"'We, the undersigned, do pledge ourselves to each other, as gentlemen, that we will not, hereafter, drink any spiritous liquors, wine, malt, or cider, unless in sickness, and under the prescription of a physician.'" Jarvis took the pen in his hand, that trembled so he. could scarcely make a straight mark on paper, and enrolled his name among the hundreds of those, who, like him, had resolved to be men once more. This done, he laid down the quarter of a dollar which he had obtained from his wife, the admission fee required of all who joined the society. As he turned from the tradesman's store, his step was firmer and his head more erect, than, in a sober state, he had carried it for many a day. From thence he proceeded to a hatter's-shop. "Well, Jarvis," was uttered in rather a cool, repulsive tone, as he entered. "Are you not in want of a journeyman, Mr. Warren?" "I don't want you, Jarvis." "If you will give me work, I'll never get drunk again, Mr. Warren." "You've said that too many times, Jarvis. The last time you went off when I was hurried with work, and caused me to disappoint a customer, I determined never to have any thing more to do with you." "But I'll never disappoint you again," urged the poor man earnestly. "It's no use for you to talk to me, Jarvis. You and I are done with each other. I have made up my mind never again to have a man in my shop who drinks rum." "But I've joined the temperance society, Mr. Warren." "I don't care if you have: in two weeks you'll be lying in the gutter." "I'll never drink liquor again if I die!" said Jarvis, solemnly. "Look here, you drunken vagabond!" returned the master hatter in angry tones, coming from behind the counter, and standing in front of the individual he was addressing--"if you are not out of this shop in two minutes by the watch, I'll kick you into the street! So there now--take your choice to go out, or be kicked out." Jarvis turned sadly away without a reply, and passed out of the door through which he had entered with a heart full of hope, now pained, and almost ready to recede from his earnest resolution and pledge to become a sober man and a better husband and father. He felt utterly discouraged. As he walked slowly along the street, the fumes of a coffee-house which he was passing, unconsciously, struck upon his sense, and immediately came an almost overpowering desire for his accustomed potation. He paused-- "Now that I try to reform, they turn against me," he sighed bitterly. "It is no use; I am gone past hope!" One step was taken towards the tavern-door, when it seemed as if a strong hand held him back. "No--no!" he murmured, "I have taken the pledge, and I will stand by it, if I die!" Then moving resolutely onward, he soon found himself near the door of another hatter's-shop. Hope again kindled up in his bosom, and he entered. "Don't you want a hand, Mr. Mason?" he asked, in a hesitating tone. "Not a drunken one, Jarvis," was the repulsive answer.