away and gazed with tenderness upon the little one as it lay snuggled closely upon her arm. Oh, what joy! to behold such perfectly molded features! But she wanted to see it all. Gently turning the little face, she drew it upon her breast and then, one look, and she fell back on her pillow, while an agonized expression of pain swept over her countenance; her brain reeled and she forgot this world as she lay there with her child upon her bosom. The nurse came, then with rapid step hastened into the next room for the doctor. Restoratives were applied. After a great while the white lids fluttered and the blue eyes opened once more. Pleadingly she looked up into the good man's face and said: "Doctor, must it be so? Can't you do something to help it?"

"Nothing, Mrs. Stocklaid, only to ask you to be strong and bear it bravely."

"Lift him up, doctor, that I may look at him again."

The good man lifted the infant in his gentle arms and brought the little face fully in view of the mother. There, just in front of the ear on the child's face, were marks put there to stay for life—an impression photographed by the mother upon the child the very day the father had come in upon her in a state of intoxication. Marie closed her eyes, and a deep groan issued from her lips. After a while in agony she struggled to break the spell, and once more thought of the world. At length she said: "Doctor, aside from this is the body perfect?" The good man hesitated for a moment as though he would spare her feelings, and then answered: "No, dear Marie, one knee is deformed, but it is possible that it can be helped."

The mother lay in an agony of grief and then said: "Lay him upon my breast, doctor, that I may feel his heart beat against my own." After complying with her request

he was about to turn away, when she clung to him with one feeble hand, and then lifting the other to heaven, said: "Oh, God, hear and record my vow this day: As long as I live I will fight the demon drink that has wrought this awful curse upon my child."

The nurse came and was about to take the little one from her when Marie continued: "Doctor, will you take him in your arms once more?" Lifting the little one up, the good old doctor smiled as she said: "I have often been told that I was named while lying on your hands, and now in like manner I wish to name my son before you leave my bedside that you may present him to his father ere you go." The nurse raised her on the pillow. She took the hand of her child, whose fingers closed around her own, and said: "I name him Earnest Earnestine Stocklaid. I give you, my child, with your heritage to your father, Earnest Stocklaid."

The father arose from his chair, and with an unsteady step came and stood by the bedside of his wife, whom he could have loved tenderly but for rum. He received, as the doctor laid him in his arms, the child that was born with the heritage of a drunkard—his own son.

Marie looked up into the father's face and said, oh so tenderly: "Earnest, husband, won't you take the pledge to-day for Earnie's sake?"

The miserable father regarded the boy for a moment while tears welled up in his eyes, and then laying him back in his mother's bosom, he left the room without a word. Ah, you dear father, whose eyes are resting upon this page, have you ever stood where Earnest Stocklaid stood that day and discovered that your love for rum was stronger than your love for wife and child? If so, may God have pity on your poor soul and help you to feel the responsibility of fatherhood.

When a man takes to his heart a pure and trusting woman, promising to be her husband, friend and protector, in that moment he makes himself not only responsible to his wife, but responsible to his God, whether he fulfill that holy mission or not. Earnest Stocklaid had failed in his mission to both his wife and child. Are you amenable to the judgment of God as well as he? God pity that man who is not able to love his wife as his own soul or better than he loves rum, for he doth not know, neither can he enter into the perfect joy of man.