk to follow it to the grave. Then the father was taken ill. Filth, misery, and drink made his sick bed most painful to every visitor.

Ah!” said he, “I feel better."

The next day he arose, and then the blood gushed from a broken vessel, he fell back, and died. I found him in his coffin, and his friends preparing the room for a drunken spree!

But all drunkards do not perish. Some reform. Their.lives become beautiful. Pure religion becomes to them a crown of glory which fadeth not away. Men who have beaten their wives, desolated their homes, and cursed the living God, are changed into sober, humane, and virtuous members of the commonwealth. Such are the fruits of Temperance.

But a venerable figure rises before me. Standing in the pulpit of Rowland Hill is a serene, majestic, eloquent, white haired old man. His brow is square and massive. His eye

is bright. His voice is silvery and sweet. Thousands listen to him. It is William Jay. There he stands—an aged preacherin the midst of his ministerial compeers—a total abstainer. What a noble testimony did he once bear on behalf of our principles! “The subject of teetotalism," said he “I have examined physically, and morally, and christianly; and after all my reading, and reflection, and observation, and experience, I have reached a very firm and powerfnl conviction, that, next to the glorious Gospel, God could not bless the human race so much as by the abolition of all intoxicating spirits.” Were William Jay, the Prince of Preachers, now living, he would be found a friend of the Permissive Bill. Had that law been in operation for the last twenty years, it would have been an inestimable blessing to the nation.

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THE WORDS OF A POET.*

Mr. E. J. Oliver need not feel ashamed of a neat volume he has ventured to send into the world. It is filled with interesting poems which show intelligence, good feeling, the love of virtue, and—what our readers will value—a clear perception of the claims of the Temperance movement. The Rev. H. B. Ingram, in his preface, says

*"" Hope On," by E. J. OLIVER. W. TWEEDIE, 337, Strand.

"It is possible that some may be inclined to cast the book aside at the first glance, because its contents do not equal the productions of their favourite authors. It is hoped however they will not do so, when they learn that this is the first literary venture-the maiden book of a young man, who is now only 22 years of age, and who was considerably younger when some of these pieces were written. Nor will it detract from their interest in him when they know that the circumstances by which he has been surrounded have not been favourable to studious toil. Born in 1839, the son of respectable parents, he was apprenticed to an ironmonger in 1854, and continued in that business until 1858, when his indentures were cancelled by mutual consent, since which period he has been engaged in the more congenial occupation of a clerk in an office in the city. Probably therefore he will have but few readers who will not sympathise with him in his struggles and aspirations. His soul must have been endowed with so

some poetic fire, otherwise he would not have courted the Muses, under such adverse conditions. It is not the distinguishing characteristic of the youth of this Metropolis that they devote their mornings and evenings to study. The scenes presented in the streets, and still worse in the philharmonic halls, the low theatre and the gin palaces, must fill the Christian with many sorrowful thoughts and grave anxieties concerning them. The common type of the London apprentice is by no means a promising one; when therefore we see a young man, separating himself from those of his own age, that he may obtain knowledge, when we see him endeavouring to benefit those around him by the productions of his pen, we cannot but watch his career with interest, and earnestly and lovingly bid him God-speed."

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We think our readers will admire

LOOK UPWARD.
Look upward, ever upward, when the sunshine's golden ray,
Illumes the broad expanse of blue at every opening day;
Then to the Sun of Righteousness lift up thy voice in prayer,
That He may keep thy soul from sin, that borders dark despair.
Look upward, ever upward, when the sun has sunk to rest,
And brilliant rays of red and gold light up the distant west,
pray

that so thy end may be, that thus thy spirit may,
So glorious rest to rise again upon the judgment day.
Look upward, ever upward, in the stillness of the night,
When like a wreath of glory shines the moonbeams silvery light;
When all around is hushed in sleep, lift up thy voice and plead
With Him who never will desert His people in their need.

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