nance when Charles approached, no fire of animation kindled in her eye at the sound of his well-known voice; other objects engrossed her mind, and she brooded gloomily over imaginary ills. Their formerly neat and comfortable little dwelling was changed to a scene of dirt and disorder. The furniture no longer occupied its proper place; confusion had evidently entered; and although hurry and bustle might give the appearance of industrious care, still, as method had been given up, slovenliness was displayed in the confusion which existed.

Painful as these things were to the husband's mind, yet even it was exceeded by the painful fact, that even their sweet children, of whom Agnes had used to be devotedly fond, were neglected! The strong affection of the mother had been weakened by the demon of discord and hatred, as he entered her system in the guise of strong drink. Even those who had been the instruments of her degradation, saw the change which had taken place in her person, her children, her home, and withdrew from her in displeasure their countenance and support. The dreams of happiness with which Charles had indulged himself, of future domestic bliss, faded away in airy nothingness, as most dreams do, or rather, they left in their place the bitterness of sad reality, that his peace and comfort for life were cruelly murdered.

Every week almost, added some fresh assurance in the experience of Agnes that "strong drink is raging, and whosoever is deceived thereby is not wise." Larger and yet larger portions were required to satisfy the "raging" within her, which like the grave was never satisfied, and like the horse-leech continually cried, "Give, give." The wages she received for labour performed at various houses was expended for drink, and even that was found insufficient to supply the quantity she wished for. The appetite was now fully formed. Her thirst for ardent spirits became insatiable, every other feeling was lost in it. Neither the persuasions of her husband, nor the tears of her childdren availed any thing, or seemed to reach her calcined heart. Every thing that could be disposed of for whiskey was devoted to that purpose, while want and misery threatened with most alarming menace.

She now presented an awful wreck of a once beautiful specimen of the workmanship of God. Her fine mind and lovely figure were alike marred. From that elevation of

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sentiment and conduct to which education and correct feeling had raised her, she descended to the low and vulgar habits of the most debased of her sex. Such by degrees became her sole associates, and their manners and phraseology became her own; while her person suddenly assumed the appearance of decrepitude and old age. Her healthful cheek, which once was smooth and fair as alabaster, upon whose surface the blushing tints of the rose aud carnation blended, now looked like dirty, shrivelled parchment; her fine erect attitude was changed for a halfbended position, while her strong and graceful step was succeeded by a feeble, unsteady tread. Such awful ruin had the mistaken kindness of the good, and virtuous, and elevated of the land been indirectly and unintentionally, the cause of producing. Drunkenness, with its lengthened train of appalling consequences, had resulted from the presentation of spirit. The scene we have already feebly pourtrayed of the wretched condition in which Agnes was found by her medical attendant, surrounded by a number of the most loathsome and lost of women,-her own unhappy state of intoxication, and the premature death of the infant to which she had recently given birth, was climaxed, as has been intimated, by the loss of her own life, under circumstances the most deplorable, while yet in the midst of her years.

Every sensitive mind recoils from so terrible a picture. To dwell upon it is impossible. To attempt to put aside the veil and follow the spirit of the unhappy woman into the invisible state, would savour of temerity, such as may not be indulged in: the hand of a creature is too unsteady for the task. On this side that awful state we may well gaze with trembling and with awe on facts and consequences; and these are sufficient, if properly reflected on, to convince every presenter of ardent spirits of the responsibility which attaches to such conduct, and to how great an extent they may unintentionally become the agents of heart-rending evil, even in this world, by mistaken kind

ness.

47

THE SAILOR.

Ar the assizes held in Perth, in the autumn of 1833, there was tried for murder a man of the name of K., of D-e, a sailor by profession. It seems that he became acquainted with the deceased about two years before his trial, and married her. His life was one continued scene of idleness and dissipation, and the habitation of his wife that of brawls and constant confusion. On the fatal night when the murder was perpetrated, he had been drinking, and towards midnight returned home. The neighbours heard them quarrelling, and the family who resided beneath distinctly heard him throw her upon the floor, and press violently upon her body. In the morning she was discovered to be a corpse; and the unfeeling ruffian was apprehended, and committed to take his trial for the capital offence. There was not the least doubt of his guilt the whole evidence proved it beyond the possibility of doubt; but there was an improper phrase in the indictment, as it set forth that he caused her death by violently pressing the body of the deceased,—instead of which, her death had been directly effected by strangulation, or pressing upon the throat. This, according to law, rendered his acquittal from the earthly tribunal necessary; but I shall not soon forget the solemn address he received from the judge on the occasion: "You have been indicted," said he, "for the foul and capital crime of murder. Of your guilt there cannot rest in any mind the least shadow of doubt: you know that you are the murderer of that unhappy and unfortunate woman; and though you will be acquitted from this bar, yet you will retire with the mark of Cain upon your forehead, and before another and a more solemn tribunal you will have to stand. Then even-handed justice will not fail to punish you, according to the demerit of your crimes. Let me," said he, "entreat you to amend your life, reform your conduct, and repent of your sins. Especially avoid that pernicious custom, that foul crime of intoxication; and seek the mercy of God, before your career terminates in that scene of misery from which there is no deliverance nor possibility of escape!"

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The unhappy wretch bowed, and retired from the bar. was asserted, and I believe upon good authority, that his first act after his dismissal from the tribunal before

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which he had just stood, and from which he could anticipate nothing else but the most fearful of all sentences, was to drown the recollection of the whole in the intoxicating draught. "Because sentence against an evil work is not executed speedily, the hearts of the children of men are fully set in them to do evil.” It seemed from the statement of the whole case, that the unhappy woman occasionally took ardent spirits, and had done so on the evening of her death.

Society will never be raised to any thing like a dignified stand in morals, until the sober part of the population treat drunkenness with that contempt and shame which it deserves. Young women might exert (and it is their duty and interest to do so) a mighty influence in this matter. To take to their bosoms a sot, a poor, insane tippler,—a man who, one half of his time, may be dangerous to society in general,-must be exceedingly unwise and unsafe. Granted that, when sober, he may be worthy of your love and confidence, yet what security have you against his rage and madness when drunk? Can he feel the responsibilities of a husband and parent? Impossible. And, therefore, to be allied to men of sobriety, is the first consideration that should influence young women in entering upon marriage life. What

a pious young woman said to an infidel, who paid his addresses to her, is equally appropriate here: "I will never give my heart and person to an avowed enemy of the God who made, sustains, and redeemed me, and whose favour is better than life." It would be impossible to describe the misery of unhappy and unfortunate women, who have neglected this caution in respect to one of the closest unions of the present life. It is, however, of the greatest moment, and is forcibly urged by the apostle of the Gentiles: "Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers; for what fellowship hath righteousness with unrighteousness? and what communion hath light with darkness? and what concord hath Christ with Belial? or what part hath he that believeth with an infidel ?"

"The tidings spread, and gathering grows the crowd;
The hum of voices, and the laughter loud,

And woman's gentler anxious tone is heard,-
Friends'-husbands'-lovers' names in each dear word:

FEW scenes in nature are more impressive than a storm at sea;-when the strong wind lifteth up the waves of the deep, and when the floods lift up their voice, even the mighty waves of the sea; but when peculiar circumstances are connected with "the war of elements," its effects are heightened above all the dreamy imaginings of the poet's art divine, and exceeds in awful grandeur the life-creating attributes of the painter's power. There is a nameless majesty in the wide, wide sea, even when contemplated under the calm and unruffled form which is impressed upon it, when no soft breath of heaven moves it to gentle undulation, and when its mighty vastness reposes in its own magnificence like a cradled infant. But when the leaping waves are lashed by the fury of the loud yelling storm, and the white-crested billows appear like Alpine VOL. I.

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