From this account you will perceive that our plan is very simple, free from excitement, and mainly aiming at the improvement and amusement of those who attend, so that in after life they may always look back upon their Band of Hope meetings, as "pleasant pages" in the history of by-gone days. The Vicarage, East Cowton, Dec. 9th, 1862. A SOLDIER'S LETTER. Tower of London, Nov. 4, 1862. Dear Brother in Christ,-In compliance with your request, I send you the following particulars respecting the circumstances which led to my signing the Temperance Pledge, and which I stated at the meeting on Saturday evening last. You are at liberty to make what use of them you think proper. One evening in the month of September, 1861, I left my barracks, in company with one or two of my comrades, to spend the evening in a public-house. Passing the door of a ragged school room, a little ragged boy came up, and seizing me by the hand, said, "Soldier, will you come into our Band of Hope?" Struck with the persuasive tone in which this was said, I consented, and led by the little fellow I entered the school-room. As I entered an interesting little girl was reciting a piece," The Drunkard's Daughter." The touching eloquence of this dear child, as she told of the sorrows of the poor Drunkard's Daughter, completely overcame me, and I resolved from that night to have no more to do with drink. On the 22nd of September (the same month) I signed the pledge, and bade, I trust, an everlasting farewell to the bottle and glass. And oh, sir, the past year has been the happiest year of my life, and I shall praise God long as I live for that dear boy's "Will you come into our Band of Hope?" A few days after I signed the pledge, one of my comrades fell over the Cliffs of Dover, and lost his life; this caused me to think,-I felt I needed something more than temperance, and I took down a Bible which had long been neglected, and read a few verses, but was compelled to stop; they were verses I had often heard a pious mother read, years ago; a tear fell as I closed the book, but I dashed it away, thinking it unmanly for a soldier to weep; but I had to weep,-God made me weep, and oh what a mercy! "Like Peter, long I wept alone, In sorrow secret and sincere, Till He, to whom my griefs were known, Dried up the penitential tear." Just three weeks after I signed the pledge, 1 found pardon and peace through believing in Jesus, and all this in answer to a Mother's Prayers. I am, dear Sir, yours in Jesus, HENRY WELLS,-The "Buffs." P.S. I see I have not mentioned the place. It was in Dover, Kent, THE REV. C. H. SPURGEON'S LECTURE. The Band of Hope Union has been favoured with a repetition of Mr. Spurgeon's liberality and kindness. On Nov. 25th, the rev. gentleman delivered, in his magnificent Tabernacle, a lecture on Miracles of Faith in Modern Times. The building was crowded to excess, and as charges were made for admission, the proceeds will largely augment the funds of the Union. The Earl of Shaftesbury presided, and avowed his great interest in the Band of Hope movement. A. Layard, Esq. M.P., was on the platform, and moved the vote of thanks to Mr. Spurgeon, which was seconded by Mr. Haynes, and carried in a most cordial manner by the immense audience. The lecture was illustrated by a series of new dissolving views, of a superior character, which were each explained by Mr. Spurgeon in an impressive manner. During the lecture and exhibition of the views, six hundred children, trained by Mr. F. Smith, sung a selection of pieces, and greatly charmed their hearers. We append a brief sketch of the lecture, for which we are indebted to James Grant, Esq., editor of the Morning Advertizer :— Mr. Spurgeon, who was received with loud applause, said the miracles of which he had to speak were not the lying wonders of the Church of Rome-(cheers)-nor should he deal with modern impositions. He was about to tell them of bona fide miracles which had been wrought. Dr. Johnson, whom some regarded as the standard authority in these matters (laughter)-defined a miracle to be "a wonder."-(Laughter.) He was quite sure the miracles of which he had to speak were wonderful.-— (Hear, hear.) Miracles however, were never wrought simply as a lavish display of power; they were never wrought with the design merely to excite unprofitable amazement; the miracles of Christ were always wrought for the advantage of mankind.—(Hear.) After some very humorous and appropriate introductory illustrations, Mr. Spurgeon took his hearers back to the year 1694, when Francke, the parish priest of Halle, in Germany, began his great and benevolent operations, marked by simple, earnest faith, and crowned with the most astonishing and continuous success. Francke relieved the temporal wants of the poor, educated their children gratuitously, and then supported some of the most destitute. At length he had a vast organisation around him, in full operation; and while the means came pouring in from every side, he gradually extended his philanthropic labours to a degree up to that time unprecedented. He at last had three or four schools which were under his supervision, but a divinity student did the harder work. He had not the worldly quality of prudence;" if he had much there was some new scheme, and if he had little he exercised a rigid economy and prayed to God. "Faith works boldly," he said, "when she is employed about real necessaries." He fed and educated a number of young men who were destined for the 66 ministry. He not only increased his own schools, but sent out teachers, who had sat at his feet, and who had caught his spirit, to teach in the different villages. He at last built a large home, so as to bring all his operations under one roof. A quarry was found on his ground, and plenty of people were ready to cart the stone. One Saturday night there was not enough to pay the men, but just then some money was sent in, and the men were fully paid, and some was left to give the poor. Many jested, and said that the building never would be finished, and perhaps some man might have said that if ever the topstone was laid he would stand upon his head upon it.-(Laughter.) That was said about the "Tabernacle" by an unbelieving brother; but that brother did not stand upon his head as promised—(laughter)—and if he had done so, he would certainly have strangled himself, as he was very stout.—(Loud laughter.) Mr. Spurgeon gave many astonishing details as to the marvellous succession of donations which were given in aid of Francke's undertaking, in answer to his prayers. He contrasted the unselfishness of Francke, who prayed for food for his orphans, with the equal faith, but diminished disinterestedness, of William Huntington-the celebrated "S. S."—who prayed for a new suit of clothes. Both prayers were answered, but both were not equally deserving of admiration and imitation. John Falke was the next illustration. He was the son of a wigmaker, and was intended for that occupation; but he singed the people's hair-(laughter) for which his father punished him with a hazel stick.-(Renewed laughter.) He was sent to bed without a light to prevent his reading, so he played the violin till his father came up with the hazel stick— (laughter) and then the fiddlestick was put away. The burgomasters of Dantzic at length subscribed and sent Falke to Halle to school. In after life he undertook the education of the little villains of the streets, gave them a home, inspired them with home sentiments, and home feelings, and taught them religious truths as well as conveying general instruction of a useful and practical description. He also established, in addition to a reformatory, an institution for training schoolmasters, and the funds came in to support his endeavours in proportion as he extended them. Was he not, then, as well as Francke, a miracle worker? So also, he said, were his other cases, Wichern, Gossner, Harmes, and Müller, the latter being the most wonderful of all. The circumstances of the wondrous and continuous benevolence by which these devout and believing men were supported in their philanthropic endeavours, were of a nature almost incredible, but that they are well authenticated. All the subscriptions were purely voluntary; there were no guaranteed subscriptions, no State aid. Many curious incidents were given of Gossner, of Pastor Harmes, and of George Müller, of Bristol, to whose marvellous career he referred at length. He was a fast young man―a student patronised by Francke before named-a missionary to the Jews-a pastor of a small church in Devonshire-then of another (Baptist) in Bristol. He gave up his salary of 60%., and the spontaneous offerings amounted the first year to 1601. "asked" any man for aid, but since 1832 he had built three He never orphan houses, for 1,150 orphans, costing between £60,000. and £70,000. and involving an annual expense of £8,000. He also supported one hundred missionaries, at a cost of £5,273. a-year. He had received since 1832 considerably more than £200,000. in voluntary spontaneous offerings, never asking any man for a farthing. Mr. Spurgeon described with much emotion his feelings on going over these institutions. They so overcame him at the time, that after the children had sung a hymn he was unable to address them, as Mr. Müller had requested him to do. The rev. gentleman was loudly and repeatedly applauded at different periods of his address, and sat down amidst a long round of cheering. POETRY. THE LADY-BIRD. The Lady-Bird sat in the rose's heart, So she drew her curtains of damask round, And adjusted her silken vest, Making her glass of a drop of dew, That lay in the rose's breast. Then she laughed so loud that the ant looked up, And seeing her haughty face, Took no more notice, but travelled along At the same industrious pace. But a sudden wind of autumn came, And wildly swept the ground, And down the rose, with the Lady-Bird went, Then the houseless lady was much amazed, Had brought both rain and snow. Her wings were wet, and her feet were cold, I'm sure I cannot tell. But the careful ant was in her nest, And she taught them all, like herself, to toil, WHAT RICHARD BAXTER SAID. "You whom God hath entrusted with the care of THE DRUNKARD'S DOOM. Arthur B. was the son of wealthy, influential parents, in one of the southern counties. He commenced business for himself early in life, and exhibited considerable shrewdness and energy of mind. But the safeguards of virtue and piety did not shield him in the perilous season of youth, and he soon became (in the language of the world) a bold, generous-hearted fellow, growing in popularity and wealth. He was above the fear of religious admonition or commands, and was considered quite able to confute any Christian believer. He was, indeed, a young man of promise; but his life was a dreadful illustration of talents perverted, and also of the downhill progress of a vicious life, and his last end was a scene of horrors, at the recital of which an ungodly man may tremble. The substance of what I am about to relate is well known in the neighbourhood where he lived and died. About a year before his death, and not above five years ago, Arthur |