'To be sure I 'That he did.' did, indeed. But did you see him lately?' did.' 'And did he make you take it too?' There is no escaping him; but I am not sorry for it!' 'No, nor I either.' 'Many a young fellow,' says Mr. Maguire, 'who had as much notion of taking the pledge as he had of jumping over the moon, was caught, smuggled, bound hand and foot, before he knew where he was.' A porter in the service of a merchant of Cork was an inveterate drunkard. His sole enjoyment was in drinking whiskey. Twice he was dismissed from his employment; and a third time, as he was about to be sent away, he was induced to seek an interview with Father Mathew. Total abstinence was quite out of the question with Red Denis,' but perhaps some bargain might be struck with the Father, short of that impossible limit. Father Mathew was delighted to see the porter, on whom he had often cast a longing eye. Thank God, you are come to see me, Denis, and of your own free will too. A voluntary sacrifice is most acceptable to the good God. Kneel down, my dear child,' continued Father Mathew to the giant, who was scratching his red poll, much perplexed. 'Well, sir,' said Denis, the truth of it is, you must make a bargain with me.' 'Bargain, my dear! what bargain?' 'I'm thinking, your reverence, of giving up the sperrets, but God will bless your doing so, my dear. It never did any one any good, and it has slain thousands and thousands of immortal souls, too.' 'What you say, your reverence, is thrue enough, and I'm going to give it up-but I must have a darby.' 'A darby, my dear?' Yes, your reverence, one darby a day. I'll take the pledge if your reverence will only give me one darby a day.' 'No, no; you must give it up entirely, or I can't let you take the pledge.' 'Why, then, Father Mathew, your reverence, I tell you 'tisn't in the power of God Almighty to make me do without whiskey entirely.' 'Shame, sir, shame! to use such language. You should not dare say what you have done. God is omnipotent, and He can do much more than change the heart of a miserable drunkard,' said Father Mathew, with an unwonted severity. 'Well, your reverence, I beg God's pardon and your pardon; but 'tis what I thought; for I never can do without the darby.' 'Go now, my dear, and come back to me in a week, and you may then be in a better state of mind.' In a week Red Denis was again in the parlour at Cove-street. Tis no good, your reverence, without you allow me the darby of whiskey-I'm afeard of myself entirely.' Denis,' said Father Mathew, most impressively, 'kneel down this moment and repeat the words of the pledge after me, and 6 I tell you that God will give you strength to resist temptation for the future; I promise you that He will give you strength and grace to do so, I promise it to you in His name.' Overcome by the solemnity of the appeal, Denis knelt and took the pledge. To the last hour of his life he was enabled faithfully to keep it. It was not only upon people of his own creed that Father Mathew's magic was thus irresistible. Why, did you kneel to him?' asked one of the 'True Blues' in Ulster, to another. 'Who the d-1 could resist him? Who could help it? No one could refuse him anything he asked.' 'Some,' says Mr. Maguire, came to their doors in a spirit half bitter, half jeering; but strong Protestants and Presbyterians as they were, they yielded to an unaccountable impulse, and falling on their knees, humbly received his blessing.' Father Mathew,' said one of a large batch of kneelers, on whose foreheads the priest was making the sign of the cross, here am I, an Orangeman, kneeling to you, and you blessing me!' God bless you, my dear,' was his reply, as he rapidly passed on, 'I didn't care if you were a Lemonman.' This marvellous power of touching and swaying men's minds, often producing results which much astonished the subjects of it, belonged not to his temperance ministry only. He was extraordinarily successful as a peace-maker. To restore peace in distracted families was his delight, and it was impossible to resist his tender pleading and his earnest importunity. Many a husband and wife had reason to bless his timely intervention; many a parent recovered a child lost to him, through Father Mathew's counsels. Usually he was sent for in such cases; but if not, he would contrive to make a visit at the right moment; and even the haughtiest and the most self-willed found it impossible to quarrel with him, or feel humiliated by his good offices. 'I declare, sir,' said a gentlemen to his friend, one day in the public street, as Father Mathew left them, 'I believe that man has some extraordinary power about him. I had not the best feeling towards him, on account of something that had annoyed me; but, sir, I do assure you the moment he grasped me by the hand, there was an end to my anger. I can't say what it is; but if we lived in another age, I should be inclined to say there was magic in it.' 'Would that we had more of such magic and such magicians in these days,' was the answer of his friend. Of his declining days, sweetness and humility marked every hour. When he spoke, his words breathed the very spirit of devotion. When reference was made in his presence to his services to his fellow-creatures, or to his acts of goodVol. 7.-No. 25. ness, F ness, he would say with the greatest earnestness, 'Oh! do not, do not, my dear, give me any merit for what I have done. How I wish my motives had always been pure in the sight of God.' Such was the man who will be for ever famed as the Apostle of Temperance. He passed away on the 8th of December, 1856, in the 66th year of his age. ART. V.-JIM WILSON'S RESOLVE, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. A LANCASHIRE TALE. THERE are many pretty villages on Twhich Pendle Hill looks frowitingly down, whose inhabitants still retain the simplicity of life and habits which characterized them fifty years ago, and in whose dwellings may even yet be heard the click-clack of the shuttle and loom, and the whirr of the spinning-wheel. In a little village called Clifton, not far from the cotton manufacturing town of Darley, my story begins. Two men were leaning over the wooden palings dividing their cottage gardens; and one, whom we will call Jim Wilson, a widower with two children, was bitterly lamenting the unprofitableness of hand-loom weaving, now that machinery was so much used. His neighbour, Tom Watson, an old bachelor, living alone, excepting for several cats and birds who followed him wherever he went in the village, was listening with a deprecating air to Jim, who spoke as follows: 'Weyving's good to nowt, an' aw'm baan to sell eawr two cottages, an' try what aw con do wi' keepin' a publicheawse. Ther's eawr Ned con help wi' brewin', un eawr Peggy con sarve it eawt, for hoo's a cleyn-lookin', bonnyfatur'd lass, an' folk loike to hev a bonny wench to wait on 'em, so aw'm gooin' into Darley to-day to look abeawt me, an' if aw see owt loikely, aw'se soon get eawr cottages swapped for brass; an' see if aw connot do as weel as Dick Knowles hes done ut th' Rompin' Kittlin.' (Rampant Lion was the sign, but thus was it rendered by the villagers of Clifton.) Dunnot thee be sich a foo, Jim; theaw'rt noan so badly off as mony a as poor body; thi childer's a comfort to thee now; but if they do as, Dick Knowles's hes, they'll noan be mich comfort to thee afther tha gets i'th' public loine. It's true he has med a bit o' brass, but what's th' use o'that? It connot bring back his poor deod woife; why, hoo just fret hursel into th' grave becose that lad o' theirs were transported fur hittin' a fella wi' a poker, un lamed him soaan' he deed. O' through drink, mon; two o'th' lasses wed drunken nowts, un sooner they're put to bed wi' a spade, an' sooner they'll hao peos; for they'n noan now, though one on 'em is th maister ov hur chap, an' he dar'nt lick hur; but, bless us! whear's th' comfort i' that sort ov a loife? How would ta loike to see yo're Peggy coom to sich a endin'? Bide thee wheere ta art, lad, an' keep thi fingers frae money gettin' i' sich a way; tha owes nowt to nub'dy; tha hes two cows, a pig, an' a score o' ducks, an' aw dunno heaw mony hens; tha con look at foak beawt shamin' neaw, but tha'll ha to do mony a meon trick if tha gooas into th' alehouse, mon! Bless thee, lad! ne'er do that.' 'A mon con be honest i' ony sort ov a trade (said Jim); an' as to cawr Ned or Peggy comin' to owt loike Dick Knowles's childer, they'n mooar sense un decency abeawt 'em nur that; an' I'se tak care wot they do, an' noan leov 'em to to poike up wi' ony sort o' raff: doan't thee be fear'd, mon, we'se do weel enuff, I know;-but I wur a noddy to say owt to thee, Tom, for theaw'rt a teetotaler, as they co' 'em, an' hes only one thowt on th' subject, so good mornin' to thee, for I'm baan to just tak mi cut eawt o'th' loom, an' then I'm off to Darley, an' we'se sce.' Eh, And what came of it. Eh, Jim! theaw'rt gooin' to mek a foo o' thisel, I'm fear'd. I wish tha may tek another thowt abeawt it, an' hev nowt to do wi' drink; we'se ne'er do ony good wi' foak whoile they letten 'em sell stuff as addles foaks' heods, an' maks 'em wos than th' beosts oth' field. If tha's set thi mind on mekkin' a bit mooar brass, lad, mak it some way as'll noan mek thi hate th' seet on't when tha hes getten it, an' not sich as meks poor little childer hev to goo clammin' to bed whoile ther dad's spendin' wot should hae bowt ther suppers.' Na, theaw'rt gooin' eawt o' reoson, Tom, an' aw mun goo un get mi cut eawt. Aw'se just hae addled ten shillin' this wick, an' does ta think aw con keep heawse decently eawt o' that, mon? Aw've warked soon an' late or I shouldn't hey hed as mich as that; thar a rare, gradely mon, Tom, but thee un me teks different thowts abeawt things; aw'so ne'er let foak tae mich hort frae th' drink as aw'se sell 'em. Aw've setten my moind o' gettin' into some way as aw con put a bit o' brass by ogen; aw'm too owd to wark ony mooar; I coon't eawto' hond-loom weyvin', as tha knows, Tom, vara weel.' So saying, he cut short the conversation by hurrying into his cottage, where Peggy, a buxom girl of seventeen, was 'cleynin' up,' as she termed it. Jim Wilson was a hard-working, steady man, and had saved sufficient to buy two cottages, two cows, a pig, and some poultry; and Peggy had enough to do to look after the small dairy and the wants of the live stock. Her mother had died when Peggy was but a child; people said she and her husband had pinched themselves of necessary food and clothing, in order to put by a little money every week; and she being but a delicate woman, had sunk under the self-imposed semi-starvation and scanty clothing, or, as the villagers said, 'hoo'd clammed and starved hersel to deoth.' To get money was Jim Wilson's ruling passion, and now he had fully determined to see about a public-house, for in that way he saw much money was gained quickly. He took out his cut, and was soon on his way to Darley with it. On giving in his work at the factory, the overlooker told him he must bate him for several bad places in one piece, so he had only a little over nine shillings to receive, which put him sadly 83 out of temper, and made him declare 'he'd see if he wouldn't do summat afore long.' So after receiving materials for the next week's work, he took up his bag and walked out into the town, going through street after street,looking eagerly for some eligible public-house, or even a Jerry Shop,' he did not mind. As ill luck (good luck he called it) would have it, on passing down a street near an iron foundry, he saw a bill on the walls of a small public-house, setting forth that on a certain day all the furniture, fixtures, brewing utensils, goodwill, &c., were to be sold. He thought it would be just the place for him, near a foundry too! mechanics are a thirsty lot, and he should have plenty of custom, He inquired of a man who was standing at the door of one of the houses near, how it was the public-house was to let, and received the information that the former landlord had gone into the wholesale brewery line, having made a good deal of money in the public-house. Jim thought he had found exactly what he wanted, and looking again at the bill of sale, saw the words, by public auction or private treaty,' with the person's name of whom inquiries could be made. He hurried home with his work; and telling Peggy of his good luck in finding a place just to his mind, dressed himself in his best, and returned to Darley to call upon the man appointed to treat with applicants for the publichouse. The man was in his office, ready and willing to be questioned concerning that 'well-accustomed (more's the pity!) public-house, known by the name of the "Black Swan."' Jim found that a high figure was asked for the furniture, good-will, &c., but still it was within his power to give it, for he had a customer ready for his cottages, and he knew he could soon sell the live stock to the same man; besides, he had a little money in the savings' bank. A few days were all he had to decide in, but he had pretty well settled already, and went home quite elated with his prospects, calling on his way at the house of the man who wanted the cottages to say he could have them at the price he had offered, and asking if he couldn't take his cows and poultry. After considerable haggling as to price, it was finally settled that he should take the whole stock off Jim Wilson's hands, and the money was to be paid over to him on the following Monday-it was then Saturday-and with a feeling of pride at having done so good a day's work he passed on his way. Arrived at home, he told Peggy and Ned, who had returned from helping a neighbouring farmer with haymaking, what he had done, and both expressed unbounded delight. Ned declared, 'I'd liefer brew than goo haymakin'; it meks mi hed wartch.' Visions of handsome dresses and gay bonnets floated before Peggy's mental gaze. Her talent for fine dressing had been effectually curbed by her father, who said, 'Owt as wur cleyn an' dacent wod do for Clifton looans;" and her smartest dress was only a brown merino. Her best bonnet had but one piece of dark-blue ribbon over it, 'an' nather bow nor ends,' as Peggy ruefully remarked, when her father brought it home from the village modiste's; 'an sich a shape! welly enough to mek 'osses tek boggart when they see it,' as she further remarked. 'Well, feyther, you'll happen let me hev a new blue gown deawn to th' greawnd, waint yoa?' asked Peggy. Why, lass, aw dunnot know as aw con let thee hev owt new just yet; it'll tek o' mi brass fur to buy things as we'se want; but bide a bit, an' tha'st hev a blue geawn, an' two or three mooar clooas as weel, if tha'll do thi best to help me in wer new wark.' "Why, feyther, aw'se be shamed i' mi owd brown frock, it's so shoart an' skimpin; foaks ull laugh at me.' 'Not they! laugh at thee! if tha'll moind thi own business, they'll ha summat else to think on nur lookin whether tha'rt i' lung frocks or shoart uns. Hows'ever, tha con hev nowt new neaw, for aw've nowt to pay for it wi.' Ned too was ready with a request: 'Aw say, feyther, we'st noan hev egg an' bacon poy to Sunday's dinner when we'n getten to Darley, shall we? You'll let us have a dumplin', waint yoa?' Howd thi din, lad, wod con ta hev 'Oh, aye, awm sure aw shall; so, Ger owt, tha greedy thing, tha cares abeawt nowt but eitin,' was Peggy's reply; 'good neet to thee,' she added, 'an' good neet, feyther,' to Jim, as he When Peggy got to her own little 'Bod what need I care for Tom Sparlin?' she soliloquized. 'Aw'se get plenty o' chaps i' Darley. Here its different, wheer one never sees a dacent lad frae year end to year end. He mud do weel enuff; bod aw'se tak no faut findin' fra him, I know. I can pike among 'em when I get to Darley: I'm noan so feaw'-looking at herself in her small glass. 'An' when I get a blue gown, an' a collar, an' a red bow, I'se look better than i' this thing,' flinging her old brown frock on the bed. Peggy was a pretty country girl; an abundance of wavy brown hair, large, bright, dark eyes, fair skin, and rosy round cheeks, made up for the disadvantages of a nose that was not purely Grecian in its outline, and a mouth whose curves were not exactly like Cupid's bow. She was tired, however, and her cogitations were neither long nor profound. Ere the sun had fairly risen, Ned was up and off on his blackberry hunt. Old Tom Watson was out, too, enjoying the sweet fresh morning air, and encountered Ned in one of the pretty lanes that led from Clifton. Ned! what are ta for, lad?' said Tom, as he saw Ned clambering over a ditch. 'Gerrin blackberries for a dumplin', said Ned. 'Wot a Sunday moarnin?' said Tom. Ay, aw reckon a body mun eit a Sunday as weel as ony other day,' said Ned. 'Ay, but couldn't tha o' getten thi blackberries yusterday?' Noa, I wur hay-mekkin' an' hed no time.' 'I think tha'r i'th' wrang, Ned; but heaw's thi foyther settled abeawt th' public-heawse? I heard tell he wur after one when he geet to Darley yusterday.' 'Oh, he's baan to tek one to morn; he's sowd th' cottages, so tha'll hev a new landlord.' 'I'm gradely sorry, Ned, I am lad. I thowt he'd ne'er goo into th' public loine; |