lowed, though much minced oath, was suppressed; and he had, at the same time, become a constant and regular church-going man. In short, great was the change which had now taken place; and as great was the care he had taken to make himself agreeable, if not now "charming," to Miss Main. Many and long-tried were the endearments resorted to, and required, to gain her affections. But to tell of the number, or the delectation thereof, is not the design of this narrative. Courtship being a lesson which every one can learn quite as soon as the necessity of the case requires :-suffice it that Maria listened; he gained her heart; and it came to pass-that she became his wife.

Every one now saw and talked of what a pleasing change had taken place on Williams, and of the incalculable influence which a good wife is sure to have over a husband,—and of what an easy thing it is to give up drinking "when one does not drink for the love of it." The bride herself was much perplexed to know why she had not embraced the first offer of her husband's affections with all the ready ardency she now felt, or how she could ever have doubted the dominion she was to have over his former habits. He now associated but very little with those whose friendship, as he said, was more allied to the glass than to the friend. Indeed, in process of time, "he would," he said, "cut them altogether." "That is my intention, Maria," said he ; "but then you know it must be done bit by bit." He, however, knew well enough how to manage them; and “I'll let them see that," said he, "although I wont do so too abruptly."-Even as it was, his friends were already taunting him, saying, "What a mighty good thing it must be to get married! as one dared not then take a single glass with an old acquaintance."

"DARE! my dear," said Maria, throwing her arms round her husband's neck-"DARE indeed! Tell them you dare to be what few of them dare."

"What is that?" said the listening husband, now anticipating a more congenial reply than he had at first anticipated.

"Tell them," said Maria,-" tell them you dare to be a sober man, and that you are not ashamed to be thought one.'

Mr. Williams, it must be confessed, could not easily gainsay this prudent, as it was spirited counsel of his wife. But then, "poor dear, she did not know the world so well as he did." That, indeed, seemed at all times a most potent reason to him for differing from his wife in his ideas of conviviality with his old acquaintances: rather he deemed it an excuse for her, as he never considered that he was in the wrong. "Stop, Maria, until you know the world as well as I do, and then will you see things very differently," was Mr. W.'s reiterated reply.

"But, John, my dear, I do not wish to know the world in that way; and, besides, you know that a sober man is so far above a drunken man, or even the man whose mind and moral feeling are so low that he can taunt his friend for his sobriety, that he need neither reck nor fear the scoff or scorn of the whole generation of drunkards."

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"Yes, my loving, simple hearted wife," said John, you are more worthy of my time and of my love than they are; and I will shew them that," he continued, at the same time embracing his wife, as a seal to the sentiment he had just uttered.

Thus the young husband, in all the ardency of first affection, and with all the pleasure arising from the society of one of the sweetest and most companionable of wives, felt happy in his home, and rejoiced in the wife of his youth; and with these feelings he most probably did intend, and rigidly intend, to "cut" entirely, as he termed it, his former acquaintances. But unhappily he only intended to do so by degrees. Would that he had not looked at all on the wine in the cup when it was red!-that he had, as his wife urged him, raised his mind above the enticing words and the fiendish taunts of those whose only friendship is to debase their friend!-that he had eschewed the temptation while it was yet small !—rather that he had never considered that a small tempta

tion, the beginning-yes-the beginning of which had led millions and millions to ruin, and to—DEATH!

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'Hang them! I know how to manage them; and I wont cut them all at once either," said he, in a somewhat knowing manner.

But I fear, John dear," said the now solicitous wife, "I fear that instead of cutting them, you are only ingratiating yourself more into their company; and, oh! do you not see that though the withe be weak with which the drunkard at first binds, yet does it grow seven times stronger by each application?"

Perhaps seventy times seven, by those who drink for the love of it; but I don't happen to be one of those," Mr. W. replied, with the greatest calmness.

"But repetition, my dear-REPETITION," continued the impenetrable Mrs. Williams, who had now some slight misgivings about the abstinent habits of her husband. "Do you not see that repetition is the road, and the only road that can lead to the love of it?"

"I shall merely taste with them, Maria," said he, with the same sang froid of manner as before, nothing doubting that that would satisfy his wife.

Maria made no reply. He asked her why. "Because," said she, "tasting is the drunkard's threshold. It is the wicket gate' that leadeth to the inner chamber of dissipation."

6

It was only a few weeks after this, when, coming home at a late hour one night, and seeing fatigue and anxiety imprinted on the countenance of his wife,"I was just shewing them what I could do before I left them altogether," said he; at the same time expressing the uneasiness he had felt on her account, whilst he pledged and repledged himself that such should never again recur. Maria, well pleased at the promise he had made, kissed her husband in token of her faith, and to show that if she had been angry, she now, at least, forgave him. She doubted not of the fulfilment of his promises, and only wondered he should have thought it necessary to accompany them with so much asseveration.

It was not long, however, until a recurrence of the same conduct took place, but attended with less palliat→ ing, or rather with more aggravating circumstances; inasmuch as he had not only indulged more freely in the intoxicating cup, but one vice always making way for another, he had betaken himself to such expedients as may not here be named, but which the true English heart, unsullied by intemperance, would be ashamed to That night he again pledged his future sobriety; but that night Maria (for the first time) doubted her husband's word; and that night, it is to be feared, the moral dignity of her husband fell in her estimation.

resort to.

It was not soon, nor all at once, however, that Maria's "wicket gate" led to that destination of which she had said it was the entrance. It was not soon, nor alt at once, that the "taster" became the "drinker," or that the "drinker" became the drunkard. For some years after his marriage, many people still considered Williams a very sober man; and so imperceptible, at least so subtle, was the course of his moral declension, that even his most intimate friends could not say he was lower in the scale of sobriety this month-or almost even this year-than he was in the preceding. One thing had, however, become very apparent to himself, as well as to the different tradesmen with whom he transacted business; and that was, that his purse had become much lower. More, and much more, had been seen and felt by his wife; for he was now seldom, and more seldom, at his own fireside. More, and much more, she could tell of the gradations of the "tasting," the repeating, and the intervening glass of the withering, though gradual influence it had had on the heart of him she loved, and which once she deemed her own. Yes! more, and much more, she could tell; for it had dried up the sympathies of her husband; and his smile, which once could have dried up her bitterest tear, had been first lost in indifference, and now buried in a frown-a frown from which no smile on her was ever seen to dawn.

ན་

"Once his smile could have dried up her bitterest tear," was it said? But the now disregarded wife could remember a time when it could do more; when, ere the holy bond of wedlock had made them one— when she, the envied, though not the enviable Miss Main, encircled in the arms of her lover, had alluded to the predilection he had at one time shewn for intoxicating drink, and expressed her fears for a recurrence of the indulgence. He entwined her more closely in his arms-he gazed as if with adoration on her face; and kissing the tear from off her blushing cheek, “Maria! my own Maria," said he, "again to kiss such a pearl from such an eye were enough to tempt me to the indulgence. But no!" said he again, "the lips that have once embraced yours, must not again embrace the unholy bowl." It is true, though strange to say, Maria at that time almost deemed the extacy which her lover seemed to anticipate, would be compensation enough for even a recurrence of the feared indulgence.

But Maria knew not then the dead weight which the simple article of marriage, in most cases, has on beauty in tears, or even on agony in a blush. Much less did she calculate, that the sacred bond would be unto her as the nether millstone laid on love's lightest dreams.

This incident might not, however, have been told, except to show, that in proportion as drink dried up the heart of the husband, by a more than equal ratio were the tears of the wife left to dry up themselves.

It was at no distant period from this perhaps ere thrice the marriage moon had waxed and waned-when Maria wept again; and it need not be added, that the cause of her weeping was some peculiar aggravation attendant on one of those "indulgencies" which have just been alluded to, and in the tear for which the lover had anticipated so much delight. Again, indeed, he kissed his wife; but verily the tear now seemed no gem in his eye. But this was while he yet tarried by the "wicket gate"the "beginning"-the "tasting," so to speak. If, in after years, the hopeless wife, in