BAND OF HOPE RECORD.

SKETCHES OF SUNDAY SCHOOLS AND BAND OF HOPE SPEAKERS, No. 1.

THE POMPOUS SPEAKER.

With self-satisfied strut, graceful flourish of pocket-handerchief, and loud blast from his nostrils upon the same, this gentleman takes his position upon the platform. It is Sabbath afternoon-a monthly appointment for laying aside the regular lesson of the day, and hearing speeches about missionary matters. The gentleman has come for the purpose of being one of the speakers. He looks round with patronizing air on the company whom he is to address, clears his throat, says 'h'm' several times, and proceeds :—

You

"My dear young friends, let me observe, as a preliminary, that I must have perfect silence while I address you. must bestow on me your undivided attention, and not be guilty of disorderly conduct or confusion. If you interrupt me while I am addressing you, or signify by your inattentive deportment that you do not appreciate my remarks, I shall be obliged though reluctantly, to bring my address to a conclusion."

He has by this time succeeded in getting their eyes and mouths pretty well open, from curiosity as to what is coming He continues :

next.

tion.

"My dear children,-I am very glad to see you all here this afternoon. I have from my earliest childhood experienced a deep solicitude for the welfare of the young and rising generaThe sight of a little child awakens in my heart a warm interest for the whole family of infantile humanity. I see them with the world before them; with its hopes and fears, its dangers and its troubles all unknown to them. I gaze upon their future; but oh, what a gaze! My youthful hearers, the Sunday-School is infused with a spirit of profound conviction in certain fundamental truths. The Sunday-School looks to the indoctrination of the youthful heart in all the divine attributes. It contemplates the entire sanctification of every child of Adam."

Here the superintendent ought to step up to the man, and tell him that the children do not understand a word of what

he is telling them; but he is a little afraid of hurting the stately person's feelings, and so suffers him to plunge on. He proceeds, and after talking a great deal about himself, a little about the Sunday-school, Adam's fall, and several other things, presently gets into the thick of his speech. He is more pompous than at first. His flourish of speech and flourish of pockethandkerchief are both on the increase. He uses words of great length, and very hard to be understood. The most of

his hearers do not understand his speech at all; and it would be no loss, except the loss of time consumed in uttering it, if nobody understood it. It is inflated fustian. It is ornamental dullness. It is heavy frothiness. It is not on any subject in particular. The great man was announced to speak on something connected with the object for which the meeting was held. But he cannot lower himself to that. He understands that several other persons are to speak, and he will let them attend to that part.

At last, long after the proper time, he brings his remarks to their promised close. Those of his hearers who are still awake have been looking forward to this moment with pleasurable expectation. The sleepers care not how long he keeps on. He has settled them. He wipes his massive brow, parades down from the platform, takes his seat on an honourable chair, and looks round on the exhausted victims of his address, as much as to say, "Was'nt that a magnificent speech ?"

Truly magnificent! "The pomps and vanity of this wicked world, and all the sinful lust of the flesh." Very fine stuff to blow the trumpet with, but very poor fare for hungry and starving young souls.

There are some men who do this pompous sort of talking for the sake of making a display; but there are others who do it, because they do not know better. They have heard a great orator or two, and think they ought to speak as the great orator speaks. Mr. Stuff, when addressing a Sunday-school, thinks he is Daniel Webster addressing the Senate, and puts on airs accordingly. He comes as near his model as a poodle dog comes when he attempts to growl like a lion.

If the pompous man ever does any good with his gift of speaking, it will be after he shall have laid aside all the feathers, gold lace, and brass buttons of his style. He must speak with more simplicity, and must be sure that what he utters is sound sense, instead of a long string of empty nothings, covered up with great swelling words of bombastic pedantry.

THE STATE OF MILLWALL.

The public-houses,-of which there are no fewer than thirteen in the limited district assigned to me of only about a quarter of a mile in length, with houses only on either side of the main road, a few short streets turning off excepted,-form the centres of leisure hour resorts. In them the interesting details of brutality are delightingly talked over; and in them the foundations of dramas, which frequently end in tragedies, are laid. Homes and families must yield to the imperious demands of their engagements. And thus the high wages become a curse; thus they are misspent and scattered; and thus they tend to a speedier demoralization than if less money was paid them, One family I know, by the labour of the father and two of his boys, had a weekly income of £8. Suddenly they lost their employment, and in a fortnight the family was without a sixpence. I am given to understand that the wages of single work men very often amount to £8., and even £10. per week. Of course, so large a sum must be made up either by overtime or piece work, but I know workmen of a certam class who regularly earn from fifteen to twenty shillings per day, and many are paid at the rate of £2. and £3. per week.

In the Millwall Ironworks and Ship-building yard, which stands in the very centre of my district, nearly 4,000 men and boys are employed. This factory, which is not only the largest in the island, but also I believe in the world, is the centre of much ungodliness. Men from various parts of the United Kingdom are to be found in it. Some particular shires are more largely represented in it than others, and these happen to be not the more cultivated. The amount of blasphemy, swearing, and profanity, which is spoken within it, is, I am told by the more God-fearing men, truly awful. Religion and religious professors are held in the utmost contempt. It is a furnace of persecution for any who have the hardihood to take a decided stand for Christ. They soon become known all over the works, and wherever they go they are scoffed at and dubbed with the most insulting names. Every temptation which human ingenuity, aided by devilish cunning, can suggest, is tried to make religious professors break through their consistency, and should they fall but once before a temptation, farewell to their peace and comfort ever afterwards. One man recently told me that every form of persecution had been tried to make him fall; and, as a last temptation, his fellow-workman put more work on him than he was able to bear. This, however, also failed, for the man wrought to the serious peril of his health, in order to triumph, and he did so. And I thank God he still stands.

There are two things in which the men in this locality generally agree. 1st. In their utter disregard of God and His claims; and 2nd, in their morbid love of unmanly sports and brutal exhibitions. As to the first, all shades of scepticism exist; as to the second, every available opportunity for giving proof of it is shown. At the recent execution of the five unfortunate men at Newgate, so many of the men were present as to necessitate the suspension of many of the others for the day. On the evenings on which the men are paid, as well as the succeeding evening,

their instincts are developed by rows, and rounds of fighting taking place, at which knives are sometimes brandished. Even Sunday witnesses a continuation of these disgraceful scenes. I remember seeing, during one Sunday afternoon, three separate fights on the same spot. Instead of making any attempt to separate the combatants, the people around goaded them on, and if one of them should be too drunk to stand steadily on his own legs, some one would be found to hold him up until the other dashed upon him. No person, more feeling than the others, ordinarily interferes; if he does so, he is most likely to receive more than he bargained for. Social family relations are held in light esteem, and the most sacred affinities between man and wife are treated as excellent jokes. Men, who have not yet brought their wives to the locality, frequently pass themselves off as single, and men who want to get rid of their wives, and banish them from the locality, give out to their mates that they are living unlawfully together; and what course is left to the astonished and unfortunate wife then, but to seek, at least for a time, if the means of proving her husband's statement a falsehood be not at hand, to hide her face? Sometimes men may be seen striking their wives before the public gaze, and even more brutal still, attempting to strike them with their feet when the women are down.-City Missionary's Report.

THE APOLOGY.

A RECITATION.

The glass you offer, I with thanks, decline.

Thanks, for your kindness. Neither ale, nor wine,

Nor fiery spirit, I'll accept from thee,

As proof of cordial hospitality.

I value not the less your generous mind;
And, lest you think me churlish, or unkind,
Will give the reason; and am certain you
Must then approve the act, and reason too.

I dare not taste! there's danger in the drink!
To me, it seems like standing on the brink
Of that dark precipice whence thousands fell,
Whose fearful histories I have studied well.
Men of repute for genius: education:
Religious teachers: rulers of the nation.
These stood as firm as we stand, in our day,
And yet they lost their balance. Who can say
But we, like those whose ruin we thus see,
From the same cause may find like misery?

Do I mistrust myself? you ask ---I do!
And yet I know myself as strong as you
In mind, and will; my self-respect as high:
And, I am sure this fact you'll not deny,
That it requires much firmness to withstand
That which is offered by your liberal hand.
It proves not mental-weakness that I've signed
The Temperance pledge. It needs a constant mind
To resist temptation from the friend we prize:
Not friendship's offering can a friend despise.
And, here, the pledge a shield is, a defence
To resist temptation. For on what pretence
Can a true friend, then, urge that thing on me
Which compromises honour?

Thus you see,

The Temperance pledge gives power to self-denial,
And strength for conflict in the day of trial.
From custom's thraldom it thus sets me free:
And this, to you, is my apology.

LIFE BEHIND THE SCENES.

Wall, the prompter, who was useful on the stage, happened one evening to play the Duke in the tragedy of "Othello," having previously given directions to a girl of all work who attended on the wardrobe, to bring him a gill of the best whisky. Not wishing to go out,as the evening was wet, the girl employed a little boy, who happened to be standing about, to execute the commission, and the little fellow (no person being present to stop him), without considering the impropriety of such an act, coolly walked on to the stage, and delivered his message—the state of affairs at this ridiculous juncture being exactly as follows:-The Senate was assembled, and the speaker was

Brabantio. So did I yours: Good, your grace, pardon me;
Neither my place, nor aught 1 heard of business,

Hath raised me from my bed; nor doth the general care

Take hold of me; for my particular grief

Is of so floodgate and o'erbearing nature,
That it engluts and swallows other so rows,
And is still itself.

Duke. Why, what's the matter?

Here the little boy walked on to the stage, with a pewter gill-stoup, and thus delivered himself:- "It's jist the whusky, Mr. Walls; and I couldna get ony at fourpence, so yer awn the landlord a penny; and he says it's time you was payin' what's down i' the book." The roars of laughter which followed are indescribable, and I daresay the scene will long remain stereotyped in the recollection of all who witnessed it.Glimpses of Real Life.