For two years more I was in the midst of these awful temptations to intemperance, and a witness to their deadly effects on several of my brethren. I felt that I was in danger. And I saw that the church was suffering. I looked round for a remedy. Just then there came rumors of a temperance society, and of attempts at a temperance reformation. One of our young preachers had joined this new society, and had labelled his whisky and brandy _medicine_. He left his beer, and porter, and wine, unlabelled, and drank them as freely as before. The people who told me of this, ridiculed the man, and ridiculed the movement for temperance reform. I was rather pleased with the news, though news of a more thorough movement might have pleased me better. But the beginnings of things are small. The movement soon became radical enough, and I kept pace with it. In 1832 I gave up the use of ardent spirits, and became a member of the old-fashioned temperance society. In 1833 I gave up the use of intoxicating drinks of all kinds, and joined the teetotal society. In 1834 I gave up the use of tobacco. A few months later I gave up tea and coffee, and took water as my usual drink. These changes in my way of life gave great offence to many in the church to which I belonged, and led them to speak of me, and act towards me, in a way that was anything but kind and agreeable. This was especially the case with regard to my disuse of intoxicating drinks, and my advocacy of teetotalism. I might have been borne with perhaps if I had become a drunkard; for drunkards were in some cases tolerated; but a teetotaler was not to be endured. Some called me a fool, and some a madman, and one man pronounced me no better than a suicide and a murderer. "You will be dead," said he, "in twelve months, if you persist in your miserable course, and what will become of your wife and children? And what account can you give of the people you are leading to untimely death by your example?" One person at Chester, at whose house I had visited some years before, when supplying the place of the deceased minister, would neither invite me to his house, nor speak to me in the street, except in the way of insult, now that I had become a teetotaler. He said no one should ever sit at his table who would not take a glass of wine. And I never did sit at his table after. He invited my colleagues, and he invited the old superannuated minister, whose character I cannot describe, but he never invited me.