se, and in the silence a woman's step crossed the
floor, and gentle hands twined round the erring man's neck.

"Jessie, help me, decide for me now," he cried.

Ernest Shafton repeated his proposal to the wife, asking if she would
second his efforts to save her husband, by her willing consent to leave
him in the care of his friend for a year, or longer if needful, until
his reformation were effected.

"A year, did you say? a lifetime, if necessary," was the instant reply.
Stooping to her husband's ear she whispered, "Go, dear Henry, and in
God's strength fight and conquer. Let no regretful thought turn towards
me, for I shall be content.

"'While thee I see
Living to God, thou art alive to me!'"

"You are an angel, Jessie!" exclaimed the man, holding his wife's hands
and falling on his knees. Cries for forgiveness for the past and help
for the future broke from him as he knelt, and his prayer was heard and
answered. In years that followed he looked back upon that memorable hour
as the turning-point in his history, and thanked God for the friendly
hand that was reached out to save a brother from the abyss which yawned
at his feet. Once again he filled an honoured position as the pastor of
a large and influential church. Once again he passed in and out of the
houses of the people, the beloved friend and ready helper of rich and
poor; but in addition to former labours he became everywhere known as
the advocate of Total Abstinence for young and old, and so persistent
were his efforts in this direction, that many of the deacons and
influential men of his church became rigid adherents of the good cause.

"Sir," said one upon whom all the pastor's arguments had apparently been
wasted; "Mr. Harris, why can't you let us non-abstainers alone? Let us
go our way, and we will accord you the same liberty of action."

Mr. Harris's brow clouded with some painful recollection, and he said
with much feeling: "You compel me to refer to the past. Allow me very
tenderly, but faithfully to remind you that you did not accord me
'liberty of action' in times gone by."

"What do you mean?" inquired the astonished deacon.

"Forgive me for seeming to be ungrateful for the kindness which alone
prompted you; but, oh, my dear friend, remember how in years, that,
thank God, are past, you and your brother deacons, equally hospitable
and kind-hearted, never allowed me to decline your offer of wine or
spirits. If I