or better than other folks. They went quietly about in their long black coats, with their cheery faces and kindly words, and seemed so anxious to help us, that we were forced to like, and hear, and believe. Then I found out what it was they wanted: they wanted us to know the Truth, the Truth as it is in Jesus.' They desired that we might share the happiness, which made them happy. I remember how one of them set this plainly and persuasively before us in a sermon upon the text, 'We seek not yours, but you,' and ever since I have prayed and tried to follow whither he leads."

There is a charming garden in one of our midland counties. The sweet flowers glow upon bank and lawn,

"Stars, which on earth's firmament do shine,"

the fountains glitter in the sun, the birds sing in the trees, the mellow ouzel fluting in the elm, the gay butterfly and the busy bee pass each other, as when it might be some gaudy tourist meets the diligent worker in the street. A fair ground, a goodly heritage, yet it was once a wilderness, treeless, flowerless, a barren and dry land, where there was no water. The noble owner, a man of artistic taste, observed the capabilities of the site, made, and realized his plans. And there, in a conspicuous part of this delightful scene, was placed a statue of the artist, and on the pedestal these words inscribed, "He made the desert smile."

And so it may be said of every man, who lives for others and not only for himself, who tries to make some home brighter and some heart lighter; of every man, who, not satisfied with sentimental sighs, and mean subscriptions, which he will never miss, visits the fatherless and widows in their affliction, who obeys the inspired mandates, be pitiful be courteous," tender-hearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven you;" of such shall those words be spoken, "He made the desert smile;" he changed "the desert into the garden of the Lord; "he hath dispersed abroad, and given to the poor, and his righteousness remaineth for ever."

ར.

OUR PERPLEXITIES.

Drunkenness-Includes all who are 66

worse for drink "-Some of the causes-The remedies-Total abstinence and temperance-Doctors differ-Prevention better than cure—America foremost in the crusade-Decrease of drunkenness.

WITH all our progress we have, of course, our perplexities. We build, as they builded, in the days of Nehemiah, the ruined walls of Jerusalem-in one hand the weapon of warfare, in the other the mason's tools. There is that terrible foe, drunkenness, which maddens the brain, petrifies the heart, enfeebles the strength, cripples the limbs, dims the sight, confuses the speech, disfigures the countenance, wastes millions of money in debauchery, and millions of years in indolence, degrades whatsoever is noblest in manhood, and utterly destroys that which is most beautiful in womanhood, the "shame which is a glory and a grace." It brings the religion, which is professed by the drunkard, into contempt and ridicule. It makes us to be rebuked of our neighbours, to be laughed to scorn and had in derision of them that are round

about us. It makes us to be a byeword among the heathen, so that the people, whom we so call, ask, "Is this Christianity?" when they see the drunken stranger on their shores. "You come to us," they say to our missionaries, "with your Gospel in one hand, but in the other there is a cup of deadly wine. You preach about temperance and sobriety, you tell us that no drunkard can enter your Heaven, but you place, at the same time, within our easy reach, the intoxicating use of opium." Drunkenness! how it darkens the sunshine of happy homes, estranges man and wife, puts an end to the mutual society, help, and comfort, which the one ought to have of the other; brings disease and want, where there might have been health and abundance; and strife, where there should be peace! How it ruins body, and mind, and soul! Ever and everywhere, since the days of Noah and Lot, it has multiplied sin and sorrow. Not only the chosen people, but all the civilized world despised it. The Greeks set a drunken slave as an object-lesson before their children; and the Roman poet, Horace, though he was no puritan, has described the results of excessive drinking in words

66

Corpus, onustum

Hesternis vitiis, animam quoque prægravat una,

Atque affigit humo divinam particulam auræ "—

which present the wretched inebriate as vividly to our imagination as the pencil of Hogarth has placed before our eyes the Rake when ruin came. He speaks of the body limp, sickly, communicating its depression to

the mind and temper, debasing the Divine element, making the man a nuisance to himself and to all around him. What a contrast between the uproarious defiant Bacchanalian of the night and the flabby, dejected dummy of the day! I met one of our villagers, staggering from one side of the road to the other, as though he were on deck in a storm, and singing, or rather shouting, that "Britons never would be slaves," but I had no difficulty in convincing him next morning that he was in bondage to the most cruel of all tyrants, and to the meanest of all masters, for the wages of sin is death.

Such is the consequence; what is the cause? Some say that this dipsomania is a disease, a physical infirmity, a constitutional defect. Yes, it is a disease, of which the germs are inherent, and the proximity infectious, but it may be prevented, avoided, and suppressed. Both reason and religion warn us, through our conscience and experience also.

We can

We can remember our astonishment, and disgust, and fear when we first saw a drunken man. recall, some of us, the abject misery and humiliation which followed when in boyhood we were overcome by excess. A similar degradation in manhood suffices, as a rule, to keep all rational beings within the border-lines of moderation during the rest of their lives; but, alas! there are multitudes who seem never to have been guided by reason, or impressed by religion, and multitudes who, having once known the way of righteousness, have loved darkness rather