the appetite he had formed was imperious in its demands, and periodically became so strong that he lost the power of resistance. When these periodic assaults of appetite came, he would LOCK HIMSELF IN HIS ROOM FOR DAYS and satiate the fierce thirst, coming out sick and exhausted. It was impossible to conceal from his congregation the dreadful habit into which he had fallen, and ere two years had elapsed he was dismissed for drunkenness. He then went to one of the chief cities of the West, where he received a call, and was, for a time, distinguished as a preacher; but again he fell into disgrace and had to leave his charge. Two other churches called him to fill the office of pastor, but the same sad defections from sobriety followed. For a considerable time after this his friends lost sight of him. Then he was found in the streets of New York City by the president of the college from which he had first graduated, wretched and debased from drink, coatless and hatless. His old friend took him to a hotel, and then brought his case to the notice of the people at a prayer-meeting held in the evening at one of the churches. His case was immediately taken in hand and money raised to send him to the State Inebriate Asylum. After he had remained there for a year, he began to preach as a supply in a church a few miles distant, going on Saturday evening and returning on Monday morning; but always having an attendant with him, not daring to trust himself alone. This went on for nearly a whole year, when a revival sprang up in the church, which he conducted with great eloquence and fervor. After the second week of this new excitement, he began to lock himself up in his room after returning from the service, and could not be seen until the next morning. In the third week of the revival, the excitement of the meetings grew intense. After this he was only seen in the pulpit, where his air and manner were wild and thrilling. His friends at the asylum knew that he must be drinking, and while hesitating as to their wisest course, waited anxiously for the result. One day he was grandly eloquent. Such power in the pulpit had never been witnessed there before--his appeals were unequalled; but so wild and impassioned that some began to fear for his reason. At the close of this day's services, the chaplain of the institution of which he was an inmate, returned with him to the asylum, and on the way, told him frankly that he was deceiving the people--that his eloquent appeals came not from the power of the Holy Spirit, but from the excitement of drink; and that all farther conduct of the meetings must be left in other hands. On reaching the asylum he retired, greatly agitated, and soon after died from a stroke of apoplexy. In his room many empty bottles, which had contained brandy, were found; but the people outside remained in ignorance of the true cause of the marvelous eloquence which had so charmed and moved them. We have already extended this chapter beyond the limit at first proposed. Our object has not only been to show the thoughtful and intelligent reader who uses alcoholic beverages, the great peril in