when every hand was arrested by her piercing exclamation of "Oh, how terrible!"

"What is it?" cried one and all, thronging together; for she had slowly carried the glass at arm's-length, and was regarding it as though it was some hideous object.

3. "Wait," she answered, "wait, and I will tell you. I see,” she added, slowly pointing one of her jeweled fingers at the sparkling liquid, "a sight that beggars all description; and yet listen, - I will paint it for you, if I can. It is a lovely spot; tall mountains, crowded with verdure, rise in awful sublimity around; a river runs through, and bright flowers grow to the water's edge. There is a thick, warm mist that the sun seeks vainly to pierce. Trees, lofty and beautiful, wave to the motion of the breeze. But there a group of Indians gather, and flit to and fro with something like sorrow upon their dark brows; and in their midst lies a manly form-but his cheek, how deathly! his eyes, how wildly they glare around with the fitful fire of fever!

4. "One friend stands beside him, I should say kneels, -for see! he is pillowing that poor head upon his breast. Genius in ruins on the high, holy-looking brow! Why should Death mark it, and he so young? Look! how he throws back the damp curls! See him clasp his hands! hear his shrieks for life! how he clutches at the form of his companion, imploring to be saved! Oh, hear him call piteously his father's name! see him twine his fingers together, as he shrieks for his sister, the twin of his soul, weeping for him in his distant native land! See! his arms are lifted to Heaven! how wildly he prays for mercy! But fever rushes through his veins. The friend beside him is weeping! Awe-stricken, the dark men

move silently away, and leave the living and the dying together!”

5. There was a hush in that princely parlor, broken only by what seemed a smothered sob from some manly bosom. The bride stood yet upright, with quivering lip, and tears streaming down her pallid cheek. Her arm had lost its extension; and the glass, with its contents, came slowly toward the range of her vision. She spoke again. Every lip was mute; her voice was low, faint, yet distinct. Still she fixed her sorrowful glance upon the wine-cup.

"It is evening now: the great white moon is coming up, and her beams fall gently on his forehead. He moves not; his eyes are rolling in their sockets, and dim are the piercing glances. (p.) In vain his friend whispers the name of father and sister. No soft hand and no gentle voice bless and soothe him. His head sinks back; one convulsive shudder- HE IS DEAD!"

6. A groan ran through the assembly. So vivid was her description, so unearthly her look, so inspired her manner, that what she described seemed actually to have taken place then and there. They noticed, also, that the bridegroom had hid his face, and was weeping.

(pl.) "Dead!" she repeated again, her lips quivering faster, and her voice more broken,-"and there they scoop him a grave; and there, without a shroud, they lay him down in the damp, reeking earth, the only son of a proud father, the idolized brother of a fond sister; and he sleeps to-day, in that distant country, with no stone to mark the spot. There he lies, my father's son, my own twin-brother, a victim of this deadly poison! Father,' she exclaimed, turning suddenly, while the tears rolled down her beautiful cheeks, "father, shall I drink the poison now?"

7. The form of the judge was convulsed with agony. He raised not his head; but, in a smothered voice, he faltered, 66 - No, no, my child! - for Heaven's sake,

NO!"

She lifted the glittering goblet, and, letting it fall suddenly to the floor, it was dashed to pieces. Many a tearful eye watched her movement, and instantaneously every glass was transferred to the marble table. Then, as she looked at the fragments of crystal, she turned to the company, saying,

"Let no friend hereafter, who loves me, tempt me to peril my soul for wine, or any other poisonous venom. Not firmer are the everlasting hills than my resolve, God helping me, never to touch or taste the terrible poison. And he, to whom I have given my hand-who watched over my brother's dying form in that land of gold—will sustain me in this resolve. Will you not, my husband?"

8. His glistening eyes, his sad, sweet smile, was his answer. The judge had left the room; but when he returned, and, with a more subdued manner, took part in the entertainment of the bridal guests, no one could fail to see that he, too, had determined to banish the enemy at once and forever from that princely home.

Reader, this is no fiction. I was there and heard the words, which I have penned, as nearly as I can recollect them. This bride, her husband, and her brother who died in the gold regions of California, were schoolmates of mine. Those who were present at that wedding of my associates never forgot the impression so solemnly made, and all, from that hour, forsook the social glass.

8

LESSON XXVI.

EN THUʼSI ASM, (from two Greek words, EN, in, or within; and THEOS, A god;) signifies, literally, the state or condition of having a god within us; that is, being under the inspiration of a god: hence, strong mental excitement; ardent feeling.

DESOLATING EFFECTS OF INTEMPERANCE.

W. IRVING.

HE depopulating pestilence that walketh at noon-day,

the carnage of cruel and devastating war, can scarcely exhibit their victims in a more terrible array, than exterminating drunkenness. I have seen a promising family spring from a parent trunk, and stretch abroad its populous limbs, like a flowering tree covered with green and healthy foliage. I have seen the unnatural decay beginning upon the yet tender leaf, and gnawing like a worm in an unopened bud, while they dropped off, one by one, and the scathed and ruined shaft stood desolate and alone, until the winds and rains of many a sorrow laid that, too, in the dust.

2. On one of those holy days when the patriarch, rich in virtue as in years, gathered about him the great and the little ones of the flock his sons with their sons, and his daughters with their daughters-I, too, sat at the festive board. I, too, pledged them in the social wine-cup, and rejoiced with them round the hospitable hearth, and expatiated with delight upon the eventful future; while the good old man, warmed in the genial glow of youthful enthusiasm,1 wiped the tear of joy from his glistening eye. He was happy!

3. I met with them again when the rolling year brought the festive season round. But they were not all there. The kind old man sighed as his suffused eye dwelt upon

the then unoccupied seat. But joy yet came to his relief, and he was happy. A parent's love knows no diminution, — time, distance, poverty, shame, but give intensity and strength to that passion, before which all others dissolve and melt away.

4. Another elapsed. The board was spread; but the guests came not. The old man cried,- "Where are my children?" And Echo answered," Where?" His heart broke; for they were not. Could not Heaven have spared his gray hairs this affliction'? Alas! the demon of Drunkenness had been there! They had fallen victims to his spell. And one short month sufficed to cast the vail of oblivion over the old man's sorrow, and the young men's

shame. - THEY ARE ALL DEAD!

LESSON XXVII.

1EULO GY, (EU, well; LOGY, a speaking;) signifies a speaking well of, that is, a speech in praise of some particular person or thing; a laudatory address. See Sanders' Analyzer, page 74.

EULOGY ON COLD WATER.

PAUL DENTON.

The following eloquent speech was delivered by Paul Denton, a missionary of the M. E. Church in Texas, at a barbecue camp-meeting, many years ago. In a previous notice of the meeting, the preacher had announced that preparations would be made to suit all tastes, that there would be "a splendid barbecue, better liquor, and the best of gospel." After partaking of the repast, a voice was heard to exclaim, "Paul Denton, where is the liquor you promised us?" To which he made the following reply:

"THERE,” replied the speaker, pointing to a sparkling

fountain that bubbled up from the mountain's base, "THERE is the liquor which God, the Eternal, brews for all his children! Not in the simmering still, over smoking