so, and after a pause he continued,--

"It is more than being restored to this life--I feel that it is the
beginning of eternal life. It is the Savior who sought me out, and I
know that he is able to keep me from falling."

But we will draw a veil over a scene which words have little power to
paint.

"Pray, Dallas," said Mr. L., one day, "who is that fine-looking young
man whom I met in your office this morning? I thought his face seemed
familiar."

"It is a Mr. Howard--a young lawyer whom I have lately taken into
business with me."

"Strange! Impossible!" said Mr. L. "Surely this cannot be the Howard
that I once knew."

"I believe he is," said Mr. Dallas.

"Why, I thought he was gone--dead and done over, long ago, with
intemperance."

"He was so; few have ever sunk lower; but he now promises even to outdo
all that was hoped of him."

"Strange! Why, Dallas, what did bring about this change?"

"I feel a delicacy in mentioning how it came about to you, Mr. L., as
there undoubtedly was a great deal of 'interference with other men's
matters' in the business. In short, the young man fell in the way of one
of those meddlesome fellows, who go prowling about, distributing tracts,
forming temperance societies, and all that sort of stuff."

"Come, come, Dallas," said Mr. L., smiling, "I must hear the story, for
all that."

"First call with me at this house," said Dallas, stopping before the
door of a neat little mansion. They were soon in the parlor. The first
sight that met their eyes was Edward Howard, who, with a cheek glowing
with exercise, was tossing aloft a blooming boy, while Augusta was
watching his motions, her face radiant with smiles.

"Mr. and Mrs. Howard, this is Mr. L., an old acquaintance, I believe."

There was a moment of mutual embarrassment and surprise, soon dispelled,
however, by the frank cordiality of Edward. Mr. L. sat down, but could
scarce withdraw his eyes from the countenance of Augusta, in whose
eloquent face he recognized a beauty of a higher cast than even in her
earlier days.

He glanced about the apartment. It was simply but tastefully furnished,
and wore an air of retired, domestic comfort. There were books,
engravings, and musical instruments. Above all, there were four happy,
healthy-looking children, pursuing studies or sports at the farther end
of the room.

After a short call they regained the street.

"Dallas, you are a happy man," said Mr. L.; "that family will be a