“Come now, old fellow!” said one, just as Edwards came in,—­“mount this table and make us a first rate temperance speech.”

“Do; and I’ll treat you to the stiffest glass of whisky toddy the landlord can mix,” added another.  “Or perhaps you’d like a mint julep or gin cocktail better?  Any thing you please.  Make the speech and call for the liquor.  I’ll stand the treat.”

“What d’ye say, landlord?  Shall he make the speech?” said another, who was eager for sport.

“Please yourselves,” replied the landlord, “and you’ll please me.”

“Very well.  Now for the speech, old fellow!  Here! mount this table.”  And two or three of the most forward took hold of his arms.

“I’m not just in the humor for making a speech,” said the temperance man, “but, if it will please you as well, I’ll sing you a song.”

“Give us a song then.  Any thing to accommodate.  But come, let’s liquor first.”

“No!” said the other firmly, “I must sing the song first, if I sing it at all.”

“Don’t you think your pipes will be clearer for a little drink of some kind or other.”

“Perhaps they would,” was replied.  “So, provided you have no objection, I’ll take a glass of cold water—­if such a thing is known in this place.”

The glass of water was presented, and then the man, who was somewhat advanced in years, prepared to give the promised song.  All stood listening attentively, Edwards among the rest.  The voice of the old man was low and tremulous, yet every word was uttered distinctly, and with a pathos which showed that the meaning was felt.  The following well-known temperance song was the one that he sung; and while his voice filled the bar-room every other sound was hushed.

  “Where are the friends that to me were so dear,
    Long, long ago—­long, long ago? 
  Where are the hopes that my heart used to cheer,
    Long, long ago—­long ago! 
  Friends that I loved in the grave are laid low,
  Hopes that I cherished are fled from me now,
  I am degraded, for rum was my foe
    Long, long ago—­long ago!

  “Sadly my wife bowed her beautiful head,
    Long, long ago—­long, long ago. 
  Oh! how I wept when I knew she was dead! 
    Long, long ago—­long ago. 
  She was an angel! my love and my guide! 
  Vainly to save me from ruin she tried;
  Poor, broken-hearted! ’twas well that she died
    Long, long ago—­long ago.

  “Let me look back on the days of my youth,
    Long, long ago—­long, long ago,
  I was no stranger to virtue and truth,
    Long, long ago—­long ago. 
  Oh! for the hopes that were pure as the day! 
  Oh! for the joys that were purer than they! 
  Oh! for the hours that I’ve squandered away
    Long, long ago—­long ago.”