f her musical voice still rings in my ears, and from her lips sunk
deep into the hearts of those gathered around her.

With her golden hair falling carelessly around her shoulders, and
looking so trustingly and confidingly upon the gentlemen around her,
the beautiful eyes illuminated with a light that seemed not of this
earth, she formed a picture of purity and innocence worthy the genius
of a poet or painter.

At the close of the song many were weeping; men who had not shed a
tear for years wept like children. One young man who had resisted with
scorn the pleadings of a loving mother, and entreaties of friends to
strive and lead a better life, to desist from a course that was
wasting his fortune and ruining his health, now approached the child,
and taking both hands in his, while tears streamed down his cheeks,
exclaimed, in deep emotion:--

"God bless you, my little angel. You have saved me from ruin and
disgrace, from poverty and a drunkard's grave. If there are angels on
earth, you are one! God bless you! God bless you!" and putting a note
into the hand of the mother, said:--

"Please accept this trifle as a token of my regard and esteem, for
your little girl has done me a kindness I can never repay; and
remember, whenever you are in want, you will find me a true friend;"
at the same time giving her his name and address.

Taking her child by the hand she turned to go, but, pausing at the
door, said:--

"God bless you, gentlemen! Accept the heartfelt thanks of a poor,
friendless woman for the kindness and courtesy you have shown her."
Before any one could reply she was gone.

A silence of several minutes ensued, which was broken by the
proprietor, who exclaimed:--

"Gentlemen, that lady was right, and I have sold my last glass of
whisky; if any one of you want any more you will have to go
elsewhere."

"And I have drunk my last glass of whisky," said a young man who had
long been given up as sunk too low ever to reform, and as utterly
beyond the reach of those who had a deep interest in his welfare.

NELLIE ALTON'S MOTHER

"Mamma, O mamma!" cried an eager young voice; and Nellie Alton, a
plump, rosy schoolgirl of twelve summers, rushed into her mother's
room, and, flinging her text-books on the sofa, seated herself on an
ottoman at her mother's feet. Mrs. Alton looked up from her sewing
with a quiet smile, and said, as she pushed back the tangled curls
from Nellie's uplifted forehead,--

"What