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fits mentioned flow to the young people, but elder folks may learn wisdom, and the truth, proved true over and over again, that out of the mouth of infants, God can perfect praise.

THE PRICE OF A POT.

'Won't you have any beer to-night, Baxter?'—'No, thank ye, master.' -'You did'nt have any at dinner.'—No, master. Well, I promised them a glass of gin at night; aren't you going to take that either?''No, thank ye, sir.'—' It's not over nice work—that's what made me give you the spirits; but if you choose to do without, why, that's your look out. So you want the money instead? 'Well, master, you said you wouldn't mind.'—' No, I don't mind; as long as you do my work all right, it's no odds to me. Here, then, I've to give you sevenpence. If you please, sir.'-'There you are,' said the employer, laying the money on the counter. 'It's a queer start, and wont last long, I'm thinking.'-'Thank ye, sir,' said Baxter, joyfully taking up the money, and leaving the shop, just as a boy entered with a large jug of spirts, which the employer filled out to the men, who were leaving the work on which they had been engaged at the back of his house all day.

'Where's Tom Baxter?' said one, looking round. He's off, I expect,' said another,' he said master had promised to give him the worth of the drink if he chose.' Yes I did,' said the master: 'I didn't expect he would want to carry out his bargain, that's a fact. How he manages to keep on at it as he does, I don't know. What does he drink, men ?'-'Cold tea,' said one. Pump water,' said another, grinning.—Strenth'nin, both on 'em,' said a third, as he tipped up his glass of gin, and drew the sleeve of his jacket across his mouth. If he do drink 'em, he haves sumthin' else as well then,' said a shock-headed boy, loaded with the men's tools. 'His missus bringed him a basin o' tea and a sandwich at four o'clock. A basin o' tea,' re-echoed the men with a laugh, as they

left the shop. At the corner they stopped, clustering round the door of the publichouse, like bees about some flower that promises a rich harvest of honey. A few, calling out Good night,' kept on their way; several made as though they were going, but there was some parleying among them; one had his foot on the step, and the door half open, so one after another the others followed.

Lounging over their liquor, they saw Tom Baxter come in, and hailed him with a shout.

'Come on, old chap; that's your sort; know'd you'd see us here.''Plenty of room; come on,' making room for him upon the bench.

'Thank ye, mates, but I aint a going to stop; I only wants my screw and a pipe, please missus;' and he put down his penny, and walked out. 'He is a mean sneak to do us in that way,' cried one. We'll have the lush, and stick it up to him,' said another.—“That you can't do,' said the landlady; 'for we've got no score against him.'-'Never mind, he

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won't work long at that 'ere drain on his cold water, I know,' said one. -His stomach 'ull turn afore the week's out; you see if it don't.'

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Meanwhile Tom went back towards home, where he had already been and cleaned himself,' before he fetched his 'screw.' Just as he passed the gateway near the public-house, old blind Kate, who sat patiently through the day with her knitting and netting-cuffs, ruffs, collars, and lace was packing up her stock-in-trade for the night. She generally found some kindly passer-by to lend her a helping-hand home. As Tom approached, the poor body lifted up her head, and turned her face towards him.

'Good evening, Tom Baxter,' she said in her meek voice.

'Good evening, dame,' he replied heartily; 'how did you know it was I?'

'There isn't many comes along this time in the evening but I know their footsteps,' said the blind woman. 'I hear yours the oftenest and most reg'lar by me; the rest seem mostly to stop at the public-house door.'

'So have mine, dame, too often; but, please God, they wont for the future. I wouldn't ha' been in to-night, if there was another shop as I could get my 'bacca at.'

He put the old woman's stall together under his arm, and carrying her little stool, was leading her towards home.

'You ain't sold much to-day, dame, seemingly.'

'No,' said she. 'It's been cold, and the lassies don't care to stop. But I must not complain; every day can't be fine, and to-morrow may be better.'

It was a miserable alley where poor Kate lived, and most wretched among the wretched houses was the one she stopped at. A hard-featured woman came out to meet her, and as Tom stowed away the board and trestles in a corner, he saw old Kate put some money into her hand, saying, 'That's for the lodging; never mind the cup o' tea to-night; I can't afford it.'- Very well,' said the woman; 'mind how ye go up-there's

another board loose.'

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With a sigh, the poor body wended her way up the tumble-down staircase. That sigh was in Tom Baxter's ear as he went up the dirty narrow street; he could not get rid of it. Poor body,' he said to himself, I'll be bound that cup o' tea's her only bit of comfort all through the day; her that's got neither chick nor child to look to her. I wish I'd gone without my 'bacca.' Tom stopped, and took out of his pocket the sixpence that remained of his drink money. I wish I'd gone without my 'bacca,' he said again, and back it went into his pocket. He had not gone two steps farther when he returned, and without stopping a moment plunged into a kind of den at the foot of the staircase, where the hardfeatured woman kept a brewery of tea and coffee, supplying such of her lodgers as were unable to do it for themselves.

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'What do the old lady pay for her cup o' tea?' asked Tom.

A penny, 'cos she likes it strong. Why?' said the woman, impudently.

'I want it for her,' said Tom.

'Who's to pay for it?'

'I will;' and Tom laid down the sixpence, at sight of which the breweress became more civil.

'Take her up one of them too,' said Tom pointing to a buttered roll.

He received his change, saw the refreshment on its way to the poor woman, and went home, thinking how old Kate would enjoy her unexpected comfort.

Tom's home was a very humble one. It had been almost starvation work with him and his family when he had been out of employ during the winter. But his wife was a good managing contented soul, who made the best of everything, and so they contrived to get along. There was a good fire and a clean hearth when Tom got in. The children were in bed, and his chair awaited him.

'I'm late, Bessie, ain't I? but I'll tell you why;' and he gave an account of what he had done; though, be it observed, he did not reveal the full amount of his saving.

'You were very good, Tom,' said his wife; 'poor Kate's an industrious body; and now I should think you'd be glad of a bit of supper.* 'I should indeed, if you 've got any, Bessie.'

Bessie spread a clean cloth on the little table, and set on a dish of vegetables, which she had made hot very nicely, and some slices of pudding, saved from the dinner of herself and the children, for it was rare that they tasted meat.

'I thought maybe you would not care for beer, Tom, as you said the master gave it to you all; but I'll fetch it if you like.'

'Not for me, Bessie,' said Tom.

'And I'm as well without it, I know,' said Bessie; we will have a cup of coffee though;' and by the time they had finished, a nice hot cup of coffee was ready.

'Well,' said Tom, ‘I've enjoyed that there bit o' supper more than many a one I've had at the public-house.'

'Yes, indeed,' said Bessie; I think we might save a good bit that way, and we've none to spare. What a mercy it was you getting that job just when you did, Tom!'

'It was indeed, Bessie; and it's one likely to last, for all the houses in that Row's got to be done.'

'It ain't over nice work, is it, Tom?'

'No, but what signifies?'. -one can't choose,' said Tom, lifting off the red cinders, and putting them aside for the morning.

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What now, man?-what are ye standing there for? Drink! more drink!-why, it is not an hour and a half since you had your beer.' 'Well, master, such a precious ugly job!—this here broiling sun, and the stench is awful; can't get on no-how, master, without a little drop o' summut.'

The employer walked out to where they were at work.

'Of course the drainage is bad; you knew that before you came to do it; you would not have been sent for if it had been all right,' said he.

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WORSHIP OF BACCHUS.

By B. J. OLIVER.

ay be regretted, it cannot be denied, that .....worship; while it is the sincere desire hat the worship of the living God should out the world, yet we know that it is far present. The sun-worshippers prostrate

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before the orb of day, and invoke rows at the shrines of hideous e are river-worshippers and rees, plants, stones, and from all these are the

untry-truly termed d seat of the Pro-is this idolatrous es are erected for his class, but all classes, pro

s strive to do him honour.

ay and night, do the infatuated offer their sacrifices to his insatiable , friends, home, happiness, and honour still he cries, "Give, give !" till even the s are in his possession. But of late years

ng up organizations, having for their object the ation of this degrading form of worship. Individuals od boldly forth and pointed out the innumerable evils dant upon it. Good men have wielded the pen and pencil with great success against their formidable adversary. Conspicuous amongst these stands the veteran artist and champion of the Temperance movement, George Cruikshank, whose labours have been untiring in the great cause. His last production, a picture of immense size, painted in oil, and bearing the title at the head of this article, shows more than any of his previous works the consequences resulting from indulgence in intoxicating liquors. It has been urged that it shews but one side of the question, that the artist in his partiality for the cause of which he is the unflinching advocate, has been unjust to his opponents. To which we reply, that the question has but one side; and that, alas! a very dark one. The worship which he has so strikingly depicted, has not one redeeming feature. It has ruined thousands, morally, intellectually, and physically. It has led to the workhouse, the lunatic asylum, and the gallows. We do not know of one instance where it has made a man wiser, better, or happier; but of many where it has done quite the reverse.

Upon the artistic merits of this picture it is not our intention to dwell, our aim being rather to draw attention to it as a faithful representation of a great social evil, than to criticise it as a work of art. We extract the following short description from the Literary Budget:" The picture is, perhaps, fifteen

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