sometimes that to put things to rights we must pull everything to pieces and begin all over again. Yes: so we must begin all over again, but it must be with ourselves; so, as we cannot set out to put the world to rights, let us each take in hand that which falls to our lot, saying, "Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do," even in the most trivial concerns of our daily life; each keep our hearts by putting them into God's keeping; each study to be quiet and do our own business; each stand in our own place, watching daily at the gates of wisdom, waiting at the posts of her doors among the blessed ones who hear the voice of the heavenly instructor. (Prov. viii. 34.)

Just look at your homes, too many of them. You ought not to submit to live in them, and you need not, if you set about it in the right way to get an alteration. For think only of the money expended in keeping up those terrible "man traps" you see at the corner of nearly every street, and say would it not set you all in comfort if it were spent in your homes instead? In a ten minutes' walk I counted, some years ago, twelve public houses, and I think by walking a very little further I could have counted fifty. I used to be appalled at the number, and I remember stopping to groan with indignation and sorrow when one day I saw another fast preparing for opening, at the corner of a new row of houses. The houses were good; but the neighbourhood was wretched in the extreme, and these "spiders' webs"

to catch unwary souls afflicted me. I used to see them so often full, and could only echo the wish of many wives "that beer was fifteen shillings and a guinea a quart," as then it would hardly be so freely indulged in, and there would be a little more chance of the money now squandered being expended in good wholesome food, or household comforts.

Some of you think that it does not matter to have a "break-out" now and then if you usually maintain a respectable appearance, or if your earnings will allow it without any very great detriment to the comforts of the home; but what does it show? That you are intensely selfish, to say the least of it, and also that the devil still holds you captive at his will.

A young wife carrying an infant, with horror on her white face, rushed in one day where I was sitting, and flinging her baby into the woman's arms, said, "Take care of the children. He has come home again mad with the drink, and I don't know what he will do next!" There was no doubt about who the he was, and that already there had been a terrible scuffle. Her hair was all down her back, and her husband had kicked one of the children downstairs. You have seen such sights yourselves, too often, alas! I was on my way to that home. It was a tidy one, for the man could earn large money, and prided himself on keeping his home all right. But I fancy that often when his delicate wife was ill she could have well done with a few

comforts which were swallowed up in these drinking bouts. The wife I really hoped was in earnest to live rightly, and I trust was being led to the Light: doubtless this sorrow in her path made her more long for the rest of knowing Him who is the Friend of sinners, and can have compassion on the brokenhearted. I hesitated about going on then, and those about entreated me not; but as I had to pass the garden to pay my next visit, I said I should be guided what to do, and the neighbour considerately opened her door so that I could slip in out of the way if necessary. Seeing me coming the man came out and leant over the railings, expecting a talk. I saw it was not the time to hope to do much good; but as he would talk, I prayed that some word might take effect. He glared down on me, and I felt as if I must keep my eye fixed on him as we do to cow a wild beast. I said I would come another day. He would be delighted to see me to-morrow. "Tomorrow," I said; and in the course of the Sunday afternoon I wended my way there. But he was too ashamed to meet me, and was gone out. He was a shrewd, clever sort of man, and knew the Bible by heart he said, when I saw him another time; but now he did not care to read it. Doubtless he felt it condemned him. The demon of drink possessed him, and when sober he covered the shame he felt with a defiant manner, asserting that he should do as he pleased with his own, forgetting that only God can say that, and that we are not our own, and that

our time and money and life are only lent to us to be used for One who will call us to give an account of our stewardship.

One said to me, "Company does it, and then the devil tempts us, and gets us under his thumb.” Think of any one owning to such bondage. I was paying a visit one day to another sad wife, when her husband came in much the worse for drink. He said he wanted me to talk to him. I told him I would when he was perfectly sober. He said he wanted to go to church, but he could not. Evidently, again, such a bond-slave of Satan; "Of whom a man is overcome, of the same he is brought in bondage.' His wife said he had first got tipsy on the birth of their first baby,—seventeen years before, for joy, he said,—and she had told him he had lit a spark in his throat which would never be quenched.

You may think I say a great deal about the drink; but I have seen so much misery from it, and it is such a crying evil, and the source of so much evil, that I can't help trying to rouse you to try to help one another in this matter.

It is an awful sum that is wasted in England annually. I know that when sympathy is aroused by some colliery accident, or great fire, or famine, the money comes in freely: but we often hear that there is no money for anything; no money when there is some great need for it to help forward God's work, and we sigh to think of the money thrown away carelessly, with a lavish hand, without a

thought. Yes: even the pence of the working-man would make a respectable sum at the end of the year. They are but littles, but all the littles go to make the much; and if the pence now wasted were saved, and put out to interest,-not hoarded to do nobody any good, I am not an advocate for that, though I do like to know you have something laid by for sickness, or times of difficulty,-they would bring in an amount of comfort little dreamed of. It is sad to hear of hospitals, and orphan homes, etc., etc., wanting funds, and reducing their number of beds, while the gin-palaces and public-houses are doing a roaring trade," supported chiefly by those who in illness are thankful to receive help from those institutions which give freely as far as lies in their power; who, indeed, sometimes demand it as a right, when if they thought properly about it they would see it is their first wisdom and duty to provide for emergencies, which are almost certain to happen, by belonging to a dispensary.

Is it not true, as I have asked elsewhere, that “he that earneth wages earneth wages to put it in a bag with holes"? (Hag. i. 6.) No heed taken of how the money goes. A penny here for tobacco; sixpence there for the extra glass of beer or spirits; a half-penny to the children for sweeties; a penny for "the gaff," if you cannot afford more; and too often that very unsatisfactory item, the ruinous interest on pawn-tickets. Yes, indeed, the wages of too many don't seem to do half as much good as