ual strain comes upon it there is a
collapse.

"But again," you say, "all who smoke do not learn to drink, and so lose
true manhood." That may be; and yet there is a significant fact that a
confirmed drunkard who does not smoke can scarcely be found. It has
recently been shown that the great majority of those who break their
temperance pledge are smokers.

Smoking and drinking are branches of the same deadly tree whose leaves
curse the nation.

And now, my lads, "Quit you like men, be strong." The next time any one
says to you, "Have a cigar," say "No!"

If he says it is manly to smoke, say "No; it is manly to exercise
self-control; to act from principle; to have cleanly habits; to be
unselfish; to pay one's debts; to be sober; and to have the approval of
one's conscience. Now, I might lose all these elements of manhood if I
learned to smoke."

[Illustration]

THE WAY OF SAFETY.

Dear grandma is one of those who "being dead yet speaketh."

She was not a preacher, or a lecturer--much less a censurer or reprover;
but she was that most agreeable of teachers to childhood and youth, a
story-teller. Yet, let no one suppose that she told us tales of fairy
lore or ingenious romance, as pernicious as they are false. Not so; the
stories to which we listened with so much delight, were all true, and
all from the capacious store-house of her own memory.

We had returned from the church one Sabbath afternoon, and as usual,
hastened to grandma to repeat as much as we could remember of the
sermon. The text was that solemn command of the wise man: "My son, if
sinners entice thee, consent thou not;" and our pastor had made it the
ground-work of a powerful exhortation to the young especially, to beware
of the many temptations, snares, and allurements which they should meet;
and warned them of the consequences of yielding to the seductive
influences by which they might be surrounded.

"That reminds me of a young man whom I knew before any of you were
born," grandma remarked, when we had reported as much as we could
remember of the sermon. "You have heard me speak of Jacob Wise?" she
said, addressing my father.

"Yes, mother," he replied, "please tell the children about him. I am
sure your account of his experience will be a very suitable addition to
our afternoon sermon."

"O yes, grandma, please do!" we exclaimed; and, drawing our seats around
her, we prepared for what we knew would be a treat. The good old lady
did