"Encore!" Mr. Smith shakes his head. Mr. M'Cree evidently vastly amused says, "Go on." "No. 9." cries Mr. Smith, and "The beautiful stream," flows forth from a thousand lips. "Nearer home" followed, during which, we observed the Rev. John Guthrie-a true man- and the Rev. G. W. M'Cree, chatting together. We were near enough to learn that they were interchanging opinions on ancient and modern poetry, and agreed in according a high place in the Sacred Choir to James Montgomery, the writer of "Nearer Home." "One," "Two,” "Three," cried Mr. Smith pointing to as many divisions of the choir; we found by this that "The Social Glass" was to pass round. Away went the little singers :

1st voice. I'm very fond of a social glass;

2nd voice. So am I.

3rd voice. So.am I.

1st voice. It makes the time so pleasantly pass,
And fills the heart with pleasure.

2nd voice. Ah! water pure doth brighter shine

Than brandy, rum, or sparkling wine..

3rd voice. But sad is the fix if the liquors you mix;
1st voice. Oh, I never do that.

1.

And so on to the end, and then came a tremendous demand for its repetition. Hats, umbrellas, sticks, handkerchiefs, parasols, and hands were all waving together, and the shouting of ten thousand voices was like the sound of many waters. In the midst of this storm Mr. Smith and Mr. M'Cree sat together quietly viewing the tempest, until one enthusiastic lover of "The Social Glass" stood up with his handkerchief fastened on the handle of his umbrella, and led the assault; cheer followed cheer, and then Mr. Smith stood up. The demands for "The Social Glass" grew, if possible, louder. The immense audience were determined not to be baulked this time, as in the former case, when, "6. One," "Two," "Three," were heard from Mr. Smith, and "The Social Glass" went round once more. The man with the umbrella wiped his honoured brow, and the mighty crowd were radiant with the glow of victory. God bless our Youthful Band," brought the concert to an end. It was however, followed by loud and cordial cheering on the part

of the choir and the audience, who cheered each other until the palace rang again.

A very interesting presentation to the children, then took place. The Committee of the Union thought it would be well to give each little chorister a well-bound copy of the New Testament. Their appeal for funds was so heartily responded to, that the Committee were enabled to select the sixpenny copy of the New Testament with red edges, and the Committee of the British and Foreign Bible Society, liberally granted them at a lower price. The testaments were presented by Mrs. Gec. Cruikshank, Mrs. G. W. M'Cree, Miss Barrett, and Miss Emily J. Barrett. They were assisted by George Cruikshank, Esq., Mr. F. Smith, Mr. G. Wybroo, Mr. William Bell, Mr. G. Blaby, Mr. Storr, and others. W. J. Haynes, Esq., Treasurer to the Union, and Mr. M. W. Dunn, Hon. Sec., Mr. W. Tweedie, Mr. and Mrs. John Taylor, Mr. J. Wood, and several more friends were also present. Each volume contained a beautifully printed coloured label with the following inscription :—

"A copy of this New Testament was presented to each member of the choir of the United Kingdom Band of Hope Union, comprising 1,500 children, who sang a selection of Temperance music at the Crystal Palace, Sydenham, August 9th, 1864. Thy word is Truth.'"

The little ones were delighted with this precious gift. Copies were also given to the police, the Band boys of the Duke of York's Military School, and Captain Tyler's Corps of Boys who exhibited their Musical Gymnastics-all of whom greatly pleased the audience with their performances.

On leaving the outer door of the orchestra, a copy of Mr. Joseph Livesey's Malt Lecture was given to each child. Mr. Livesey kindly made the Committee a gift of 1,500 copies for this purpose.

After the grand entertainment of song was over, the multitude dispersed among the marble tables for tea and coffee-the consumption of which was enormous. Pleasant groups were observable. Provincial celebrities were shaking hands with metropolitan ditto. Mr. S. Bowley, Mr. R. Barrett, Mr. Peter Cow, Mr. Bell, the popular Agent of the Union, Mr. John De Fraine, Mr. Hugh Owen, Chairman of the League Committee, Mr. W. J. Barlow (who afforded invaluable service during the day), Mr. Rae, and others might be seen in the courts and at the tables.

But see the Evening Meeting has commenced. Shall we go? Yes. Alas! people cannot hear very well, still these speeches

delivered by Messrs. H. Owen, G. Cruikshank, John Rees, Jabez Inwards, G. Howlett, John Hilton, and Sergeant Rae, are well worth hearing.

See the golden sunset makes the palace glow with fiery splendour, come away into the grounds. Ah! slop-slop-slop. It is no use. Some amiable young ladies try to get up a game with amiable young gentlemen, but it is slop-slop-slop over again, and they all give up the game.

An orator from the country elevates himself on a garden chair, and tries to collect a meeting, but what with the sloppiness of his speech and the grounds, the audience can't standwon't stand, and the mighty orator from Smoketown is left alone, to lament his fate. Moral:-Never volunteer a speech when it is not wanted.

Here are the extinct animals, the lake, the boats, and yonder, see, is a temperance minister rowing a lot of boys across the water. His excellent choir pass him in another boat, and give him a loud cheer.

Away to the station.

A crowd-a crush-a race down stairs a short run up the platform-a leap into a carriage-a whistle, and off we go, and thus ends-in spite of storms of rain-a pleasant day at the Crystal Palace.

ONE GLASS MORE!

When seated with companions,
Or standing at the bar,
How cheerfully time passes,
No grief doth pleasure mar:
No thought of home distresses,-
To think of them's a bore,-
What care you what they're doing,
Drink up!-have one glass more.

What though the wife be pining-
The children cry for bread;
Such things are very common,
Then bother not your head:
Besides, if you were with them,

The sight would vex you sore;
You cannot help their troubles,
Drink up!-have one glass more.

Away, then, with reflection,
'Tis better time to cheat;
At home you're in the horrors,
They've nothing there to eat:
Then why should you be wretched?
Enough if they deplore

The want of every comfort;

Drink up!-have one glass more.

Get drunk, and drown your reason,
Much pleasanter you'll feel,
When to your lowly dwelling
You gloriously reel:

What though the wife be crying—
In rags the children snore?
An oath will check their piping;
Drink up!-have one glass more.

Let's change the scene,-time passes,
The wife is dying now;

The being loved so dearly

Has death-dews on her brow:

The children have no mother

To cling to as of yore.

Alas! what bitter feelings

Are caused by-one glass more.

She smiles upon you kindly,
Forgives you all the past;
She cannot speak to bless you,
For life is ebbing fast:

She looks upon her children,

That glance doth you implore
That you will now protect them;
Avoid that-one glass more.

The motherless are round you,
Her little ones so dear;
How sad look those young faces,
No voice, like hers can cheer:
They miss her in the morning,
Their dreams of her are o'er;
They wake, alas! she is not,-

Ne'er touch that-one glass more.

If earth could give you treasure,
As boundless as desire,

You now would yield it freely,
To call back words of ire:
How dreadful is the anguish
That reckless doings store;
They reap a bitter harvest

Who drink that-one glass more.

The lid is on the coffin,

Strange feet are on the stair,
Uneven are their treadings;

What is it that they bear?

'Tis all of her now left you-
Say, do not you deplore

You broke a heart that loved you?
Ne'er touch that—one glass more.

A new-made grave is open,

The solemn prayers you hear;
The words are all unheeded,
You only know she's near:
The drift like hail now patters
On all your earthly store;
Oh, misery, how bitter!

Caused by that—one glass more.
You reach your humble dwelling,
The children round you creep;
Their little eyes are swollen

With tears you cannot weep:
With pent-up thoughts of anguish,
Days gone you now run o'er;

You whisper, "God forgive me!"
And loathe that-ONE GLASS MORE.

T. J. OUSELEY.

THE OPEN-AIR MISSION.

This excellent society continues to send forth its useful agents. Many of them are total abstainers, and do not fail to exhort their motley hearers to sign the pledge. From the annual report just issued, we make the following extracts :

LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS.

"A striking, though by no means uncommon case of usefulness has