character, beclouded his prospects, and brought upon himself an almost insupportable load of physical and mental suffering. Indeed the mental agony occasioned, while journeying on the perplexing and intricate path of drunkenness, and enduring its concomitant miseries, had nearly led him to conclude that he had passed beyond the bounds of redemption. He strolled, he said, one day to a public house, purposing to extinguish the last ray of flickering hope, and die an outcast. But as he passed on the solitary road, soliloquising on his past reminiscences, "the small still voice" of the Holy Spirit whispered "Turn ye, turn ye from your evil ways, for why will ye die?" He listened, and like Saul of Tarsus, inquiringly asked, "Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?"—"Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts, and let him return unto the Lord, for he will have mercy upon him, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon." These words arrested him in his downward course, he renounced from that time the poisonous cup, and fled to the hope set before him in the gospel. He determined to "depart from iniquity," he therefore signed the pledge, and then looking to the cross, he found peace and newness of life. The speaker concluded his address by asking all who had not previously done so to sign the pledge. Many applicants presented themselves for enrolment, and amongst them the two poor lads. But just as the secretary was about to write their names, an officious person stepped forward and desired him not to fill his pledge book with such names as theirs. This brought a crimson blush on the cheeks of the poor lads, which being observed by the secretary, elicited from him a hearty welcome. Sign lads," said he, “if ye are dirty, it will help ye to practices of cleanliness; if ragged, 'twill help to clothe ye; if poor, 'twill help ye on to true riches; if ignorant, 'twill open to you the portals to knowledge. You have bodies to preserve, and souls to save, and the pledge will help you to do both.—Sign it," The secretary was actuated by christian motives, and did not suffer himself to be influenced by external appearances.

66

"Who shall judge a man from manner?
Who shall know him by his dress?

Paupers may be fit for princes,

Princes fit for something less.

Crumpled shirt and dirty jacket,

May be, clothe the golden ore
Of the purest thoughts and feelings :
Satin vests could do no more.

The lads signed the pledge, and it proved the dawn of a new and bright era to them both. But the reader must be made acquainted, briefly, with their previous history.

Just about the close of the last quarter of a century, the town of Newcastle was visited by a dire epidemic, which baffled all medical skill. Tidings had been wafted on the wings of the wind of the doleful march of this pestilence. Whole regiments of English soldiers, stationed in India, had fallen before it. The hearts of the people quailed at the mere mention of "Asiatic cholera." But oh! the fearful reality!-whole streets were smitten and perished; the churchyards were filled with the dead. Those persons favoured with means, sought a covert from this fearful storm in the more healthy villages and hamlets, but the contagion spread, and many were even overtaken by it, and struck down in their flight. In some districts, had it not been for gold, the dead would have been left to bury their dead.

Amongst the first victims of the cholera at Newcastle-on-Tyne were the father and mother of William Green, one of the lads; he was then in infancy. He was in every sense of the term an orphan. But christian England, amongst other excellencies, has provided good, though often despised institutions, for the orphan and helpless. To such an institution-the workhousewas the orphan taken. He was there fed, clothed, and educated until at years to go to learn a trade. At the age of thirteen, he was apprenticed to learn the mail making business with Mr. John Wright, at Annfield Plain, and, thus entered on the battle of life.

(To be continued)

POETRY.

DEAR MOTHER, DRINK NO MORE.

AIR-" Lucy Neal."

From the "New Temperance Harmonist," by G. BLABY.

Dear Mother, pray from drinking cease,

Reject that poisonous cup

Which mars your health, destroys your peace,
And burns your spirit up.

It robb'd us of our once blest home,
Its loss I sadly mourn,

And left me through the world to roam
Deserted and forlorn.

CHORUS.

Dear Mother, drink no more!
Dear Mother, drink no more!
O! for the child you fondly love,
Dear Mother, drink no more!

Thy countenance once lit with smiles
Is now with sorrow dimmed;
For drink thy graceful form defiles,
And makes thee like a fiend.

The love within thy breast, that glowed
Like an undying flame,

Has withered, and its best abode

Is filled with deepest shame.

Dear Mother, &c.

And must we through thy drinking part? Oh! wilt thou not forbear?

"Twere better far to break this heart Than drive me to despair.

And must I bear thee to thy tomb

Still reckless-unforgiven,

To share the drunkard's awful doom-
Dread banishment from heaven?

Dear Mother, &c.

Then shun! O shun the madd'ning draught,
Its foul temptation flee,
Which has to degradation brought

Your once blest family,

That we in love and harmony

May dwell on earth once more,

And after death ascend on high
To heaven's resplendent shore.
Dear Mother, &c.

LIFE'S HARVEST.

Ho! reaper of life's harvest,

Why stand with rusted blade, Until the night draws round thee, And day begins to fade?

Why stand ye idle, waiting
For reapers more to come?
The golden morn is passing→
Why sit ye idle, dumb?
Thrust in your sharpened sickle,
And gather in the grain;
The night is fast approaching,
And soon will come again.
Thy Master calls for reapers,
And shall he call in vain?
Shall sheaves lie there ungathered,
And waste upon the plain?

Come down from hill and mountain,
In morning's ruddy glow,

Nor wait until the dial

Points to the noon below.

And come with the strong sinew,
Nor faint in heat and cold;
And pause not till the evening
Draws round its wreath of gold.

And mount the crumbling watch-towers,
And herald on the truth,
Preach out the golden precepts,

To wild and wayward youth.
Mount up the heights of Wisdom,
And crush each error low;
Keep back no words of knowledge
That human hearts should know.

Be faithful to thy mission,
In service of thy Lord;
And then a golden chaplet
Shall be thy just reward.

THE TEMPERANCE STAR,

By the Rev. J. HOLMES, A.M., East Cowton. Dedicated, and Sung by Mr. W. B. AFFLECK. Bright Star of Temperance, shining forth With beams of pity on the earth,

Oh! shed thy radiant blessings far,
Bright Star of Temperance, beautiful star.

CHORUS.

Beautiful star, beautiful star,

Bright Star of Temperance, beautiful star.

Beautiful star, &c.

Display to all thy glorious light,

Turning to day man's moral night;

Oh! shed thy radiant blessings far,

Bright Star of Temperance, beautiful star.

Beautiful star, &c.

WORDS FOR THE YOUNG.

"I GOT A-GOING AND COULDN'T STOP."

A little boy, named Frank, was standing in the yard, when his father called him:

"Frank!"

"Sir !" said Frank, and started full speed and ran into the street.

His father called him back, and asked him if he did not hear his first call.

“Well, then,” said his father, "what made you run into street?” "O," said Frank, "I got a-going, and couldn't stop!"

This is the way a great many boys get into difficulty: they get a-going and can't stop. The boy that tells lies began first to stretch the truth a little,-to tell a large story or relate an anecdote with a very little variation, till he got a-going and couldn't stop, till he came out a full-grown liar! Those two boys you see fighting, began by bantering each other in fun.