face, as he clutched the glass to allay the terrible craving of his
system. He drank till his head was giddy, and his gait was staggering,
and then started for home. He entered the gate and slipped on the ice,
and being too intoxicated to rise or comprehend his situation, he lay
helpless in the dark and cold, until there crept over him that sleep
from which there is no awakening, and when morning had broken in all its
glory, Charles Romaine had drifted out of life, slain by the wine which
at [last] had "bitten like an adder and stung like a serpent." Jeanette
had waited and watched through the small hours of the night, till nature
o'erwearied had sought repose in sleep and rising very early in the
morning, she had gone to the front door to look down the street for his
coming when the first object that met her gaze was the lifeless form of
her husband. One wild and bitter shriek rent the air, and she fell
fainting on the frozen corpse. Her friends gathered round her, all that
love and tenderness could do was done for the wretched wife, but nothing
could erase from her mind one agonizing sorrow, it was the memory of her
fatal triumph over his good resolution years ago at her mother's silver
wedding. Carelessly she had sowed the seeds of transgression whose
fearful yield was a harvest of bitter misery. Mrs. Clifford came to her
in her hour of trial, and tried to comfort and sustain the
heart-stricken woman; who had tried to take life easy, but found it
terribly hard, and she has measurably succeeded. In the home of her
cousin she is trying to bear the burden of her life as well as she can.
Her eye never lights up with joy. The bloom and flush have left her
careworn face. Tears from her eyes long used to weeping have blenched
the coloring of her life existence, and she is passing through life with
the shadow of the grave upon her desolate heart.

Joe Gough has been true to his pledge, plenty and comfort have taken the
place of poverty and pain. He continued his membership with the church