nst this mammoth subject of temperance--he had studied it carefully
and diligently; and, finally, he always grew so tremendously indignant
and sarcastic over the monstrous wrong, and the ridiculous and
inconsistent opinions held by the masses, that in ten minutes after he
commenced talking about it he would have forgotten his audience in his
massive subject, even though the President and his Cabinet had been
among them. So on this particular evening, his blood roused to the
boiling point through brooding over the wrongs that had come to him by
the help of this fiend, he spoke as he had no idea that he _could_
speak. Had Mr. Stephens been one of his auditors his face might have
glowed with pride over his protege. Had Mr. Birge been present to listen
to the eloquent appeal his heart might have thanked God that the little
yellow-haired boy who stood in solemn awe and took in the meaning of his
mother's only prayer, had lived to answer it so fully and grandly in the
city of his birth.

After the address there was a pledge circulated. Theodore was the first
to write his name in bold, firm letters, and he remarked to the chairman
as he wrote: "This is the fifteenth pledge that I have signed. I am
prouder every time I write my name in one." There were many signers that
evening, among them several whose tottering steps had to be steadied as
they came forward. Then presently there came a pretty girl, leading with
gentle hand the trembling form of an old man; both faces looked
somewhat familiar to Theodore, yet he could not locate them.

"Who are those two?" he said, as the little girlish white hand steadied
the feeble fingers of the old man.

"That is an interesting case. The girl has been the salvation of the old
man; he is her grandfather. They belonged to a miserable set, the lowest
of the low, but there seemed to be something more than human about the
child. Her father was killed in a drunken broil, and her mother lay
drunk at the time, and died soon after; but she clung to this old man,
followed him everywhere, even to rum holes. She got mixed in with a
mission Sabbath-school about that time, started down in that vile region
where she lived; that was a great thing, too; it was sustained
principally by an earnest young man by the name of Birge--and, by the
way, I have heard that he has since become a minister and is preaching
in Cleveland."

"He is my pastor," answered Theodore, while his eyes sparkled.

"Is it possible