An effort among a few young women in the neighborhood of this city, induced more than fifty young men to abandon cigars. One young fellow swore by all the gods that he would smoke as long as he pleased, and so he did; but he did not _please_ to continue very long after several of the young ladies had had interviews with him. In Dixon, Ill., fifty good women called at every rum-hole in town. There were forty nine of them. In each place they read a touching "Appeal from the Women of Dixon to the Venders of Intoxicating Drinks in Dixon," joined in a brief prayer, sang a verse, and went on to the next "rum-hole." This they repeated every day for a week, when there were no places left to visit. The women of Battle Creek, Mich., tried the same thing. One hundred of them went, without parade or notice, to all the "rum-holes" in the city every day, till there was not one that dared open its doors. I was there at the time, and could tell you thrilling stories of the encounters of these noble, brave women with the venders of what a clergyman--a friend of mine--calls "liquid hell-fire." But I hasten on to give you a very interesting illustration of the power of woman in the summary abatement of social nuisances. Although in lecturing upon "Woman's Influence in the Cause of Temperance," I have frequently given the facts entire, with the names of the parties, it has occurred to me that in writing it out for a book, it would be only just to avoid mentioning names, as many members of the families involved, are now most respectable people, and earnest advocates of Temperance. Well, this is the story:--In a small factory village (say in Pennsylvania) with a thousand inhabitants, there were five "rum- holes." The men of the little community spent their time in the drinking places, while their children earned the family bread by long hours in the mills. The mothers were busy in caring for their children and drunken husbands, and many of them strove to add to the comforts of the family, by the use of the needle. At length, on a Saturday night, several boys, coaxed by a scamp, drank freely of whiskey, and were taken home helplessly intoxicated; two of them came near dying. The good mothers were on fire. They had long since abandoned all hope for their husbands, but they would never, _never_ consent that their boys should become drunkards. By a common impulse they gathered in the little church on the hill, and held a meeting for prayer and weeping. After three hours of passionate ejaculation, tears and heart-breaking agony, they resolved as follows: "We will make a banner with our own hands. On one side it shall bear the figure of a child drinking from a bucket, that beverage, which God has prepared for his creatures. On the other side we will work this sentiment, 'Mothers will sacrifice all for their Children.' When it is done, we will go to these men with our banner for the rallying flag, pray with them, plead with them, and never give up till they stop."