the conviction that he
is an outcast from public respect and sympathy. He is moved by the
language of kindness; and if suitably warned of his danger, and pointed
to the way of escape, may be saved from ruin. Persuade him to refrain
till reason resumes her sway, and the burning desire for stimulus has
subsided. A few months will generally effect this great change. In his
sober hours he often weeps over his folly, his ear is open to the voice
of friendship, and he will yield to kind remonstrance--perhaps consent
to place himself under the care of a temperate physician. _Go to him
when alone_, with tenderness and love. Offer him such aid as is needed
by himself or family. Give him the above history, in view of which none
need despair. Bring him, if possible, to the house of God. Go to him
again and again, till you obtain his pledge, to abstinence. Follow him
with kindness. Support him in the struggle. Induce him _utterly to
abandon all that can intoxicate, as his only safety_; wholly to-refrain
from the _place_ and the _company_ where intoxicating drinks are used;
and in dependence on Christ, humbly to offer the prayer, "Hold thou me
up, and I shall be safe." Interest yourself in his welfare, and
persevere till you gain the glorious triumph--the conquest of an
_immortal mind_, that may diffuse blessings on every side in this life,
and be a star in the Redeemer's crown of glory for ever.

PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY.

THE EVENTFUL TWELVE HOURS;

OR,

THE DESTITUTION AND WRETCHEDNESS OF A DRUNKARD.

[Illustration: Drunk's ill wife fainting]

"It is a sorrowful heart," said I to myself, as I raked over the dying
embers upon the hearth, to throw a transient gleam of light over my
dreary cottage--"It is a sorrowful heart that never rejoices; and though
I am somewhat in debt at the _Blue Moon_, and the landlady of the _Stag_
has over and over again said she'd never trust me, still she has not yet
refused me, only at first. Many's the shilling I have paid them both, to
be sure," said I, rising involuntarily and going to the cupboard: "I had
better take a mouthful before I go out, for it's no use to wait any
longer for Mary's return."

Just at this moment the eldest of my two children inquired in a piteous
tone, "if that was mother." "Your mother? no," said I; "and what if it
was, what then?" "Because, father," continued the child, "I thought
perhaps she had brought a loaf of bread home, for I am so