What a singular power is habit! Up to this time Elder Brown had been entirely innocent of transgression, but with the old alcoholic fire in his veins, twenty years dropped from his shoulders, and a feeling came over him familiar to every man who has been “in his cups.” As a matter of fact, the elder would have been a confirmed drunkard twenty years before had his wife been less strong-minded. She took the reins into her own hands when she found that his business and strong drink did not mix well, worked him into the church, sustained his resolutions by making it difficult and dangerous for him to get to his toddy. She became the business head of the family, and he the spiritual. Only at rare intervals did he ever “backslide” during the twenty years of the new era, and Mrs. Brown herself used to say that the “sugar in his’n turned to gall before the backslide ended.” People who knew her never doubted it. But Elder Brown’s sin during the remainder of the day contained an element of responsibility. As he moved majestically down toward where Balaam slept in the sunlight, he felt no fatigue. There was a glow upon his cheek-bones, and a faint tinge upon his prominent nose. He nodded familiarly to people as he met them, and saw not the look of amusement which succeeded astonishment upon the various faces. When he reached the neighborhood of Balaam it suddenly occurred to him that he might have forgotten some one of his numerous commissions, and he paused to think. Then a brilliant idea rose in his mind. He would forestall blame and disarm anger with kindness—he would purchase Hannah a bonnet. What woman’s heart ever failed to soften at sight of a new bonnet? As I have stated, the elder was a man of action. He entered a store near at hand. “Good-morning,” said an affable gentleman with a Hebrew countenance, approaching. “Good-mornin’, good-mornin’,” said the elder, piling his bundles on the counter. “I hope you are well?” Elder Brown extended his hand fervidly. “Quite well, I thank you. What—” “And the little wife?” said Elder Brown, affectionately retaining the Jew’s hand. “Quite well, sir.” “And the little ones—quite well, I hope, too?” “Yes, sir; all well, thank you. Something I can do for you?” The affable merchant was trying to recall his customer’s name. “Not now, not now, thankee. If you please to let my bundles stay untell I come back—” “Can’t I show you something? Hat, coat—” “Not now. Be back bimeby.”