There is a great deal of truth in all this. Our own efforts have been successful in a very remarkable degree. Some of the bravest, most devoted, and successful workers in our ranks are men and women who were once the most abject slaves of the intoxicating cup. Instances of this have been given already. We might multiply them by thousands. Still, when compared with the ghastly array which the drunken army presents to-day, those rescued are comparatively few. The great reason for this is the simple fact that the vast majority of those addicted to the cup are its veritable slaves. No amount of reasoning, or earthly or religious considerations, can have any effect upon a man who is so completely under the mastery of this passion that he cannot break away from it, although he sees the most terrible consequences staring him in the face. The drunkard promises and vows, but promises and vows in vain. Occasionally he will put forth frantic efforts to deliver himself, but only to fall again in the presence of the opportunity. The insatiable crave controls him. He cannot get away from it. It compels him to drink, whether he will or not, and, unless delivered by an Almighty hand, he will drink himself into a drunkard's grave and a drunkard's hell. Our annals team with successful rescues effected from the ranks of the drunken army. The following will not only be examples of this, but will tend to illustrate the strength and madness of the passion which masters the slave to strong drink. Barbara.--She had sunk about as low as any woman could when we found her. From the age of eighteen, when her parents had forced her to throw over her sailor sweetheart and marry a man with "good prospects," she had been going steadily down.