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 had told me I should eyer be a drunkard. But you see what I am; my tottering form, my bloated face, my tattered garments; for I tell you what it is, young men, a drunkard will always be in rags,—it is not in the power of any woman to keep him tidy and clean.

"I despise myself not only for what I am, but for what I have made others become, victims of the drunkard's curse. What you have heard to-night is but a faint picture of all its miseries, and I tell you what it is, that the lake of eternal torments is the mildest picture that can be drawn of the tortures of remorse awaiting the drunkard's reflecting moments.

"And now I am going to sign the pledge, and leave my children the consolation that their father died a sober death as a slight amend for bequeathing them such a miserable legacy as my own debauched life. Young woman, go on! and heaven will bless you. You are not the first woman who has been a blessing to me."

He grasped the pen convulsively and wrote his name with a firm though trembling hand. A breathless silence pervaded the room, and all eyes were fixed on Henry Morgan, for such was his name, the father of James; on Mr. Kingley, whose head was now bowed down upon his knees; upon James and Mary who sat a few Seats behind him, both of whom were deeply affected. The tempter and his victim were confronted, the scales were about to be adjusted in accordance with the sure and unerring justice of heaven.

It was the first time Mary had seen her father since