suffered great pain; others had lost their dearest friends; and I could tell you of some who had even heavier sorrows. Yet they endured their troubles without complaint; they felt that they came from God; they said that God supported them; and they were peaceful and happy in the midst of all. Now tell me, Harry, have you known anybody, who was not a Christian, who could bear great trials like that ?"

"But," said Harry, evading the question, "it seems to me such a dull thing to be religious. One must give up every bit of enjoyment in life; and then I can't see what pleasure there can be in Bible-reading, and praying, and going to public worship, as you call it, and such like."

"There's nothing to be given up, Harry," replied his friend, "which is not wrong, or which does not tend to wrong; and as to finding no pleasure in praying, and Bible-reading, and going to public worship, you used to be fond of music, and I daresay you are still. How is it you are so fond of it, when thousands care nothing about it at all ?"

'Well," said Harry, "I suppose it is because I have a taste for it, and they have not."

"That's it, no doubt," said George. "Now that is what God does when a man believes in the Lord Jesus Christ. He so changes the heart that the person takes pleasure in those things which before he cared nothing about. I have not had a very long experience of religion; but I can say for myself that I never knew what it was to be really happy till I began to serve the Lord."

The evident sincerity with which all this was said made a deep impression on Harry's mind.

"Then, Harry," said George," it crowns all that a Christian can say, as nobody else can, I have a home in heaven, where I shall be blessed for ever and ever. A wonderful difference between that and the misery and ruin of the man who lives and dies without Christ!"

Just then the conversation was broken off by the entrance of Mrs. Bains; and shortly after Harry took his leave, but

not before his friend George had kindly invited him to spend a part of the following day with him.

"I don't see it yet," Harry said to himself as he went homewards; "but there's a good deal in what George has been saying. Anyhow, it is plain his religion has done something for him. He's a happier man than I am, and, if I am any judge, he has a happier home. I'll think about it." Harry accepted George's invitation for the following day, and he has attended public worship regularly ever since. His children go to the Sunday-school, and he takes both them and his wife with him to the service. I hope he is a Christian. This I can say, that his friend George thinks he is; and I know that, following George's example, he has set up family worship in his house.

Drinking on Trust.

She,

F the many miserable homes in the large town of L- none is worse than that in which dwells a poor bedridden woman and her husband. alas is a fearful sufferer with a badly diseased leg, which obliges her to keep her bed, and suffers her not to enjoy a comfortable night's rest. When the minister pays his visit here he finds her glad to see him; but her piteous face assures him how great is her affliction, and how troubled is the state of her mind. Every line of her wrinkled face tells a tale of sorrow; and when the Bible is brought out and read, and the pastor dwells on its wondrous lessons of mercy and love, he hears the sobbing of that broken heart, and it leads him to pause and reflect-what mean these bitter tears? Are they the outpourings of a contrite heart, or do they merely represent the disappointment and grief which reign within? Again does he pursue his labour of love, and no sooner does he dwell upon the happy future for those who are followers of the blessed Jesus-no sooner does he assure her that "the sufferings of this present time

are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us," than a look of comfort takes possession of her haggard features, and she ceases to shed those bitter tears. What, then, were her tears? They are a mixture of bitterness and repentance. Cruel wrongs have so far affected her character as to make her somewhat callous: God's afflictions, sent in mercy, are likewise leading her to a better state of mind. The Holy Spirit is at work; only He is gently drawing her.

Whence all this trouble, do you ask? Her husband is a drunkard. A man, sixty years of age, he is still a pupil of Satan he still follows the multitude to do evil. Not long ago the minister was heard to say to him, "Well, James, you can't live for ever here, you know. Some day you will be overtaken." He was sitting at the time by the table getting his tea; but up he jumped, and, with the careless reply of "No," he left the house again.

The afflicted wife, all surrounded with filth and discomfort, with only a neighbour to peep in now and then to look after her a little, does not force her complaints on the visitor. It is only by degrees that she is induced to give the history of her wrongs.

“Oh, sir, no one knows what I've had to put up with for these many years. When my husband is sober, as you've seen him to-night, he treats me pretty kindly; and he'll often confess at such times that he feels a deal better and 'lightsomer' than when he is in beer. But it seems as if he can't possibly refrain from taking it for long; it fairly gets master of him. If he once goes to the public-house for a glass, he's sure to come home tipsy. I can truly say that he is an honest man, and does his best for his employer, as he will tell you himself; but drink he cannot do without. Many a time have I been to the 'public' to fetch him home, and he has said to me there, 'Well, woman, I'm drinking on trust; I've got no money to spend, so you need not make a fuss.' And I've replied, 'Yes, that is true enough, I know. They'll let you drink on trust long enough, because they know that

you'll pay them all right by-and-by.'-' Yes, I'll pay them when I get any to pay with; I always pay for what I owe, and so they let me score up.'"

And then she went on to tell her visitor how brutal he was when under the influence of liquor-how he would beat her and load her with shameful abuse, and would do everything to make her miserable.

Such is the wretched existence of this poor woman. And is not this the lot, dear reader, of many hundreds of our people who have drunken husbands, drunken wives, or drunken children? Drink is the snare of snares, whereby the devil tempts mankind to give their lives to him. How he chuckles over the success of his endeavours! How he delights in "the drinkers on trust!" How thankful he is to those

publicans who so diligently do his work!

"To drink on trust:" what is it but to be the debtor of Satan? Let me tell you how he will serve such men at the last. He will suffer them to get more and more into his debt; furnishing them with things which will never profit them at all, which only serve to stupefy them, and vanish as quickly as they are partaken of. But one day he will require a reckoning, and, in their inability to pay his exacting demands in the way that they would like, he will oblige them to discharge the same according to his own wishes. He will give them the wages of sin, and “the wages of sin is death." "Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour."

It cannot be said that the Almighty does not give the drunkard warning after warning. This was most truly the case with James Marshall. One morning not long since he was at work in the yard of one of the great forges in the town just at the time when the workmen were entering the yard to commence the labours of the day. One of them as he passed saluted James with the observation, "A foggy, raw morning this, ain't it ?" "It is, indeed," replied the drunkard. The man had not gone many yards before he turned back,

and, staggering as he did so, he fell into the arms of James Marshall, who, seeing the blood which was pouring from his mouth, exclaimed, with agitation, "Well, now, Joe, what's the matter? Have you had a fall?” He heard the dying man whisper, "A blood-vessel." It was all he said, and in a minute he was a corpse. He died in the drunkard's

arms.

"What

"Has

The minister was calling the next day at his house, when the wife gave him an account of the sudden disaster. does your husband say to this ?" asked her visitor. it had any effect on him, do you think?" "Well, I don't know, sir," she replied.

"He says very

But there,

little; but I believe he thinks a deal about it. you see, exactly seven years yesterday, the very day of Joe's death, he had a similar warning. He was coming home late from a distance driving a wagon, and in front of his was another driven by a mate of his. Just as they got near home his companion jumped carelessly off his wagon, fell to the ground, and the wheels passed over his body. My husband picked him up as soon as he could; but before he could be carried to a house he had breathed his last. So you see, sir, he has had his warnings before now."

How merciful is the God of heaven! How He pleads with the sinner, and warns him day by day! Truly may we echo the words of the Psalmist : Thou, O Lord, art a God full of compassion, and gracious, long-suffering, and plenteous in mercy and truth." Faithfully does He carry out the promise which Isaiah was inspired to record: "For My name's sake will I defer Mine anger, and for My praise will I refrain for thee, that I cut thee not off." 2 How long will the simple ones "love simplicity? and the scorners delight in their scorning, and fools hate knowledge ?"3 When will the drunkards awake and weep; and when will the drinkers of wine howl?4

1 Psa. lxxxvi. 15. 2 Isa. xlviii. 9.

3 Prov. i. 22. 4 Joel i. 5.