“And yet you are no better off?  Ain’t you better off in having a happy wife and a pleasant home, what I am sure you hadn’t before?”

“You are right in that.  I certainly had neither of them before.  Oh! yes.  I am much better off all around.  I only felt a little despondent, because I can’t get regular employment as I used to, and good wages; for now, if I had these, I could do so well.”

“Be patient, friend Gordon; time will make all right.  There are three words that every reformed man should write on the walls of his chamber, that he may see them every morning.  They are ’Time, Faith, Energy.’  No matter how low he may have fallen; no matter how discouraging all things around him may appear; let him have energy, and faith in time, and all will come out well at last.”

Gordon went home, feeling in better heart than when he met the temperance friend who had spoken to him these encouraging words.

Henry Gordon, when he married, had just commenced business for himself, and went on for several years doing very well.  He laid by enough money to purchase himself a snug little house, and was in a good way for accumulating a comfortable property, when the habit of dram-drinking, which he had indulged for years, became an over-mastering passion.  From that period he neglected his business, which steadily declined.  In half the time it took to accumulate the property he possessed, all disappeared—­his business was broken up, and he compelled to work at his trade as a journeyman to support his family.  From a third to a half of the sum he earned weekly, he spent in gratifying the debasing appetite that had almost beggared his family and reduced him to a state of degradation little above that of the brute.  The balance was given to his sad-hearted wife, to get food for the hungry, half-clothed children.

Nor was this all.  Debts were contracted which Gordon was unable to pay.  One or two of his creditors, more exacting than the rest, seized upon his furniture and sold it to satisfy their claims, leaving to the distressed family only the few articles exempt by law.

Things had reached this low condition, when Gordon came home from the shop, one day, some hours earlier than usual.  Surprised at seeing him, his wife said—­

“What’s the matter, Henry?  Are you sick?”

“No!” he replied, sullenly, “I’m discharged.”

“Discharged!  For what, Henry?”

“For spoiling a job.”

“How did that happen?” Mrs. Gordon spoke kindly, although she felt anxious and distressed.

“How has all my trouble happened?” asked Gordon, with unusual bitterness of tone.  “I took a glass too much, and—­and—­”

“It made you spoil your job,” said his wife, her voice still kind.

“Yes.  Curse the day I ever saw a drop of liquor!  It has been the cause of all my misfortunes.”

“Why not abandon its use at once and for ever, Henry?”