and the Protestant Dean of St. Patrick's are its honorary secretaries. His last labour of love in this direction, and one of which he is himself the architect-is a "night asylum for females." It is situated in the Liberty-one of the poorest districts in Dublin; and many hundreds of destitute women receive shelter there every week. The institution is on a large scale, and was built many years ago, by a wealthy benevolent citizen, as a drying house for the poor weavers, who were then a numerous body in the district referred to.

Father Spratt, by appeals to the people, has succeeded in obtaining voluntary contributions to sustain this charity; and when the funds admit of it, the inmates are given a breakfast of bread and milk, before they leave the institution in the morning. A night's shelter, is however its main object.

The useful labours of the Very Rev. Dr. Spratt, have culminated the last three and twenty years, in the great cause of Teetotalism. Daily he is to be found at his post, at the Chapel house in Aungier street, administering the "Pledge" to all comers; and every Sunday evening, during that long period of his life, with very few exceptions indeed, he has, to the knowledge of the writer of this memoir, attended in the Old Chapel in Cuffe lane, now and for many years a temperance hall, exhorting the people, and encouraging them to shake off their drinking habits, which have been their ruin for many generations, and the curse of old Ireland for ages. Thousands cheerfully respond to his appeals.

In this labour of love, Father Spratt has been most successful; and although 1,100 public-houses in his beloved native city counteract his labours in this work of mercy, yet thousands of his fellow-citizens are annually rescued by him from those traps which lead myriads into sin and misery, and have reason to bless him, and do bless him, for their deliverance from the foulest degradation to which man is subjected, and from which he must be saved before his feet can ever be placed on the rock of prosperity and happiness. It is in vain that ministers preach, and that other benevolent men labour, in the cause of our down-trodden humanity, while the drink demon is abroad to counteract this work by sowing tares among the good seed they are scattering abroad.

Of late years Father Spratt confined his advocacy of teetotalism almost entirely to Dublin; but he has frequently visited many of our provincial towns, and is ready to do so again whenever invited by proper authority.

He more than once visited Drogheda, and Armagh, and Belfast. In this latter town he received, a few years since, a complete ovation-all its inhabitants turning out to hail his arrival. Ile held an open-air meeting in the neighbouring town-Holywood-and for two days in succession he gave the "Pledge" in Belfast to many hundreds, in a large unfinished factory yard that was lent for the occasion.

In concluding this short and inadequate memoir, of a worthy and most excellent citizen, and a zealous and beloved Catholic priest, we would observe, that although much remains to be done before the great masses of the people of Ireland can be placed in a condition of happiness and comfort, yet that much was done by the late Father Matthew-our great

pioneer in the Temperance reform-who laid a good foundation, which is still firmly held to by multitudes, and that much is still being done by Father Spratt in Dublin, who is unceasing in his efforts to establish the love of perfect sobriety in the hearts of his fellow citizens.

In the provinces, especially in Ulster, a revival of teetotalism is apparent. The clergy of the Presbyterian Church, in that quarter, have, in large numbers, given in their adhesion to its principles; many of the laity earnestly giving them their cordial assistance. In the capital, also, many Protestants are earnestly and successfully engaged in this good work.

In Cork, too, we learn the cause has lately received a fresh impulse: and that large meetings are held, at which considerable numbers join the ranks of teetotalism. The people are really anxious to be helped to get rid of their drinking customs; and they would rejoice to have the temptation of the public-house taken away from them by legislative enactment, which great benefit to the nation, it is to be hoped, the "United Kingdom Alliance for the Suppression of the Traffic in Intoxicating Liquors”—(of which association Father Spratt is a member)-will soon succeed in having placed upon our statute book.

A DEAD YEAR.

I took a year out of my life and story--
A dead year, and said, "I will hew thee a tomb!
All the kings of the nations lie in glory;'
Cased in cedar, and shut in a sacred gloom;
Swathed in linen and precious unguents old;
Painted with cinnaber, and rich with gold.

"Silent they rest in solemn salvatory,

Sealed from the moth and the owl and the flitter-mouse-
Each with his name on his brow.

All the kings of the nations lie in glory,

Every one in his own house ;'

Then why not thou?

"Year," I said, "thou shalt not lack

Bribes to bar thy coming back;
Doth old Egypt wear her best
In the chambers of her rest?
Doth she take to her last bed
Beaten gold, and glorious red?
Envy not! for thou shalt wear
In the dark a shroud as fair;
Golden with the sunny ray
Thou withdrawest from my day;

Wrought upon with colours fine,
Stolen from this life of mine;
Like the dusty Lybian kings,
Lie with two wide-open wings
On the breast, as if to say,

On these wings hope flew away.
And so housed, and thus adorned,
Not forgotten, but not scorned,
Let the dark for evermore

Close thee when I close the door!

And the dust for ages fall

In the creases of thy pall;
And no voice nor visit rude
Break thy sealed solitude."

I took the year out of my life and story—
The dead year, and said, "I have hewed thee a tomb!
'All the kings of the nations lie in glory;'

Cased in cedar and shut in sacred gloom;
But for the sword, and the sceptre, and diadem,
Sure thou didst reign like them."

So I laid her with those tyrants old and hoary,
According to my vow;

For I said, "The kings of the nations lie in glory,

And so shalt thou."

JEAN INGELOW.

THE SALTMARKET DANCING SCHOOLS.

(From Memoir of a Female Convict, by a Prison Matron.)

Entrance to these dancing "skeels" is generally by an unlighted close, up a common stair to a large room on the first floor. The door of this room-on which "DANCING HERE" is legibly inscribed-is kept by a scowling individual-probably the proprietor of the establishment--who receives the pennies of his young patrons, unlocks the door, admits them, and locks them in. In this room, lighted by gas or candles according to the taste or means of the proprietors, a hundred or a hundred and fifty are speedily assembled —ranged around the room on forms placed against the wall. They are of all ages, from the boy and girl of seven or eight years old, to the men and women of two or three and twenty, but the majority are girls and boys averaging from twelve to fifteen years. The boys are chietly apprentices or young thieves; the girls are of the usual poor class-more than usually poor perhaps-three-fourths of them without shoes and stockings, and all of them bonnetless, as is usual amongst the

Scotch girls. The boys are several degrees removed from clean, but the "lassies," as they are generally termed, are, without an exception, brightfaced, glossy-haired damsels, who have evidently been at no ordinary pains to render themselves attractive and presentable. Here and there is evident a little effort at finery in the shape of a pair of ear-rings, or a necklace of sham coral, and their poor and scanty garments are in many cases destitute of any signs of raggedness. The master of the ceremonies, carrying a fiddle or kit under his arm-occasionally bag-pipes sre substituted for the violin-calls out the dance: in all cases a Scotch dance of the simplest character is chosen; the dancers are arranged, music is struck up, and the festivity begins with a hideous clatter of thick soles and heels from the masculine portion, and a soft pattering of naked feet from the majority of the feminine. There is much setting to partners, and an infinitude of solo performances, winding up with the usual twirling and twisting common to Scotch dances in general, and in the midst of all this heat and dust and bustle, the man sits perched above his scholars fiddling rapidly, and glaring at them like the evil genius of the place. They are all known to him-every face is familiar. To the elder girls who may have encouraged strangers there, he is friendly, and fatherly, and watchful; he knows that before the evening is out the strangers will probably be robbed, and there will be an uproar, and it may be necessary for some kind friend to turn the gas out or knock the candles over, and leave the entire company to grope their way down the common stair into the close-or the man at the door, who is a prize-fighter by profession, will be called in to keep order, silence the remonstrants, or turn them out of the room. As a rule, the proprietor objects to robbery in the "skeel" itself, and has a room on the other side of the landing, where such things may be conducted with greater ease, and save the "skeel" from falling into disrepute. Night after night, in these Scotch cities, still goes on this hideous revelry; still are attracted boys and girls from their homes, still are engulphed the heedless youth of both sexes. Many innocent children of poor, even respectable parents, are lured hither to imbibe a love for dancing and bad company. The apprentice robs to get here, the girl begs in the street, or thieves her way to admittance; step by step to ruin surely and swiftly proceed these untaught, uncared-for children, and they are past hope, and have left all childhood behind them, at an age that is horrible to dwell upon.

HAPPY HOMES.

Happy the home, when God is there,

And love fills every breast;

Where one their wish, and one their prayer,
And one their heav'nly rest.

Happy the home, where Jesu's Name

Is sweet to every ear;

Where children early lisp His fame,

And parents hold Him dear.

Happy the home, whore prayer is heard,
And praise is wont to rise:
Where parents love the sacred Word,
And live but for the skies.

Lord! let us in our homes agree,
This blessed peace to gain :
Unite our hearts in love to Thee,
And love to all will reign.

AFFECTION.

We sometimes meet with men who seem to think that any indulgence in an affectionate feeling is a weakness. They will return from a journey and greet their families with a distant dignity, and move among their children with the cold and lofty splendour of an iceberg surrounded by its broken fragments. There is hardly a more unnatural sight on earth than one of those families without a heart. A father had better extinguish a boy's eyes than take away his heart. Who that has experienced the joys of friendship, and values sympathy and affection, would not rather lose all that is beautiful in nature's scenery than be robbed of the hidden treasures of his heart? Cherish, then, reader, your heart's best affections. Indulge in the warm, and gushing, and inspiring emotion of filial, parental, and fraternal love. Think it not a weakness. is love; love God, everybody, and everything that is lovely. Teach your children to love; to love the rose, the robin; to love their parents; to love their God. Let it be the studied object of their domestic culture to give them warm hearts, ardent affections. Bind your whole family together by these strong cords. You cannot make them too strong. Depend upon it that you will be both happier and better if you bind those who are yours around you by the bonds of family affection.

God