and health, are invariably damaged by haunting these places of entertainment. The size of the house, and the respectability of its name, only make it the more dangerous, in proportion to the danger being less suspected.

To illustrate the baneful effects of frequenting these haunts of vice, I propose selecting one of them, and that one of the most respectable, and furnishing a few short sad details concerning its visitors, who were individuals of my personal acquaintance.

It is a painful thing to call to mind the poverty and misery of men whose happy voices had, in former times, often helped to pass away in cheerful conviviality the social hour. There I see them in all their glee and revelry, and here in all their wretchedness and destitution. Many were kind in their way, and would, but for the vile, intoxicating draught, have been even yet respected and beloved. My companions at the particular place I am about to mention, who congregated there like myself with false notions of enjoyment and improvement, were worthy persons in good circumstances as masters, shopkeepers, managers, travellers; in truth, at that time quite coming up, in my mind, to the idea of first-rate people.

Many, no doubt, before whom this paper will come, will be well acquainted with the W- -H- tavern in SL. I am not speaking of it as it is now, but as it was thirty years ago. It was a most loyal and constitutional house. I remember distinctly the unfairness and illiberality of its patrons. Thirty years ago, agitation of a political nature commenced here, by the holding a meeting to petition for Reform. It was in the year after that in which I became a husband; and you may smile when I say, that this event enables me to speak with exactness of what was passing of a public nature about this time. The name of Reform was very obnoxious to my companions at this house. They could not endure it. If a reformer had the misfortune to enter the room, he was pretty soon told to leave; and if he failed to obey their mandate, he was very quickly thrust out by brute force; for these loyal drunkards would not have the atmosphere of their apartment polluted by the presence of one whose views were opposed to their own. He who had the courage to hint at

change, was denounced as a revolutionist, and treated as such. About the time under consideration, one of the Cabinet Ministers said, in a speech in the House of Commons, in answer to the petitions for Reform, that' before the people asked for Reform, they should reform themselves.' These Conservative scoffers had this authorized expression always at hand to fling at their opponents. They were continually talking against the vicious habits of the people; while they who thus talked were the victims of these very habits, and which, in time, brought ruin upon themselves and families.

The most prominent person that strikes my recollection was a Mr. P—————. He was a shopman in one of the best shops in the town. He was in good circumstances; and his manners and behaviour secured to him a good measure of respect. He was a fluent talker; and when under the excitement of strong drink, he would fire away most extravagantly in favour of his principles of loyalty. He was the great man of the room, the umpire in all matters of political faith, or dubious points in the political orthodoxy of these bygone days. Poor mistaken fellow, he spent most of his earnings at the W. H- tavern, that he might have more frequent opportunities of spouting on behalf of what he conceived to be right. He became a confirmed drunkard. He died early in the prime of his days. His premature grave was the effect of dissolute habits. He lived long enough to know that speechifying and spouting in the parlour of a tavern was not the way to prevent the spread of wrong principles in the minds of the people. Instead of checking the dissemination of opinions and principles inimical to morality and happiness, a beershop or a tavern (they are twins) is the place of all places from which no one good thing comes, but from which everything that is bad emanates. I could name instances of respectable persons, who were the constant visitors of the particular house we are speaking of, being so completely overtaken by habits of drinking, that imprisonment or transportation ended their career.

One of the most conspicuous was a Mr. W-T—. He pursued no calling. His father had accumulated a large property, which at his death he bequeathed to his

son. He was remarkable for great strength and agility. The whole town could not, I believe, have produced a man of equal muscular power, in connexion with a ready will to put it into operation on the least occasion. He was the bully of the house. His athletic frame made him a tyrant. He was one of the principal props of that church-and-king species of loyalty, which in a manner so eminent and praiseworthy, marked the political career of the sots that assembled nightly at our favourite place of meeting. However, time told upon him; the constant dripping wore away the hard and flinty particles. His enduring constitution gave way at last; dissipation had scattered his property. His health was gone; and he became reduced to poverty. The most respectable of his early companions shunned him in his altered circumstances; while others despised him for his tyrannical, overbearing conduct. He was an instance of desolateness from the use of strong drink. Total abstinence would have saved him from ruin, lengthened his days, and in all probability might have diverted his impulsive energies into channels of usefulness. Strong drink made him a monster, and in the end, was his destroyer.

A dry detail of facts may sometimes become tiresome and uninteresting; but let it be borne in mind, that miseries and comforts are themselves matters of fact. A good dinner is one of these things, as is a good suit of clothes; and therefore, those things, however unseasoned they may be from the absence of fine words, which tend to the realization of the goods or evils of life, deserve our first and most intense consideration. I believe that many men would pursue the path of duty and happiness, if that path were properly pointed out to them; and this may be effected to some extent, by describing the privations of those whose lives have been wasted by falsely pursuing happiness in an excessive gratification of the animal propensities. It is to the thoughtless portion of the working people, that my humble attempts are chiefly directed; to the miserable drunken outcast who substitutes the public-house and its poisonous beverage for home, wife, child, friend, reputation, and all that is worth living for; whose everything goes, all is bartered away, for this one

filthy abomination. Discard it, poor drunkard; discard it. It is a moral pestilence that blights every hope. It hardens your sense of feeling. The arm that should be stretched forth to sustain the wife and little ones, is, by its perverting power, raised to strike them to the floor. It construes faithful words, and looks of love and friendship, into marks of foul hypocrisy. It blusters and bullies, and is deaf to reason; having conceit in nothing but its own headstrong, damning course. It laughs in its spread of desolation of the hearts and the homes of some of nature's best and kindest creatures. Reflect for one short moment. Pause for an instant. The stream of ruin is widening and becoming more irresistible. Escape from it, or you and your family will be carried over the terrible cataract into the gulf of hopeless destruction.

In pursuing my narrative, I noticed the case of J T——, a cousin to the last-mentioned person. He possessed a good property, which augmented his means of mischief, by enabling him to set an example of dissipation to his associates. Many indeed can I call to mind of abandoned habits; but he, poor reckless wretch, was the most abandoned of them all. He lived in a large house, and kept a liveried footman; yet neither his property, nor the aristocratic badge, could secure to him the companionship of the good and intelligent of his own standing and money position in society. He was shunned by them, and very properly, too. He made no concealment of his iniquity; and therefore to recognise him-to be known to be with him-was a direct compromise of reputation. He died in the prime of life, despised by everybody.

-H

There was a Mr. E- another visitor at the same house. When I first met with him, he was a most respectable shopkeeper, in a thriving business. Like too many, he could not endure prosperity. He fancied a little enjoyment at the Wwould be a respectable way of filling up his time. He would pop in and get a glass after dinner. The habit grew upon him-it is a strange habit for growing; that one glass led to two, and the two to From having been an industrious, prudent, sober tradesman for some years, he became, after his unfortunate acquaintance with the tavern, careless of his affairs at home

more.