e will to resist the temptation,
fell, and in one short year my dream of happiness was over, my home was
forever desolate, and the kind husband, and the wealth that some called
mine lost, lost, never to return, and all by the accursed wine cup.

"'You see before you only the wreck of my former self, homeless and
friendless, with nothing left me in this world but this little child,'
and weeping bitterly, she affectionately caressed the golden curls that
shaded a face of exquisite loveliness. Regaining her composure, and
turning to the proprietor of the saloon, she continued:

"'Sir, the reason why I occasionally enter a place like this is to
implore those who deal in the deadly poison to desist, to stop a
business that spreads desolation, ruin, poverty and starvation. Think
one moment of your own loved ones, and then imagine them in the
situation I am in. I appeal to your better nature, I appeal to your
heart,--for I know you possess a kind one,--to retire from a business
so ruinous to your patrons.

"'Did you know the money you take across the bar is the same as taking
the bread out of the mouths of the famished wives and children of your
customers? That it strips the clothing from their backs, deprives them
of all the comforts of this life and throws unhappiness, misery, crime,
and desolation in their once happy homes? Oh! sir, I implore, beseech,
and pray you to retire from a business you blush to own you are engaged
in before your fellow-men, and enter one that will not only be
profitable to yourself but your fellow-creatures also. You will excuse
me if I have spoken too plainly, but I could not help it when I thought
of the misery, the unhappiness, and the suffering it has caused me.'

"'Madam, I am not offended,' he answered in a voice husky with emotion,
'but I thank you from the bottom of my heart for what you have said.'

"'Mamma,' said the little child, who meantime had been spoken to by
some of the gentlemen present, taking hold of her mother's hand, 'these
gentlemen wish me to sing "Little Bessie" for them. Shall I do so?'

"They all joined in the request, and placing her in a chair she sang,
in a sweet childish voice, the following beautiful song:

"'Out in the gloomy night, sadly I roam,
I have no mother dear, no pleasant home;
Nobody cares for me, no one would cry
Even if poor little Bessie should die.
Weary and tired I've been wandering all day,
Asking for work, but I'm too