t was the last. The arms around the mother's neck unclasped. The weary
head sank upon the pillow. The eyelids fluttered. The breaths came
shorter and shorter--the weary girl had entered into rest.

The soul of the drunkard's daughter had gone where justice reigns
supreme; where a God of justice watches the kingdoms of the earth and in
mercy stays the doom that comes a certain penalty of the nation that
sells its maids and youths to the rum fiend.

Mrs. Crowley stood looking down on the wan face of her first-born.

"Thank God she is happy! But it's hard--so hard!"

A mother's love is the same the world around. This mother threw herself
down by the bedside, and, holding one of the lifeless hands to her lips,
sobbed bitterly.

It seemed a desecration that just now the father should come stumbling
into the scene, filling the room with the fumes of liquor and muttering
drunken curses. But Maggie was beyond the reach of human harm. This
would never pain her heart again.

Neighbors came in, and Jean stepped out into the fresh air.

It was nearly noontime. The streets were busy, and as she went towards
home she saw the beer wagons driving in every direction, loaded with
their freight of sorrow and pain and death. As she passed the palaces of
gilded doom, arrayed in cut glass and mirrors, luring the souls of men
and boys to hell, she thought of the Christian voters of the nation who
allow it to be so because, bound by party ties and fooled by party
leaders, they will not force this mighty issue to the front and demand
its recognition at the ballot-box; and these words rang in her ears:
"Because I have called and ye have refused, ye have set at naught all my
counsel. I also will laugh at your calamity when your destruction cometh
as a whirlwind."

The words burned in her mind, and when she reached home she entered the
library and without removing hat or gloves threw herself upon a sofa.

It was not quite time for luncheon. The house was quiet.

Vivian had, during the year, married the rector of a large and
fashionable city church. For weeks before the eventful occasion life had
been one round of shopping and fitting, of entertaining and rehearsing.
Jean, as maid of honor, had figured conspicuously in the different
functions, and for a time her mind was so absorbed with the fragrance
and sunshine of life that its seamy side was forgotten. But after it
was all over her thoughts and sympathies went out again to that family