elf an abstainer for many years.

While the master of the mission smack was producing the materials for
signing the pledge in the cabin, he took occasion to explain that the
signing was only a help towards the great end of temperance; that
nothing but conversion to God, and constant trust in the living Saviour,
could make man or woman safe.

"It's not hard to understand," he said, looking the youths earnestly in
the eyes. "See here, suppose an unbeliever determines to get the better
of his besettin' sin. He's man enough to strive well for a time. At
last he begins to grow a little weary o' the battle--it _is_ so awful
hard. Better almost to die an' be done with it, he sometimes thinks.
Then comes a day when his temptation is ten times more than he is able
to bear. He throws up the sponge; he has done his best an' failed, so
away he goes like the sow that was washed to his wallowing in the mire.
But he has _not_ done his best. He has _not_ gone to his Maker; an'
surely the maker of a machine is the best judge o' how to mend it. Now,
when a believer in Jesus comes to the same point o' temptation he falls
on his knees an' cries for help; an' he gets it too, for faithful is He
that has promised to help those who call upon Him in trouble. Many a
man has fallen on his knees as weak as a baby, and risen up as strong as
a giant."

"Here," said a voice close to the speaker's elbow, "here, hand me the
pen, an' I'll sign the pledge."

"What, _you_, Billy Bright!" said the missionary, smiling at the
precocious manliness of the little fellow. "Does your father want you
to do it?"

"Oh! you never mind what my father wants. He leaves me pretty much to
do as I please--except smoke, and as he won't let me do that. I mean to
spite him by refusin' to drink when he wants me to."

"But I'm afraid, Billy," returned the missionary, laughing, "that that's
not quite the spirit in which to sign the pledge."

"Did I say it was, old boy!" retorted Billy, seizing the pen, dabbing it
into the ink, and signing his name in a wild straggling sort of way,
ending with a huge round blot.

"There, that'll do instead of a full stop," he said, thrusting his
little hands into his pockets as he swaggered out of the cabin and went
on deck.

"He'll make a rare good man, or an awful bad 'un, that," said the
missionary skipper, casting a kindly look after the boy.

Soon afterwards the boats left the mission smack, and her crew began to
bust