fection. What little offices Crooked Nicholas could perform for his brother were done with a readiness and a care which showed that the poor fellow's anxiety to be of some use was deep and heartfelt; and when his bodily infirmity compelled him to refrain from work in the fields, he wandered through the woods, and over hill and dale, fishing for trout and cel, immense numbers of both of which he caught. Notwithstanding the unceasing exertions of Alick in the management of his father's business, times and circumstances changed not with him. Unremitting toil and scanty returns were more familiar to him than ever. It happened that the spring following was cold, wet, and ungenial, and when autumn came round, old Nicholas's crop was of little or no value. The old man endured much ere he bent his independent spirit to inform Mr Howell, at the following term, of his inability to pay down the whole amount of his usual rent. Mr Howell decided that no favour should be granted him, and Nicholas returned to his humble home, broken down in body but not in spirit. 'We must quit, lads, at next term,' said he to his sons, uncovering his silver hair, and brushing the corner of his plaid across his eyes. He's a hard man, our landlord, though maybe just enough. But God pardon him for his lack of mercy, and especially for his severity on an auld man this day. It seems I'm a doomed man,' he added, sinking into his chair with a gloomy, foreboding counte nance. Alick said not a word, although indignation thrilled through his frame; nor did Crooked Nicholas utter a syllable, but he disappeared on the instant. He went to the hills to weep and to mourn; and as he went wailing forward, perhaps the most miserable object under the wide roof of heaven, rage took possession of his soul, and he dashed madly forward till the ground seemed hardly to be touched as it vanished beneath his flying feet. But nature was strained beyond the point of endurance, and stumbling over a matted bush, Nicholas sank on the ground, bruised and bleeding. For a time he was unconscious. When he woke again, a young girl hung over him with deep compassion on her sweet features. Beside her was a tall dark young man, whose handsome countenance rivalled that of his fair companion in its truly compassionate expression. Nicholas gazed 'like ane bewitched,' and tried to shrink into himself, but the hand of the fair lady was tenderly placed on his arm, and her sweet voice, 'gentle and low,' was dropping words of kindness on his ear. Nick forgot his crookedness, and half raising himself, he seized her hand between his own two, and covered it with kisses; then recollecting himself, he raised his eyes fearfully to her face, but she was smiling-sweetly smiling. What a stream of indescribable emotions flowed in the bosom of Nick at that moment! His formerly stern grief was softened, and he burst into an incontrollable flood of tears. What may not the magic touch of sympathy and kindness effect on the troubled heart of humanity? Nicholas Gow's house, generally came Richard Fraser, the young man who stood by her side when first she appeared to Nick. Strange to say, although his kindest friend, Nick had conceived the most intense aversion towards Richard, and sometimes when the latter appeared in the act of paying any little attention to Miss Howell, or was smiled on by her, even something like a vindictive scowl seemed to settle on the brow of Nick. Richard appeared to be a very dark spot in Nick's horizon. On Emily's footsteps he attended like some eastern slave; be dogged her constantly at a distance, as she rode through the woods, his crooked form now gliding from one clump of trees to another, now winding down the side of some hill, and now coiled beneath the matted brushwood, while the beloved of his fancy passed before him. But on Richard his eye glared like that of the same eastern slave when commanded to use his dagger against a hated enemy. What was it that had power to rouse the poor creature's hatred, and to lend it so much intensity? So much did Nick seem absorbed by his acquaintance with Emily, that he appeared to forget the distress which, notwithstanding the generous alleviations presented by Miss Howell, continued to hang around the heads of his father and brother. He forsook, too, his sports and his wanderings to hover around Emily's path, appearing gratified if he obtained the slightest sight of her. He never dared to approach the mansion of Mount Howell, but he constantly hung around the skirts of the large park which surrounded the house, and watched for the slightest symptom of Miss Howell's appearance. Frequent moods of the deepest abstraction seized upon him, too, and though all unhappy, he seemed to have a source of happiness of which no one knew but himself. Thus for a time went the little troubled world of Crooked Nick; but all of a sudden a decisive change came about. On a cold, heavy night in spring, nearly two hours after Alick Gow, unhappy and toil-worn, had retired to rest, he had his broken, troubled slumber interrupted by hearing the sound of a footstep in his apartment. He sat up in astonishment, and saw by the light of a lamp which stood on the rough deal which served for a table, the crooked form of his brother standing in the middle of the floor, and calmly feeling the edge of a large clasp-knife which he held in his hand. Alick was alarmed at his brother's employment, and stepped instantly on the floor. Some heavy grief seemed to have been preying on the mind of Alick, for his countenance was thin and pale, his eye languid, and his once athletic form seemed spent and bowed down. Wrapping one of his garments about him, he stepped up to Nicholas, and laid his hand on his arm. The latter did not manifest the slightest symptom of being aware of his brother's presence, until Alick addressed him in tones of gentlest inquiry. At that a dreadful leaden sort of smile mantled on his features, and he said, ironically, The fiend must be paid to-night, Alick; the fiend will be paid to-night; won't he?' 'What is your meaning, Nicholas ?' asked Alick in tones of the utmost alarm, while he gently attempted to remove the knife from Nick's possession. The image which constantly afterwards haunted Nick's imagination was that of the lovely being who smiled on him, a poor, deformed creature, and suffering under deep Nay, nay, brother,' said Nick, emphatically; 'you affliction; and this beautiful object of his thoughts did must leave me my weapon, for its strength and temper not disdain repeatedly to visit his father's lonely home must be proved to-night. Sit down here by me,' he conamong the mountains; and when she was there, it seemed tinued, dragging Alick to a seat, while his countenance to Nick as if heaven were along with her, so much misery became in reality quite ferocious, and I'll tell you a piece | did she banish, and so much delight did she scatter around. of news. My heart's a-burning, and I can't bear it longer, She was no other than Emily Howell, who invariably be- so I came, Alick, to tell you what I have been thinking friended the persecuted tenantry of her father, besides of. Listen to me now. There was a time when Nickbeing naturally disposed to the performance of acts of Crooked Nick-was a careless, happy being, going over disinterested charity. Emily was the adored of all on the country without aim, and thinking nought but merry Mount Howell estate. Her benevolence found ample ex- thoughts. Well, a fair lady crossed before his eyes, and ercise through means of Richard Fraser, who was her he thought he was more happy than before, though, after constant adviser and prudent agent; and knowing that all, for the few minutes in each day that he was happy, her charity was dispensed at great risk of being discovered he suffered tenfold misery when the spirit of his thoughts by her parent, her name was hailed with yet deeper en- was absent. There was a fortunate one beloved by Emily thusiasm, and her young agent received his due share of my tongue must pollute her sweet name—and that one gratitude and goodwill. Along with Emily, when she poor Nick hated, for he stole from him nearly all his anventured to make an excursion into the hills, and so by gel's love. Nick wanted in his foolishness the whole to himself. This one stepped in like a fiend. Now, Alick, wince not so there's relief in telling you all I feel. This person I speak of was not crooked like Nick, and hatred sunk deeper into Nick's soul, because he was not. Nick sorely grudged him Emily's love, but what could he help it? Now this person has gone, brother, but his absence is no 'Whither has Richard Fraser gone? Has he left Mount Howell?' eagerly interrupted Alick. 'Yesterday, he was driven from its doors like a dog,' replied Nick, dwelling momentarily, as if in exultation, on this fact. It was not till then that Nick could find it in his heart to pity him. The father of Emily had a revelation made to him by one who is surely a very fiend. Brother, that was myself. Now, don't grasp so hard, and I'll tell you more. I met him in the woods, and, maddened with rage or hatred, I told him all-all-all-of what Emily had done and what Richard had done for our father of the love that was between them both, and of Nick's adoration of Emily. The wretch listened amazedly and half in doubt, but in a minute he had disappeared. I followed, and beheld the noise and the stir made at Mount Howell on the arrival of its master. I saw him I hated spurned from the house; I saw him pull his hat over his face, and-but other things I have to tell. Emily was taken her wretched father made her gentle spirit tremble within her his hand was raised to strike hershe was and is still shut up-and in confinement her heart must break!' exclaimed Nick, rolling backward and forward on his seat in agony. Well, I went to the dreadful man,' he resumed fiercely, and demanded that he should set her free; but he kicked me from his door, and called me-crooked beast! There was a something went through me at the moment, a fiery dart I think, and I feel it in my breast still. Though he had a thousand lives I must have them all, and this-this will do it, and to-night too,' he concluded, passing his finger along the edge of the knife. Alick did not seem to hear his brother's words, for he sat motionless, and as if in deep thought. His eye was resting vacantly on the countenance of Nicholas, but it failed to reflect the expression of that fearful face, or to betray interest in the dreadful purpose with which it was illuminated. Of what avail would it be, Nicholas, though Emily were free?' he asked abstractedly. Her heart has been already given away; Richard Fraser has it with him in his exile. I had thought otherwise, but so it is.' Let me go my way, brother,' whispered Nick, for Alick was clutching his arm. My arm must punish him this night. And our father, does he not cry aloud for vengeance? I heard him, in his sleep, curse, pray, and weep. Oh, God! how did I endure it? And did I not see him this day on the mountain-brow, gazing abroad with fearful agony on the scenes he must in a week or two for ever forsake? I heard his weak voice raised in lamentation, for what will another be to his native land, where, among the blooming heather on the hills, and among the dells and glens, he has lived and loved' from childhood? And who was-who is the cause of this misery? Him, him whom I go to punish. Let me go.' And he moved towards the door of the room. 'Go not, Nicholas' exclaimed Alick, with sudden earnestness, as if now for the first time he comprehended his brother's bloody intention. I'm sick, brother, I'm ill. I fear me it is the sickness of death.' A convulsive shuddering shook his frame, a livid paleness covered his countenance, and a clammy moisture oozed from his brow. Nicholas, recalled to himself, had barely time to clasp his brother in his arms when he swooned away. Nicholas shouted for assistance, and his father was presently on the spot, and Alick was put to bed. In a few minutes animation had completely returned. Nicholas's fell purpose was effectually defeated, for the time at least, for with characteristic affection he remained by Alick's couch, anxiously attending him, and sincerely apprehensive of serious results. Some few days subsequent, there was a visible sensation pervading all the inhabitants of Mount Howell estate. It was the day which Mr Howell had appointed for the expulsion of old Nicholas Gow from his humble home; and in consideration of the exasperating circumstances of the case, Mr Howell had determined, with all the pride of power, that he would attend the old man's ejection in his own proper person, and would cause thereafter his hut to be unroofed and pulled down. People knew in general that such was his intention, and anxiously awaited the event; besides, the peculiar features of the matter were not unknown, and people grew doubly anxious. On the morning of that day, the proprietor of Mount Howell entered the apartment of his daughter, who had been for some time under severe restraint. Emily received him with meek reserve. Her cheeks were blanched, though her countenance was yet full and lovely in its paleness, and her person visibly trembled with inward agitation. Well, miss,' said her father, with a civil sneer, your dreams of love and philanthropy must by this time have evaporated. A little intercourse with the world's colder side is a capital expeller of such ethereal guests.' Emily returned no answer to this preface. 'Now, girl,' her father continued with severity, 'give heed to what I say. You have felt a little of that weighty punishment this hand can bestow, and, if still refractory, I have no objections to give you a more copious tasting of it. So this is what I want. The old villain, Gow, whom you encouraged in discontent and ill-will towards me, your parent, is this day to be driven from his bield, as he richly deserves. I cannot afford to be ate up by superannuated antiquated fellows like him, who have not sense to keep pace with-but never mind. I myself intend to witness his actual expulsion, and subsequently the demolishing of his hut, which will be razed to the foundation. Since you have been so extremely interested in the old fellow's prosperity, it will be only proper and seemly that you should be interested in an equal degree in his adversity. Therefore, you'll prepare to go along with me to behold the harrying of the nest.' 'I cannot go, father,' murmured Emily, with tearful eyes. 'Cannot go! Why not? You surely can go with an old man as well as with a young rascally hypocrite. I tell you what, miss,' added Howell, harshly, his grey eyes glancing fire, 'go you shall, and that directly too. In half an hour we start; so make haste.' He turned on his heel, and slammed the door after him. There would have been little use in disputing the despotic will of her father, had Emily been so disposed, but to dispute it was an idea that had never entered her mind. So, with a choking bosom, she descended from her chamber in about half an hour, and as her father mounted a strong black steed she vaulted on the back of a chestnut palfrey. Followed by two servants, and a body of domestics who came at a distance, father and daughter then cantered swifty across Mount Howell Park. As they entered the moorland, and when they were about a mile from Nicholas Gow's abode, a group, congregated directly in front of them, on the top of a slight eminence, presented itself to their eyes. It consisted of Nicholas Gow and his two sons, and near them stood a small Highland pony and a very rough tent cart, beneath which crouched an old sheep dog, infirm as its master. Whenever Emily and her father appeared, Alick and his deformed brother were instantly lost to view. The old man retained his position, however, until they approached. He was standing with his back towards them, and looking in the direction of the rugged valley in which stood his abandoned home. Howell and his daughter rode up in front of him, but he moved not; he seemed unaware of their presence. His withered hands were clasped and his furrowed countenance bore marks of strong and deep anguish; down his shrunken cheeks the big salt tears were rolling fast. His grey head was uncovered; the grizzled hair was floating around his thin temples and wrinkled forehead. Emily became aware that the old man was in the act of bidding a long and last adieu to scenes long loved, ere departing for that foreign shore where, to all appearance, his future lot was cast. She drew her veil around her, turned aside her head, and silently wept. Just then the old toothless sheep-dog bounded growling from beneath the cart, and crouched in front of Mr Howell's steed. The cruel man raised his whip and applied it mercilessly to the aged animal, which instantly yelled with pain and fled behind its master. Old Nicholas looked up in astonishment, and when he beheld Howell, and knew the act of cruelty he had committed, proud resentment flashed through his tears. With a movement of native dignity, he exclaimed: 'Pass on, pompously as thou may'st. But vengeance will not always sleep. Pass thee on, cruel man, and God have mercy on you.' He then observed the presence of Emily, who had been for a time his guardian angel, and kneeling on the turf he began to invoke blessings on her head; but overcome by emotion, she did not wait to listen to his prayer, but whipping her pony she dashed recklessly away across the moor, despite the shouts of her father, who loudly called her back. Away she madly rode, disregarding the roughness of her way, nor drew bridle until her panting pony had reached an eminence afar off, which looked down on the brown vale in which stood Nicholas Gow's deserted hut. From this height Emily, in a little while, perceived clusters of people grouped around the miserable house, and her father, she could notice, riding boldly in amongst them. She would have turned away, but powerful excitement kept her chained to the spot. Old Nicholas's effects had been previously removed or sold; and in a little while she could see her father's servants climbing on the roof of the house and busily uncovering it. Suddenly they ceased, as if the thatch they were engaged in pulling down had not been worth the labour they were expending on it. In a few minutes a curling spire of smoke rolled itself from the roof of the hut into the air, increasing as it rolled into a dense black column. A spout of flame ever and anon shot from the heavy folds of the smoke, until a constant flickering stream was darted forth and a bright red glare succeeded. A murmur, as of indignation, seemed to float from the valley to the ears of Emily, and at the same time she noticed a movement in the crowd which surrounded the blazing hut. Her father appeared, followed by a few of his servants, riding smartly away, and followed in a scattered manner by the people. Emily instinctively put her pony in motion, and descended the hill so as to meet her father. His face was very grim, and his manner and air fierce and agitated. He exclaimed: Insulted by a vagabond crowd! I-! So now you come, girl, after disregarding my injunctions and being deaf to my calls! Of course you must be the friend of old Gow because he is my enemy. Quite natural that. Ride alongside of me here, miss, till I speak to you. Do you know what it is to be insulted by a rabble, whom in a manner you feed and clothe? And what it is to be insulted for doing with your own as seems meet to you? Confound the blackguards, wont I revenge myself on them? Do you hear their hooting and reviling? This is how your father's treated on his own estate. Very pleasant, is it not? And for the better share of it I have you to thank, hussy!' On he rode, accompanied by his daughter and servants, and followed by an indignant crowd, who testified their feelings by loud shouts and exclamations. There was nothing for it but hard riding; and calling on Emily and his domestics to follow, Howell gave his horse whip and spur, and away he went at full gallop. They were rushing down a rather steep hill-the road thickly wooded on each side-which terminated in a narrow low-ledged bridge, spanning a rapid and deep river, whose full tide just then was hoarsely rolling along from bank to bank. As they neared the bridge a voice from the wood shouted: 'Beware! there's death before you.' Emily thought she knew the voice, but she had not time to say so, for her father spurred his horse more, and 'Let it, there's death here,' he cried, excitedly, and flourishing his riding-whip, for the first villain of the howling crowd that will dare approach me. Follow, girl, quick!" At that moment he entered on the steep and narrow bridge; a deformed being, who had been coiled on the very middle of the arch, and had not been observed by any of the approaching party, suddenly sprang to his feet. It was Crooked Nick. The fire of insanity was glaring in his eyes, and the flush of an infuriated brain was on his hollow cheek. He had heard the preceding exclamation of his enemy. On coursed Howell's steed, and on galloped Emily's pony behind him, but Crooked Nick flinched not. 'Death for thee! 'tis here!' he cried, unsheathing a long glittering knife, and couching it with a firm hand. Mr Howell's horse and that of Emily reared at the same moment, and then both plunged madly forward. Nick's weapon was buried deep in the breast of the former, as it came heavily forward. The animal gave a fearful yell, pitched its master against the ledge of the bridge, where he lay stunned and insensible, and with the weapon sticking in its breast bounded away with headlong speed. Emily's pony reared also, and then plunged and kicked. Frightened almost to death, the trembling girl could not retain her seat, and as the animal backed to one side of the bridge she was unfortunately precipi tated into the rushing current beneath. Nick the maniac, for a maniac now he was, had been unhurt, and had watched with intense agony the struggles of Emily's pony; as she descended into the torrent he gave a hideous cry, and in a moment clearing the ledge of the arch, his form darted through the air into the dashing stream. At the same moment, from opposite sides of the river, there dived into the water two determined young menthey were Richard Fraser and Alick Gow. Stern was the struggle of these two as they strained every nerve in the attempt to gain the floating form of Emily, which was now being carried rapidly down by the dark tide. The people had crowded on the bridge and along the banks of the stream, some applauding with shouts, others heaving ropes and aids of all kinds into the water, and others standing motionless and holding their breath from very anxiety. Some again watched the motions of Crooked Nick, who had been swept with great rapidity a few feet down past the form of Emily, and was now bravely stemming the current in order to grasp her. A hand was, however, laid on her dress before he could reach her, it was that of Richard Fraser. Nick gave a mighty clutch forward and seized Richard's arm, which he held with fearful tenacity; he ground his teeth firmly together, and drawing Richard with irresist ible power towards him, succeeded in clasping him in his long bony arms. Richard was amazed and alarmed, and relaxed his hold on Emily, who was at that moment seized from the other side by Alick Gow. Down went Nick and Richard in a deadly embrace. The struggle was of short duration, but it was a fearful one. Richard tried to escape from his insane enemy, and when he saw he could not, he attempted to plunge him beneath the stream. There was a terrible wrestling and splashing for a moment; people rushed in wild excitement along the bank; then Nick was seen to heave his wild countenance upwards, and was heard to exclaim exultingly: 'Now, brother, you have her for yourself. I knew you loved her.' These were the last words of Crooked Nick. The next moment the dark-rolling waters had covered the bodies of himself and Richard Fraser. Next day they were found in a deep linn far down the river, encircled in each other's arms in the strong embrace of death. The scene we have described so cursorily above passed so rapidly that people wondered whether they had not all been dreaming: some, in excuse of their want of pre sence of mind, and others out of real wonder at the rapidity of the occurrence of the tragic events. Now Alick Gow succeeded in bringing Emily's inanimate form to the bank, and immediately the crowd collected around them. Animation was quickly restored, and she was conveyed home in the same litter with her unconscious father. A few days passed, during which Howell never spoke, and he breathed his last. Two years passed away. Alick Gow was steward of Mount Howell estate, and with his old father lived in a comfortable cottage. Alick was comparatively happy, though he was seldom seen to smile, and a settled paleness had given a tinge of sorrow to his bold but handsome features. One morning he received a letter from his young mistress, who was at the time in Switzerland. He read it with a melancholy smile. 'Is Miss Howell well ?' inquired his father, who had been watching his countenance. 'She is,' replied Alick, sighing. She says she is at least resigned, if not completely happy. She enjoys the most inexpressible pleasure in the rural retirement of her situation, where she can think her melancholy thoughts, and at the same time can minister to the wants of the poor peasantry. The latter is her chief and most delightful employment. God bless her!' 'Amen!' responded the old man with fervour. Blessings such as these are the rewards of charity and benevolence. THE MISSIONARY'S GRAVE. FROM THE MISSIONARY ANNUAL. He rests not where the solemn yew And death seems deadlier in the hue He rests not where the holy pile He sleeps not where his fathers sleep Where chimes the dull brook, softly deep, He bore this earth's most earthless toils, The mildest tropic airs fan round The palm that shades his rest, And there the sun, through scented glooms And the heron laves its azure plumes No dirge was breathed along the vale, No flowers were strewn, and the spicy gale No words were said, as dust to dust They rear'd above no sculptured bust, But conchs, and frantic howls, and yells Ring through the twilight air; And they cast their plumes and dazzling shells Upon the matted bier. Far had he come; with storm and care His anxious soul had striven. But can the spirit feel despair Whose hopes know God and heaven? O'er his fatherland another sky Hung in the hours of sleep; The strong winds of that shore rush'd high, With a louder, stormier sweep. But he loved his tranquil southern home-, He loved its hills of feathery bloom, He loved the fierce and swarthy men, Lone had he come: no sword or targe He spake not of the rampant charge, He had come to calm the lustful heart, Stern were those warriors--stern and proud- The truths that from his warm heart glow'd, At length, on one mild, tranquil eve, But, oh! he left the hope behind And many an olive brow shall come, THE TEMPERANCE MOVEMENT. SECOND ARTICLE. AMONG the productions on the subject of temperance which appeared in America in 1831, the most curious was Barbour's Statistics of Intemperance in Churches,' a little work possessed of no ordinary interest. The Rev. Gustavus Davis published a view of the Bible doctrine of temperance, which was at that day regarded as a novelty. Dr Drake of Philadelphia, too, wrote an address on the intemperance of cities; while Professor Yandell, in a speech delivered before the Davidson County Society, as well as Drs Perry, Harrison, Sargent, and James, and many other eminent medical men, came up to the rescue. In the year 1832, the American war minister declared in an official communication that spirits should no longer constitute a portion of the army rations. The secretary of the navy also discouraged their use at sea, directing coffee, tea, sugar, and money to be offered instead. In May, the total number of temperance societies existing in America was ten thousand, with five hundred thousand members. The time, however, began to approach when a new order of things was to be introduced. The old temperance societies had had their day; many circumstances, illustrative of the total insufficiency of the old pledge, occurred during its existence, and a general opinion began to prevail, that except in total abstinence there was for drunkenness no remedy. Animated by these sentiments, the friends of the cause determined to make a simultaneous movement throughout the States, at which delegates from all parts of the Union might attend and compare results. Accordingly, on the 26th day of February, 1833, a general temperance meeting took place throughout the Union; on the same day, and as part of the general movement, a Congressional Temperance Society was formed, including among its members some of the most distinguished men of the day. This was followed up by a meeting in Philadelphia of the National Convention, on the 24th of May. Nineteen states and one territory were represented, the whole number of delegates present amounting to 440. The meeting had the boldness to pronounce an opinion, by a large majority, that the traffic in ardent spirits was morally wrong. From this meeting sprang the American Temperance Union, which was composed of the officers of societies all over the Union. The members of this convention carried away a conviction that a general movement in favour of total abstinence had actually become necessary, and they were resolved to commence it as soon as possible. But they had already been anticipated. In the city of New York, Luther Jackson, Esq., secretary to the New York Society, published, a short time previous to their next meeting, at his own expense, and on his own responsibility, the famous total abstinence pledge, which was afterwards adopted by the American temperance societies. The introduction of this pledge met with considerable opposition, but the doctrine gradually took root, and spread with rapidity. During that year and up to May, 1834, more than eight thousand names were obtained to it, including the signatures of fifteen physicians in the city of New York alone. Animated by the increasing fervour with which this pledge was received, Mr Jackson encouraged the youth of New York to attempt a distinct organisation on total abstinence, as the fundamental principle. 6 Accordingly, a society was formed in June, denominated the Juvenile Temperance Society,' on the principle of total abstinence from all intoxicating liquors. This was the earliest society ever formed on that principle. In the year 1834, one of the most appalling arguments yet produced in favour of the cause of temperance was furnished by Mr Chipman. This gentleman having visited all the almshouses and jails in the state of New York, discovered that more than three-fourths of the pauperism was occasioned by intemperance, and that five out of six of those committed on criminal charges were of intemperate habits. From other sources it was ascertained, that out of 253 paupers in the county of Oneida, 246 were made so by drinking; and out of 1134 in Baltimore county, 1059 of these cases arose from the same cause. There were 3000 inmates in the almshouse at Salem, Massachusetts, 2900 of whom, according to the testimony of the superintendent, had been brought there by liquor. Out of 572 males in one almshouse, not 20 were sober men, and out of 601 women, not 50. Out of 1969 in various almshouses, 1790 were brought there through intemperance; and out of 4969 in others, the number who could trace their misfortunes to the same cause amounted to 4690. In the beginning of 1835, the state society of New York directed the executive committee to sustain the cause of total abstinence in the 'Temperance Recorder.' The views put forth at this meeting by the various speakers commanded the attention of all the land; and the American Temperance Society,' following their example, recommended the adoption of the total abstinence pledge, which was accordingly done by a Norfolk society, and by the temperance society of the eastern district of Virginia. It was about this time that the Rev. George B. Cheever published his attack upon distilleries, in a manner sufficiently singular and fearless to attract extraordinary attention. It was written in an allegorical style, and purported to be a true history of Deacon Giles's distillery. The author described the deacon as inheriting his distillery and penurious disposition from his father, to whom the former had been transmitted through a long line of rumsellers. One Saturday his men refused to work on the Sabbath, and the deacon was in a sad quandary. At that moment a number of wild, strange-looking fellows came up, and volunteered to do his work for nothing, provided they were allowed to labour by night. The deacon closed the bargain, well pleased with the terms; and his workmen, who were all demons, carried on their operations at an astounding pace. All the materials were worked up in two nights-Saturday and Sabbath. By a devilish contrivance of their own, they attached to each barrel a label, invisible at first, and which only became perceptible after they were sold to the retailers, and mounted upon their destined stands. The deacon returned on the Monday, and was quite delighted with the amount of work accomplished. The whole array of rum-casks was sold off to retailers. As each barrel was put in its appointed place in the different grogeries, the labels blazed out in staring capitals. One was inscribed, Epilepsy sold here, inquire at Deacon Giles's distillery;' another, Cholera in Collapse;' a third, Insanity and Murder;' a fourth, Dropsy and Rheumatism;' while many bore a part of Robert Hall's famous definition. The direction was always Deacon Giles's distillery. Some of the hogsheads were inscribed with texts of Scripture-for instance Who hath wo-whe hath redness of eyes? Inquire at Deacon Giles's distillery.' A certain Deacon Stone caused Mr Cheever to be indicted for libel. The trial came on in June, 1835, in the Court of Common Pleas; Mr Cheever was convicted, fined 1000 dollars, and sentenced to an imprisonment of one month. The appearance of the allegory created great excitement; the trial had excited universal attention; the public voice, at first against Mr Cheever, became ultimately as decid- · edly in his favour; and eight years thereafter, in that very distillery, converted by a new cold-water proprietor into a saw-mill, a temperance tea-party was given to the largest assemblage that had ever been seen in the town of Salem. The next circumstance which gave an impulse in America to the cause of temperance was the trial of E. C. Delavan, Esq. The substitution of malt liquors for ardent spirits struck that gentleman as particularly ludiercus; ¦ and convinced that the evil could only be eradicated by total abstinence, he published in an American paper a statement to the effect that the brewers in Albany were in the practice of using water obtained from the most polluted sources. Eight brewers brought suits against him, but he proved his charges and was acquitted. In February, 1836, the New York State Temperance Society adopted the pledge of total abstinence from all intoxicating drinks as a beverage. In August, a second National Convention met at the Saratoga Springs. At this convention nineteen states were represented, and there was a considerable delegation also from Canada. This convention, too, sustained the doctrine now becoming general, that total abstinence was the only remedy. The example set by this body did not fail of its due influence. A great many societies in all the states of America adopted the principle, and hundreds of letters were received by the different societies from clergymen in all parts of the country, signifying their adhesion to the new pledge. The cause had hitherto made least progress in the south-western states, but I' this year a lodgment was made in Mississippi by the establishmant at Natches of a newspaper styled the Coldwater Man;' and it is believed that the south-west | is at this moment little, if at all, behind the rest of the Union in zeal for the cause. Up to 1840 the action of temperance societies in America had been somewhat in detachments, but that year beheld the public mind moving in a mass, and cities, I states, the whole Union, marching in solid column to the accomplishment of a common object. Various causes combined to produce this unanimity, but no one so much as the following. On Friday evening, April 2, 1840, six persons, all of them men of character, but very intemperate, met in a tavern in the city of Baltimore by accident. A temperance sermon which was to be preached that evening becoming the subject of conversation, it was agreed that four of their number should be deputed to hear it, and report to the rest. The committee returned, and reported that after all temperance was a very good thing. The landlord coming in began to declaim against temperance orators. This brought on a discussion, which ended in the six forming themselves into a society, to be called the Washington Temperance Society. A pledge, totally to abstain from intoxicating liquors, was written and signed, and W. K. Mitchell, a man of strong mind, and who came in course | of time to exercise an unbounded influence over his brethren, was chosen president of the association. These individuals began immediately to make exertions to induce their bottle-companions to unite with them. At all hours and in all places, in the streets, in cars, in stage-coaches, and in steamboats-wherever it was possible to find a drunkard-they were to be seen urging, entreating, imploring; and by the summer of 1842, it was computed that the reformation had converted 100,000 common drunkards, and 300,000 tipplers, who were in a fair way of becoming so. The spectacle of so many inebriates in all districts of the Union rising above their fallen condition, excited everywhere the liveliest sympathy. Men of all |