forth from her struggle stronger and more
holy; prizing above all earthly things the friends who had thus cleared for
her her pathway, and turning with a sister's love, which was all indeed she
had ever known, to that one who, far away, would yet win with his
unchanging affection her heart to his own.

Walter Lee's case was an illustration of the fact that many young men are
led into dissipation simply from the want of proper occupation. There was
in him no love of vice for itself; but disappointed in securing Alice's
consent to his addresses, and feeling self-condemned in the effort to win
her affections from Arthur, he sought forgetfulness in dissipation and
excitement. He fancied he would find happiness in the ball-room, the
theatre, the midnight revel, and at the gambling table. Have you not met in
the changing society of a large city, one whose refined and gentle manners
told of the society of a mother, a sister, or of some female friend whose
memory, like an angel's wing, was still hovering around him? Have you not
pitied him when you reflected that he was alone, far away from such good
influences? Have you not longed to say to him, I wish I could be to you
what _she_ has been, and warn you of the rocks and quicksands against which
you may be shipwrecked.

There were many who felt thus towards Walter; his strikingly handsome face
and figure, his grace and intelligence, with a slight reserve that gave a
charm to his manner. To few was his history familiar; the world knew of his
name, and to the world he was an object of importance, for gold stamps its
owner with a letter of credit through life.

Walter launched into every extravagance that presented itself. He was
flattered, and invited to balls and parties; smiles met him at every step,
and the allurements of the world dazzled him, as they had many a previous
victim. Sometimes, the thought of Alice in her purity and truth passed like
a sunbeam over his heart; but its light was soon gone. She was not for him;
and why should he not seek, as others had done, to drown all care? Then the
thought of Cousin Janet, good and holy Cousin Janet, with her Bible in her
hand, and its sacred precepts on her lips, would weigh like a mountain on
his soul; but he had staked all for pleasure, and he could not lose the
race.

It is not pleasant to go down, step after step, to the dark dungeon of
vice. We will not follow Walter to the revel, nor the gaming-table. We will
close our