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point you to those stronger tenfold over than you who began as you have, and who lost in the power of resistance before they knew they were in the power of the tempter. This demon, like death, seems to love a shining mark He only is fortified who has determined not to yield to the first templalion.

There is but one class whence he has never drawn a victim. That class has defied him, and will to the er.d. It is we who stand, God helping us, with our feet on this rock of safety, against which the waves may dash, but they shall dash in vain. I implore you to come and stand with us. I plead with you to come, for I believo that all mankind are my brethren. I believe in the fatherhood of God and in the brotherhood of man. And when I see an inebriate reeling along the streets I feel that, though debased and fallen, he is my brother still, created in the image of God, destined to an eternal hereafter, and it should be your duty and mine to take him by the hand and seek to place his feet on the same rock on which we stand.

That is what gave such a wonderful triumph to the Washingtonians, this recognizing the duty of individual responsibility. How many of you have gone to your fellow-man when you have seen him on the shore of destruction and tried to save him? Not one! Not one! How dare you on your knees ask God to bless you and yours, when you have not thus proved that you love your neighbor as yourself! This duty ghould be impressed on your souls by your ministers in the pulpit, by yoor writers in the public press. More than all things clse in the land we need a temperance revival. Whom would it harm ? No one.

But come down to the individual home of the man who has become a slave to this demon. Do you find happiness there? Do you find contentment, prosperity? Ah, no. Do you find the wife's cheek lighting up with joy as her husband comes home when the shadows lengthen? Ah, no: her check pales at the step of him who pledged her a life of devotion for the love she gave to him. All things are warning you to beware of yielding to this evil. The Scriptures; the men reeling in their cups; your poor. houses, your prisons, the forsaken wives; all cry "beware. In the language of an eminent champion of temperance, “When drink can easily be given up by you, give it up for the sake of your example on others; if it be difficult to give it up, give it up for your own sake."

Choose you this day whether you will stand with us on this rock, defying the snares, and evil, and misery, and woe, and desolation of the tempter, or whether, pursuing your present habit, you will go down the easy descent, till at last, dishonored and disgraced, baving lost tho respect of others and your own self-respect, you end a miserable and gloomy life by a home in the tomb, from which there is, if inspiration be true, no resurrection that shall take you to a better land.

KNOCKED ABOUT.-DANILL CONNOLLY.

Why don't I work? Well, sir, will you
Right here on the spot, give me suthin' to do?
Work! why, sir, I don't want no more
'N a chance in any man's shop or store;
That's what I'm lookin' for every day,
But thar ain't no jobs! well, what d'ye gay?
Hain't got nuthin' at present! Just so;
That's how it always is, I know!

Fellows like me ain't wanted much ;
Folks are gen rally jubus of such ;
Thinks they ain't the right sort o' stuff-
Blest if it isn't a kind o' rough
On a man to have folks hintin' belief
That he ain't to be trusted more'n a thief,
When p'raps his fingers are cleaner far
'N them o' the chaps that talk so are !

Got a look o' the sea? Well, I'xpect that's so;
Had a hankerin' that way some years ago,
And run off ; I shipped in a whaler lust,
And got cast away; but that war't the wust;
Took fire, sir, next time, we did, and-well,
We blazd up till everything standin' fell,
And the a me and Tom-my mate—and some more
Got off, with a notion of goin' ashore.

But thar warn't no shore to see round thar,
Bo we drifted and drifted everywhar
For a week, and then all but Tom and me
Was food for the sharks or down in the sea.
But we prayed-me and Ton—the best we could,
For a sail. It come, and at last we stood
On old arth once more, and the Captaiu told
Us Wo was ashore in the land of gold.
Gold! We did't get much. But we struck
For the wines, of course, and tried our luck.
"Twarn't bad at the start, but things went wrong
Pooty soon, for one night thar come along,
While we was asleep, some red-skin chaps,
And they made things lively round thar-perhaps
Anyhow, we left mighty quick-Tom and me,
And we didn't go back-kind o’ risky yo see !
By'n-by, sir, the war come on, and then
We 'listed. Poor Tom! I was nigh him when
It all happened. He looked up and sez, sez be,
“Bill, it's come to partin''twixt you and me,
Old Chap. I hain't much to leave-here, this knife
Stand to your colors, Bill, while you have life !"
That was all.—Yes, got wounded myself, sir, here,
Aud—I'm pensioned on water and air a year!

It ain't much to thank for that I'm alive,
Knockin' about like this-what a five!
That's suthin' lan’some, now, that is. I'm blest
If things don't quite frequent turn out for the best
Arter all! A VI Hi! Luck! It's far more !
Mister, I kind o' liked the looks o' your store,
You re a trump, sir, a reg-eh! 0, all right!
I'm off, but you are, sir, à trump, honor bright!

Appleton's Journal.

AT THE WINDOW.-AN EXTRACT.

ALFRED TENNYSON.

But Enoch yearned to see her face again ;
“If I might look on her sweet face again
And know that she is happy.” So the thought
Haunted and harassed him, and drove him forth
At evening when the dull November day

Was growing duller twilight, to the hill.
There he sat down gazing on all below:
There did a thousand memories roll upon him,
Unspeakable for sadness. By and by
The ruddy square of comfortable light,
Far-blazing from the rear of Philip's house,
Allured him, as the beacon-blaze allures
The bird of passage, till he madly strikes
Against it, and beats out his weary life.

For Philip's dwelling fronted on the street,
The latest house to landward; but belind,
· With one small gate that opened on the waste,

Flourished a little garden square and walled :
And in it throve an ancient evergreen,
A yewtree, and all round it ran a walk
Of shingle, and a walk divided it:
But Enoch shunned the middle walk and stole
Up by the wall behind the yew; and thence
That which he better miglit have shunned, if griefs
Like his have worse or better, Enoch saw.

For cups and silver on the burnished boara Sparkled and shone; so genial was the hearth; And on the right hand of the heartlı he saw Philip, the slighted suiter of old times, Stout, rosy, with his babe across his knees; And o'er her second father stoopt a girl, A later but a loftier Annie Lee, Fair-haired'and tall, and from her listed band Dangled a length of ribbon and a ring To tempt the babe, who reared his creasy arms, Caught at and ever missed it, and they laughed: And on the left hand of the hearth he saw The mother glancing often toward her babe, But turning now and then to speak with him, Her son, who stood beside her tall and strong, And saying that which pleased him, for be siniled.

Now when the dead man come to life beheld His wife, his wife no more, and saw the babeHers, yet not his, upon the father's knee, And all the warmth, the peace, the happiness, And his own children tall and beautiful, And him, that other, reigning in his place, Lord of his rights and of his children's love,Then he, though Miriam Lane had told him ali, Because things seen are mightier than things heard, Staggered and shook, holding the branch, and feared

To send abroad a shrill and terrible cry,
Which in one moment, like the blast of doom,
Would shatter all the happiness of the hearth.

He therefore turning softly like a thief,
Lest the barslı shingle should grate underfoot,
And feeling all along the garden-wall,
Lest he sliould swoon and tumble and be found,
Crept to the gate, and opened it, and closed,
As lightly as a sick man's chamber-door,
Bebind him, and came out upon the waste.

And there he would have knelt, but that his knees Were feeble, so that falling prone he dug His fingers into the wet earth, and prayed.

THOUGHTS OF "ENOCH ARDEN."

I've been reading “Enoch Arden,"

Where, with slow and measured tread,
He approaches through the garden,

That they still might think him dead.
He would view his children's faces

If they lier resemblance bore-
And observe their childish graces,

Once again, and then no more.

He would see if time's rough fingers

Had with many a wrinkle traced-
While awaiting liim she lingered -

On that dear, familiar face;
And perhaps be hoped such feeling

Might have left its traces there,
And that gray was deftly stealing

In among the auburn hair.

For the greatest earthly gladness,

Almost like the joys above,
Which we crave, even to madness,

Is the love of those we love.
If gray hair aud pallid faces

Youthful cliaris completely veil,
In our eyes they seem like graces

If we think for us they pale.

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