To do good in the world it is not necessary for one to be an orator, a scholar, or a genius, as the following incident beautifully shows: It is many, many years since Mr. and Mrs. S. C. Hall visited Ireland, previous to writing their well-known work descriptive of its scenery and customs. On the occasion of their visit to Glendalough, the far-famed district of the Seven Churches, they observed a young lad seated on one of the tombstones, who, immediately on their approach, doffed his cap, and offered his services as guide over the district.

A bargain was soon struck, and the party drove off. The lad, full of the quaint old legends of the place, did the work well, and to the entire satisfaction of his employers. Returning home after a day's thorough enjoyment, Mr. Hall took a flask from his pocket, and after partaking of the contents, offered some to the lad. To his utter astonishment, the offer was firmly but politely declined.

To Mr. Hall such a thing was inexplicable. An Irish boy who would not even taste whisky was, indeed, a stranger sight than any he had seen during the day. He could not understand it. Resolved to test the lad's principles, he offered him a shilling, then half a crown, then five shillings, if he would drink the ‘poisonous drug', but the lad was firm. Under the ragged jacket, there throbbed a true heart. Mr. Hall determined, however, to conquer, if possible, and finally offered him half a sovereign, a coin not often seen by lads of his class in those parts. It was a wicked act, and proved too much for the politeness even of an Irish boy.

Drawing himself up in something well-nigh akin to indignation, and pulling a temperance medal from the folds of his ragged jacket, he firmly told Mr. Hall "that for all the money His Honor might be worth he would not break his pledge."

The history of the medal was soon told. It had belonged to the lad's father, who had spent the prime of his days in the service of the cruelest of taskmasters, Drink. Until the advent of the genuine apostle of temperance, happiness had been unknown in yon home on the hillside. But with his advent, peace and joy prevailed. The medal was now round the lad's neck, a father's dying legacy to his son. Hence his noble and firm resolve. Nor was his heroism in vain. It was too much for Mr. Hall, who there and then screwed the top on to the flask, and threw it into the lake by the side of which they stood. 

Since that day, and entirely through the influence of that lad, Mr. and Mrs. Hall have been staunch teetotalers, aiding the movement by tongue and pen.