am almost dying for a dram, this man, who has robbed me of my lands, and assisted me to kill my wife, refuses to let me have it because I have not the money."

A RUMSELLER'S DREAM.

WELL, wife, this is too horrible! I cannot continue this business any longer.

Why dear, what's the matter now?

Oh, such a dream! Oh, I cannot endure it! Oh, if ever I sell rum again !

My dear, you are frightened.

Yes, indeed, I am; another such a night will I not pass for worlds.

My dear, perhaps

Oh, don't talk to me! I am determined to have nothing more to do with rum, any how. Do you think, Tom Wilson came to me with his throat cut from ear to ear, and such a horrid gash, and it was so hard for him to speak, and so much blood, and, said he, see here, Joe, the result of your rumselling. My blood chilled at the sight, and just then the house seemed to be turned bottom up, the earth opened, and a little imp took me by the hand, saying, follow me. As I went, grim devils held out to me cups of liquid fire, saying, drink this. I dared not refuse. Every draught set me in a rage. Serpents hissed on each side, and from above reached down their heads and whispered rumseller! On, and on, the imp led me through a narrow pass. All at once he paused and said, are you DRY? Yes, I replied. Then he struck a trap door with his foot, and down, down we went, and legions of fiery serpents rushed after us, whispering, rumseller! rumseller! At length we stopped again, and the imp asked me as before, are you DRY? Yes, I replied. He then touched a spring-a door flew open. What a sight! there were thousands, aye, millions of old, worn-out rum-drinkers, crying most piteously, rum, rum, give me more rum! When they saw me, they stopped a moment to see who I was-then the imp cried out, so as to make all shake again, rumseller! and hurling me in, shut the door. For a moment they fixed their ferocious eyes upon me, and then uttered a united yell, which filled me with such terror, I awoke. There wife, dream or no dream, I will never sell another drop.

HARVESTING WITHOUT LIQUOR.

In the early stage of the temperance reformation a farmer, residing near "the gap" of the Blue Mountains, who had been for many years an intemperate man, was induced to sign the total abstinence

pledge, and in a very short time afterward united himself with the Methodist church. The rumseller and his dependants were sorely dismayed at this extraordinary change, as they termed it, and set their wits to work to lure him back.

The time of harvesting having arrived, and the farmer having many acres of wheat to be cut, the anti-temperance men assembled with their cradles in their hands, and demanded their accustomed allowance of rum.

"Not a drop shall be given," firmly replied the farmer.

"We will not cut your wheat without it."

"Then it shall rot in the field."

The faithful followers of alcohol now returned to their respective homes, and left the "obstinate farmer" to his fate. His wheat had begun to "fall in the stubble," yet he placed his reliance on God, and commending himself to him, he retired to rest. Early in the morning he was awakened from his slumber by a shout which seemed to speak the very soul of joy. He looked out, and beheld a large number of men, with cradles in their hands, the foremost bearing a broad banner, with the words, "TOTAL ABSTINENCE," inscribed upon its ample folds.

"What can all this mean?" said the farmer, gazing with astonishment upon a scene which seemed rather the work of magic than reality.

"Isn't there a tetotaler somewhere about these parts, who has a field of grain to be cut?" inquired one of the crowd.

Yes," replied the farmer, "I am he."

"Well, we've come to cut it," was the response.

The farmer hurried down to greet his kind-hearted visiters, who, having heard of his circumstances, had traveled many miles to give him a helping hand. He pointed to the field, the banner was erected in its midst, the men worked like good tetotalers, and in a few hours the farmer's crop was saved!

A TAVERN SIGN.

“My dear,” said an affectionate husband, "you are good at contriving things, I wish you would find some suitable design to paint on the sign for our new tavern."

"I'll do no such thing. I don't like your going to tavern-keeping. It's a dirty business, and the temperance men are making such a fuss about it, that it will soon come to nothing.

I've got a

"There's no use talking, for my mind's made up. license, and paid for it, and I must use it. I want something neat and appropriate to paint on the sign."

Well, I'll tell you what. Make a great big horn, and paint your

self crawling out of the little end of it!"

MORAL AND RELIGIOUS ANECDOTES.

THE WIDOW AND HER SHIPWRECKED SON.

In the north of England, in a small inland village, a lieutenant of the British navy, after serving his country for many years, took up his abode. He had a pious wife and six or seven children. She sent them to the village Sabbath school; but the eldest, a boy of fourteen years, seemed determined to profit by neither maternal love, nor pious instructions at school. He played and mingled with a class of wicked idlers that infested the village, and would have been as bad as the worst of them, but for his father's rigid discipline. That, alone, restrained him from rushing into excesses of wickedness and riot. But that father died, and left his widow to combat the idleness of her boy alone. No, not alone; for she sought the help of her God.

The father being dead, the son grew worse. He was ungovernable; and the afflicted widow wept, as with a broken heart, over her recreant child. Unable to restrain him, she adopted a very common mode in England of disposing of idle lads. She resolved to send him to sea. It was a painful alternative; but he could not grow worse, she thought, and possibly the severe discipline of a ship might humble his proud spirit and lead him to reflection.

A ship was obtained for him. The bustle of preparation began and was over. Unknown to the youth, the mother placed a bible in his chest, with a secret hope that its light might lead him to his heavenly Father, when he should be far-off on the deep blue sea. Many were the prayers that mother offered for her son; many the counsels she gave him from the fullness of her heart. The day of separation came. O, it was a day of trial to all but to him who was the occasion of all the sadness of that family. Warm were the tears she shed, as, pressing him to her bosom, she bade him adieu, and commended his wayward heart to God.

Many years had passed and the wanderer had not returned. The ship had perished at sea, and the widow mourned her son as dead; and what was worse, she trembled for the safety of his undying soul. Could she have been assured of his safety in the better world, her pained heart would have been at rest. But she wept over him as doubly lost.

It was a stormy night in mid-winter. The wind howled, the rain