I then inquired after the health of his wife and child: his reply was, "They are well and happy." I asked him if "his wife made him any trouble" now. "Trouble," said he, "no; and never did make any: it was I that made the trouble. You told me so, and I knew it at the time. _But what could I do?_ So long as I remained here, I could not turn a corner in your streets without passing a grog-shop. I could not go to my meals without coming in contact with some associate who would try to entice me to drink with him; and even the keepers of these shops would try every artifice to induce me to drink; for they knew that if they could get me to taste once, I should never know when to stop, and they would be sure to get a good bill against me. "I have now come," said he, "to tell you why I left you. It was because I knew that I should die if I did not leave off drinking, and I saw distinctly that I could never leave off while I remained in Hartford. My only hope was, in going where liquor was not to be had." About two years and a half after this, he applied to me for further employment, as the business he was following had failed. I told him there was no man whom I should rather employ, but I could not think of having him encounter again the temptations which he had so miraculously escaped. He very pleasantly replied, "I am a man now, and do not believe I have any thing more to fear from the temptations of the city than you have." I told him that I had confidence in the firmness of his purpose, but feared to see it put to the test. Yet, as he was out of business, I consented; and no man that I ever employed did better, or was more deserving of confidence and respect. He continued with me till spring, when he proposed to take his work into the country, so that he could be with his family: the arrangement was made, and I employ him still. On the fourth of July last, (1839,) the Sunday-schools in the town where he resides made arrangements for a celebration, and I was invited to be present and address them. As I looked upon the audience, the first countenance that met my eye was that of this very man, _at the head of his Sunday-school class_. The sight almost overwhelmed me. Instead of a loathsome, drunken maniac--a terror to his family and a curse to society, whose very presence was odious, and his example pestilential--he was then, in the expressive language of Scripture, "clothed, and in his right mind;" and was devoted to the heavenly work of guiding children to Christ and salvation. He had made a public profession of religion, which he was daily honoring by a life of Christian meekness and sobriety. O, who can comprehend the tide of domestic joy, of social happiness, and of Christian consolation which flows through the heart of this man and his family, in consequence of this change in his habits?